It’s Donut Day Somewhere, And I’m Having A Moms’ Day Here

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According to the Facebooks, my sister Timmy is enjoying the first major snowfall of the season up in her pretty Idaho Panhandle valley, and my sister Tudy reports a bunch of heavy, wet snow in Salt Lake.

Today must be Donut Day, as we say in the fambly: the day Mom would make homemade donuts to celebrate the first snow of the season. Going to Krispy Kreme would not cut it; Mom used to make a fairly dense deep-fried donut that was a solid dunker, not one of those greasy loops of yeasty puff that Krispy Kreme makes.

I remember as a kid the phone would start ringing when the first flakes appeared; people would call from all over and ask if it was “Donut Day” or not. Mom would not pull out the deep fryer until the forecast was pretty certain for snow, and then she’d wait for that first magical day when it “stuck” and covered the lawn AND the sidewalks. My niece Raeanne and I would both bring schoolfriends home when it happened on a schoolday; “My mom is making donuts today!” or “Grandma’s makin’ the donuts!” and my sisters and cousins and aunt would drop by… there would be a pot of coffee and a fire in the fireplace, and people would just show up, nab a couple of donuts or donut holes and a cup of coffee, and hang out for a while.

She’d make plain, cinnamon sugared, and powdered sugared – that’s it, no fancy stuff.  The batter she made resulted in crusty, wrinkly donuts that had a “snap” when you bit into them; not soft or tender cake, it was a more substantial bite held on to the sugar coating, but tasted good plain, too. Any kids that showed up early were put to work rolling donut holes in jelly sheets and plates full of sugar, and there was lots of laughing and “Hey! No eating until everybody gets here!” jokes.

That rule was frequently broken.

The thing is, I had a major “moms’ moment” earlier while reading my sister Timmy’s Facebook update about the “first snow of the season” and how it was Donut Day in northern Idaho. I started to type out a comment about missing the taste of Mom’s donuts, and Facebook helpfully supplied a link to my “other Mom,” Leah. I had to… just stop for a second and feel the absence of my two moms all over again, while David snoozed by my side.

I should explain that Saturday mornings are generally spent sleeping in, listening to the radio (WBEZ’s Saturday lineup includes Morning Edition, Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, and now This American Life). I generally have my iPad handy, reading the Internets news and the Twitter and the Feeddler (a blog and news aggregator that I can share stuff with). So I was catching up with Facebook friends and family (Hey! My niece Holly is playing golf in Africa! With zebras!) and sharing silly Finnish videos) when I ran across my sister’s snow post (and my other sister Tudy’s “it’s snowing in Salt Lake too” post) and commented.

I cried a little, very quietly but intensely. David slept peacefully while I looked at Leah’s little pop-up link and thought how much I missed her (she passed in May this year) and my own mom (she passed in June 2006). It seemed like a thing to be blogged; I started to set up the post and all the techy things that go with that, like grabbing a screencap image and hunting down a wireless Bluetooth keyboard to make it easier to type on the iPad. I didn’t want to drag out the laptop, since I still had to at least start the post this way in order to get the image. Blah, blah, techy bullshit blah.

So while writing this up my niece Raeanne (who lives just below my sister Timmy in their little valley) called to say, yes, “It’s Donut Day! I’m makin’ the donuts!” while I was still in the middle of my “moms’ moment” that inspired this post. This makes me have a happeh and a sad, because of course I’m not there to help roll out donut holes in sugar (and sneak some of the “ugly” ones) and laugh and talk with family.

We talked for an hour, catching up. Her daughter Paige ordered her not to make donuts yesterday, when it also snowed, because it hadn’t snowed in Kellogg where Paige was, so it didn’t count. She had to wait for today, and Paige would make the donuts herself.

Now THAT’s tradition.

Ranny has to get ready for a houseful and get all the stuff set out, but we still gabbled on about family stuff and all the little things that you miss out on when you’re not hanging out in the same room, drinking coffee and eating donuts with a bunch of friends and family.

I sure don’t need the donuts (working from home has been a very sedentary experience) but I expect a care package soon, dammit!

Love you all. It’s Donut Day!

Aloha, Leah

Leah gets lei’d at Maui Kahului Airport in September, 2007

Leah Sharron Gibbs, nee Green, age 70, beloved wife for 50 years and best friend of Sheldon. Loving mother of David (Virginia), Daniel, Mitchell (Gloria) Gibbs. Cherished grandmother of Melissa, Joshua, Jennifer and Naomi. Dear sister of the late Seymour Green. Devoted daughter of the late Abrasha and Udasha. Fond sister-in-law of Norma and Bill Brown. Loving aunt of many nieces and nephews. Long time teacher at Serena Hills School in Chicago Heights, IL. Member of B’nai Yehuda Beth Sholom. Services Thursday, 11 A M. at B’nai Yehuda Beth Sholom, 1424 183rd Street, Homewood. Interment Shalom. In lieu of flowers contributions in her name to the Cancer Support Center, 2028 Elm Road, Homewood, IL 60430 would be appreciated.

A rare flower bloomed for a time, but lives forever in the garden of memory.

She lived in amazing times, from Saturday, November 8th, 1941 to Memorial Day, Monday, May 28th, 2012. She was a month old when “a day that will live in infamy” dawned. Ironically enough, that day took place in Hawaii too, but this picture shows Leah being greeted at Maui airport with 2 flower lei and a hug by my husband David. She and my father-in-law Sheldon joined us there to help me celebrate my 50th birthday in 2007.

She loved, loved, loved so many things. Purple, books, flowers, good food, good friends, and travel; most of all, she loved her family deeply and wanted the best for each of us. She welcomed me, even though we come from different backgrounds, without hesitation and with open arms. I was proud to call her a friend as well as my my mother-in-law; after my own mom died in 2006, Leah became my second mom. She also had a deep connection with my sister-in-law Gloria, who was able to spend a lot of time with Leah in the last few months, attending meetings in Leah’s home with her “Goddesses” support group.

The Cancer Support Center meant a great deal to Leah, and we will be donating in her name for as long as it takes. Please consider making a donation on their website, or check out their amazing yearly fundraiser/silent auction/talent show.

I haven’t been able to say much here on the blog or on Facebook or Twitter about what was going on with Leah, but she passed away today surrounded by friends and family. She was in home hospice care until last Monday, and then it was decided that she needed to go into the hospice unit in a hospital farther to the south from her home. For the last week we’d been making the long drive back and forth between here and a place I thought of as the “Borderlands Hotel.”

We’re grateful for the care she received, and thankful that she no longer needs it. She’s at peace now.

While all of us in the family were at her home tonight, decompressing from the enormity of losing a wife, mother, sister, and grandmother, I browsed in the pile of books on a side table by her favorite sofa. One passage, just 2 short pages, was marked by not just one, but FOUR bookmarks AND a dog-ear. I should have borrowed that book, but there will be time to retrieve it with all the to-and-fro we have to do this week. It had interesting insights on life, living with cancer, and doing it with humor and grace.

So Far on Maui

Once again, I’ve let nearly the whole vacation slip by without keeping up with blogging about it – but this time, it’s now much easier to get photos uploaded to Flickr, which act as an informal timeline of our activities.

Dinner at Five Palms was very, very nice – this time we sat outside. Missed the sunset, but enjoyed the ambiance anyway. Then on Saturday, we went to the Whale Day parade and took some photos, then met up with some Twitter acquaintances (although we got a late start and missed the beginning of the parade). It was pleasant to hang out with friendly folks (both local and vacationing) and trade tips about favorite activities and restaurants. We went through the crafts area without buying anything, then came back to the condo for more relaxing. Boring? No, we’re on vacation, dammit.

We were at Ahihi Bay to snorkel in the middle of the week, a place that we’ve had mixed results with in the past. This time, no problems getting in or out over the old boat ramp, and it was pretty clear if a little bumpy. Plenty to see, and we spent about half an hour in the water or more before deciding we could go back in and find some lunch.

Whalewatch on Sunday was fun, but still kind of frustrating – I had a bad moment at the beginning when I realized I had booked our “free” whalewatch for one, not realizing that I hadn’t made sure to book the second person (which wasn’t free, alas). Fortunately, the lady at Pacific Whale Foundation overbooked us by one so we were both able to go, whew. It was a pretty full boat, naturally, and we did see a lot of whales right out of the harbor, but not much activity.

The One That Got Away

And the one shot I had at an amazing, close-up fluke was ruined by my use of the autofocus feature on my camera; there was much swearing (under my breath, but probably perfectly audible to parents standing next to me). I did get a couple of good shots, but once again it seemed we weren’t in the right spot at the right time for breaches or tail-slapping, just lots of mother-calf pairs sloping around near the surface.

And… a few tail shots, but not the ones I really wanted with the underside of the flukes for ID purposes. Still, they’re very nice.

Maui Whale Tails
Maui Whale Tails
Maui Whale Tails
Maui Whale Tails

After the cruise was over, we went for breakfast to Beach Bums, which had a great location in the Maala’ea Harbor Shops building as we trudged back up from the boat toward the car. Too bad they were so bad at service; we waited a long time for coffee after the waitress dumped a single serving at our table and walked away for more than 15 minutes. They served in Venti-sized cups, either doubled or with a heat liner, but only filled a little past the halfway mark. So for the longest time we looked questioningly at our double-cupped, half-full single portion and wondered if we were expected to share, and tried unsuccessfully to catch the eye of a server or the owner-manager. While waiting, I saw one plate of eggs-and-something sent back, as the eggs were “a little too easy for over easy.” Not a good sign, and then we heard one waitress holler “the kitchen isn’t getting the order tickets.” Another not-good sign, but eventually we got both a second cup of coffee (after finally flagging down our waitress) and our breakfast orders, which were both cooked to the right degree.

After that, we had the snorkel gear in the car, so we went to Olowalu, an unimproved stretch of beach that is still very popular with snorkelers. We’ve been there before where David and Steve didn’t have a good time at all, due to the lack of clearance on some of the shallower reef, and although I like it, David prefers deeper waters. I stuck to the main channel, which is usually marked with a diver flag so you can see where to line up for your return trip, and didn’t bother to put on my wet suit or take my camera. I figured that since David wan’t snorkeling, I wanted a kind of self-limiting factor that kept me from dawdling too long, and it worked out fine. There were plenty of fish to see, although there was a lot of unhealthy looking coral close in. Didn’t see any turtles, octopi, or eels this time (David got a nice shot of a zebra moray when we were at Ahihi Bay). We stopped at the cliff overlook for quite a long time, watching for whales, too.

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

After that, I took a few photos of plumeria blooms around the condo – note to Second Life developers, this is what the ubiquitous landscaping plant is suppsed to look like…

Maui 2010

Yesterday, Monday, we loaded the hiking gear up and headed to Pa’ia, Hana, and Kipahulu/Haleakala National Park. Earlier in the trip, we’d driven over to Pa’ia and Ho’okipa for lunch – about the only photo I took then was of surf hitting the lava promontory off the Ho’okipa lookout. Back in Pa’ia on that day it took forever to find a parking spot for our lunch at Milagros (which was delish, as always), but yesterday on the way to Hana, it wasn’t so much of a problem.

Kimmidolls

We picked up picnic lunches from Anthony’s, a coffee place that seems to have added a lot of attractive merch since our last visit. I thought these Japanese-style dolls were cute, and they’re in the same style as a wooden one that I own. Apparently each one is unique and is supposed to exemplify some trait, like “joy” or “harmony.” Might end up adapting the idea for my Second Life shop.

After that, we enjoyed the drive along the Hana Highway.

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

We brake for waterfalls!

We imagined ourselves as competitors in the Olympic 2-person car luge, given the curvy road and numerous one-car bridges and places where cars must Yield to Oncoming Traffic. We wondered if the Hana Highway has the highest average number of warning and informational signs per mile of any in the US – sometimes there’s a Road Narrows, Yield Ahead, and Yield sign in a set within a few short yards.

Also – to the young woman in the white Suzuki who was in such a lather, life is too short to be you, apparently. You’re obviously Not From Around Here if you’re going to holler obscenities on the road to Hana, because everybody knows it’s not a road to be traveled at high speed – even the locals. They might zip around as fast as they can, but they also respect the yield signs and actually wave or honk “thank you” when you pull over to let them pass. Which we did, many times, and we did pull over for Miss Honking, Screaming, Frothing-at-the-Mouth Bitch once we figured out she was yelling at us. I hollered in kind and waved the hand gesture that was not the friendly, hang-loose “shaka” that you see in the islands – it was the “Hawaiian good luck” gesture as demonstrated by those nice Navy men that were captured by the North Koreans all those years ago.

It was not pleasant to hear her hollering “I’m not going to sit here and follow you all the way, you prick!” and “Fuck you, get out of the way” so of course we let her past, so she could go bother the guy in front of us, who was ALSO not going too slowly for conditions. It was quite amusing to watch how suddenly she went from screaming and honking to silent and slow as she met an oncoming car at one of those places where both vehicles have to creep past each other with inches to spare. She wouldn’t have had to do that if she’d actually… respected the yield signs, but they don’t apply to loud, rude persons such as herself.

After she sped off in a cloud of exhaust and vitriol, things were much more enjoyable. We got to Kipahulu (the section of Haleakala National Park that extends down to an ancient village site along the course of a stream) and set off on one of our favorite hikes, the one up to Waimoku Falls. My workouts the last five or six months have really paid off – although I do get pretty puffy on steeper uphill sections (especially if it’s warm) I eventually got my “second wind” after the steepest section (the part up until there’s a gated fence). We’ve been on that trail 3 or 4 times now, and every time is a little different.

The lower sections of trail are being worked on, and we passed several husky young men breaking up blue-colored stone to be used as stairsteps on the steeper parts. Otherwise, the lower third of the trail is very “rooty” and eroded (it’s VERY popular). Once past the fence and beyond the one banyan tree whose branch crosses the trail supported by thick aerial roots, you continue upwards until you start to hear water more and more loudly on the right hand. There wasn’t very much water coming down this year, by the way: we’ve been there when there were absolute torrents of the stuff coming down, with warning signs up everywhere. This time, just the normal “DEATH will result” signs on the cliff edges were there, happy happy joy joy.

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

Impatiens grows wild in this part of Maui, where there are cool damp hillsides and even cliffs.

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

Anyway, we made it to our favorite part, the mysterious deep green bamboo forest.

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

I’ve taken this shot before, but it never fails to fascinate, even though I know where it leads:

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

It just looks so mysterious, that stairway.

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

And this strange thing – looks like a fig or other fruit tree, being strangled out by the bamboo, but still it has some heart, no?

Once we got to Waimoku, where we’d heard from other hikers that some large rocks had fallen from far above, guess where David needed to go to get his shot?

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

Yes, that’s right. Beyond the DANGER! DANGER! sign.

Maui Flowers and Bamboo

But of course it was worth the effort.

After that, we made it back down, glad we’d worn heavy hiking boots rather than the flip flops and Tevas we saw other hikers wearing… ??? Yeah, it’s a very rooty-tooty rocky-rolly trail, so I don’t know if they all made it beyond, say, the easily negotiated recycled plastic walkways in the bamboo forest. On the way down, however, I was beaten, badly, in the trail luge by a couple of German women in, yes, flip-flops. Oh, the agony of de feet! As by the time I got to the parking lot, mine were in agony. It was kind of hot, I guess, for the socks I’d packed, but I’m still glad I had the extra protection.

We drove back via Makawao – more or less, as we missed some turns and had to use the map feature of my iPhone to get to Casanova’s for a nice Italian dinner. And we went to bed pretty early again, although the aches I felt on awakening this morning pretty much put a stop to our “early morning snorkel” plans. We did snorkel in the late morning, right in front of the condo, before running an errand to Long’s Drug to get smelly stuff for my hair, and then a quick trip to see what the reportedly big surf was doing at Ho’okipa. It was too surgy and choppy by the time we got there, though it was pretty to watch.

And now we’re getting ready to go to the Waterfront for dinner. Tomorrow: more snorkeling in the AM, and we’ve got dinner plans at Fish and Poi in Napili followed by a nice concert with the Slack Key Masters program.

UPDATE: And of course dinner at the Waterfront was wonderful; I spent a lot of time remembering the first time I ate there, on my sister Timmy’s fabulous “Hawaii 5-0” with my mom and “Aunt Veda” and other family members. We’ve lost Mom and Veda since then, but will never forget the notorious plastic ants that my sister Tudy pulled out of her purse to play with on the deck; they’re excellent prank props for frozen Daiquiris, for one thing. Also, I recall an epic game of SPOON. There are pictures somewhere at home, which I need to scan and upload for a planned project anyway.

Nothing like that would ever happen at the Waterfront now, of course, it has a reputation for relaxed elegance to maintain. But back then when it was a brand new place, with only a sandwich board out on Hauoli Road to indicate that a restaurant was tucked around to the makai side of the Milowai condo property. We had a lot of fun on that deck then, but David and I had decorous good fun last night, too.

Today has been overcast so we’ve mostly been indoors, although during a sun break we went out and played in the ocean a little. David got cold and went up to the condo, but I stayed out a little longer bouncing around on the silky sand on my toes in about chest-depth water. The temp was a little cool on entry, but comfortable enough for a while once in… but it felt REALLY good to get in the pool after, which is slightly heated. Got back in the ocean after I sighted a whale breach, so I could say I “swam with the whales” later. Uh huh.

After more R&R we’re now deciding the next big thing: Where To Have Lunch. Later on, we’ll drive up toward Napili for tonight’s Slack Key Masters concert. And we’ve already decided that our next trip to Maui will probably be in a couple of years, and we may go for a stay in the Napili area again.

Dilly Bread Recipe | Oops Oh Well It’ll Taste Good

I was working off of Mom’s handwritten recipe card for this year’s batch, not my version that spells out all the steps… couldn’t find my own card so had to wing it, until I remembered I’d blogged the full recipe a few years back. Whew.

Her card is just a list of ingredients, very casually grouped together with brackets… and the brackets run from the front to the back of the card. Uh, well, everything is together and has been kneaded lightly and set aside for the first rise; I should have put all the savory ingredients in the double boiler, not mixed the dry ones in with the flour. However, it’s all in place now.

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This year, I’m using half “all-purpose” flour, half whole-wheat, and I didn’t bother to cut up and brown fresh onion or add garlic. Double batch again, because I actually like having leftover bread for toast later.

Fortunately, I (more or less) remembered the steps, although I didn’t knead very long, as I’m thinking the whole wheat flour (which has little brown bits of bran, yum) would quickly become tough if I overwork the dough. More pounding will be done in about half an hour for the second rise.

David’s aunt is hosting Thanksgiving again this year, and the whole family will be there except for Dan and Deb and the kids (but Josh and Melissa are in town from their respective digs, and we’ll see them later this weekend). For various reasons this will be an “interesting” Thanksgiving, in the sense I picked up from when David and his folks and I went to see a serious little play called “Copenhagen.” In this context, “interesting” means something like “the frightening unknown.” It’s recently become something of an in-joke with mom-in-law Leah and me.

However, being together with family today will probably be “interesting” in the sense of “what has everybody been up to since we saw each other last year” or “when are the stuffed mushrooms Randi makes coming out???”

Turkey Day Dilly Bread! « Blogula Rasa

1 package dry yeast
1/4 c warm water
1/4 t sugar

1 c. small curd cottage cheese
2 T sugar
1 T instant onion (use 2-3T if using fresh onion)
2 T butter
2 t dill seed
1 t dill weed
1 t salt

1 beaten egg

2 1/2 – 3 c. flour sifted with
1/4 t soda

Start the yeast “working,” using water that is quite warm but not too hot.

Avoiding the fungal debacle from four years ago, I’m again using dry yeast. It’s Red Star, because I couldn’t seem to find Fleischman’s, the brand Mom swore by (and sometimes swore at, if it didn’t “work” right).

It’s okay but seems to be puffing up a little quicker than I’m used to; I went by Mom’s proportions of sugar to yeast, but this may be a bit more active than her brand was years ago. Should be… “interesting.”

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Over boiling water in a double boiler, combine cottage cheese, sugar, onion, butter, dill seed, dill weed, and salt until butter is melted. Remove upper pan from heat and stir until comfortably warm. Add the yeast mixture, which should be bubbling up. Caution, too much heat at this stage kills the yeast! Add the beaten egg to the cooled mixture. Start adding the flour to the liquid (or if you prefer, make a well in the flour and pour the liquid into it). Stir until the dough starts to come together and pulls away from the side of the bowl or pan. Turn it out onto a floured surface (breadboard is best) and work the flour into the dough and knead until it starts to smooth out and is slightly elastic. Knead by pushing the dough with the heel of your hand (floured) and then fold the elongated dough over itself, give it a quarter turn, then knead it again.

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Put the dough in a buttered or oiled bowl, cover with a clean kitchen towel, and put it somewhere warm to rise until double in size (about 35-40 minutes).

I like to put it somewhere near the gas stove, because the cooktop is always slightly warm from the pilot lights between the burners. Seems to work pretty well with a cookie sheet put down for a stable surface. This is a plastic bowl and I should really be using a classic crockery bowl, but you get the idea. It’s all about incubating that yeast and making it all cozy, but not giving it so much heat and sugar that it goes nuts and invades the kitchen.

Right about now is a good time to clean up the Little Kitchen of Horrors, as the double boiler gets all gunked up if you mix the dough in it rather than pouring it into a well in the flour. Word to the wise…

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Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Punch down, turn onto board and knead again until smooth. Form a loaf by rolling side to side, pulling the sides of the dough under (if making a double batch, divide the dough in half). Place in a buttered, floured loaf pan and bake at 350 degrees for about 40-50 minutes. Bread is done if it “thunks” hollowly when tapped.

This is the best thing for leftover turkey sandwiches. It’s also really, really good toasted and buttered. And it makes the house smell incredible.

You MUST resist the temptation to open the oven door repeatedly to check on the bread. It’ll get done when it’s good and ready. However, it really DOES smell incredible and so you may be forgiven for occasionally liberating that delicious onion bread smell into the rest of your house. Also, if your oven doesn’t heat evenly, you’ll want to rotate the loaf pan(s) halfway through.

Wow, this is the earliest I’ve ever gotten the bread in the oven, I’m usually running late and stressed out. Not that I really planned ahead better this year, but I definitely got started earlier. If I’d gotten home earlier last night, before we needed to cook dinner, I would have made it then.

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Here it is, halfway through the baking, and I can see that it’s got some odd stuff happening along the sides. I probably didn’t knead hard enough, since I was cautious about working the whole-wheat flour too much. I hope this tastes good and has good consistency – it’s always such a crap shoot with the haphazard way I usually pull it together at the last minute. However, it felt right and “slightly elastic” when I was kneading it (if a bit tender and soft), and the dough smelled right. It’s very much a “hands on” kind of recipe, as a double batch calls for around 5 cups of flour, but then you sift more in over the dough and the breadboard as you work it, depending on how “wet” it feels. Floured hands are a must, and I considered wearing gloves but decided that they probably weren’t food-grade. There’s something about the feel of the slightly warm, slightly living dough with floury fingers and palms that tells me more about how it’s coming along than I could get if I were wearing gloves, anyway.

The breadboard is a fancy one that I immediately warped the first year I used it, because I scrubbed it down with too much water and then left it to dry unevenly. It’s flattened a little over the years because I’ve washed it differently and tried to dry it flat with weights. The hand weights behind there in the photos are multi-taskers – they keep the board from sliding back as I knead (there’s also a towel underneath) and then once I’m ready to clean it up, I’ll put the weights on the board in an attempt to flatten it some more.

Mom’s mother or grandmother used to make bread in a wooden bread bowl – can’t remember who ended up with it, but it was a handsome thing that was perfect for working bread, shaped like a small shallow trough, all one piece of something hard (probably maple).

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And now the loaves are out of the oven and on the cooling racks, not exactly a classic loaf shape, but more like edible trapezoids. The bread smells great, though, and “thunks” properly. The one on the left is the “home” one and I tried a different way of cutting the top, and also I put the egg wash on it before about a 15 minute rest. The one on the right is the “hero” one and goes with us to dinner all sliced up and arranged (although I’ll probably take both loaves, I’ll likely bring one home uncut). That one, I let rest 15 minutes, cut it and did the egg wash, and then put them both in the oven to bake. I’m debating whether to toast the slices to take, since it’s really at its best toasted. I may do that and then stick the dish with the slices in the family oven for a few minutes before dinner.

Review: The Blade Itself

Just an hour or so ago, I finished reading[amazon-product text=”The Blade Itself, by Joe Abercrombie” type=”text”]159102594X[/amazon-product], and had to get my husband David’s help so that I could do a proper review.

The book, in paperback, is an attractive, hefty size for someone like me that doesn’t like wimpy little short books about heroes, rogues, and adventure. The cover art alone made me want to pick it up and look at it; it’s made to look like a tattered old leatherbound volume, stained with blood and God knows what else. It looks like it’s been through the wars and back. One glance at the description decided me, as it promised something rarely found in this kind of fantasy-genre work; humor, irony, and interesting characters.

I haven’t been disappointed, either. It’s a solid read, and worth taking time over as the author has a vivid style that puts you into the middle of the action, and inside the character’s heads. You can almost smell the blood, shit, and spilled wine. It would make a good movie, too. Funny, and full of gore. Just what Hollywood is looking for: the next action-adventure franchise.

There are a number of characters and usually it’s hard to keep a large cast straight while reading, but each major character is unique and more fully rounded than you might expect for a first novel. In fact, one of the most fascinating is a terrible, terrible man, the Inquisitor Glokta. Formerly a respected military leader, two years of torture while held prisoner have left him bitter, but not quite broken. He’s now a feared investigator whose personal experience of his instruments of interrogation (pliers, blades, hot needles) enable him to know exactly how to put the screws to suspected traitors and law-breakers. Yet, he’s a curiously sympathetic character, because he’s in constant agony from his old wounds, and his bitterness makes him almost… almost incapable of human feeling. He expects betrayal and death from his Superior and the Arch Lector, but does their bidding anyway. Why? It’s something to do before dying. His internal dialogue, different from every other character’s, is set off in italics. It’s wickedly sardonic and self-deprecating (especially at those times when he’s most helpless and self-defecating).

Much of his activities (hunting down suspected tax-evaders and traitors in the Mercer’s Guild) appears to be a Macguffin, but there are some loose ends left, like the frayed remnants of one hapless Mercer’s poorly woven coat. That probably means we’ll find out more in books to come about what’s really rotten in the kingdom of the Union. Some of the political, sociological, and economic underpinnings of the world of the Middleland seems be commentary on something much more familiar. It remains to be seen how this will develop in the next two books.

A fair amount of the book is taken up by moving various groups of characters into place, setting up the events in the next book, [amazon-product text=”Before They Are Hanged” type=”text”]1591026415[/amazon-product].

[amazon-product]159102594X[/amazon-product]

The rest of the review contains plot spoilers; read on if you like…

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Just Do It: My Turkey Anxiety

I admit it, I have Turkey Anxiety. I’ve never actually cooked a complete Thanksgiving meal, and in fact I very, very, very rarely cook at all. David handles most of the day to day stuff, although I have a few things that I make for the two of us. We never entertain, because the house is almost never company-ready. There’s too much stuff to put away and no place to put it, and yadda yadda.

But every now and then, I get the wild urge to make a turkey dinner around the holidays, with the side items that are my favorites that I haven’t had in more than a decade and a half.

Just Do It | Tackle the Turkey – The Moment Blog – NYTimes.com

Why all the turkey anxiety? One friend has never cooked a whole bird, and is still haunted by memories of her aunt’s dry turkey. Another says his oven was inconsistent, not to mention that it takes too long to cook. The third wants to focus on the sides, and the turkey takes up too much oven space.

By addressing each of their concerns, I was able to convince them that roasting a turkey is easy enough: Rinse bird, pat dry, massage with butter, sprinkle with salt and pepper. Place on a rack in a roasting pan and plop in the oven.

That sounds fairly simple, and I did have good success with the roasting pan and rack we bought a while back (we made roast chicken in it once). The gravy-making method sounds simple enough:

4. Prepare the gravy. Strain the juices through a fine-mesh strainer, pressing on the solids. Skim off the fat. It should measure 2 cups. (Add water as needed.) Melt the butter in a small saucepan. Stir in the flour and cook over medium-low heat until brown and nutty smelling, about 5 minutes. Whisk in the strained juices, add the bay leaf and bring to a boil. Simmer until reduced to the desired consistency (preferably until it lightly coats the back of a spoon). If it gets too thick, loosen with water. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Remove the bay leaf.

Okay. Then that leaves the stuff that I hanker for that doesn’t seem to appear at my husband’s family Thanksgiving gatherings: green bean casserole, homemade cranberry sauce, and light, fluffy, buttery mashed potatoes. And then there’s the desserts, some of which I’ve made before and others I haven’t: Baba au Rhum, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, and Stollen.

But the thought of actually “making a turkey?” Very fraught. We’ll see how I’m doing for time closer to the Christmas holidays.

Debate Rematch: Town Hall In Nashville

First of all, I loves me some Tom Brokaw. Should have asked a question about all the crap that’s been flying around from Clearwater, Florida.

Thanks for letting us know we can cheer and jeer at home, Tom.

And they come out of their respective corners.  I think I’ll be looking more at body language tonight, especially after the “poker tell” story from a few days ago.

We’re watching network at the moment – CBS. May change.

Obama steps right down front and connects with a jab at the “failed economic policies of the last 8 years.”  I like how he’s addressing the bailout and notes today’s hot news, AIG’s half-million fun junket after they got bailed out recently.

McCain steps to the firing line and uses Alan’s first name. He says angry, upset, and fearful. Well, that didn’t take long. He’s working the jury now, but he seems… very taut. He’s not just talking to the original questioner, either. And works in a second use of Alan’s name and talks about the mortgage crisis.  And busts out the first “my friends” of the evening. Trust? Yes, he knows how to do it, my friends.

Brokaw: opens up the idea of who Treasury Secretary would be. McCain’s caught flatfooted but quips “Not you, Tom.” McCain’s economic guy is Gramm… I don’t think he’s got much of a chance. He mentions Meg Whitman.  Obama does not deign to name names. Actually, he’s generalizing and reaching back to whack McCain’s “fundamentals of the economy” statement again. It’s interesting that he’s using his one minute to make more points on his economic policies and weigh in on the mortgage and homes crisis.

Brokaw: you have to be confined within a minute or so under the rules you both signed off on.

Next question is from Oliver, also about the bailout. McCain’s up and hits the “I suspended my campaign” button, but I suspect that was just grandstanding as do many others. Tries to claim Obama’s “cronies” are the problem behind Fannie and Freddie. Obama’s face is a picture of suppressed glee. It was Obama that warned about the crisis 2 years ago. This is going to be good. McCain’s on the attack, but this just gives Barack an opportunity.

Obama: the rescue package for you, Oliver, is that small businesses can’t get loans, make payroll, etc. The credit bailout. NOW he’s going to school McCain’s history. the Big Problem was deregulation and that McCain was the big deregulator. Obama notes he wrote to Paulson and Bernanke 2 years ago and warned them of the problem with the credit/securities sector. And he didn’t mention the Fannie May bill was not McCain’s own bill, he jumped on it as an also-ran. He turns back to Oliver: “But you’re not interested in hearing politicians pointing fingers… this is not the end of the process, this is the beginning of the process…”

Brokaw asks if Obama is saying it’s going to get much worse? Obama isn’t quite as smooth as he usually is, but gets back on track. Brokaw asks if McCain thinks the economy can get back on track. McCain says cronyism and special interests in Washington need to be removed. Interesting split screen on CBS shows Obama smiling attentively as McCain tries to paint him as a bystander and a cronyist at the same time.

Brokaw introduces Teresa Finch: “How can we trust either of you with our money when both parties got us into this global economic crisis?” She sounds not just nervous but also quite upset. Obama tries to sympathise, then points out we had a big surplus when Bush 43 came into office, and now we’ve got the biggest increases in deficit spending in our history, and McCain voted for 4 out of 5 of Bush’s budgets in that time. Obama notes that the blame is on both sides. He tries to explain about net spending cuts and says we’ve got to put an end to lobbyists and special interests.

McCain rises and places the mantle of Reformer about his manly shoulders, grasps his staff, and commands the waters to part… no no no. But he definitely shifts the mantle and talks about how we have to reform and invites us to look at the record as well as our rhetoric.  And now here we get the stuff about how Obama is the most liberal-spending Senator. McCain talks about eliminating pork barrel earmarks including something that was probably for the Adler Planetarium here in Chicago and paints him as an earmarker.  Which isn’t so much the case, as I live in Illinois, but there’s infrastructure earmarks and vanity earmarks. Obama’s not a vanity guy.

Brokaw: what are your highest priority your first year in office? Choosing amongst energy, health, education and entitlements?

McCain – wants to reform entitlement benefits. Oh, the retirees are going to lurve this. That’s his top priority between that, energy, and health?  McCain is a big one for wanting to cut Medicare – and has been for year.

Brokaw: notes one minute of discussion for Obama on his priorities. 1. Energy. Gas is expensive, and it’s bad for national security because unfriendly countries benefit from high oil prices.  Okay, come on, let’s get to 2 and 3 and not take a nice rhetorical excursion.  2. Health care system is broken. 3. Education. Very important. Takes a shot at the “earmarks” charge. Notes the McCain tax cuts are a continuation of big-company Bush tax cuts. More money in your pocket.

Brokaw: another reminder about time… a larger deficit than the Federal government if we don’t take care.

Question from an older lady from Chicago. What are the sacrifices they will ask people to make?

McCain: Again with the earmarks and the corruption – he’s trying out that same old can of paint. Recommends a spending freeze except for defense and veterans. Oh, yeah, he’s a friend to veterans. And again he seems to think earmarks get shoved under the door late at night, the pesky buggers.  Goes on about health care with a “get ‘er done” kind of statement.

Obama: first to raise the spectre of 9/11. Remember how all of the country was ready to come together and make changes and become a more unified country.  An opportunity was missed when Bush said “Go shopping.” The American people are hungry for the kind of leadership that asks them to do something more than that…  like energy. Clean coal, nuclear energy, saving energy at home and at work.

Note: David and I have a Ford Escape hybrid and we have increased the energy efficiency of the house and our air/heat plant.

Obama talks about young people and how he’d like to increase the Peace Corps and other similar programs domestically.

Brokaw: Bush last summer said something about “Wall Street got drunk.” Nice from the former fratboy.

Obama’s answering this one too. He thinks people don’t feel as if the are sharing the burden with everyone else.  He talks about people who are less wealthy are shouldering more than people who are wealthy.  He wants to use a scalpel so that people who NEED help get it, and those who don’t need it don’t.

McCain makes a joke about nailing Jello to the wall, saying Obama’s economic policies can’t be categorized. Steps on his own joke regarding “the news is bad.” He keeps going on about that 5000.00 tax credit for health care that won’t be doing that much good. Obama wants to respond but Brokaw rules him out and says the next question will let him address McCain’s tax claims.

Brokaw: lays down a big ticking time bomb – will you give a specific deadline for Congress to fix Social Security within the first two years. Obama addresses tax plans again. Notes the Straight Talk Express lost a wheel on that. Wants to provide the tax cut for 95 percent of Americans.  Notes that small businesses would mostly qualify under the 200,000.00 limit. Contrasts to McCain’s tax cuts for big business and CEOs and other wealthy people. That is not fair, and it doesn’t work. Tax policies need to be good for the middle class.

Wow. too much fast typing, not enough watching body language.

McCain looks so stuff as he toddles forward for his turn. He talks about our wonderful Ronald Reagan and wonderful Tip O’Neill. Blah, blah, I’ve taken ’em on. The Maverick theme plays in my head all the time now. The stiffness of his upper arms – something to do with his old war injuries. Claims Obama never introduced a bill to reduce taxes on the middle class. Our best days are ahead of us.

Brokaw gives up a followup two minutes to stay on time.  Question from the hall: Ingrid Jackson wants to know about environmental issues, climate change, and green technology.

McCain reminds us we’re having tough times. Claims to be open to the idea of climate change – not saying global warming. Says Obama says nuclear power has to be safe, disposed of… “somethin like ‘at” but his time on a nuclear warship taught him that nuclear power is clean. Okay then!! Don’t worry about disposal problems!

Obama: This is one of the biggest challenges of our times. The New Energy Economy can be an engine of economic growth. It can be done but investments must be made. Contrary to what McCain keeps on saying, favors nuclear power. We agree that the big problem with energy. He voted 23 times against alternative fuels and he was in Washington for 26 of the last 30 years, when Congress wasn’t doing anything about energy.

We can’t simply drill our way out of the problem. We can’t deal with the climate crisis if we’re using fossil fuels. Knocks China’s horrendous pollution problem, building more and more coal plants.

Brokaw points out the pretty colored lights that mean “time’s up.”

McCain mentions a big larded-up energy bill by Bush and Cheney that Obama voted for that McCain voted against. I bet this is one of those procedural votes again where he actually voted against the final bill. Can’t wait for the debunkery to start.

Brokaw: Lindsey Trella wants to know about health care coverage – should it be treated as a commodity? it’s marketed as a profitable package for health care companies… Obama talks about the crushing burden families and small businesses pay. We have a moral imperative. Has ideas for reducing costs – you keep your plan if you like it, but the government would work with the system to bring costs down and reduce paperwork.  Notes McCain would want to add deregulation of state health care… and that there would be an element of “one hand giveth, one hand taketh away” with the McCain tax “credit” along with some other new tax.

McCain agrees we can do a lot of things to impose efficiencies. He warns against government mandates. Senator Obama will fine you if you don’t cover your employees! He thinks it’s okay to deregulate state by state so people can cross state lines… yeah, there’s a great idea for those of us lucky enough to be able to travel to a state with a better health plan. Keeps saying “5000.00 refundable tax credit.”

Brokaw: is health care a right, a privelige, or a responsibility?

McCain: it’s a responsibility. Senator Obama is going to fine you! We might find that out tonight.

Obama: I think it should be a right. For every American. My mother died of cancer at the age of 53 and she argued with insurers in her hospital room in her last days. He repeats that you keep your plan if you like it. He notes that small businesses will get a discounted rate for providing health insurance. Notes that McCain voted against the Children’s Health Insurance bill. Notes that insurers hide behind the fine print, and notes that insurance companies will set up shop in unregulated states, similar to Delaware being the state haven for banking and credit card companies. We need fundamental change.

Brokaw: Foreign policy…. McCain wants to know if we heard the size of the fine?

Question from the hall: what about our ability to be a peacemaker in the world? But he insists that America is the greatest force for good in the world. Wait, I thought that was Jesus, Buddha, Gandhi, and Science?

Ah, nuts. I wish he’d stop calling us his friends. He’s not our friend.

McCain is so very stiff and insists that his judgement is sound. Hits on Obama’s “short career.” No time for on the job training, my friend.

Obama: McCain suggests that I don’t understand. I don’t understand how we ended up invadidng a country that had nothing to do with Osama Bin Laden. McCain’s judgement was wrong on Iraq, and costly. Iraq has put an enormous strain on our troops, and on our budget. We’ve spent 700 billion so far. 10 billion dollars a month while the Iraqis have a 79 billion surplus… these figures sound familiar.

We are a great nation… but we are losing the respect of the world.

Wow, they both use the word “fundamental” a lot. I bet the drinking game is going well.

Brokaw: What is the Obama Doctrine for the use of force when there’s not a national security issue at stake – as might have been in the early days of Rwanda? When genocide is happening… and we stand idly by, that diminishes us.  We’re not going to be able to be everywhere. That’s why allies are important. We could be offering logistical support, but only if we were able to lead.

McCain comes back to the “timeline” issue with Iraq. He mentions Al Qaeda… who weren’t in Iraq before we went there. He claims again that Obama would have brought troops back in defeat, blah blah.

McCain claims we need a cool hand at the tiller – he’s the least cool hand I know of today. He brings up the sad stories of Somalia and Lebanon, when our peacekeeping forces were in harms way and many young Americans died.

Brokaw: from the hall, Katie Hamm. Should the the US respect Pakistani sovereignty, and likens it to the bombing of Cambodia.

Obama: we made a bad judgement when we went to Iraq and got distracted instead of hitting Bin Laden, who went on to set up base camps and are stronger now than at any time since 2001.   Weaves the threads of drug trafficking in and proposes more insistence in our dealings with Pakistan, offering more and better aid, but taking a shot if we have a chance. Says “We will kill Bin Laden and crush Al Qaeda.”

McCain: notes Teddy Roosevelt said “talk softly and carry a big stick.” A valid point that talking loudly can cause more problems. Discusses the Taliban. Get the support of the people, and use the same strategy as Iraq… oy, that’s not going to work in Afghanistan, it’s a much different situation.

An argument threatens to break out over followups. Brokaw says he’s just hired help here. Obama gets his followup: if Pakistan is unable or unwilling to take out Bin Laden, then we should. Jokeyness: Bomb Iran, North Korea, not an example of speaking softly.  He walks around in circles while McCain tries to insert himself into his statements.

And now McCain gets a response – “Not true.” Obama sits sideways and smiles attentively. McCain says he knows how to get Bin Laden, and he knows how to fix the economy, and how to win the war.

Brokaw: response on developments in Afghanistan. British leaders have said ‘we’re failing, we cannot win there. What we need is an acceptable dictator.’

Obama: withdraw troops responsibly, send additional troops to Afghanistan to General McKieran (not McClelland, the guy in the Civil War Palin cited).

McCain: Strategy and tactics. It’s the same overal strategy. We have to work more closely with the Pakistanis.  Still says Obama was “wrong” about the surge. Hello, the “surge” wasn’t what made things work, it was better relations with the Iraqis, and some of the influential leaders coming in to talk with the US military leaders and call for a cessation of hostilities.

Meh.

Brokaw: Russia.

McCain repeats his K-G-B line about Pooty-poots eyes.  Rattles sabre about Georgia, a tiny democracy (that’s on the side of the Republican angels, oh and they have a fair amount of oil, I believe).

Obama: Russia’s resurgence is a central issue of the next presidency. He keeps framing his statements wrong!! He needs to say “McCain agrees with me.”   The next Commander in Chief needs to anticipate problems instead of react to them and not muddle through, rushing into Iraq before we were done with Afghanistan

Brokaw: Russia an evil empire, yes or no?

Obama: Very dangerous.  Energy is the big issue – if we reduce our dependence on oil, we reduce their petrodollars.

McCain: Maybe. Waffles that if he says Yes, we’re reigniting the Cold War, if No, we’re ignoring the problem.

Brokaw: a retired chief petty officer rises to ask about defending Israel against an Iranian attack.

McCain gets the money shot, shakes the man’s hand and says everything he ever learned about leadership he learned from a chief petty officer.  Wants to put pressure on Iranians to modify their behavior rather than put troops in harm’s way – but in the end, we can never allow a second Holocaust. There’s that line again.

Obama: his “thank you for your service” is, sadly, a formality. He can’t beat McCain’s handshake and knows it.  He says it’s important for us to use all the tools to prevent the scenario where we have to decide on sending troops.  Change their cost-benefit analysis. Repeats we should deliver a tough, direct message to Iran, that there could be dire consequences. We have a better chance at better outcomes if we try diplomacy.

Brokaw: Last question gentlemen, please.

Peggy in Amherst: “What don’t you know, and how will you learn it.”  WIN!!

Obama: My wife Michelle could give you a long list.  Wanders into a narrative about how he succeeded despite his background. Are we going to pass on the American Dream to the next generation? Not hearing the Zen koan in this answer yet. We need fundamental change, again, and he’s hopeful.

McCain: What he doesn’t know is what all of us don’t know – what’s going to happen here and abroad. He’s addressing the challenges that we will face. What I don’t know is what the unexpected will be. He talks about dark times. Yet this is a guy who lived a life of privelige. Believes in the country’s future and greatness.  Need a steady hand at the tiller. Never commanded a ship, you know.  He barely commanded a fighter group in Florida before retiring.

Both candidates move in front of Brokaw’s Teleprompter screen, forcing him to duck and weave to read his closing comments. Funny moment.

Cindy McCain’s hair looks like crap.

Michelle Obama works the crowd shaking hands and smiling.

Okay. I’m disappointed, just a little, that Obama did not call McCain on the negative campaigning issue, especially on that stuff from the Clearwater crowd at Palin’s rally today.

Sen. Lindsey Graham, a McCain confidant, told The Post’s David Broder that the campaign would “go down in history as stupid if they don’t unleash” Palin. Well, the self-identified pit bull has been unleashed — if not unhinged.

Barack Obama, she told 8,000 fans at a rally here Monday afternoon, “launched his political career in the living room of a domestic terrorist!” This followed her earlier accusation that the Democrat pals around with terrorists. “This is not a man who sees America the way you and I see America,” she told the Clearwater crowd. “I’m afraid this is someone who sees America as imperfect enough to work with a former domestic terrorist who had targeted his own country.” The crowd replied with boos.

McCain had said that racially explosive attacks related to Obama’s former pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, are off limits. But Palin told New York Times columnist Bill Kristol in an interview published Monday: “I don’t know why that association isn’t discussed more.”

Worse, Palin’s routine attacks on the media have begun to spill into ugliness. In Clearwater, arriving reporters were greeted with shouts and taunts by the crowd of about 3,000. Palin then went on to blame Katie Couric’s questions for her “less-than-successful interview with kinda mainstream media.” At that, Palin supporters turned on reporters in the press area, waving thunder sticks and shouting abuse. Others hurled obscenities at a camera crew. One Palin supporter shouted a racial epithet at an African American sound man for a network and told him, “Sit down, boy.”

Oh, and later in the same rally, some yutz yelled “Kill him!”

Francis Baker, cooper of Yarmouth

Francis

Francis BAKER
1611 – 23 Jul 1696

* OCCUPATION: Cooper, surveyor of hwys
* BIRTH: 1611, Hertfordshire, England [1]
* DEATH: 23 Jul 1696, Yarmouth, Barnstable Co., MA [2]

Family 1 : Isabel TWINING

* MARRIAGE: 17 Jun 1641, Yarmouth, Barnstable Co., MA [9982]

1. +Nathaniel B. BAKER
2. +John BAKER
3. Samuel BAKER
4. +Elizabeth BAKER
5. +Daniel BAKER
6. +Thomas BAKER
7. +William B. BAKER
8. Hannah BAKER

According to the genealogy files so laboriously compiled by my Aunt Nibby in the pre-Internet dark ages, Francis Baker was the first direct ancestor on Pop’s side. He came over in 1635, although some of the details she had conflict with the ones on this website.

UPDATE: Had to update the link because the original page was on AOL Hometown and went away. And HOLY CRAP, Grandpa X10 Baker was a terror, but he’s better than one of my mom’s ancestors, who may never have paid off his debt from when he and his wife emigrated from England.

INDEX

[3] Francis Baker was born in England in 1611. When 24 years old, he came to America in the ship “Planter”, Nic Trace, master, landing in Boston April 2 1635. He was described as a tailor (Hotten Ship List par. 45) and brought with him a certificate from the minister at Great St. Albans, Herfordshire, England, his last place of residence.

[4] His parents, are not actually known but it is thought to be one of two possibilities. First it is reported in the Colonial records that he was thought to be a brother of Nicholas and Nathaniel Baker. It is possible that he was a son of John and Margery Madestard Baker of Herfordshire, England. It is also possible that he is the son of Thomas Baker who was christened 7 July 1612 at St James Clerkenwell, London. The date agrees exactly. Thomas’s wife was Francis Ingram. They were married at St James Clerkenwell, 24 Aug 1592.

[5] June 1 1641, Francis Baker, cooper, was “admitted to dwell at Yarmouth, but not to have lands that are assigned formerly to others without their consent.” (Plymouth Colony Records, 2:17). Under this authority, he settled near Follens Pond, at the head of Bass River, in what was then Nobesussett Territory but now within the bounds of Dennis. At that time, the first white man’s house at Nobseussett was less than two years old. (Deyo’s History of Barnstable County, p. 536).

[6] He was married June 17, 1641, to Isabel Twining of Yarmouth, (Ply. Col. Ct. Rec. 2:19), daughter of William Twining. This is the first marriage of record at Yarmouth, it lasted 55 years. Their first child was born in Boston in 1642, They moved to Yarmouth, Barnstable County, Massachuesetts, before the second was born in 1645.

[7] He became an influential man in the colony. June 7, 1648, he was appointed surveyor of Highways in Yarmouth (Ply. Col. Rec. 2:124). In 1656 he was member of the jury (jud. Ct. Rec. 79). In 1658 he had a grant of 10 acres of land in Eastham, lying near to William Twining (Eastham Town Record 1:97). In 1659 Francis and Isabel were still living on this land but soon sold it to William Twining Jr. and returned to their Yarmouth farm. Here he spent the remainder of his life.

[8] He died in Yarmouth July 23, 1696, aged 85, probably the last of the first comers. His will, dated Mar. 4, 1692-93 was probated Dec. 8, 1696 (Barnstable Probate Record 2:30). His widow died May 16, 1706.

[9] The old house by the River where Francis and Isabel Baker reared their family of eight children has long since disappeared. The only dwelling now standing in that vicinity was built but a few years ago. It is believed to be on the former site of the Baker homestead. Numbers of old nails found in the grund indicate the spot where a blacksmith shop once stood, The Yarmouth town records describe Francis as a blacksmith, a cooper and a surveyor.

[10] Many of the early Bakers, as well as later ones, sleep in the old graveyard near the South Dennis depot, but the exact burial place of most of the first comers is a matter of conjecture. On an elevation near the old home site is an old burying-ground, surrounded by woods adn overgrown with shrubbery, but the names on the few stones standing there are associated with the early Quaker families who settled in the neighbourhood. About 1714, the first Friends Meeting House was built near this spot. We are told that Francis Baker “was times” (Swift’s History of Old Yarmouth); how he regarded those of the Quaker faith or how they regarded him we do not know, but one of the witnesses to his will was evidently a Quaker neighbor; his grandson, Samuel, was publicly censured for his leniency toward the sect (Swift’s History of Old Yarmouth) and others of his grandchildren married among them. And it may be that Francis Baker and his wife found resting place on the hill with their gentle neighbours, the Friends. (Possible burried in graveyard near So. Dennis R.R. Station).

[11] Within a few miles from where the first Bakers settled, – on both sides of Bass River and throughout the cape, – still reside many of that name. One branch of the family early removed to Maine and another to Connecticut – near Tolland – while others are fund in nearly every State in the Union.

[12] In his will of March 4, 1693, he mentions all of his children except Samuel, leaving it to be supposed that they were (except Samuel) all alive at that date.

[13] The Plymouth Colony Records at the Sturgis Library in Barnstable, Massachusetts gives a some insight into Francis as an individual.

[14] Extracts from the Plymouth Colony Records

[15] May 3, 1653 – “Wee Present Francis Baker, of Yarmouth, for retailing of wine contrary to order of Court”

[16] March 6, 1665 – “abusiue carriage to Francis Baker att the same time, they, the said Starr and Barnes, were sentanced by the Court to pay unto the said Baker, each of them, the sume of twenty shillings. And in reference unto the said Francis Baker and John Casley theire breache of the peace att the same time, they were fined by the Court, each of them, the summe of three shillings and four pence to the use of the collonie. And whereas Elisha Hedge hath given testimony that the said Baker and Casley were drunke att the same time, incase any concurrant testimony shall appeer to cleare up the truth thereof, they shalbe lyable to suffer the penaltie of the law for the same.

[17] June 8, 1655 – “Concerning complaint made by John Hall, of Yarmouth, against Francis Baker, of the same towne, for abusing Samuell Hall, his son, and seruant to the said Baker, by kicking of him and otherwise unreasonably stricking of him, the court haue ordered, that the said Samuell Hall shall bee and continew with his said father untill the next Court of Asistants; and then incase the said Baker shall come and complaine to the said Court, hee is to acquaint the said Hall wherwith, that soe hee may come with him, and they shalbee heard.”

[18] August 7, 1655 – “In the difference betwixt John Hall and Francis Baker about Samuell Hall, late seruant to the said Francis Baker, the Court ordered that John Hall shall pay unto the said Francis Baker the summe of eight pounds for the remainder of his seruants time unexpired, and the said Samuell Hall is to continuw with his father, and soe the contouersye is ended.”

[19] October 30, 1672 – “Francis Baker, of Yarmouth, complained against William Nacarson, of Mannamoicett, in an action of the case, to the damage of ten pounds, for that the said Nicarson neglecteth to pay him for six meat barrells, and for labour done seuerall times about pining of tarr barrells, and triming them, in yeare one thousand six hundred and seauenty. The jury find for the plaintiffe five shillinges damage, and the cost of the suite.”

[20] Text of the Will of Francis Baker – (Barnstable Probate Records, Book 2, Page 30)

[21] In ye Name of God Amen, I Francis Baker of Yarmouth in the county of Barnstable in New England being of disposing mind and memeory at this time Blessed be God. I do new meke and ordaine this to be my last will and testament in manner and form following:

[22] I bequeath my soul to God that gave it to me and my body to ye dust from whence it was in decent burial, and for that outward estate which God of his goodness hath given me: my will is and I do will and give to my Loving wife Iesball all my housing and Lands in ye Bounds of sd yarmouth both up lands and meadow Lands during her Natural Life, Also I do will & give unto my sd wife Iesball all my cattle and all my other movable estate for ye comfort of her Life, she my sd wife paying all my just debits and legases to my children here after mentioned

[23] I do will and give unto my Grandson Samuel Baker ye eldest son of my son Nathaniel two shillings …… unto my son John Baker five shillings …… unto my son Daniel Baker five shillings ……unto my son William Baker five shillings ….. unto my daughter Elizabeth Chase five shillings …… unto my daughter Hannah Pearse five shillings

[24] These aforesaid legases to be paid unto all and every of my children above named within one year after my decease: further my will is that what so ever of my mouvable estate and cattel shall remaine and not be expended neither by myself nor wife that after our decease ye remainder there of I do will and five unto my son Thomas Baker, and to my sd son Thomas Baker after my decease and ye decease of my wife Isball I do will and give all my housing orchards and lands and meadows what so ever unto him and his heirs forever I say to my son Thomas Baker his heirs and assigns forever, further I do ordaine nominate and appoint my loving wife isball and my son Thomas Baker executrix and executor to this my last will and testament where unto I have set my hand and seal this fourth day of march Anno Dom one thousand six hundred ninety two three.

[25] The mark of FB Francis Baker (Seal)

[26] Signed sealed and declared in presence of us
John Miller
John Okelia

[27] I Francis Baker do desire that my friends John miller and Thomas Bills boath of sd yarmouth woold be helpful with my executors for ye setling of this my last will as above expressed.

[28] John miller whose name stands as witness to this will made oath before Barnabas Lothrop esqr. Judg of Probate for ye county of Barnstable that he did see ye above named Francis Baker new deceased sign & seal & declare this to be his last will and testament and saw John okelia set his hand as witness to this will December ye 8th 1696: Examined and duly compared with ye original & entered December ye 10:1696:

[29] Attest Joseph Lothrop Regr.

[1] [SOURCE] Genealogical and family history of the State of Connecticut, (1911)
by William Richard Cutter, A.M.

[2] [SOURCE] New England Families – Genealogical and Memorials (1915)
by William Richard Cutter
third Series Volume 3

[9982] [SOURCE] Descendants of Francis Baker, by Bertha Winifred Clark, Boston 1951

The “Rally Base” Button Is Broken

Democrat Wins House Seat in Mississippi – New York Times

They sent Cheney. They sent Barbour. They sent Huckabee. They had Bush and McCain record robocalls.  And still the Republicans lost the Mississippi special election, the third “bellweather” election they’ve lost this year.  It appears the vaunted Republican “rally base!!1!” button must be broken.

Not soap, but chocolate

Flickr

I went to a local health and beauty spa today, Spa Martinique. I had done something to my neck yesterday – I have a history of “throwing it out” going back to childhood and later in college. I’d been thinking of finding a good local “aaaah spa,” the kind of place where you walk in the door and the atmosphere of serene calm (and the scent of expensive emollients) is designed to make you say “aaaah.” I’d been to one in Salt Lake but didn’t know if I’d have to schlep all the way downtown or not.

A few days ago, “Hope” at This is Zimbabwe mentioned in passing how she longed to book some time at a spa, just to forget the troubles there for a while. It’s impossible for Hope, but for me, it’s far too easy – just call and book. And so I called Spa Martinique, because they’re convenient and all that. Simple. The price on the website was even the same at the salon. I’ve never had to deal with hyperinflation as they do in Zimbabwe.

I thought I’d better report my experience, because things didn’t go exactly as I imagined.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a nice soak and a really thorough therapeutic massage, but there were moments of high expectations punctured by low comedy.

When you look at a spa brochure or website, you get pictures in your head of how wonderful you’ll feel and how lovely and serene and your surroundings will be. All will be quiet and peaceful, with no awkwardness or tackiness. The people in the photos are always well groomed, attractive, healthy, sexy, young, thin… you get the picture.

Nothing like me, of course. I hadn’t brushed my hair since this morning, hadn’t showered since yesterday, wasn’t wearing makeup, and had worn rather grotty jeans, which fit my rather blobby bottom only through the miracle of stretch denim. But to the spa I must go, to do it for my health, and for Hope, in a way.

This one’s for you, Hope.

So I called, booked, and watched the clock all afternoon while trying to ease the tension on both sides of my neck and down between my shoulder blades. I imagined myself being swept into a quasi-Zen state of hatori as soon as I walked in the door.

Well, almost.

I left the office about 10 minutes later than I would have liked, but would still have time to make it to the spa, but not by their “be here 15 minutes before your appointment” arrival time. So I called from the car (bad Ginny) and was assured it was no problem. It was raining. The suburban streets were unlovely and there were lots of potholes, and I imagined how I’d step into an oasis of calm in a few minutes.

I arrived, and the first thing on the agenda was giving a short medical history – standard where there are heat treatments and therapeutic things done. Fine.

Then I was met by an “aesthetist” who showed me around a little and gave me a little pep talk about the facilities and what they could do for me. I admitted that I hadn’t bothered to take care of my skin and expressed mild interest in some salon services. She went into high gear telling me how much they could do for me… oh, boy, she was salivating over how much she could sell me. I just needed the soak and the massage, really, but I nodded and smiled. They had the usual large merch area with all the products and gift baskets in soft, pastel colors. Like many salon-spas, the decor was nice. This one goes for a somewhat tropical, rattan and colorful prints look to go with the name.

Formalities over, we went through the double doors to the sanctum within. It was dark and quiet, and there was New Age-sounding meditative music. I was shown some seating areas – apparently they can do catered meals there for ladies who luncheon and spa. There was a seating area with a couch and an aquarium, and we sat down and discussed my evening: a mineral bath soak followed by a “therapeutic” massage in the capable hands of someone named Randy.

Then I was shown the dressing area, with lockers, little keys on wristbands, and a very nice towel wrap getup with a large spa robe and slippers. Left to myself, I tried to relax, put my work week behind me, and get into the “aaaah spa” mentality.

Okay, the wrap thing did go around my somewhat oversized bod – that was a relief. The aesthetician had briefed me on the tub soak to guage whether I was comfortable with being nude or not with someone else there, as she’d be in and out of the room.

Suitably but temporarily attired, I moved back out into the hall, and was taken into the tub room. Everything was really dark, and there were candles going in all the areas back there – parts I didn’t get into seemed to be related to arcane arts of the regime de beauté. The tub room contained a big, squared off teal green therapy tub with a daunting array of round ball valves and hoses and grab handles and things around the edge. Water was going into the tub, and I was given a few minutes to disrobe and climb in. But first, my hair had to be gotten under control, and I was given a (totally inadequate) towel-headwrap thing that kept slipping off. I should have brought a “hair thinger” but like I said, it was an impulsive thing.

The tub wasn’t that great, actually. It had very vertical sides, and there was a plastic bar at the far end that I think I was supposed to rest my legs on, or maybe hook my feet under. I had been given a neck pillow, but it balanced awkwardly on the level edge of the tub, so I tried to get more comfortable and settled further down in the water, which didn’t really come up that far on me. The mysterious hoses at the end seemed to go into pumps down in the water, but there were jets cycling all around and under me in a pleasant way, but my hair kept slipping and I muttered “this isn’t good.”

Immediately, the aesthetician was back – I know her name, but as I will be going back, I don’t want to give the impression that she didn’t to a good job. She was very solicitous for my well-being and enjoyment, but she was hard for this ungirly middle-aged tomboy to relate to. She was lovely, but also she was wearing a large amount of makeup. Anyway, she checked on me every time I made a sound. She tried to help with my hair, and I was left again for some more relaxing.

The jets seemed to go into high gear, and while I was trying to adjust the wrap around my head yet again, some new jets came on that seemed to be shooting straight out from behind where my arms would have been if I hadn’t been fiddling with my hair. Big gouts of water sprayed forward and out both sides onto the floor – I quickly lowered my arms and tried to remember that this was supposed to be a relaxing, enjoyable soak. Then the jets cycled again to the back, and I relaxed again. But soon the jets at the foot of the tub kicked in, and this time the hoses seemed to have shifted or the level had dropped (hmm, probably all the water that went on the floor) and the jets were spraying laterally, but bouncing off my feet and going everywhere. Hmm, more attempting to relax and enjoy.

I was sensing a climax coming (it wasn’t that kind of tub, really) and then everything started to happen – the underarm jets sprayed forward and out, and a new jet or hose sprayed all over from the foot, mostly into my face, but I couldn’t see to block it with my foot and couldn’t move or the underarm jets would gush over the side of the tub unimpeded. Mindful of the need to be quiet and not disturb anyone, I gulped, tried not to vocalize, and completely failed to relax the last couple of minutes. Once I started giggling, quietly, it was all over. My attendant came in to see what was up and was rewarded with the sight of a large reddish woman blindly trying to stop the water from going everywhere.

UPDATE: She quickly turned the water off after a few moments of shock, and then she held a towel up for me as I groped my way out of the tub. We both began giggling helplessly then, as quietly as possible, and I assured her I’d had a nice soak and apologized for the water all over the floor. She had no idea what had gone wrong, as I wiped all the water off my face. Good thing I hadn’t worn makeup, eh? Pretty drastic moisturizing regime, though.

With my hair as damp as it was, I was finally able to roll it into a self-knot and secure it for the next stage, the massage. Again temporarily attired, I was led out into the dark hallway to meet Randy, the masseur. He turned out to be a very large Eastern European guy with huge (but very soft) hands. After a consultation about the areas I wanted him to emphasis – like telling a big thug just how you’d like to be worked over – he brought me into the (darkened) massage room, which contained a standard massage table laid with sheets and a small countertop area with cabinets. After showing me where to stow my robe and towel wrap, he instructed me to get under the sheets on the table and lie face down (there was a cradle for the head). All very routine, as I’ve had pro massages a few times before.

He warned me I’d be sore the next day, and maybe the day after – and he’s right, I’m sore. But it’s a soreness I recognize, the kind you feel after a heavy workout when you haven’t gotten much exercise in a while. It’s a pain that you know leads to better health and well-being, so it’s not so much to be endured, but savored, as you’re reminded you’re alive and on the mend by it.

The massage itself, when “Randy” re-entered, was a very thorough hour’s worth of deep tissue work, firm manipulations of my spine, arms, and shoulders, and a lot of what I came to think of as “Vulcan neck pinch massage.” That is, Randy used a lot of techniques to put pressure on “trigger points” where nerves could be manipulated and knotted tightness in the muscles could be released. And he found all the spots that previous massage therapists found, even the ones on either side of my tailbone and along the sides of my pelvis. He really knew his musculo-skeletal stuff. An hour of being intensely, slowly getting beaten up ensued, with a lot of work on the neck and up and down the spine. It was not the super-relaxing heaven of the Hawaiian lava-rock hot stone massage, but I know that I can get that there, too.

We conversed on various topics and on my literal “back story,” and I was curious as to where he was originally from, but didn’t want to be untactful. So at one point I asked “Where did you do your training?” and he replied “There’s this school in Villa Park.” Okay, maybe next time.

Massage over, he left while I crawled slowly out from under the coverings and got into my wrap and robe. I went out to be greeted one last time, and he gave me his card and a small scented wrapped packet that I took to be some kind of soap sample, all of which I stuck in my pocket as I dressed in my grotty jeans and rain jacket. Then I paid up at the counter, and left for home – having been there for a total of about 2 hours.

After getting home, I puttered around but was too relaxed to get much done for David’s return from his week-long trip to COMMON. So I went upstairs with my laptop, turned the radio on, and listened to the Beeb on WBEZ for an hour or two (much of the news being about Zimbabwe). I kept wanting something sweet, though. I really wanted some kind of treat, but didn’t have anything in the house. Craving chocolate. Maddeningly, I could almost smell it.

As I got undressed for bed, I pulled out all the stuff from my spa visit from my pockets – receipt, aesthetics “prescription” for what I should do with the tiny samples I was given, pamphlets, and an oddly soft and squooshy “soap” sample.

Which turns out to have been “Tranquility Lavender Chocolate.” Aha!! Not soap!

So it went into the freezer for a while to harden enough to be eaten, while I listened to the Beeb and caught up on my reading. It was delicious, although it had melted enough to get into the corners of the wrapping, which had to be licked in order to get the last little bit of lavender chocolate goodness.

I’m still sore. I’m pretty sure we need to turn the mattress on the bed, and I have to remind myself to have better posture, because previous experience with this neck thing has taught me that sitting up straight and getting better back support is key to holding it at bay.

Actually, today I could use the services of an ANaesthetist, so I’m going to take some ibuprofen now. But that is the story of my aaaah spa visit, which I hope will dispell some illusions. Maybe sometime I’ll have more to report if I decide to go back in and get some “beauty” stuff done. I’ve never had a manicure or pedicure in my entire life – my feet are callused horrors which I haven’t dared to inflict on a footcare professional, but I could probably tolerate a facial. And my self-image is so extremely poor that I’ve always had a distinct anti-salon attitude.

I feel like: “why bother? what’s the point spending money on trying to look good when I’ll still look like crap afterward? Why waste money putting expensive paint on an ugly house? It’ll still be an ugly house with a garish paint job afterward.”

Well, we’ll see.

Via: Flickr Title: Not soap, but chocolate By: GinnyRED57
Originally uploaded: 3 Apr ’08, 11.04pm CDT PST

Ginny
I can has iPhone?