As Easy as Pie

Pie is usually an easy thing to make. I've never made cheese pie, so I can't speak to that. Apple pie is a bit more labor intensive because of the peeling and chopping. But a berry pie? As easy as pie. Or so I thought.

This evening, I looked forward to making a birthday Blackberry pie for our good friend Michelle. She is not only my friend, but she is also a regular e-mail correspondant with Cosmos. He always sounds a bit irritable in his diction to her, but he really does like the give-and-take of the relationship He also likes the taste of pie crust, so he was completely in favor of this planned endeavour.

Of course, there was the dinner engagement that I had to attend first, but I was home by 8pm... plenty of time to get this project done and into bed at a reasonable hour. Except...

Well, first, it was required that I procrastinate for a while. In my defense, I had the foresight to turn my oven on at 400 degrees as soon as I walked in the door, but then I retired to my computer and worked on yesterday's blog. Checked my e-mail. Visited various web sites at which I am a regular. And then realized that about 90 minutes had gone by. A little late, but there was still plenty of time to get the Pie project done.

Whoops! I just realized that I needed to process a few loads of laundry at the same time. I had no clothes for exercise class in the morning. So I sorted it to decide what to wash ( keeping it down to three loads), and took it to the laundry room. Into the machines, put in my money, and the washing was quickly in progress.




Back into my kitchen where I pulled out the baking ingredients. Flour from my freezer. A stick of butter. A stick of Crisco. And ice water. It's imperative that all the ingredients be ice cold for pie crust. This is unlike cookies where you want everything room temperature.

I started by measuring out 2 1/2 cups of flour. Or not. I hadn't checked my ingredients before beginning the project. I only had 2 cups of flour. That would never do, so I picked up my purse and keys and ran over to Gelsons to get more. Without my sweater because I knew this was only going to take a couple of minutes.




Bad mistake. It was in the mid 50's outside, but with wind gusts of up to 60 mph, it seemed much colder than that. I chose Gelsons because it's the quickest market from my home, but was certainly not aware that it closed at 10 pm. I arrived at 10:10. So back into my car I went and on to Vons (almost right next door) where I bought not only flour, but additional butter and sugar. I must have had a preminition to get these other two items, but that's for later in the story.



Flour in hand, I quickly measured 2 1/2 cups into my food processor...


As well as 6 TB of Butter and 6 TB of shortening.





Turned on the processor and mixed until flour was coated and the dough looked crumbly.




Added 6 TB of ice water, or so I thought. I had trouble getting a good picture of adding the water, loosing count of the tablespoons until there was way too much water in there and the crust was ruined. Had to start all over again.



The next batch of pie crust dough came out just fine, but that's when the timer rang.



Time to move my laundry from the washer to the dryer.





Now that the clothes were drying, I could put flour on my pie mat...



And roll out the crust.



Watching over my shoulder because two out of every two dogs like to eat raw pie crust and would steal it given half a chance.



Pie crust rolled out, I sprayed the pie dish with Pam to keep it from sticking. By the way, it's generally not a good idea to leave a spray can of Pam on a hot stove. Yes, I am trying for a Darwin Award. And I've almost won one too.





Pie crust rolled out, it was time to address the berries. I use frozen when making pies. It's much more cost-efficient than fresh and honestly, I can't tell the difference. Drain them, put them in a bowl, mix with sugar.... OY! Couldn't find the sugar that I know that I have stored in the pantry. It was a good thing that I bought another bag while at Vons!







And then it happened. The phone rang. Eric! So I talked to Eric as I finished mixing the berries, put it into the bottom pie crust that lined the pie dish, rolled out the top crust and topped the pie. Trimmed the excess and pinched the edges closed.





Now it was time to melt the butter with which I was going to brush the top crust. Easier said than done since my microwave is almost 20 years old and isn't heating much of anything these days. I think that's when I hung up with Eric... after two minutes trying to melt one TB of butter and getting nowhere fast.



Butter finally melted, I brushed the top of the pie and then dumped more raw sugar on it.



Vented the pie...







And put it in the oven.



OY! Time to collect the laundry from the driers! Then DING! As soon as I walked in the door, the 15 minute bake cycle timer rang and it was mandatory to turn the oven down to 350 degrees.



Then back to the front door to let the dogs out for the final time of the evening.

"Go on outside boys. It's the last time you're going out today. The next time you go out, it will be tomorrow."



Dogs finished with outside for the day, I had to put the laundry away - I hate folding, don't you? - and wait until the pie was finished baking. 45 minutes at 350 degrees and it was thankfully done.







And none too soon. Both dogs were exhausted by the evening's activites and were already in their respective beds. It was time for me to join them.

Finishing Up

So many projects, so little time. Or so it seems even though the truth is that many of the things that I would like to make - who's conception happened in my mind even while I am working on other things - have no deadline.

First, of course, Christmas doesn't really exist for me. I'm Jewish which kind of excludes me except for the annual Pilgrimage of Chinese Food. But more than that, I hate malls... I hate shopping... and I'm somewhat claustrophobic in crowded spaces. For those few who are receiving gifts (or already have received them), you know that mostly you were given the product of my own mind and hands. It may be something that you want to keep, or may be something that you'd rather regift (I'm fine either way... it's yours to do with what you please), but you know that the real gift was the time that I spent with you in mind.

That being said, I make/give very little in honor of the holiday. I'd rather give at other times of the year when it's not a requirement... and more of a display of the feelings in my heart.

I have finished up a number of projects in the past few of days, though.

I started this knit set quite a while ago. It was originally intended for the "Red Scarf Project" by Orphans of America. That organization puts together a Valentine's Day mailing for orphans and survivors of the foster care system who have made their way into college or trade school. But I was so busy with other things that I didn't finish it in time. So then I thought it would be for Stitch Cafe and go to their charitable groups. Again, I didn't finish it on time. So I finally finished it and here it is in it's "wrapping." I love the label. I made it myself on my inkjet printer using parchment paper and a paper cutter.



Here is a necklace-earring set in progress. I was so harried that I forgot to take a final picture before delivering it. Don't you love how I make use of the old yoga weights that I'm certainly not using for yoga or any other form of exercise? They actually are coming up as the very same joke in the episode of "That's Clever" I filmed last June (airing on HGTV some time next year - Season 5). I'm supposed to contact them in late February for an episode number and a tentative show date. We'll see then when it's actually scheduled and I'll certainly let you-all know.




A trip to Caldelle Leather and I discovered that they have a "close out" set of bins. I didn't know that the first time I visited them. I walked out with some lambskin and buffalo at tremendous prices.




And made an embellished photo album.

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In the meantime, my holiday eating is shot to hell. Well, I guess that's an overstatement because I actually am going to end out the holidays at 151 unless something goes terribly awry, and that's one pound less than I started at. Lucy at HMR tells us that the average American gains 10 to 12 pounds during the same time frame, so I will take my stableness and bank it. But I'm worried because I've had two breaks with eating protocol that were not planned deviations.

What's worrying me too, is that for the first time in several years, I am not keeping food sheets. I weigh in every morning and start my records with breakfast, but then just drop them for the rest of the day. I don't know if I'm being lazy or displaying avoidance behavior, but somehow I need to manage it and get them started again. I'm thinking about hanging a pad of paper with a pen in the kitchen and trying to hand write them there. It's a real problem. The two main indicators of weight loss and maintenance is Food Records and Exercise. I don't want to go back from where I came and I need to get it under control. I'd say 'now' but that's being too harsh with myself. So I'll say very soon, like maybe tonight or tomorrow morning.

At least I am getting on the scale. The day that I don't weigh in (on purpose... there's the occasional day that I forget because I'm feeling especially bad in the morning) is the day that I know that things are totally out of control. And that's just unacceptable.

This evening, I actually am somewhat free and have borrowed two DVDs from the library... Harold & Maude and The Dead Poet's Society. I think I may watch Poets... I have to return them both tomorrow and I don't think you can renew DVDs. By the way, my local library? The Encino-Tarzana branch of the Los Angeles Public Library system. If that sounds a little familiar, it's probably because you've heard Harrison Ford talk about checking books on woodworking out from there when he gave up on acting (before he made it) and decided to become a Studio Carpenter.

I'm going to pull some yarn out of my closet and start a small project for a small friend. A surprise. And I need to bake a pie. And do laundry. Hmmmmmm, the evening may not be so quiet after all.

I better get to it. It's after 9 pm and I"ve hardly begun!

In which time I find it difficult to write

Writers Block. I suppose all 'real' writers get it from time to time. And so do I.

Many personal issues have had to be addressed in the past few days, and I have spent much of them as an emotional wreck. Even so, and even as my eating has gone a little bit south from the stress of it all (yes, I have bad eating days too, for those of you who wonder), I am doing my best to make healthy consumption choices and keep to my schedule.

I've completed another necklace/earring set. I've been to weight maintenance class and Caldelle Leather, exercised after a fashion and have started on an embellished photo album. I've been to my Therapist and had Eric over for dinner. Baked BBQ Chicken, Roast Peruvian Purple Potatoes, & Salad. No dessert. Neither of us 'needs' it.

Even with all this activity though, I'm finding it difficult to write about anything specific. Writers block.

But to those who have worried about my health and have contacted me, I am fine. In fact, I'm finding that the old saying may be true. That which does not kill us does makes us stronger.

And I expect to have some very cheery posts coming up in the next couple of days. With pictures. Because I do have some cool things to show y'all.

Thank you for coming by.

Ambivalence and Company

Ambivalence is probably the best word to describe me when it comes to social interaction. Perhaps conflicted or confused also works. I was never good at it... indeed, obesity is a symptom of the desire to isolate oneself. When I lost my weight (http://weightloss.laurarsilverman.com), it didn't change my fear of interaction. Indeed, if anything, it magnified it. At a normalized weight and with the "hair and make-up" affect I've taken on, other's expectations of me are high. They assume I know how to do the interaction thing. They assume that I want to be where I am at. They don't understand that obesity is not always an affliction. Sometimes it's a barometer to measure your place in the world. A point of reference, so to speak. Not completely a bad thing.

Last night, I attended Francesca's lovely Open House. I've attended in years past; it's always been a wonderful experience. She and her boyfriend Ben have the nicest and most interesting friends. Their home is artsy and warm; not overdone. The food... ah, the food! Francesca is from Italy and her choice in cuisines reflect a true national identity (not to be confused with American Fare which is just fatty and overly sweet and a mish-mash of tastes and textures). What reason would anybody not want to attend?

Yet I was awash in panic. It seems as of late, that I screw up the most simple opportunities to interact and fit in. Exercise for example? Despite the three-to-one opinion that I should return (Therapist and two friends say I should go back, sister who understands me and my history/family pressures most believes that it's a toxic situation), I'm terrified to go back, even after having taken off a week. I'm sure that I have done something terrible there which has made the significant one treat me just horribly over the past couple of months, culminating in a week of mixed messages (maybe intentional, maybe not, maybe just all in my mind) and has left me confused and upset and a little sick to my stomach. You see, unlike in the past when I know when I've gotten angry and brought this kind of reaction on, this time, I'm not even sure exactly what happened. And then there's also the changing social strata at my spinning guild that has me confused and a little bit ill at ease. But all of this is just table dressing...

Anyway, I was very frightened to go to the party. In fact, scared to the point that even as I was driving up to their house, I was considering just turning around and leaving. "Nobody wants me there." I thought. "Nobody would miss me." And maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't. But then I thought that Francesca is a big girl. If she really didn't want me, she would just not have sent an invitation. Maybe she was ambivalent about me, or maybe she really did want me, but I had driven all the way to Glendale (a long drive) and it would be good for me to actually get out of the car. So I did.

As soon as I rang her bell and could hear Francesca call out with pleasure that somebody else was at her door, I started to feel better. And when she opened the entrance and looked pleased, my heartbeat started to return to normal. She ushered me in, and there were two women - C- and A- - sitting in her living room. I love those two gals... but with my newest insecurity in place, was not sure how they felt about me anymore. But they jumped out of their seats and ran over to hug me, admire what I was wearing (some of my own jewelry and hand spun-dyed-knit vest) and were a-chatter with the what-for's and how-to's and everything else.

We all went into the kitchen where even more old friends were. Unlike the museum trip of a number of weeks ago, I did not feel out of place. We enjoyed some fondue (which I had never had before and needed instruction on... thanks Ben!) and other exotic fare. And went into the dining room to talk.

It started out with the old friends, but most of them had to leave shortly (I arrived somewhat late). But J- stayed and she is so interesting and kind and also - I think - kind of gets where I'm coming from because she has also lost significant weight. Francesca & Ben's Personal Trainer Je- arrived, a tall, thin, beautiful amazon woman who actually remembered me from last year. And M- and R-, a lovely couple with whom I made first aquaintence were there. We all sat around the dining room table, and talked.

Again, I don't understand what happened. I was at ease, and was a frequent contributor to the conversation; not talking too little, but even more importantly, I don't think I talked too much. Je-, and everyone, was very interested in the physio-psychological dimensions of weight loss. Almost everyone there has lost weight although I have lost the most by far and it's a different psychology when you get over 300 pounds. I was able to contribute.

Then the conversation turned to the business and art of crafting. M-, as it turns out, is a silk embroidery artist who, in the last year, has been taking her work on the road and selling in craft shows. Something I would like to try dabbling in next year. She had a world of information for me, loved my work (as everyone there did!), and we exchanged contact information.

Again, I don't understand it. There are so many situations that I am extremely awkward in. Say the wrong things, do the wrong things, feel incredibly out of place. Inferior. Defective. Then there was last night when I felt ok. Ok, good. At ease. Like I belonged.

How does this work? Is it me? Is it the other people? The time, place, and luck? Why do I work well in some situations and not others? Is there a way of predicting where it's healthy for me to be and what to avoid? And if so, what is it?

What I know on an intellectual level is that I need to keep exposing myself to different scenarios and pay close attention to what happens in each. Even as the thought leaves me a little bit breathless. Maybe my gal-pals are right... I should end the break from exercise class after a week, and even if I am not well received, go and try to figure out what the dynamics are. Whether I am really doing something wrong or if it's just not a good personality match anymore.

Thank you Francesca, Ben, and friends. For the good time, the memory, and the belief that maybe, just maybe, not everything is because of my innate inabilities.

Holiday Helper and Keys to my Future

Yesterday, I was pressed into duty as "Aunt Laura" to go and see Ian in his school Holiday Pagent. This is something that I actually enjoy. Never having had kids myself, the treat of seeing somebody that I love performing is not hum-drum or taken for granted. Add to that fact that Ian is such a rules player that he will hardly look at me while I'm in the audience, knowing that I am making faces at him to get him to smile or giggle. He knows that that's against the rules. A perfect experience.

Ian actually got to perform twice yesterday. Once with the third graders (when did he get so big?) and once with his school chorus for which he is finally old enough for (when did he get so big?). He was, by far, the most gorgeous and talented kid up there. Of course.

Ian goes to Hamlin Street Elementary School. He is very lucky because his local public school is providing him everything he needs to be successfully educated.
That's ironic because Los Angeles Unified School District is well known for not administrating their schools well and it's a system of haves and have-nots. In the well-to-do and politically affluent neighborhoods, the public schools have all the bells and whistles. In the others, the schools are left to languish. Adele has been highly involved over the years in Hamlin's fund raising efforts. Unfortunately, it caters to the less-than-monied crowd and it has been struggling along. The families who's kids attend there are all working people, solidly middle class. Many ethnicities and cultures. A lot of the kids are newly arrived from other countries and learn to speak english in school.

The school is poor. I remember last year how Adele told me they had to steal money from the general education fund (for books and educational supplies) because they did not have enough money is the maintenance fund to even keep the bathrooms clean and stocked with toilet paper. Where I've been generally supportive of Richard Simmons Ask America PE in Schools campaign, I also understand Adele's point. She does not want PE in their school because the playground has not been refurbished since 1950 when the school was built and consists of a lot of antiquated and suspect equipment on a blacktop surface which has baked in the sun for almost 60 years. Lots of bad scrapes, cuts & bruises, and even broken bones happen on that playground every month. Who would want their kids to be put into such a dangerous environment?

Yet, if you look at the faces on the stage, you don't see anything suspect. All of the kids are happy and good. All of the kids were well taught and were doing their best. Look around the auditorium and you see an audience well-packed with excited and supportive parents who want their kids to do well. Look at the staff and you see the pride of teachers who are doing their jobs well.

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Makes you kind of think. Of course I would like to see more resources poured into Ian's school and every school in America. In the world, even. But based on what I see in Ian and at the Holiday performance, an education can be had even in less than the best of circumstances when the attitudes are right.

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I finished another different kind of project. A leather medicine bag on which I affixed a beaded bezel cabechon before stitching it together. Ironically, the best thread to sew these things together - per my teacher Shelly - is waxed dental floss. I used minty fresh floss. No, you could not smell the mint once the bag was sewn.

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I seem to becomming very forgetful as of late. I'm not sure whether it's because of health issues, not sleeping well, or maybe it's that old middle-aged thing creeping in. But I know that on a couple of occasions over the past few weeks, I've put my laundry out in the machines, put my money in, and then walked away without starting them. And then there was the keys thing. I have a place in my condo where my keys always go. On a hook where I also hang my purse over the coat closet door in the living room. I haven't lost a set of keys in 15 years because of this system. Until the day before yesterday.



When I realized they were missing (fortunately, I have an extra set, albeit without the button that allows me access to my car without - gasp - having to insert the key into the lock on the door to open it) I figured they had to be around the condo somewhere. So I systematically looked and did not find them. 24 hours later, I still had not located 'em, so I did the unthinkable. I started cleaning up. First the living room, then the studio, and finally the bedroom. I went through all of my pants and jacket pockets, thinking that maybe I left them in there. I remade my bed, hoping that perhaps I had tossed them there and they were mixed in the covers. Nothing.

I thought really long and hard. When, exactly, was the last time I saw them? I knew I had them when I took Sunny for his walk up Ventura Blvd. I used them to get into my mailbox on the way back in. I must have had them for Cosmos's walk (immediately following Sunny) too, although I didn't remember them specifically there. Worried that - in my forgetfulness - that I might have left them suspended in the box or in the laundry room, I walked outside of my unit. Nothing.

I considered calling the management office of my condo to see if they had been turned in, but decided to wait out of embarassment. And ended up being glad that I did. It had occured to me that perhaps I had tossed them into the basket where I keep the dogs toys and leashes when I took it off of Cosmos. And there they were.



Whew! What a relief. But it still leaves me worried. Why am I suddenly so forgetful? Is it something to be concerned about? Or is this normal?

Surprise in Creation

My last Artisan Workshop of the year at Stitch Cafe (www.stitchcafe.com) is done. Although very sad at the prospect of several weeks without the guidance of Shelly Neimerow, I also have to admit that I have so many ideas floating around in my mind based upon things that she has taught me, things that I already knew how to do, and the integration of the two, that the time will be well spent in experimentation and creation. Also, I have to fill a last order or two for the season and - gulp - make some things for giving myself. Time for a breather!

I'm very happy at what has come from my hands (and heart) in the past week. Let's start with the completed product from the China Painting. Here is my mug:






And then there is the trivet:



I'm finding it difficult to relate to the fact that I was the one who painted these pieces. It's my first time - ever - painting and I don't think it's too bad a job.

Then, in my last two painting classes, there was extra time and I had the need to learn how to make a "less extravagant" necklace. Shelly - ever generous - taught me how to string beads and semi-precious gems using a silk knotting technique.



In my last class, she taught me a fast wire-wrap method to attach the clasps onto the same.



These two necklaces are already spoken for, but I have a feeling that I will be using this method to make jewelry a lot for the moderate marketplace.

And then there are the earrings. I figured out a little technique starting with a iridescent peyote-stitch base on which I am attaching stacks of pearls and swarovski crystals (and will probably do some with other gemstones too). I'm really happy with the output. I've already had some very positive feedback from others, too, and plan to make a number of them for sale.





In my whole life, I never envisioned myself as someone who could put out a product that might be desirable enough that others would want to buy it. It's funny; I always thought it would be weird to invest my time and soul into a piece, then let it go out of my life. But I'm finding, as I'm making and selling jewelry, that it's actually a special kind of validation that I get when somebody will part with their own money for something that originated with me. Like maybe I'm not so completely terrible after all.