Spring...

 

I didn't keep close track of online weather maps this week, but I'm thinking most of the Midwest saw spring storms on Wednesday.  High temperatures here made for instability in the weather when the winds finally blew in the rain. Tornadoes were sighted all around the Indianapolis area, and south of us, but on our little spot on the map we woke up yesterday morning to a freshly washed landscape and hardly any tree debris on the ground.

Bradford Pear blossoms

While the forecast predicts a welcomed cool down though most of next week, it is undeniably spring here.  White-blossomed Bradford Pear (which is, I'm sad to say, an invasive at this point) now dot the landscape along the highways.  Sprinkled amongst them are redbud trees, and all kinds of other trees just beginning to leaf out.  

Everything here is growing fast! Sedum, daylilies, irises, clematis, daffodils, forsythia, garlic, onions...  

Sedum, last week🠝 and today🠟

~~~~

Daylilies a week ago🠝 and today🠟

~~~~

Iris growth a week ago🠝

Irises today🠟

~~~~

This Clematis will soon be looking gorgeous.

Forsythia's bloom is about finished, though.

As are the daffodils, I suspect.

Garlic planted in the fall is looking good!

And walking onions planted from the 

bulbils of last year's onions are thriving.

And it looks like we'll have peaches again this year!

Once this rain is over (early next week) I plan to uncover the strawberry plants and take stock of that situation.  I am eager to see if my thinning them out last autumn will have an impact on their production and strawberry size in a couple of months.

I'm not quite ready to throw myself into spring's outdoor work, but hopefully that's just inertia tugging at me to be lazy.  I still have time to think about it. With all the rain we've had, it will take a while for the soil to dry enough to work it, anyway.

Meanwhile, with more consistently warmer temps, I've set myself up again in the sunroom to stitch on my never-ending cross stitch sampler.  It's a great front-row seat for the annual spring show accompanied by birdsong.

Digital fast...

Some folks in our church (including myself) are participating in a digital fast during this Lent season.  To make it interesting and even a little fun, our churched purchased access to an app (called Aro) that keeps us connected and able to see how we are all doing in our successes. 

Some people are enjoying gamifying the app and turning this fast into a fun competition, but I suspect the majority of us simply see it as a tool that may help us get a bit better control of our time spent on our digital devices.  And yes...  We are all aware of the irony that using an app for this purpose requires use of our digital devices.  

Each person who's participating in this digital fast decides what the "fast" means for them, and the boundaries they put around their own digital fasting.  The point of the fast isn't to demonize phone use, or become critical of others' phone use.  In fact, others' use of their devices isn't what is publicly visible.  We can only see when someone has intentionally set aside time they might have been on their device(s) and are making a conscious choice to not be.  

The purpose is simply to make each participant more aware of how habitually and absent-mindedly s/he uses their phones, and other digital devices.  And to encourage each of us to be more mindful about our digital device usage.

And in this awareness, to recognize that while our digital devices are wonderful tools of the modern age, they also have the capacity to rob us of time we could use for doing things we'd actually rather be doing...   people we'd prefer to be interacting with in person...   creative activities we'd feel more satisfaction pursuing.  These are my words, but I think the writers of the book and workbook titled "The Digital Fast" would wholeheartedly approve of my take.

I thought this would be easy, to be honest.  A lot of days, whether I'm at home or out and about, I feel like I've got plenty of things going to keep me busy and my mind active. Some days I lay my phone down and hardly look at it for hours.  But then sometimes (usually late in the evening) I find myself scrolling through YouTube videos, looking for something that interests me - feeling myself growing more bored with each scroll of the screen.  Which, oddly, has the effect of making me scroll even more.  I say I want to break this habit, but summoning the willpower is hard.

While YouTube is a great treasure trove of information, and I am thankful for many things I've learned from videos there, I hate that I have become so attached to it.  That's putting it too nicely.  I'm just plain addicted to it.

Whatever I end up writing here about this experience is not meant to be any kind of screed on the problems of the internet and social media.  I'm a big fan, in all honesty.  I LOVE that I can have conversations with people who live across the ocean, or on the opposite side of the globe from me.  I love my fellow YOPers and enjoy the camaraderie of a creative online community.  I am all in for the wonderful benefits the internet can give us.

What I'm not so crazy about is, how mindlessly I can get sucked into the vortex of news stories that rarely say anything actually new.  I'm weary of the fact that algorithms keep us divided, and unable to see and hear what exactly is influencing people we think we disagree with. We don't even take in the same information; how on earth can we have productive conversations on issues we think are important?  People too easily talk past each other.  The internet allows this to happen at lightening speed.  Talking, talking, talking, hearing very little.

So...  while, to date, I'm somewhat failing in my goal of conquering the mindless taking in of Youtube content in the evenings, it remains my goal to do just that.

Some good things so far from this exercise:

We've been motivated to have some people from church over recently.  One of the encouragements of the fast is to replace screen time with community.  We're no strangers to having folks over, but it's easy to get lazy about it when weeks go by and we don't do it.

Greg and I have played games a couple of times.  Nothing very exciting, but it's good for us.  Good for our gray matter, good for our relationship.  We enjoy games.  We need to do it more.  I'm struck by how wholesome it is to just play a game with another person.

A few evenings ago we played Othello, last night Boggle. Other great two-person games we have:  Mastermind, Scrabble, Upwords, Battleship, Eclipse, Cathedral, Blokus, Tangoes, Chess, Checkers, Backgammon, and any number of card games or other games we tend to play with more people, but are probably fun for two.  

I'll write about some struggles, and attempts at solutions in my next post on the subject.  Meanwhile, thank you for being online and reading this post about me trying to spend less time online. 😆

 

Waiting... awkwardly...

When was the last time you sat in a waiting room that didn't have a TV in it?  Or maybe there was a TV on, but the volume was too low to actually hear it.  Did you sit there feeling a little stupid as you watched a silent picture?  Feeling only slightly less stupid realizing that the person in the next seat over was watching the silent TV too?  

This was my very odd experience last week at my dentist's office.  

To get to the point of this post...  TV or not, when was the last time you sat in a waiting room without pulling your cell phone out to check for a text, or to simply help you pass the time?

This past week I challenged myself to do just that.  Just sit. In a waiting room.  For an undetermined amount of time without distracting myself with my phone.  

I didn't last more than five minutes before sheer awkwardness drove me to finally dig my phone out of my purse.  It wasn't boredom that made me look for my phone.  It wasn't that I felt compelled to check on something.  It was simply that I grew overwhelmingly awkward sitting in a silent waiting room, in the midst of people also sitting there - most on their phones.

It didn't used to be this way.  I can remember years ago sitting quietly, maybe closing my eyes to deepen the experience of soaking in the quiet. I remember when life was busy with kids and their activities, having occasions to sit alone, quietly in a waiting room and actually enjoying it.  I remember sometimes carrying a book with me if I expected  to be waiting for very long.  I remember picking up magazines on a nearby table to glance through, and once (at a dentist's office) I even remember when the receptionist offered to make a copy of the article I was reading.  I guess she noticed I was engrossed when I was called back more quickly than I expected to be.  

This week, in the waiting room of a lab, there weren't even magazines.

The Quest Diagnostics waiting room I have had the experience of visiting in recent years is a sadly stark space.  I don't think there is a window to look out of.  No music. There is definitely no TV.  There isn't even a person whose job it is to check people in.  Even that little bit of activity can at least give one the opportunity to people-watch without looking obvious or rude.  All that is in this dreary waiting room are chairs around the perimeter (that on this day were mostly full), and a kiosk awkwardly placed across the room from the door - just waiting for the next person to walk in and across the gray-carpeted floor to check him or herself in.  Watching the back of someone silently checking himself in on a touch screen doesn't make for very interesting people watching.

So I looked around, smiling if someone made eye contact.  Finally, folding my arms over my purse I began to hopelessly look at the walls for something my eyes could land on. There were three pieces of paper tacked to a bulletin board close to where I sat, but the print was so small I couldn't read them without getting up and going to see what was printed on them.  They didn't look interesting enough to bother. 

I shifted my body.  I changed my gaze.  I looked at the carpet.  Then, glancing in different directions, I tried not to look shifty.  

Feeling shifty, I closed my eyes.  Having nothing at all to listen to, I felt odd sitting like that - imagining I looked like I was praying.  Which would have been a perfectly fine thing to do, but I was so overcome by my awkwardness actually praying didn't even cross my mind. 

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.  I opened my eyes and pulled out my phone.  

I checked for texts.  Nothing there.

I texted a friend (a few years ago, I began texting one long-distance friend whenever I found myself in a waiting room - I thought it was a unique genre of texting, even if it was a little weird).  

She didn't reply.

Since I didn't have earphones, I couldn't watch a video, so I googled something.  I have no memory of what inane thing I typed into the search box.  What I remember was how disappointed I was in myself that I didn't have the fortitude to not pull my phone out and pretend I had something interesting to do on it.  I had failed the challenge.

Setting aside, for a minute, my utter disappointment in myself, I'm suddenly remembering I have Solitaire on my phone.  And some word game. I rarely play games on my phone, so it didn't even occur to me.  Is that what other people are doing on their phones when they look completely immersed in something fascinating?!?  I've always assumed other people have gobs of friends or family texting them.  Or I've figured they might be doing some important work on their phone. 

Are they actually just playing games?!?

In my next post, I'll explain where this topic has sprung from, but for now, seriously...  when was the last time you just sat silently in a waiting room, not watching TV, not playing on your phone?  Instead, just sitting with your thoughts.  I'm sure a few of you have.  But no worries if you haven't, or have no desire to.  It's just a question.  A serious question.  But not one with any criticism implied. 

While I failed on my last attempt, I'm already looking forward to the next opportunity I have.  I am determined to succeed.

Promise of spring...

The roller coaster of late winter's changing weather is upon us.  The pattern repeats:  a string of unseasonably warm days followed by frigid temps in the teens.  

It snowed a bit yesterday as we left a funeral service.  It seemed fitting. 

Today I see 70°F in the 10-day forecast!  That seems impossible.

But there are signs of spring. Garlic planted late last autumn, is popping through  saturated soil, teasing me to start thinking about the garden.  

Though, as of yet, no asparagus is coming through the leaf mulch we put down in November of last year.  

 

And while strawberry plants are starting to stretch from their winter's nap, I'm not sure I want to uncover them just yet.

In this late winter season when it's too wet (and most days, too cold) to be working in the soil, I try to content myself with inside business. 

My friend, Lynne, who brought her own sourdough bread for our dinner and a movie night recently, inspired me to consider that I should really learn how to make this delicious bread.  A few down-to-earth bakers on YouTube have just about convinced me it doesn't need to be as complicated as it often looks to be.  I bought rye and spelt flour for making a quick starter.  Now, I just need to commit to trying.

And in between half-hearted cleaning and decluttering, I'm pretending that crocheting another blanket is something productive to do.

Indeed, there is no need for another blanket, but it is undoubtedly satisfying to move yarn between fingers, while a crochet hook twists colorful strands into a playful pattern of granny stitches.

While this large granny square blanket is more than half-way finished, the rounds go slower and slower the bigger it gets.  No promises or predictions on when it will be finished.  Just pleasure in the making of it.

More doilies...

Today we woke up to a brand new winter wonderland.  And the birds were excited by it all day.

~~~~~

Putting away blanket-weight yarn for a bit, I pulled out some crochet cotton for two new doilies - from the book, 99 Little Doilies...

Somehow, it escaped me that I had made #44 before, but interestingly, made in this peach ivory color, a new name emerged:

Crinoline

And because (I think) I'm working on a collection of little doilies made in the above Ivory Peach color, and a dark brown/gray color called Hawk, I quickly produced #54 below.

Photographed on a lighter background, I might have come up with a different name, but on this gray cloth, this doily is giving me garden/soil vibes.  

Meet Cherozem

Cherozem (the doily) reminds me of the dark prairie soils in north west Indiana where Greg and I first lived (and planted our first garden).  Greg was a soil scientist (who mapped the soils in that part of the state in the early '80's), and he tells me the name used for the soils there is Mollisols. It's rich and dark, and great for growing things.  Cherozem is a word used for this soil in Russia and Ukraine, and maybe Canada?  I think Cherozem is a prettier name than Mollisols, so Cherozem it is.  The emphasis is on the first syllable in case you want to try to pronounce it.  

And that's it for today's YOP post.  If you're at all interested in YOPping, or just being part of a world-wide network of fiber crafters, you can check out the group on Ravelry by clicking the Year Of Projects graphic below.  If you're not already a member of Ravelry, you'll have to create a free account to get any further than the home page.

Look at all those cardinals!  I counted 14 males.  There are probably that many females in the trees and on the feeders.

Dahlia #2...

 I have finally finished my flowery-colored Dahlia Blanket!

I think I remember expressing intentions of finishing this by the end of 2024, then January of 2025.  For some reason, though, l temporarily lost interest. But in the last week, my crojo returned as mysteriously as it had disappeared, and I have finally finished this blanket of many (supposed) Dahlia colors.

Even though my interest waned for a little while, overall it was a pleasure to crochet.  And I am also very glad to be moving on.  

Using a variety of worsted weight yarns, mostly from my stash, I approximated a lot of the colors the designer (Lucy at Attic 24) used.  Lucy tends to make her colorful creations in Stylecraft DK weight yarn that comes in a huge range of colors.  Where I didn't have similar colors in my stash, I worked in colors I thought would play with what I did have.

I finished the border according to the pattern, but finished the last round with a crab (or reverse single crochet) stitch.

I really like this neatly rolled edge as a fun border on a blanket of playful colors.

And that, dear reader, is all I've got for this YOP update.  

It looks like we've got several storm systems crossing the U.S. this week and next weekend - with snow and ice for a lot of people, and maybe tornadoes for some.  I knew it was too much to hope that our recent warm weather last week meant winter was wrapping up.  I hope you all stay warm and dry!

Early February thoughts...

It's February, and I already feel the year slipping away.   

Okay...  maybe it's a little early to start lamenting the year going by too fast, but I do often feel a sense of desperation for how time seems to disappear faster each year.  Does anyone else out there reading this relate?

Something I've been doing for a few years now is recording life in journals/planners of a sort - something I create as I go. I tend to peter out by summer (which is a great disappointment when I look back at my journals), but each year I stick with it a little longer.  Fortunately, I record stuff on my phone's calendar, so at least I can look back for the dates that important-to-me things happened.  Being more of an optimist than not, every January I start a journal like this, and hope it will have staying power.  One of these years, maybe...

Before starting to fill my February calendar, I thought I'd take a moment to enjoy a clean calendar page.  Clean slates, fresh starts, opportunities are what I see above.  I tend to have little set in stone when turning over a new calendar page, but it doesn't take long before the days fill up and all those opportunities either start being realized, or they fade into the airy cloud of good intentions.

While we've turned chilly again, and snow is in the forecast, it was unseasonably warm the first three days of February.  Sunday was in the 50's and Monday was 68°F!  In the sunroom on Groundhog Day, I enjoyed how glorious were the colors I was crocheting with, as I sat like a cat bathed in sunlight, basking in its warmth. 

While true spring is a month and a half away on the calendar, and probably longer than that in temperatures, it was spring in my heart for a few days.  All stresses melted away, as thoughts of what I might plant in the garden tickled my imagination.

While the month started out very nicely here, and in spite of crooning over how great the warmth felt, I am not ready for the busyness of spring.  I have more cocooning to do.  More cooking of hearty meals.  More getting things in order, and house cleaning before we start traipsing in dirt and dust from outside all over again.

And breaking into all these pleasant things is the knowledge that there are many still suffering from hurricane damage in the southeast, and fire damage in California, and all kinds of pestilence and harms around the globe.  I sometimes struggle when life is going well for me, knowing it is hard for others.  Do you this too?  It seems a form of survivor's guilt.  Not productive except that it prompts me to pray and help when and how I can.  

How is it in your corner of the world?  Are you filled with the hope of coming spring, or struggling through the dreary cold of winter?  Or somewhere in between?  Every February I seem to find myself somewhere in between - this year glad for merely chilly temps instead of the bitter cold we had a few weeks ago; not wanting spring to come too early, but also eager to see things growing again.

As long as the earth endures, 

seedtime and harvest, 

cold and heat, 

summer and winter, 

day and night will never cease.

Genesis 8:22 (NASB)

Fresh starts and progress...

Permission given by April Soetarman to use her photo

I gave up New Year's resolutions many years ago, but like most people, I enjoy fresh starts.  New years, new months, Monday mornings...  the start of anything new comes with hope and a promise of opportunity.  A clean slate.  Or so we like to imagine.

This January is no different.  While some unexplained recent bouts of random racing heartbeats have gotten me an appointment for an echo stress test, and being set up with a heart monitor I'll wear for a couple of weeks (starting late next week), and blood tests and the doctor's scale this week providing the undeniable evidence of little discipline over the holidays, I'm not letting those things discourage me too much.  Rather, I'm choosing to embrace the hope that a new year brings. 

Another truth, though, is, while you can't see the evidence on the outside, it is undeniable that I have gained back most of my strength from all that 2023 held for me.  So, in that light, I count 2024 as an overall success - even if the random racing pulse is a puzzle at the moment. 

Also, I feel pretty good about my Dexa scan last month.  It showed I'm holding steady, with a .1 increase in bone density in the spine.  

I, and others, consider holding steady as progress, since the natural progression of bone density is always to diminish if left untreated - either with medicines and/or lifestyle.  Mainly, the lifestyle changes I made to date are specific vitamin and mineral supplementation, and to change my anti-cancer drug from one that is known to diminish bone density to one that might actually benefit my bones.  

Of course, I couldn't just switch my medicine on my own.  After doing research and approaching my oncologist about this a year ago, he was agreeable to making the switch.  The new-to-me (though older) medicine doesn't come without risks, but life has become a series of weighing one risk against another and making choices I'm comfortable with.  And at this point, it's oddly helpful to recognize and accept that cancer is a bit of a crapshoot.

The internet makes research easy - which can be a good and bad thing, I realize. I suspect my doctors would prefer me to not do as much research as I do, but when I express my concerns about potential long-term side effects of certain medicines, they don't discount my worries.  Sometimes, they reword the risks, thinking they can make it more palatable, I suspect, when all they've really done is confirm what I just said I was concerned about.  I like to think they know that I'm not outright eschewing their advice or their medicines (necessarily), but I'm trying my best to actually make informed decisions, and decisions I can live at peace with.  Or, quite frankly (and possibly too morbidly for most people's tastes) decisions I can die at peace with.  When that thought settles in, it's game changing and kind of empowering.

Not that that headspace is where I live my daily life.  But there is great peace over making informed choices that take into consideration what is important to me.  It actually frees me from some fears.  I wrote briefly a couple of posts ago how knowledge about osteoporosis and what I might be able to do about it, turned fear into hope.

  

I remain open with my doctors about what I'm doing, and, in turn, they seem to respect me.  When I visited my GP last summer, after reviewing my annual blood work, I told her I didn't want to go on a medicine that has potential nasty side effects, when simple lifestyle changes might fix a perceived problem - "perceived" being key here).  This was not about OP, and I'm being intentionally vague here, so just go with it.  I also said, "I trust you'll tell me, nicely, if you think I'm being an idiot."  To which she chuckled softly and said, "You're not."

In a little over a week I will see my endocrinologist again.  Encouraged that my bone density has held steady for a year, and I am physically stronger than when I last saw her, I'm pretty sure I'm going to pass for now on the OP drug I know she wants me to take.  What I hope is that by making that choice, I don't lose a doctor I like.  She seems to listen, and not discount my concerns. But I'm not sure she had room in her files to keep a patient who isn't interested in the only treatment she can actually provide.  I mean, she'd go out of business if all of her patients wanted to try lifestyle changes first, or simply take the risk that a fracture might not happen, right?  If I do end up with a fracture at some point, I'd like to know I could see her again.  Risk/benefit scales aren't static.  They are constantly changing, depending on what's going on in one's life, and I suppose the scales might even be recalibrated when new treatments, or diagnostic tests are available.

This January I've already started working on some habits that may continue to improve things.  To be clear, I didn't start the year with great gusto and impressive resolutions only to burn out by now already.  But rather, I'm continuing to approach the building of habits in the way James Clear writes about in Atomic Habits.  Small changes accumulated regularly over time result in big improvements, or as Clear puts it:

"Habits are like the atoms of our lives.  Each one is a fundamental unit that contributes to your overall improvement.  At first, these tiny routines seem insignificant, but soon they build on each other and fuel bigger wins that multiply to a degree that far outweighs the cost of their initial investment.  They are both small and mighty. This is the meaning of the phrase atomic habits - a regular practice or routine that is not only small and easy to do, but also the source of incredible power; a component of the system of compound growth."

And spiritually, which ultimately is far more important that the physical, I'm working on private habits to take in and meditate more on scripture.  I've also signed up for a Bible study starting soon where adult women and older teen girls will study and share insights together.  And overall, I'm seeking what God wants me to do in this season of life.  What ministry opportunities I should be involved in.  Do I keep doing or increase doing what I've done in this regard in recent years, or should I do new things?  I have a feeling it will unfold slowly, and perhaps not obviously, and hopefully I'll look back and marvel again at what God has done in me, and for me - as He always has.

This is where I am in January of 2025.  A little bit all over the map, but feeling thankful and hopeful, recognizing and accepting that I have been a work in progress all my life.  And trusting that my Creator and Savior will continue to mold me and shape me as Paul writes to the believers in Philippi:

"For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work among you will complete it by the day of Christ Jesus."  - Philippians 1:6  NASB

Osteoporosis online summit...

I want to jump in today with a last-minute post to let  anyone who might be interested in learning about Osteoporosis and natural approaches to dealing with it, know about a free online Osteoporosis Summit this week.

I've written more below, but here is a link if you want to just go check it out now:

Osteoporosis and Bone Health 

Online Summit

Why am I sharing this?

In November of 2023, after I had mostly recovered from chemotherapy for breast cancer, my oncologist ordered a DEXA scan for me.  I'd never heard the term DEXA before that, and I had no understanding of why one was being ordered for me.  It is not normal for me to not question a test - especially something I'd not heard of before, but at that point I'd gone through so much medical surveillance, diagnostic tests, and treatment (most of which I've never written about here) I just nodded in acceptance that this was the next thing on the "cancer conveyor belt". 

I may write in more detail someday my processing getting an osteoporosis diagnosis, but I'll just say now, I was shocked to find out I had osteoporosis in my spine.  When I started doing research on it, I was dismayed (actually angry - I'm still angry) that this topic is not adequately discussed in our culture, or even in the medical community.  My endocrinologist, who I'm presently seeing for surveillance of and maybe (in the future) treatment for OP, was the first person to say to me that the medical community does not do a good job educating people about osteoporosis.  She seemed surprised at our first meeting how much I already knew about osteoporosis and the medications she could offer me. 

My continuing research and conversations with people my age and older only confirms that most of us (including general medical persons) are woefully undereducated about a condition that can affect as many as 30-50% of us - men and women.  

Which brings me to the point of this post.  Having watched many of the video presentations in the Osteoporosis Summit last year, I highly recommend it to anyone - especially, if you have a new OP diagnosis, and don't know where to start learning about it.  Or maybe you've had OP for years, but you want to understand it better.

Things I gleaned last year:

A understanding about bone metabolism, and what osteoporosis is.

The many things that can cause osteoporosis. Not to scare anyone, but being lean is actually one risk factor.

Information on what tests one should ask for when considering treatment.  Some of these tests will show whether or not there is a secondary cause of OP, and may point to potential treatments that are not drugs.

The importance of improving and/or maintaining balance and muscle strength as we age.

Exercises for balance as well as for possibly improving bone density.

The significant relationship between muscle strength and exercise and bone metabolism.

And, perhaps most of all, I came away with hope and an idea of how to proceed - whether I chose medical intervention, or decided to try natural approaches.  My fear of fracture was replaced with a bit of optimism, and a determination that fear would not keep me from doing things.  

That said, I take things like ice and tripping hazards very seriously now.  I don't walk through dark rooms now if I can help it.  I'm also continuing to try to improve my posture in everyday activities.  I never really thought of myself as a slouch before, but I've come to realize how much I do slouch, and how easy it is to slump into poor posture when doing just about anything - especially when sitting.  Learning that simple slouching can lead to spinal fractures in someone with spinal OP has created hyper posture awareness in me. And still, I catch myself slouching. 

My caveats about the summit...

By signing up for the summit, one is giving permission for their email address to be shared with all the presenters, and agreeing to receiving promotional emails.  To be honest,  I received a few promotional emails from some of the presenters last year, but it was easy to unsubscribe from those I wasn't interested in.  That said, I do suggest using a "junk" email account.  I think everyone should have a junk email account anyway, just to protect a main account from becoming burdensome with inevitable unwanted email.

You will also receive some emails encouraging you to purchase ongoing access to the summit.  Each day's presentations are only available for free for 24 hours, and when the whole week is passed, it's over, and there is no more access to anything.  

And lastly, not every presentation is going to be everyone's cup of tea.  There were a couple of presenters that I thought were a bit "woo-woo", but for the most part, presenters were professionals in various fields who speak from their experience and education with helping people with osteoporosis, and some dealing with it themselves.

Am I benefitting?

No. I am in no way benefitting from promoting this summit.  

My advice is to not make any purchases at all in regards to this summit.  My guess is, if you're interested later, the offers will still be available. I believe they were offered for at least a week post summit last year.  I have not purchased anything to date.  That said, I did recently purchase Keith McCormick's book, Great Bones, off of Amazon.  MY introduction to Keith McCormick was this summit. 

I will not benefit in any way if someone reading this post, participates in the summit, or even just checks it out.  I am simply passing along information and my experience with this summit last year.

And that's all.  Now I'm off to listen to my first presentation today.

Quiche Lorraine...

In an attempt to keep my recipes from getting lost, I'm ever-so-slowly posting them here on my blog for easy access.  

A few years ago, I went through all my cookbooks and Taste of Home magazines, and made copies of what I wanted to keep, and then recycled the stained, falling apart cookbooks, and rehomed a bunch of still nice, but not necessarily wanted, cookbooks and magazines.  I put photocopied recipes into sleeve protectors, and then into two three-ring binders with dividers. I can add to the binders any time I find a recipe online that is a hit, or I want to try.  This system, along with my collection of recipe cards (stored in three recipe boxes) has served me well ever since.

But recently, it seems my old tried and true Quiche Lorraine recipe, that I'm sure I photocopied from an old Pillsbury cookbook, turned up missing.  I hope to someday discover where I stuck that original recipe, but without it I did what modern cooks do and I searched for quiche recipes online.

Working from a couple of different recipes I've found online in recent months, I have put together a recipe that I think is basically the recipe I used to use.

If you're so inclined to try this version, I hope you liked it as much as Hub did.  He pronounced yesterday's quiche "the best I've ever made."

Considering quiche a simple dish, but knowing somehow it can sometimes also be finicky, all I can add to Hub's high praise is "Good Luck!"

~~~~~~

Quiche Lorraine

Ingredients:

1 par-baked pie crust (comments about par-baking a crust will be at the end of the recipe, and here is a video for reference, as well.  Or this one is informative and funny. Note: I start with a 400 degree oven, and turn it down to 375 after a few minutes.)

1/2 lb strips of bacon (I prefer thick-cut bacon)

1/2 cup chopped onion

1 cup shredded swiss or gruyere cheese (or combination)

1 1/4 cup heavy whipping cream, or a combination of milk and cream.  Some recipes call for Half & Half, but I think Quiche Lorraine is better if more cream than milk is used.  That said, if you want to healthify this a bit, H&H is an option.

3 large eggs

1/4 tsp salt

1/8 tsp cayenne pepper  

1/8 tsp nutmeg

Instructions:

Cook the bacon (here is a video for cooking bacon in the oven - I highly recommend this method).  Though you do need to keep an eye on the bacon toward the end of its cooking time.  It can go from perfectly crisp to burnt if you don't check on it.  Also, thick-cut bacon will likely take a little longer to cook than regular-cut bacon.

After it's cooked and cooled, crumble bacon in 1 - 1 1/2 inch pieces and set aside.

Par-bake the pie crust until light brown. (I start baking at 425, and turn the heat down to 375 after a few minutes). Again, here is a short video and a longer video here that will walk you through this process.  I strongly suggest watching either or both of the videos and/or reading all my notes below before doing this, so you don't have to learn the hard way that there is a right and possibly very wrong way to par or pre-bake a pie crust.   I strongly urge against simply following instructions on the packaging of a store-bought pie crust for how to par-bake.

Preparing the filling:

Sauté chopped onions in butter (or oil) until they are somewhat translucent.   Add the sautéed onions evenly to the bottom of the par-baked pie shell.

Add half of the bacon, all of the cheese, then the other half of the bacon, spreading each layer evenly in the pie shell.

Whisk 3 large eggs, adding 1 1/4 cup whipping cream (or combination of milk and cream), 1/2 tsp salt, 1/8 tsp cayenne pepper, and 1/8 tsp ground nutmeg.  Pour over the solid ingredients, covering everything, but be sure to not overfill pie crust.  If you need more liquid filling, just whisk an egg with some milk or cream and add to what is already in pie shell.  You can add additional, but tiny, amounts of the seasonings in this case, but for this small amount, it shouldn't be necessary. But it also shouldn't hurt.  So yeah...  go ahead if you have any doubts.

Place filled pie shell on a baking sheet, and loosely cover pie with aluminum foil (so that the crust doesn't burn).  Bake in a 350 degree oven for 40-60 minutes, or until a knife inserted into the middle comes out clean. The quiche will continue to cook as it cools for a few minutes.  My quiches almost always require a full hour of baking, but I start checking at 40-45 minutes.

Remove from oven, and let stand for a few minutes.  Slice, eat, and enjoy!

Comments on pre- and par-baking a pie crust:

I have recently learned (or have maybe relearned) the benefits and hazards of pre or par-baking a pie shell.  The benefits are that the result will be a crispy, flavorful crust instead of soggy, bleh one. I didn't use to do this when making quiche, but it makes such a difference I can't imagine not par-baking a shell for quiche ever again.

See that flaky, crispy crust!  

I makes me kind of sad to remember 

all the soggy-crust quiches we've eaten.  

Now, the hazard in pre- and par-baking is that if the oven is not hot enough, or crust is not cold enough, or possibly not made with a solid fat, the crust can melt, shrink, and fold in on itself when put into the oven.  This happened to me for the first time (that I remember) a few months ago when I was making quiche for young friends who'd just had a baby.  When you're due to deliver a hot meal in a couple of hours is not the time to learn a hard lesson, but learn I had to.  And fast. 

I think I was using a prepared refrigerated pie crust that you unroll onto a pie plate, and I par-baked the crust according to the package instructions.  When I took it out of the oven, I was panicked to find the pie shell was collapsing in on itself.  It was completely unusable for putting quiche filling into.  Fortunately, Hub was at the grocery store right then, and I called and asked him to bring home a couple of new pie crusts.  Meanwhile, I searched online how to prevent this from happening again.

Everyone online talked about pie weights.  Even now, with a bit of experience, I think ceramic pie weights may be the most reliable option, but I didn't (and still don't) have any.  Every time I think about their expense vs how often I'm likely to use them gives me pause.  And I have no way of knowing if one package of pie weights would be enough.  If not, they're even more expensive. 

I would have to think about that another day.  In the moment, I needed a quicker solution than ordering pie weights.

Then it dawned on me.  Dried beans might work!  I thought I had a bag or two, but all I found in the pantry were two bags of dried lentils.  

Hmmm.  Well... why not.  

Par-baking the pie crust:

When Hub got home with the new (this time, frozen) pie crusts, I cranked up the heat in the oven. Then being sure to only partially thaw the frozen pie shells, I pricked them thoroughly with a fork, then lined the very cold crust with parchment paper and poured in the lentils.  

It worked!

But the pie looked a little undone in the middle:

So, I put it back in the oven (without the lentils and parchment paper) for just a few minutes until it looked like this:

A nice, flat-bottomed, crispy crust

Then I cooled and collected the lentils 

in a gallon zip-top bag to be used again.  

And again.

And again.

I think I've got my pie weights!

I still don't know why this was the first time I'd ever had this bad experience. I know in the past I've pre-baked pie shells (homemade and store-bought) to fill with custard fillings, and I don't remember using any kind of weight to keep the crust in shape, and I don't remember ever having a crust collapse in on itself.  This makes me wonder if the main reason this happened recently is that manufacturers have moved away from using solid fats in their crusts and have replaced the fat with oil.  What made me wonder this, was reading some comments on a product page for Marie Callender pie crusts, where people were complaining that their once delicious pie crusts were no longer as good due to this change.

I have no idea.  The first time I'd ever used a Marie Callender crust was when Hub brought some home for me when I was in my predicament, and I thought they were good.  In fact, one day after that, I was going to pick up some more frozen pie shells, and I noticed that their Marie Callender shells were on sale.  They were some crazy low price, so I think I bought four 2-packs.  I figured they would keep fine in my freezer at home.  Which leads me to my next tip:

Dealing with cracks in premade pie crusts:

At home with my bounty, I pulled out a two-pack to make whatever it was I had gone shopping for pie shells to make, and when I took them out of their packaging, I found they were cracked - like in a lot of pieces!  Aaaaah!  That's why they were marked down so low. Grrrrrr. 

Seriously disappointed, I went online to see what I might do with these pie crusts, and I came across the idea of patching them with a flour and water paste.  While on a small scale, I had patched pie shells by wetting the dough and pinching tears back together, or layering dough on top of a hole, the idea of "pasting it back together" seemed both wild, and obvious at the same time.

Instructions I read call for a 1:1 ratio of water to flour, but measuring seemed unnecessary.  I just made a paste and starting filling in cracks (on a thawed shell).  Yesterday, when I did this again, I snapped a picture to show you what this looks like:

Back into the freezer it went until I was ready to pull it out for baking.  And here's a picture, again, of yesterday's par-baked pie crust:

Except for a few spots where I could have spackled it better, you can't tell this pie shell was dropped and cracked at some point in its life.

Would I knowingly buy frozen pie crusts at a questionably deep discount in the future?  I don't know.  These were all broken differently, and some were a real mess before their repair.  BUT, I don't worry about the possibility of bringing home a broken or cracked shell now.  While it felt annoying to discover them cracked, it's a relatively simple fix.

I think that's about all I have to say about frozen pie crusts.  I sometimes think of making them from scratch again, and while that isn't exactly hard to do, it's a bit time consuming, and messy, and results vary.  

But, especially in today's economy, they would be a lot cheaper...

Maybe someday...

Let me know if you enjoy making pie crusts, and if you have any secrets to a delicious flaky crust.