{Crazy Days, Wicked Ways}

When I was a kid, I would get giddy every year when The Wizard of Oz aired on TV. It was such a captivating story of good versus evil. Dorothy was nice. Munchkin land a bit bizarre. And the wizard always turned out to be a big, fat fake. 

But what I really loved and held in high esteem was the the green-faced Wicked Witch of the West. She was loyal (to her sister). She was bold (wearing a large, pointy hat). And she had a cackle that could clear a room. I remember sobbing uncontrollably at the end when she melted away. Goodbye, dear witch.

Ironically, the wicked witch and I have something in common these days. I'm in full meltdown mode, too, my friends. Today was the tipping point, it seems, where I have become the worst possible version of myself. An angry, tired, cranky, yelling, irritated, crying, green ball of goo. Icky to everyone around me, including to my own two flying monkeys, who are, at this moment, in the other room avoiding me.

I'm pretty sure this meltdown is the culmination of a schedule packed way to full, weeks upon weeks worth, and my hormones swinging around like a tee-ball batter at home plate. While I consider myself an optimistic, jovial gal for the most part, today I feel like my ship is sinking. I've run out of steam for the crazy pace of my life. Then I'm sad about it, then angry, then sad, then angry again.

I lost my patience tonight over my husband's blaring reggae music, my son popping bubble wrap, too many people talking at once, no one cleaning their plate, stacks of paperwork on top of the table, dirty socks under the table, brothers fighting incessantly, and the dog licking himself over and over again. AAAAAHHHHHHH! "I'm melting, I'm melting!"

The good thing about a meltdown, I guess, if there is one, is that you get start over. Begin again. Build yourself back up, but at a slower pace. Even make some sincere apologies where due (and believe me, I owe quite a few). You also realize, and this is a big one for me, that the real people in your life will love you despite all your imperfections---the green face, the ugly pointy hat, your cackle. I'm not worthy, yet still I'm forgiven and loved. Hard to give up on something like that.

{Scent Blowing Box}

This is my Christmas box. It's my hubby's unique creation made with love and lots of hours. It holds my two candles that I always burn from my favorite candle shop, 5B and Co., in Weston, Mo., with a hole in the middle for a scent-blowing fan. I, of course, can't feel the fan, but my husband assures me it's the gem of the whole project. I'm not so sure.

The top also slides off at the side, so I can place my matches and wick dipper securely inside. It's sealed pretty tight, so unless I bulk up on muscles in the new year, I doubt I'll be able to open it by myself. This is fine with me because the wires to the fan got tangled both times my husband removed the top to show me all the amazing things inside.

Do I love it? Well, I definitely love the idea of it. A person who loves me enough to try to make the perfect gift knowing his percentage of failure is really high. He does it anyway despite my lack of trust, negative comments (even in the blog-a-sphere), or irritation at his gift-giving history. I'm not sure I deserve that kind of love with my current Christmas attitude, but I feel honored that he keeps on loving me amid the beautiful peaks and hurtful valleys of our life. That's the really special part. The box is just scent-blowing fluff on the mantelpiece.

{Autumn Bliss}

In honor of the season finally changing today (not by the calendar, by the way, but by the first chill in the air), I tried a new autumn recipe tucked away in a dusty, old cookbook. It was simple, but delicious. While I may be the only one in my house that celebrates change with baked goods and giddiness, I'm sharing the recipe with all of you. You never know when you might need something delicious and new in your life. Happy autumn, friends!

Apple Crunch Muffins

courtesy of Celebrate Autumn Cookbook

1 1/2 cup sifted flour

1/2 cup sugar

2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 cup shortening

1 egg, slightly beaten

1/2 cup milk

1 cup Granny Smith apples, diced

Topping: 1/4 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup chopped walnuts, and 1/2 tsp. cinnamon (mix together)

Sift flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon in mixing bowl. Cut in shortening until fine crumbs form. Combine milk and egg. Add to dry ingredients along with apples. Stir just to moisten. Spoon batter into muffin cups, filling 2/3 full. Spring with brown sugar topping. Bake at 375 degrees for 25 minutes, or until golden brown. Makes 12.

Supper Cake

I love to bake. This obsession with making sweet things started when I was 10 and I discovered I could read all the recipes in my mom's Betty Crocker cookbook. I would bake a recipe until I had it perfected. This may sound super sweet on the surface, but it often became an exhausting endeavor of perfection. I made Mrs. Crocker's russian tea cake recipe over 50 times one summer until every ball was the same size, each coated with the same amount of powdered sugar.

That same summer, my grandma got sick with cancer. The worse I felt about her illness (the surgeries, the hospital rooms, her hair falling out), the more I baked and baked and baked. It felt so good to take also those random ingredients that meant nothing by themselves, and measure and mix them into something that came out amazing. While my mom may have found this new-found hobby somewhat extreme, my grandma loved it. She began sharing every recipe she knew and I absorbed it with eagerness and love.

The one recipe I loved to make more than anything was her supper cake. It was a recipe they made a lot during the Depression because it took very few ingredients and only needed 20 minutes to bake, almost the exact time it took a farm family to finish a meal. You sprinkle the cake with cinnamon and sugar and then eat it warm with gusto. It only took me two tries (with my grandma watching, of course) to make it perfectly. After that, I was in total charge of supper cake.

I still make supper cake for my boys. When I pull out my grandma's recipe, the memories of us in her kitchen are so strong, I can almost feel her standing there as I mix it. It is a memory of joy, but also sadness. She lived only a year more after that summer. While her cake is delicious, it serves as a reminder to me of the importance of passing on the sweet things in life--to our families, our friends and even those who may only sit a few minutes in our kitchen.

Life is short. If we are only given 20 minutes, why not bake something wonderful and think about those we love?

Supper Cake

courtesy of Marie Haller Boehmer

3/4 cup sugar

1/4 cup shortening

1 egg, beaten

1 tsp. vanilla

1/2 cup milk

1 cup sifted flour

1 1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. salt

Topping: 1 TBS. butter, 3 TBS. sugar, 1 tsp. cinnamon

Combine sugar and shortening, mixing until fluffy. Add egg; beat well. Add vanilla and milk. Sift together flour, baking powder and salt, add to wet mixture, and beat smooth. Bake in greased 9-inch round pan, or 8-inch square pan, at 375 degrees for 20-25 minutes. Remove from oven. Immediately spread butter on top, then sift sugar-cinnamon mixture over top. Serve warm.