There's a glitch in the widget

If you've been following Bread, Wine, Salt in your RSS reader you may have noticed that my last couple of posts have been poorly edited, and then disappeared if you tried to click over to the blog and post a comment. ("Learn to edit, you ignorant twit," perhaps.) There's a glitch in the widget I've been using to send posts from the word processor I use for my initial draft to Blogger which apparently also sends out the RSS feed. Bad widget! I'll be using less elegant methods until the tech department figures out what the problem is. Thank you for keeping your ignorant twit comments to yourself.

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Butter(less) Chickpeas

On Monday morning I got a call from a client, warning that my services would be needed soon. The threat of labor makes me pretty efficient. I filled and ran the dishwasher, cleaned the sink, took the boys grocery shopping, got the groceries put away, fed the boys lunch, emptied the dishwasher, made snack and dinner for the boys, filled the dogs' water, cleaned the dog' ears, and put the flowers in the vase. I spent the rest of Monday at the birth, watching a skilled nurse-midwife facilitate the VBAC my client wanted despite circumstances that might have sent some providers running for the operating room. It was a great birth, the baby was perfect and I'm glad I was there to witness it. But it meant that I didn't get to bed until 2:00 in the morning. When I say that I am a morning person, I do not mean 2:00 in the morning. A mere five hours later the sun was up and my children were up and my husband was getting ready to leave for work. I had a follow-up scheduled for...

The Thing with Feathers: A sermon for Proper 14, Year C

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. ~Emily Dickinson I love a new notebook: lined or gridded, sketchbook, or thick watercolor paper, a planner or just fresh, blank pages. I do a lot of writing, and a new notebook and a good pen is always the best part of a project. Together the pen and notebook represent the launch of something new; the anticipation of success. In fact I love new notebooks so much that I bought too many and now I am not allowed to buy any more. This is my own rule and I have only myself to blame. I get really excited about the new thing, but my enthusiasm wanes and the notebooks sit abandoned with only a f...

Making Christmas

Years ago, when my parents married, my mother asked my father what he would like her to make for Christmas. He asked for Julekake, a Scandinavian Christmas bread. It was common in the bakeries in my father's childhood Chicago, but it was more difficult to find in the small Army towns where my father was posted, so my mother found a recipe, and baked her own. We ate it with eggs or bacon or sausage every Christmas breakfast of my childhood. My mother baked simple round loaves studded with raisins and candied cherries. When I grew up I swapped out dried cherries for the candied ones. I baked it in the oven of my boyfriend's apartment before I went to share Christmas with his family, inhaled the scent of them to make it Christmas when the traditions around me were not my own. I've discovered that the fruit is not mandatory, though I'd never leave it out. A braid is traditional, and I'll make a braided loaf when I have time, though for gift giving I ...

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