Mmmmm.... Bagels

I've decided that if I don't post my kitchen adventures every now and then I'd be a failure as a blogger. And, since we made bagels for dinner tonight (which, before about a week ago I considered to be un-home-make-able), I've decided to share the experience.

My sister gave me this recipe. She got it from google. So it's been in the family for a solid couple of months, I suppose we'll claim it. (Since we modified it to make them our way, that's not plagiarism right?) just go here, for the real recipe with measurements and such. Does anyone remember Bayside Bagels in Provo? I miss them oh-so much. Especially when I was pregnant. Curse them for closing down! These bagels are the closest thing to Bayside's yummy bagels that I've had since they closed their doors. I'm pretty excited about them. Anyway,

First, you'll need a helper:

Because you couldn't call them home-made if they were completely free of toddler germs, right? (Kidding Ginger, kidding ;) of course, he washed his hands!)

Next, put your water, sugar and yeast in a small dish together and let it sit for about five minutes (it will go foamy and sort of nasty looking):

Here is where I cheat, the recipe says to mix it with a wooden spoon, but why would you do that when the kitchen-aid has a "stir" speed? Of course, that means if you don't have a kitchen-aid, you are actually just following the real directions! - So you dump the yeast foam in, add the flour slowly until you get a stiff dough - and they really do mean "stiff":

Then dump onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 10-15 mins (after about 3 minutes, I was thinking "Has it been 15 minutes yet?" needless to say, we only kneaded for 10). Then cover with some plastic, and let the dough rest for 15 minutes. Next, roll it into a big log, and cut it in the middle, then cut each of those pieces in the middle, until you have 8 pieces.:

Roll each piece into a ball, and poke your finger through to make a hole. Stretch your holes, so when the bagels rise, they wont close up. Let them rise fot about 15 minutes.
Depicted here in classic, and toddler style, respectively.

In the meantime, get your kettle water going, and turn your oven on to pre-heat at 450. Kettle water is water with salt and honey in it (go figure). The recipe calls for liquid malt, but I couldn't even find that at the grocery store, (probably because I wasn't sure what I was looking for) and our baker cousin Lydia said honey would work. I have no idea what the salt and honey do, but the bagels turned out yummy, so we are afraid to eliminate them.

Boil each bagel for 45 seconds on one side, then flip them over, and do 45 seconds on the other side. Take them out and set them on a clean lint-free cloth. This is where you add your toppings. I like asiago best, so we just globbed a bunch of asiago cheese on top, then transfered them to our prepared baking sheet. Cornmeal keeps them from sticking to the pan, and is just as easy as parchment paper (plus I don't normally buy parchment paper).:






Last time we tried some jalepeno cheddar and some sesame seed too, and those were also delicious. I was thinking next time, some cinnamon sugar would be fun to try, or onion. Anyway, you bake them on 425 for 15-20 minutes (depending I suppose, on your toppings, and your oven) and then you have yummy yummy results! :

We fried some eggs to go with ours, and called them dinner. We are attempting to hoard some long enough to eat them for breakfast tomorrow, but the outlook is not so good, those last few are calling to us from the kitchen...

Shoot me now

and get it over with. When will this end? Last week, I thought Zoe was over her sickness; most of Thursday and all day Friday and Saturday she was a hundred percent better. Then, Sunday night she started screaming bloody murder that her ear hurt. Yup, took her in to the doctor on Monday, and she has a raging ear infection. Goody! The poor kid has missed almost two weeks of pre-school.

In the meantime, poor baby Finn just keeps getting worse, he sounds wheezy and coughs, and has a slight fever off and on. He's been in to the doctor every day this week, to listen to his lungs, and make sure they are staying clear. Oh, and he has two ear infections, and pukes up his antibiotic every single time. Poor kid. I thought maybe Liam was going to get skipped, but he started fevering up on Sunday as well - I may as well get him some antibiotic too, cuz his ear infections will be starting in a couple of days.

But that's not all, oh no, that is not all. This morning I woke up with pink eye! Yay! I thought I was a pretty good hand washer, but apparently I suck. Actually, I was thinking about it, and I went in for an eye exam on Thursday, got new glasses and all that jazz, so now I'm wondering if that optometrist is a freaking idiot. AAHRG!

I've been sanitizing the doorknobs and light switches almost every day since this thing started, and changing pillow cases and sheets so often that my mound of laundry is quite literally a mountain of laundry. I am on a first-name basis with the folks at Walgreen's (yesterday the pharmacist's assistant said "back again, already?" yeah...) Frickin ridiculous. I need to be put out of my misery.

In other news, we are having a little bit of neighborhood drama around here. Old man Roy is trying to eliminate all neighborhood cats. Stupid old man. Saturday, I while was enjoying Brians mad waffle making skills, gazing out the window, I saw an animal control police truck pull up across the street. I told Brian maybe Roy has a raccoon or something, so we watched for the officer to come back out. He walked around to the front of the house with a yowling Leo-kitty in a live trap. Yes, our cat. Granted, this pampered feline thinks he owns the whole neighborhood, but seriously? You'd send your neighbors cat to the pound? Zoe was freaking no, FREAKING out. Brian went over to rescue her cat, and she was going on and on. I told her to just calm down, and she says "Mom, I can't calm down, I just found out that Leo is NOT okay. I just got done paying thirty bucks for him!" Thirty bucks? Where does she get this stuff?

Anyway, I went out and talked to the cop with Brian, and the other neighbors (who live next to old Roy, and came out to investigate when they heard Leo's distinctive yowl). Seems the problem is that some animal is leaving poops on Roy's lawn. Except that cats normally dig, and like to poop in gardens and flower beds, AND there is a nasty yappy spaniel and a poodle who live a couple of houses down that poop on each yard as they walk down the street. But whatever, if Roy says its the cats, it must be- right? The cop says to him, "There are a lot of animals in these kinds of neighborhoods, you aren't going to be able to control this." We got our cat back, and Kallie and Sean (who live next-door to Roy) tried with me to explain to Roy that it should be a dog he is after, and besides, if you put a can of tuna in a cage out in your yard, you're going to attract every cat in the neighborhood, whether they'd normally go in your yard or not! (Idiot!)

So, eight hours go by, and Kallie knocks on my door wondering if we've seen their cat, Willie. Nope, not since this morning when I pointed him out to Roy as an example of one of the ten or fifteen other cats he needed to catch. Their cat was totally missing. Sean went over and knocked on Roys door and asked him if he'd caught another one. Roy said the traps hadn't been re-set yet. They didn't fully believe him so, they figured they'd wait till Monday and check the animal shelter. They did, and didn't see Willie there, so they were eyeballing a big orange persian for adoption, and decided on Tuesday to go back and get him. And thats when they noticed Willie actually was at the shelter. Kallie got a look at the paper work. Turns out someone with Roy's same address turned the cat over to the shelter at five o'clock Saturday night! So, poor Sean and Kallie had to pay 70 dollars to get their cat back! AND discovered too late that not only is their neighbor old and crotchety, but he's also a heartless Asshole. And a liar. Not sure which is worse.

We were thinking about it, and yes, it would suck to be the only homeowner in a whole entire neighborhood who didn't own some kind of pet. And he is that guy. His is literally the ONLY pet-free house for about a 3 block radius. But wouldn't it be much more neighborly (and more effective) to just inform your neighbors that you'll be trapping whatever is crapping on your lawn, and give them a chance to attempt to control their animals? Or you know, move or something? Oh well, on the bright side, he couldn't live much more than a few more years. He's got to be in his eighties. And then, he'll rot in hell.

Cabin fever with a fever

Does anyone want some kids? I'll give them away for a free trial period. In about a week, I'm going to require them back, but for now, I need to find someone who needs practice wiping noses and cleaning up puke. Oh, and administering food and medicine to less than willing participants.

We're going on two weeks now, with this stupid cold. Every time I think we're over it, someone starts hacking again. Zoe fevers up every night, but seems fine during the day. Finn cant sleep for all the phlegm in his throat and nose, and if I hear Brian whine about feeling like crap one more time, I swear I'm going to insist on a frontal lobotomy! (for him, obviously)

I'm feeling a little trapped in my house these days (more-so than usual). The mailman walks up to the house to drop my mail off, and finds me staring at him out the window like a caged animal. I plead with my eyes for him to open the door and let me out. But, the weather is lame, and where would I go anyway? I need SUMMER! Then at least I can drag the kids out to the back yard even if they are sick!

Its funny you know, I go through phases; some days I cant remember what we did with ourselves before we had kids, and other days I remember those days all too well! I say things like "Remember when we wanted to take a nap on a Sunday afternoon, and we'd just go lie down and go to sleep?" Or "Remember how we used to do "it" without stopping every five seconds because we thought we heard someone?" And "Remember when we could talk during dinner, and no one was yelling, singing, or crying over their food?" Yeah, those were the days. Of course, those were the same days that we were so wrapped up in ourselves that we'd pick fights with each other over stupid stuff that seemed to matter, and we frequently played with the cat for entertainment.

These precious little chickadees sure make you take stock of what really matters, and make you appreciate being able to do the stuff you could do before they came along - even if it didn't matter. The next time I'm able to have a meal with a normal, uninterrupted conversation you can bet I wont take it for granted! And, for now, I'll focus on appreciating the constant hum of the kiddies little voices, singing, laughing and whining - as the case may be.

Speak of the devil - I have to go now and- "Read book! Read book! Read book!"

It's almost here, which means it's almost over

Valentines day. Ugh. I hate this holiday. It's a good idea, in theory, I guess; to do something extra special for that special someone on a special day. But we fail at it at our house. In the eleven Valentines Days that Brian and I have been together, I can count on one hand the number of times he's done something "Valentiney" on that day. And even less than that are the times he's done it without me telling him I expect him to. Now hold on, before you go thinking my husband is a heartless monster - you have to understand: I DON'T CARE. I truly don't. Not about the date, or teddy bear, or chocolates, flowers and jewelery. And he knows that I really couldn't care any less, so, he usually doesn't bother. But, the past few years there is something that gets me about not getting anything on such a "getting" holiday - the questions.

The day after Valentines Day is when everyone you see tends to size up and compare. Even my parents casually chide "What did Brian get you for Valentines Day?" And this right here is the part that kills me. Whether its to my parents or my friends - or even the checker at the grocery store - I hate that I have to answer "Nothing." And then try to defend his "unlovingness" in his absence. So, I have taken to threatening him a few days beforehand to at least bring home something. Even if he steals a plant from the office, or draws me a picture on a sheet of computer paper. I have to be able to say that he remembered the stupid holiday and did something in honor of it, so I don't break down under the pressure of comparison.

The poor guy. I know he loves me. He shows me every day. He does more dishes and laundry than any other husband I've heard of. He heaved himself out of bed in the middle of the night just last night, because I saw a spider on the ceiling. He killed the thing, and climbed back in bed, without even complaining that I woke him up just for that. He is my hero every single day. I get so upset that I have to explain to people that his normal doting heroic self is enough for me, every day of the year. Besides, if I were to get an extra special gift, I would want it to be because he thought of me because of something I'd done for him, not because the calender (or I) told him to. But, I did tell him to, so ask freely. I'll let you know what he did special for the day.

That said, I LOVE the school-kid aspect of Valentines day! The cookie decorating, heart cutting, secret notes in your desk kind of thing. I haven't really grown out of that. I am really excited to go be a parent helper in Zoe's class for their Valentine party this afternoon! She helped me make the cookies they will decorate, and she's been dancing around all excited that I get to come to her class with her. Which is good, because yesterday she told me I was the "meanest parent", and she wasn't going to play with me ever again. I asked if that was a threat or a promise. Unfortunately for me, it was neither.

Q&A

I found this one on Facebook, and I think its a fun one, so I thought I'd add it here too. Tag! You're it! I'd like to see everyone else's Q&A as well!!

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Ok, so. My first name is Hedie, after my "grandma" Hede - whose name was actually Hedwig- but wasn't actually my grandma, just an old lady friend of the family who was a fabulous cook and candy-maker. Rachelle is from my moms middle name- Rochelle.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
Um, I don't remember, I must have put it out of my mind. :)

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Nope. My writing looks like a fourth grade boys.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Turkey

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Yes. Three of them.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
If I took the time to get to know me, maybe. I don't know though, I have a weird sense of humor and I swear very few select people can tell when I'm joking and when I'm not. Therefore, very few select people get me enough to like me. But I would still be me, only someone else, so I would get me, wouldn't I? So yes, I guess I would. Be my friend I mean.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
Nope. Never. That's why EVERYONE likes me.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
Yes.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Nope!

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Corn Chex

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Never.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Oreo cookie, and mint chocolate chip tie for the winner.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Eyes. Mostly because I am really bugged by asymmetrical or too close together eyes.

15. RED OR PINK?
Red

16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
My mean streak.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
Grandma B

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST?
Of course!

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Shoes? no. Blue flowery pj bottoms. Yes Lena, the retarded ones.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Brian is snoring, he doesn't usually do that, he must really feel like crap!

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Fluorescent Orange - just because it's obnoxious, and if I was gonna choose to be a crayon, I'd want to make it worth my while.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
My Aunt Cleo - I don't know what she wears, but she smells sooo good! Subway restaurants - that fresh bread smell, or maybe its the veggies too - I don't know, but that smells yummy. New baby- Even before the first bath my baby smelled good to me - you think that might be instinct?

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Brian

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
Well, she didn't send it to me, I stole it. But yes, I like her very much

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Figure skating. Or football.

27. HAIR COLOR?
Dish water blond.

28. EYE COLOR?
Greenish brownish orangish

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
No, I got some once, but my left eye has astigmatism, and I couldn't stand the special thicker contact they use for those, so I gave it up.

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
The kind you eat. No, I like Chicken and rice. Any nationality, Mexican, Chinese, American...if its predominantly chicken with rice, and there is no fish involved, you can bet I'll like it.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDING?
Happy Ending.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Um, wow, maybe I cried during it, cuz its seems that is blocked too!

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
LOL.

34. SUMMER OR WINTER
I say Spring and Fall! (I'm stealing your answer on this one Crystal!)

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Hugs. Wait. Kisses. No, um, I don't know


36. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Just finished Snow Flower and the Secret Fan a few minutes ago

37. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
No mouse pad

38. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
Didn't.

39. FAVORITE SOUNDS?
My kids having a conversation with each-other - totally hilarious! Classical piano music, but not hymns - hymns thump on the piano. I also like the sound of summer at dusk - if that makes any sense...

40. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
Pink Floyd. I like the Beatles, don't get me wrong - but really?

41. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
If you count being a smart-ass

42. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Payson Utah.

43. HOW DID YOU MEET YOUR SPOUSE/SIGNIFICANT OTHER?
A fickle friend decided she didn't like her boyfriend anymore, but didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she enlisted me to "take him off her hands" -LOL Who knew I'd end up marrying the guy?

imagination nation

Why should I be made to feel guilty for taking out the trash? Nothing is trash around here. If I want to get rid of anything it is a covert operation, involving distractions, speedy hands and good lying skills.

"What? Space helmet? I don't know what you are talking about... Oh, riiight, the cracker box. I thought you ripped that into twelve pieces and scattered it around your room - it's not there? Sorry honey, I'm sure it's here somewhere... Did you look under your bed?"

Oh, it's still around all right, until Thursday morning at nine AM sharp - when the garbage man comes and I am free of it forever - finally.

Oh my freaky friday!

I'm a complainer. At least I admit it right? If something is not going the way I want it to, everyone will know about it. And then, they will know about it again. I truly don't expect anyone to do everything they way I want them to, or even change anything at all, based on my complaints. I am not a hint-dropper. If I want someone to take some action, or make some change, I will spell it out for them, very clearly. I mostly want to be heard and understood, for the sake of being heard and understood. Is that narcissistic? Huh... That being said, I'd like to complain about my whole day Friday. Well, from Noon to five, anyway.


So, Zoe had pre-school at 12:30. I considered just not taking her, because after all, it's just pre-school, and I wasn't feeling like getting the boys bundled up to run her over there. But Finn had his well child check at 2:30, so I figured I may as well get them ready to go, since I was going to have to do it anyway - and if Zoe was at school, that would be one less kid to keep track of at the Doctors office. (My mother in law always watches them for me while we are there, since she works there - lucky me!) Anyway, I got Zoe to school, and was walking back to the van, when one of the other Dad's stopped me and said "Did you know you had a flat tire?" I said "Oh my gosh, no! Thanks for telling me!" Then I took a look at it and realized what he really meant to say was: "Hey lady, you must be pretty freaking dumb... no one drives around on a tire that flat without noticing." But at least he was nice enough to bring my stupidity to my attention. I decided to risk driving to Jims' Texaco (which hasn't been called Jims Texaco for years, but I really don't know what its called these days) and use their air hose. I figured since I'd already driven six or eight miles on my flat tire, a couple more blocks was worth the risk.

I get to Jims' only to discover that their air compressor is broken. I call Brian. He informs me that I'm going to have to change the tire. This is the part where I 1. COMPLAIN. and 2. Give very direct and specific instructions, LOUDLY. I informed him that although I'm aware of how to change a tire, I've never actually done it, and I'm not about to have a practice run with my two kids in the car. He says to sit tight and he'll come change it. My hero!

I know, I know the whole damsel in distress bit is very 1945, but I think there are certain things that are still "man work", and I intend to keep it that way. So, the boys and I hang out for a bit while we wait for Brian to come to the rescue. Around 1:15 we are back on the road, just in time to get the boys fed, and make it to Finns check up by 2:30.

We had some kind of road hazard insurance on the tire, so when the appointment ended at ten to three, we headed over to Sears. I was thinking it would take a half hour or so, if there was no one in front of us. WRONG.

I walk into Sears lugging my baby in his "bucket", the suitcase that passes for my diaper bag, and a 32 ounce diet coke, dragging Liam behind me by one finger. The showroom was deserted. I called "HELL-O" a couple of times, and finally a walrus named Bill came kalumphing out of the office. I told him the problem, informed him of the road hazard insurance, and inquired about the wait time. He said there was one other customer they were just finishing up, so it shouldn't be long. Sweet!

As we are getting settled in the waiting room, one of the grease monkeys was apologizing to the other customer for a miscommunication. Then she left, and I heard several of the grease monkeys talking about someone getting in trouble. Liam was pretty excited that they had a big window to look out in the shop so he could watch the "vroom-vrooms" and was quick to point out the machine with "nacks". After a few minutes, I looked out and noticed that someone was indeed getting in trouble. They were having a full-blown employee meeting out in the shop. I was thinking good, then my service will be better than that last lady's was!

The novelty of the window wore off pretty quick for Liam (could it be that nothing was happening to the vroom vrooms?) and after coloring and having snacks for about a half hour, he had resorted to playing puppy, and was totally BLACK from crawling on the floor. Eew.

After I'd been waiting about 45 minutes, I looked out and noticed that they were still standing around in their employee meeting, only now it was clearly a bull-shit session. They were joking and laughing and teasing, just having a great old time. Nine of them. NINE. And not one could take five minutes and change my tire? I took a picture with my phone :




Finally, the "meeting" broke up and most of the grease monkeys went back into the office. I saw one of them open up my tailgate and take out my flat tire. Mind you, this is after my van had been sitting in the shop for 45 minutes. He rolled the tire over to the puncture repair machine, and set it on the ground, then walked into the office. Ten minutes later, he walked back out, got the tire, and rolled it into the office, then back out. Then he walked back into the office. I could hear the seven of them joking and visiting in there for a few minutes, then the same guy came back and said he couldnt find me in the system, and did I have my receipt? Why, yes I did, why didn't they ask for it in the first place? Only about five minutes after that I saw them back my van out of the shop, and rushed Liam into the restroom to wash his hands and face. Finally, we were getting out of there!

As we came out of the restroom we walked past the office where six of the nine grease monkeys were hanging out. Like actual primates. (To their credit, three guys were out in the shop pretending to work). They all stopped and looked right at me as we walked past them into the showroom. It was deserted. I figured the guy must be looking for me in the waiting room to tell me my car was ready to go. We walked past the office again, with the infant-bucket, 32 ounce drink, suitcase-diaper-bag, and two year old in tow, again six pairs of eyes on me. The waiting room was empty. In the interest of keeping Liam walking so he wouldn't crawl again, we walked between the showroom and the waiting room a few more times. Every single time, every single one of those six guys looked right at us. And not one of them said a word. Finally, I walked right in the office, and said, "I don't know what the problem is, but I'd like to leave." Bill the walrus (who happened to be the manager) told one of his underlings to check me out.

The kid had to fight with the printer, then call for help to get my receipt to print. No apology for the wait, no gracious holding of the door, not even a "Have a nice day". Nothing. An hour and forty minutes for a tire change! ONE TIRE! By comparison, Brians tire change took thirty minutes, and he had to drive from Springville first, didn't have the luxury of hydraulic jack and wrench, and he was trying not to get his work clothes muddy! Thirgy minutes! With nine guys and all the equipment at Sears, that second change shouldn't have taken more than ten seconds! Then I get home and realize that they didn't even bother to put my doughnut in its cubby under the car, they just chucked it in the back on the carpet and upholstery! Idiots! AND they falsified the times on my receipt! It says my check in time was 3:55 and check out time was 4:25! HA! Just ask my starving baby, blackened two year old, and my engorged boobs for that matter; we were sitting in that waiting room only about THREE TIMES that long!!!


Don't you worry, I intend to complain to the people who are supposed to care about my experience at Sears tire center. In fact, I think I'll write a letter and print 50 copies, and send one every other day or so for a couple of months. Then maybe they'll notice the people who make it possible for them to have their jobs.


In other news... Finn and I are both sick. I hate being sick. I hate it even more when my kids are sick. So yeah, I'm hanging out today just filled to the brim with hate and negativity. I hope every one of those nine grease monkeys gets my sickness. And I hope they know who gave it to them too.