Celine Needs To Eat More

If being furloughed is a precursor to my retirement next year I am going to be in a boatload of trouble.  No, not a boatload – a shipload.  I am going to be in a shipload of trouble.  I am going to be in a sinking shipload of trouble.  I’m just not used to having all this time on my hands and I don’t quite know what to do with myself.  Sure, sleeping nine or 10 hours a night uses up some of the time, and chasing fur balls with a dustmop is fun for about … actually it’s not fun at all.  Reading in the middle of the afternoon, or watching Love It Or List It at 10 in the morning, or doing laundry on a weekday just doesn't have the same feeling of cunning triumph when I am pretty sure I am going to be able to do that the next day and the next and the next and the next.

What’s a furloughed girl to do?  Turns out I bake.  Yep.  Bake and bake and bake – banana bread, cinnamon rolls, sandwich bread, rice pudding – and then I eat and eat and eat…………………….and eat some more.

Before the weightiness of this furlough pushes me down into the oceanic depths though, I’m going to share a recipe in the hopes I will have company.  I got this from Abby and it’s awesome.  It’s very moist and very flavorful.  I followed the recipe exactly the first time I made it but if Congress doesn’t send me back to work soon I’m going to try it again with a little coconut added.  

Abby says it doesn’t taste nearly as good after about three days, however I cannot attest to that because mine didn’t last that long.  I also only let it cool for approximately one minute (not hour) before serving –– if hacking off a piece and shoving it into my mouth counts as serving.  And I don’t have a photo either because………….well, you figure it out.

 See you at the bottom!

Low-Fat Banana Bread

4 large ripe bananas

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour

½ cup sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

¾ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

2 ounces fat-free cream cheese, cut into 4 pieces and chilled

1.  Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees.  Bake bananas on rimmed baking sheet until skins are completely black, about 20 minutes.  (Do not turn off oven).  Cool bananas completely, peel, and mash with potato masher until smooth.  Measure 1 ½ cups mashed bananas and discard any excess.

2.  Grease a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan.  Whisk eggs and vanilla in small bowl.  With electric mixer on medium low speed, mix flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in large bowl until combined.**  Add oil and cream cheese, one piece at a time, and mix until only pea-sized pieces of cream cheese remain, about 1 minute.  Slowly mix in egg mixture, then add mashed bananas and beat until incorporated, about 30 seconds.

3.  Scrape batter into prepared pan and bake until golden brown and toothpick inserted into center comes out with a few crumbs attached.   50 to 60 minutes.  Cool for 10 minutes, then turn onto wire rack and let cool at least one hour.  Serve.  (Bread can be stored at room temperature for up to three days).

**Use a deep bowl if you have it.  It’s a little dry and chunks may fly out of the bowl with the mixer. 

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Celine Needs To Eat More

♫ To Morrow ♪

Yesterday I made a valiant attempt to write a blog post.  As a matter of fact, yesterday morning as I walked into the kitchen I said to Dean, “Today I am going to blog.  I’m going to write a blog post.  Today.  I’m doing it.  No matter what.” 

It’s been a long time since I’ve been here in blogland and yesterday I fully intended to sit my butt down at the computer and write.  I’m so sorry.  I know all of you have been crazy with worry wondering what could possibly have kept me from writing succinctly about vital events.  Telling you about what's been keeping me away from here was absolutely on my list of things to do.  And since the government has so thoughtfully given me all this time off, I finally had time to do just that.  But first I had to make coffee.  And then I had to eat breakfast because stringing together a coherent sentence takes energy. 

I don’t know how it is for you all, but it’s nearly impossible for me to write when the house is dirty.  It’s just too distracting.  Who can blog with dog fur covering the keyboard?  Unfortunately, Angus

No wonder Dean never hears me.  Angus took his ear!

hasn’t been taking me seriously when I hold his furry head in my hands, stare into his eyes and state emphatically, It … is … winter … now. Stop … shedding!  So of course I had to clean the floors.  And you know how fur flies everywhere when you try to corral it into one gigantic dust bunny before vacuuming it up, right?  So you understand why I also had to dust the furniture before I could sit down at a computer and write.  But finally, at long last, I was ready to blog.  As I walked toward the computer I was mentally running through all the things I was going to write about but along the way my eye caught the list of errands that had been on the wipe-off board for days.    

I realized I had only a small window of time between the nearly melted 18 inches of tree destroying snow

One of ten broken branch dropoff areas

and when the predicted three days of rain would begin so I felt compelled to get that list winnowed down. 

Driving around town and crawling into and out of a car expended a lot of energy and trying to write when my belly is gurgling and grumbling is even more distracting than the constant sneezing from dog fur flying into my nose when I type.  Consequently, I was forced to take the time to eat something in order to replenish my creative gray matter.  Even though by the time I licked the last bit of butter and sugar from my fingers it was mid-afternoon, I still had plenty of time and I was absolutely determined to write a blog post.  The house was clean, the errands were done, my belly was full – there was nothing else that could possibly keep me from my mission.  All I needed was a cup of tea.  But as I warmed the water and began contemplating what to write, I looked over and saw Dean had commandeered the computer.  Of course, being the kind and considerate wife that I am, I could not ask him to leave and let me sit at the computer.  And anyway.  I knew he wouldn't be long.  So I drank my tea and waited patiently.  For the whole rest of the afternoon.  I couldn’t even grab it while he was cooking dinner because he had his recipe pulled up on it.   

As you can see, I tried to blog.  I really did.  It's not my fault I was thwarted.

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♫ To Morrow ♪

Rats, Bats and Beans

Remember what it felt like to lie in bed, listening to birds singing, feeling the sun warming your body as you stretched and yawned and slowly wakened to a day free of obligation?  Do you miss those days?  I miss them.  But Abby’s new blog has reminded me of them.   I’m using it as therapy.  When I’m feeling wound tight I stare at a NavyBean, take a slow deep breath and remember them.

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Rats, Bats and Beans

Dog Paddling

Our friends, Larry and Heidi, invited us to spend Memorial weekend with them camping two nights and canoeing 20 or (depending on who was reading the map) 30 miles on the Platte River.  It’s been at least three years since we have canoed and even longer since we’ve camped so we were out of practice, but we thought, why not.  Just because the last time we went on a camping and canoeing trip with these friends it was cold and rainy and we didn’t see the sun until the last day didn’t mean the weather would be bad this time.  And just because we tore a gash in the side of our canoe when we hit a limestone wall as we were frantically paddling through boulder strewn rapids on the Smith River with these friends didn’t mean we couldn’t have a leisurely float with them this time.  So I said, let’s check the weather forecast every day until we leave and if the prediction is warm and dry with no wind … let’s do it!  And while we’re at it, since Larry and Heidi have also invited another couple we‘ve never met, Bob and Laura, let’s test our friendship by bringing a 75 pound “puppy” along for his first experience floating in a canoe and sleeping in a tent.

We all met at a pre-arranged spot, strapped our gear into the canoes, coaxed, sweet-talked, bribed and then shoved Angus into our canoe and pushed off.  Unfortunately, by that time it was late in the day, the wind had come up, and we were not only paddling into a head wind, we were being buffeted by cross winds.  Angus was constantly moving but it was from excitement, not nervousness.    Every time he saw a bird he would jump up, poised to leap, the canoe would sway from side to side and I would tense, waiting for the inevitable.  Let me tell you.  There are LOTS of birds flying around a river.  When he wasn’t jumping up and whining at a bird or walking from one side of the canoe to the other, he was stepping over the cross bars to get to the back where Dean was sitting.   When he got bored with Dean he’d move back over the cross bars to the front of the canoe right behind me.   Just as I would be paddling like crazy to try and keep us going forward as the wind was trying to push us backwards, Angus would lay his head on my shoulder and expect me to pet him.   When the bird population dropped enough that he felt he could ignore them for a moment, he would lean up against the side of the canoe, causing it to list, stick his head over the side and nonchalantly lap up river water.  

 The wind rippled the water and made paddling difficult but Angus’ bird-watching and river drinking made it nerve-wracking.   I know it probably wasn’t fair for me to blame Angus for every tilt and sway of the canoe but I did.  Especially since I had no idea what was going on behind me.  Each time the boat leaned I gripped the side, and as I waited for the water to take us, I yelled.  “Sit!  Lay down!  Sit! Get away from the side!  Please!  Lay down, Angus!  Sit! What’s he doing now?  Is he sitting?  Sit Angus!  Is he lying down?  What’s going on?    Where is he?  Angus!  Sit!  Sit Angus!  Chew on your bone.  Chew on your stick.  Is he sitting?  What are you doing?  What’s he doing?  Oh, no, there’s another bird.  Angus!  Stay!  Staaaaaaaay ………….. staaaaaay ….. staaay …. stay! ….. Angus!  Stay!  Sit!  Sit, Angus!”

That was day one.   A four-mile, hour-long canoe ride that felt like a lifetime.  We almost backed out after that.  We fully intended to walk the five or so miles back to our car and admit defeat but Larry and Heidi and Laura and Bob talked us into staying.  Maybe listening to frantic yelling while they watched a wobbly canoe was good entertainment, or maybe they wanted to test their rescue skills if Angus did dump us into the river, or … maybe there were beers riding on exactly how and when the likely event of our dunking would occur.   Later, as we were all relaxing and visiting at our campsite, I wondered how much beer it would take to make a 75 pound dog lethargic.  Would it only take a little since he would be in a canoe being gently rocked to sleep?    Or would it take a lot because of all the stimulation from birds and wildlife?  Joking.  I was just joking.  Really.  I wouldn’t give him any.  That would be dog abuse.  But just out of curiosity, how much beer would a 75 pound dog have to drink in order to become mellow and sleepy? 

First night's campsite

We started out early on day two hoping to beat the wind.   The water was calm and Dean and I were much more relaxed as we glided along quietly with only the whisper of our paddles through the water.   Now and then I’d hear a muffled word softly spoken from one of the other canoes, or the quiet crunch of a stick being chewed behind me.  Angus even actually lay down in the boat or rested his head on the side intermittently for almost 45 seconds at a time – until he saw a bird or heard the slap of a beaver tail or the crack of elk hooves clambering over rocks.   All at once he would jump up, the canoe would rock and the tranquility would be shattered by staccato bursts of our frantic dog commands.

Day two had been so much more relaxing and enjoyable that we all decided to sleep in and have a leisurely pancake breakfast before we set off on the last morning’s paddle, which I welcomed because I hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the first night Angus slept in our tent.  He had started at our feet.  Then he moved to my side, then Dean’s side, then between us, then right on top of my legs and once I woke up and looked straight into a big black nose.   

Second night's campsite

As it turned out, we needed that extra sleep because day three was Day One Déjà vu with the addition of a goose; a goose that stubbornly chose to float and honk just ahead of our canoe.  When we paddled faster to try and scare it into flying away, the goose paddled a little faster maintaining the same distance ahead of us.  Angus was so tense with excitement he nearly vibrated.  He whined and cried and barked but the goose just kept floating and honking.  I yelled at Angus.  Dean yelled at Angus.  I yelled at the goose.  Nobody listened.  “This is it,” I thought.  “This is it.  So close to the end and he’s going to launch himself after that goose and dump us.”   

He didn’t.  But that was only because Dean decided to beach the canoe for a bit, wait for the others to catch up, and give that taunting feathered fowl time to get ahead of us.  Otherwise, I’m convinced instead of enjoying one last beer on the bank with our friends, I would have been drinking river water as I floated down the river clutching my life jacket in terror, wishing I’d given Angus a beer for breakfast.

Not as much fun as a river.

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Dog Paddling