Glutton For Punishment?

Or just gluttony? I can't decide.

Either way I've decided that I must secretly be a master baker (I just made the title up. Roll with me here.) and thus, I would be morally remiss if I were to spend one more day without providing my family with a never-ending supply of delicious homemade breads of every variety. Now, I say 'secretly' because to the untrained eye I would appear to be an abysmal failure as a bread maker...baker...baker-maker. For example, my latest attempts at whole wheat sandwich bread wound up here:


Yes, under the eggshells...and asparagus cast-offs; that's where that lump of doughy confectionery delight landed. I hope the fungus and bacteria in my compost heap enjoy it; I spent hours in the kitchen first with giddy delight, then peevishness and finally belligerent rage trying to craft that yeast and flour into a masterpiece. I know I can bake bread! Would someone please relay this message to the insolent doughy loaves that refuse to proof for a second time? If they do not comply I will be forced to bring in a bread machine. Nobody wants that.

Luckily, I've had some time to cool down and in true Willian fashion have decided to press forward and ambitiously master the art of sourdough bread. Which means I had to implement this little puppy:


My first ever sourdough starter. Now, from all I've read there are a million different ways to fail at making sourdough bread and the dough is known to be especially finicky. Why did I decide to wrestle with this particular culinary monster? Because I am as bull headed as that Butter-Haired Dragon and masochistically enjoy taking the hard road.

Usually I fail.

But at least I can pat myself on the back for failing at the hardest task.
So, here I go! Tomorrow this glob of yeast and milk and flour will be transformed into the best sourdough bread these taste buds have seen.


...or perhaps they'll make a nice crouton.

Film at Eleven.

The Time is Flying

I don't have any pictures to post; I'm in here. The camera's in there. It just wasn't meant to be. Sorry for the hiatus on the blog lately. I've been canning. And I mean CANNING. When I'm not canning, I'm online researching canning recipes and bread recipes and ridiculous things like how to make my own yogurt. Oh, it's gonna happen.

I've been feeling very crunchy lately. All this putting food by has gotten me very worked up; it's made me thankful for the things that have grown for me in the garden and makes me want to hug the Earth back a little bit. So, I've started composting and trying to be more aware of where my food comes from and what packaging it comes in. I'm menu planning for the month and buying in bulk. I'm putting local food by for the winter and trying to cook/bake as much food from scratch as I can. We're even talking about building a coop in the back-40 and raising laying hens.

I also have children I frequently care for...you remember them? They keep me busy too. Bailey has two teeth and is crawling like a pro. She loves to use one leg to turn herself in circles while she's sitting on the floor and she can pull herself up on the couch too; she's got places to go. The little bear just started trying to talk this week. Apparently the light bulb just went off one night at dinner and she started babbling "rarr rar rarrr rar" Before we knew it she was saying Dada and Mama. She desperately wants to be able to say Caba, but I have a feeling that one will be in the works for a while. Did I mention the kid weighs 21 pounds? She's a chunk. We call her 'cabbage' since she bears a striking resemblance to the cabbage patch dolls.

Her big sis has been having a heck of a time; she's been sick for the past week. Last weekend Audrey came down with croup (pitiful, pathetic mess, she was) We took her to the doctor on Monday and she was prescribed an anti-inflammatory steroid to get the swelling in her throat and vocal chords down. Let me tell you about roid rage. I didn't recognize my own child; she transitioned from sweet movie-watching pathetic lap child to psychotic belligerent wiggle wart in about 2 minutes. That medication lasted two days before Mama declared it to be not worth the drama.

We thought Little A was recovered by Thursday, but she had another relapse and refused to eat, drink or take her medicine for several hours. By the time bedtime rolled around I was pondering a strategy for explaining to her that if she didn't hydrate herself someone would do it for her and they would have a large, scary needle in their hand. Luckily I got to keep my alarmist parenting skills on the back burner--I force fed my daughter water and apples with peanut butter. You'll be happy to know The Dragon seems poised to make a full recovery.

As far as things around the house go, the Moore's are in town for the long weekend and Audrey is loving all the attention. We've been going to the park and eating lots of fried chicken and pizza; the kids are getting the most out of the pool before we close it for the season and I've been letting Hannah practice driving my car.

We're also in the middle of step one to our kitchen renovation; we're clearing out and rearranging cabinets so we can knock down the wall between the kitchen and the dining room. The official demolition party is scheduled for next weekend--I can't wait! I promise I'll actually post pictures once that happens...and that means I'll have downloaded a sweet video of Bailey crawling too. Remain on the edge of your seats until then.

On Baptism

I'm going to be baptized tomorrow. I hadn't planned on writing anything on the blog about it until I received an email from our pastor asking if I wanted to speak to the congregation before being baptized in the river. Before that message hit my inbox, I had planned on silently walking into the river and being baptized. I thought it would be an excellent way to witness to other Christians.

And then I got that message.

I read it while I was up with Bailey at two in the morning and God changed my heart as he has so frequently in the wee hours of the morning. I knew, without a doubt, that there is something I'm supposed to say; that walking into the river isn't testament enough.

I couldn't sleep and when I did dream I was filled with stress and longing to know what I should say and do. I know that my baptism is a public act of faith; a testament to believers and unbelievers that the Lord is my savior.

You all know I've struggled for a long time with the concept of witnessing. At first I felt it was wrong to impose myself on others and when I realized the horror they would face without knowing God, I began to fear I would push unbelievers further from Christ by saying or doing the wrong thing. After much prayer and deliberation, I've thrown up my hands; I can do nothing, be nothing and say nothing of consequence without the grace of God. My baptism is a symbol of giving my life to the Lord, that He may use me as He pleases. My life is His and only He can give me the wisdom and the words to help save another soul.

God, I pray you would use me to save another child from being ripped from your love and grace; that You would send me where I am needed, not where I am wanted and that in all things I may give glory to Your name.

On Need...

John recently returned from a quick business trip to D.C. It's been a long time since he's been out of town without us and we (read: I) were slightly wimpy in dealing with separation. Needless to say, his homecoming was a sweetly anticipated event. I brought the girls with me to the airport; Audrey talked animatedly the entire way there about her Papa. ("Mama, we pick Papa up at the airport? You excited Mama? Audrey excited!") It was like Christmas. Little A was the first one to see John and she gave a sweet cry of excitement before running to him. It doesn't get much better than that.

When we got home, Audrey opened a present her Papa had brought back for her with barely-concealed anticipation. It was a snow globe with the capital building at its center. She was mesmerized by the flitting snowflakes and the smooth glass bulb; she showed it to everyone and reminded us that (Mary) Poppins had one too. She probably would've slept with it if she could. I was the perfect little token from her Papa...and then after several warnings from her parents about keeping it on the carpet the next day, she dropped it on the tile in the kitchen and it shattered.

que crying.

I wanted to cry too.

I talked to John on the phone and told him what happened. He thought maybe it was a sign that he needs to be more aware of how age-appropriate her toys are. But after honestly mourning the loss of that snow globe, I realized: wait a tick. That was just a snow globe. It represented the love that a Papa has for his daughter, but it didn't replace it. It was just a possession.

Now, that may seem harsh, but it's true. And how often do we let possessions overcome our homes because we feel they give us value or make us feel good? I know the Schweighardts are notorious for not letting things go (trust me, we're working on it) but everyone falls victim to the idolization of personal possessions. So, it's in that spirit that I've begun de-cluttering our lives. Now, I never in a million years would have gotten rid of that snow globe, but I've begun to look differently at my personal things. How much of this stuff to I actually need? I mean really...NEED.

You'd be amazed at what you don't need. And how hard it can be to accept the mentality that you really don't need 6 light-weather jackets. I have a jacket obsession. And a purse addiction. I recognized my lust after purses a long time ago and just stopped carrying one. But you can't stop wearing jackets. Apparently I also couldn't stop justifying the purchase of them either.

My wardrobe has certainly been under heavy attack, but I've begun to look around the rooms in this house--at the excessive amount of stuff that two small children can accumulate--and I tell myself we don't need it. And it's freeing.

Material possessions will not fulfill or define my life or make me feel loved; God does that. Any time I find myself thinking "but what if I need this later?" while tossing something in the give pile, I remind myself that God is the one providing for me. If I really need something, I'll have it.

Now, I'm not talking about living on bare bones here. There's room for toys and games and ice cream in this little experiment. I think what I'm really striving to discover is why I hold on to the things I have, why I covet the things I don't have and in the jumble I'd like to figure out what it is I really need. Wouldn't that be liberating?

Better Late than Never

I think I've mentioned on occasion how life here gets crazy...and then stays crazy. Well, that's what's been going on.

The End.

What? You want pictures?

Ok, fine. Just don't say I didn't warn you about the craziness.

Jessica came out to visit us in the Tri-Cities. This time she tried to be nice and take the Greyhound over from Seattle just on the off-chance that I might get stuck in traffic on the way to pick her up and have to pee in the woods again. Instead, she ended up stranded with a bunch of wackos at a Luv's gas station because their bus broke down. This is what happens when you try to do nice things. I ended up driving out to pick her up in Ellensburg anyway. We never ended up peeing in the woods, so there's the happy ending to that story.

Richard needed a big glass of wine when she finally got to our house. I approve of her parenting technique here.

Jessica flew with us into Memphis, where she and Matt live. We stayed overnight at their place and wished we had time to stick around longer.

Matt got the most bang for his buck and showered Audrey with gifts of stuffed animals and bubbles when we arrived then taught her how to play guitar and threw her a dance party. They instantly became best friends. This is a big deal. You should be taking notes.

The next day we drove to Mtn. Home and finally made it to Grandma and Grandpa G.'s house! They had story time like this every night before bed.


Uncle Joe even made it over to see the girls for the weekend.

And we spent lots of time eating and visiting with the whole Gamelin clan.

In comparison to the dry heat we have in the Tri-Cities, breathing in the Midwest heat was like that scene in The Abyss where Bud has to get used to breathing liquid oxygen. We decided to go to the river to cool off and recover. It was an excellent notion. Check out Audrey's awesome curls; her hair really reacts to the humidity.

We eventually got used to the oppressive humidity and that's why Audrey is smiling in this picture. Or maybe it's because it was her Mtn. Home birthday celebration. After months of practicing blowing out candles, she just stared at hers while the rest of us nearly hyperventilated trying to show her how it's done.


Grandma G. made Audrey a Carmen Miranda fruit hat complete with homemade felt fruit. This is the only existing picture of her smiling with it on. Bailey has since claimed the fruit hat and loves wearing it.

Hat-wearing might not be one of the Dragon's favorite activities, but swimming and eating hotdogs at the lake sure is. She's in heaven.

After the weekend, we took a day trip to see Shannon and Deborah in Springfield. We had a great visit with those ladies--they're the only thing I really miss about Springfield...well, them and Andy's frozen custard. But being compared to Andy's frozen custard should be a compliment in anyone's book.

When we got home I had to make sure we documented how much my pine tree has grown. It is now taller than me! It only took 18 years!

We hung out at the shop and played in Grandma G's pottery studio.

Eventually it was time to go home, but not without first convincing Grandpa G. to take us to Cracker Barrel. He really is a great Grandpa.

When we got back to the Tri-Cities all we did was cook and grocery shop and cook some more. (that's the apron my Mom made for my birthday)


Then I woke up and my baby girl was suddenly two years old. At least she ate the cake this year.

The very next day we headed out on a grand adventure to Mt. Adams. This is a picture of the fam with the Columbia River Gorge in the background.

We stopped at the Maryhill Museum to have a picnic lunch and commune with the peacocks.(not pictured)


We finally made it to the campground, set up camp and got into warm jammies for the night.

Meanwhile, my Dad and John's buddy, Dustin, drove to a camp site closer to this monster: Mt. Adams! (please note I could not get a to-scale picture of John's head in reference to the Mountain...maybe next time when I'm not shouting at him to stop the car so I can take a picture...)


Here are the Manly Mountain Men before heading out; they set out to make the summit in one day and Dad didn't quite make it. You should see the blisters. I wouldn't have even made it to the tree line.

While the Mountain Men were busy climbing, the rest of us set out on a grand sight-seeing adventure...along the way we met this llama...he was staked to the side of the road. I'm not sure that's even legal, but we wanted to rescue him and take him home. I still can't figure out who's staring who down here.

*If I could take a picture that somehow encompassed driving around Godforsaken poorly-maintained dirt roads in the middle of this-is-where-the-psycho-killers-lurk beautifully deserted pine forests for over two hours...it would be here*

At the end of that adventure we got to hike to a river where the girls dipped their toes...so it was all worth it.

Then Audrey slipped in the water, soaking her shorts and undies because she knew I hadn't packed extras for the hike. This is why you always carry a bandana, folks.

On the way home from camping we stopped outside of Portland to eat lunch and take a hike to Punchbowl falls.

Bailey is getting to be too much to handle when she's in a front-carrier...groping at everything in sight and attempting to wrestle with me ala baby bear attack, so she's been bumped to the cheap seats...she loves it.

Meanwhile, Audrey rode on Papa's back like the Queen of Sheba. She gets very exited about going in the carrier and likes to tickle her Papa's neck.

And here we have the last photo I uploaded to our computer: Audrey and Papa at majestic Punchbowl Falls (not pictured)

Needless to say much has happened since then and there are a plethora of things I wish I had time to reflect on in my blog. But that balance thing? Not going so well in favor of the laundry or the blogging or the checking my email. We bought a Trager grill and my garden has been producing like crazy...I seriously have about 30 tomatoes in my kitchen begging to be canned right now. Can you hear them? They're screaming: preserve me!!!! Stop butchering the 50lbs. of meat you bought in bulk and can me!!!

I think they're going to have to cry it out. I'm going to bed.

That Was Never There

In the Pfaff family it has been a long-standing tradition to go on 'the tour' whenever my mother visits her sister Jeanne near Chicago. What tour, you say? A tour of the historic city of Chicago? Perhaps a tour of the Chicago Art Insitute or some of Frank Lloyd Wright's beautiful creations? Well, Frank Lloyd Wright is certainly involved, but I don't think he ever intended his masterpieces to be viewed in this particular fashion.

'The Tour', as it will always be referred to, is an experience unto itself. It always involves my mother and my Aunt Jeanne...laughing hysterically (And maybe just a bit sadistically). It also always involves one or more of the Pfaff grandchildren and miscellaneous hapless victims of their acquaintance. Really, it's anyone those two can fit in the van under the pretense of going to get ice cream.

While on the tour one of the aforementioned nutballs will drive at an embarrassingly slow speed around the Pfaff children's childhood haunts: their old house, the alleyway behind their old house, their friends old houses, supposedly haunted houses, their old schools, the fireball factory, the cemetery they had to walk through to get home from the movie theater, and yes, a Frank Lloyd Wright house which is never open for tours at the hour we visit, yet a tour is attempted all the same. This may sound tame, but please bear in mind that the hysterical laughter emitting from my Aunt and Mother only ceases to point out yet another attraction on the tour or to explain, yet again, how we might actually be Jewish. There is a definite sense of being trapped defenselessly in a moving vehicle (however slow it may be) Putting aside the horror stories and nostalgia, there has always been one predominant level of confusion for me while on the tour; the number one uttered phrase (aside from 'Can we just get ice cream now?') is: "And you see that? That was never there!" A phrase which, until recently for me, comically made little sense.

Luckily, my epiphany came in the form of cherry jello. As we all know, any good story stars with a sugar high, and that, my friends, is why you are now being unwittingly dragged into a tour of my childhood home. Just feel lucky I didn't canvas all of Mtn. Home.

Here is the cherry jello I grabbed out of the fridge and unrepentantly ate out of the storage container. It is no longer with us. May it rest in peace.

This is the cabinet over my parents island in the kitchen. That? That was always there. So was the painting of mushrooms and the old bottle of 'medicine for the heart' on top which I am told simply contained ketchup at the time it was marketed for such purposes.

This shelf has also always been there. Those are replicas of buildings from Oswego, where we lived before moving to Arkansas. That hanging apple ornament and the cinnamon heart decorations? Also always there.

This is my parents fridge. This particular one was never there...but the pictures, well, there were always pictures there. Lots and lots of pictures.

In fact, there were so many pictures on my parents fridge that there were also pictures on the insides of the cabinet doors. Those were always there.

My mother will probably kill me for posting this, but this is her dresser. That dresser and mirror and lamp were never there. But the pictures always were there and I love them. They're there because they're all the people she wants with her.

Now I'm moving on to some of my favorite pieces of art; note there are no pieces by Picasso or Van Gogh. This painting is by my Mother. It sums up a few of my favorite things: dirt roads, dense trees and water.

That mirror is just one of many beautiful pieces in our house made by my Uncle Jim. And the painting is by my Great Granny Gamelin.

I can't get enough of this one.

Or this one either. I used to stare at it for ages when I was a kid; it's a scene at a wedding. The newlyweds are saying their goodbyes just before they depart.

Anyway, gooey sentimentality aside, that is my childhood home to me; the things that were always there and now the increasing number of things that were never there. I think I've uttered that phrase more this past week than any other in my life. Mom and Jeanne would be proud.

I hope you enjoyed the tour. Trust me, it was much quicker and less painful than the ones I've been duped into. To my knowledge, no one was almost accosted while driving slowly through a remote cemetery or brought to tears by either laughter or pain. Consider that a victory, because I'm definitely not taking you out for ice cream and all the cherry jello is definitely gone.

More Updates Than You Would Ever Want

Summer in the Tri-Cities is pretty much the busiest time of year for us here at the Schweighardt Complex. Forget Christmas and Thanksgiving, or even the birth of children, these three months consist of the most travel, company and celebration we'll see all year. Did I mention Steve, Julie, Isaac, Lucas and Uncle Joe all came to visit? Well, before we met up with them in Portland, we spent a weekend in Vancouver to see D'Arcy debut on pointe. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Duck is an amazing dancer! I so look forward to getting Audrey involved in dance. Judging from the private performances she gives us at home, she'll be nothing short of a natural.

That weekend we got in a lot of quality time with the Moore kids and also got to pick up Uncle Joe in Portland. Before heading home through the Gorge, we decided to take a side trip to the Oregon Coast to see Haystack Rock. Uncle Joe had never been to Cannon Beach and he was excited to see the notorious formation from The Goonies. (Never say die!!) As always, Audrey was super stoked to see the ocean. I wish we lived closer!


Steve and Julie caught up with us in the Tri-Cities a few days later; we had a great time showing them around the area and attempting to convince them to move to the Northwest. Audrey and Isaac amazingly got along very well while they were here. Isaac has had a tendency to deny Audrey's existence while they're in the same room, so I was floored when they started giggling, and chasing each other around the house. Luke and Bailey really just sat around smiling, getting tickled and being cute. It's a rough life.


I've appeared to somewhat drop off the radar since then because we spent the rest of the month of June trying to get ready for the Annual Schweighardt 4th of July Extravaganza. We had the fence replaced, hauled off all the old wood, ripped out plants, planted new ones, assembled lawn furniture, swept, cleaned and hosed down every surface and then played some bocce ball. In between all that, I tried to fit in all the birthday celebrating I could. I've been eating steak, (really, really good steak) and drinking wine, getting my toes painted, helping Audrey make birthday cake, drinking lots of coffee, shopping at my favorite kitchen store and picking out new running shoes. Let's just say I take the Gamelin motto of "Celebrate early and often" to heart.

All too soon the 4th of July was upon us! It's not only our Country's Birthday, but Tina's birthday as well! Between prepping for the party and greeting out of town guests, we had a birthday celebration for Tina complete with fairy cupcakes. I think she's starting to understand what those Christmas babies are complaining about.

The 4th ended up being an uncharacteristically cool windy day in the Tri-Cities and we had a record number of people over at the house. I made a 14 lb. brisket that was so yummy, I've decided to make 30 lbs. for next year's celebration. Add 36 hamburgers and 90 hotdogs to that and you've got one heck of a celebration.

For entertainment this year we filled close to 400 water balloons for an incredible battle between the kids and a few young-hearted adults. Jeff also was in charge of our private fireworks show and after that we settled in to relax and watch the City of Kennewick's show from our back yard. It's a tradition (for those of us who are so inclined) to smoke cigars during the Fireworks show; I've been pregnant for the past two 4ths and have had to abstain from this particular indulgence, so man, oh man, was it a welcome respite from all the hard work we'd put in to sit back with a beer and a cigar and just relax for a while.

Needless to say, this morning we woke to a house that looked like it had hosted a frat party and even though we had lots of help cleaning up the night before, it was time to start prepping food to do it all again for Granny's 70th Surprise Birthday Party! We spent the morning tearing down decorations, putting up new ones and cooking food to celebrate one heck of a Grandma. The surprise, by the way, was a complete success...maybe too much of a success. We're just glad we didn't give her a heart attack.

Now we're looking forward to a visit from my buddy Jessica and a trip with the girls back to the North of the South. Then my parents are coming back with us to celebrate Audrey's birthday and do some camping and climbing at Mt. Adams. I love this picture of them together at the airport when they flew in for her 1st birthday last year. I'm thinking this year she'll actually eat the cake.


Here are some videos for your viewing pleasure too: Audrey running to the ocean and Granny's reaction to the surprise!