Hi to any of you loyal followers. Anyhow, ever since we started using "E Blogger" we've had bunches of problems with it. And so have you, apparently. For instance, many of you have told Ruthie and me that much as you enjoy what's posted here, you have trouble getting back to us via the comment box. To be honest, we've tried it ourselves and we can't figure it out either. Plus, whenever we try fixing this along with any number of other nuisances, sometimes it works...kind-of...but most of the time we can't. So, sometime this coming week we'll get one of our friends over here (who knows what they're doing because we sure don't) to help us get re-established with another blogger who's simpler (if there is such a thing) and a lot more functional. Once we do, I'll get busy again with posting our travel pieces and also a serialized version of my epic "Bessie" sci-fi novel, OK? Best to all and see you later.

Been too busy re-writing my sci-fi novel about character Bessie's adventures to post anything from it. Meantime Ruthie heard from friend Rita K. that she likes sci-fi and will happily follow along with whatever does show up here. So for her and any of you others doing the same here's Chapter One. Enjoy.

 

Chapter One; Little Bessie Falls in Love - with Mars

          Connie Howard poked her head into the computer room. “Ben honey, in a little while would you like to go star gazing with us?”

          Eyes staying blued to the monitor, her seven year-old shook his head. “No Mom, I’m gaming Jeremy from school!”

“OK, dear!” Continuing down the hall, she wasn’t too concerned about the preoccupation with gaming, so long as he did other things besides. Which he did, like building tree forts with his pals, and tossing, kicking, or batting around whatever kind of a ball they had. Ben was a bright and active boy for whom she and hubby Rob could ask for no better. Her combination of threats and bribes got him to fit in schoolwork and even pick up his room now and then. The lack of interest in star-gazing, her favorite past-time, was disappointing of course.

Entering the den, Connie smiled to her-self - But one out of two’s not bad. She called out, “Come on, Bessie! Let’s go look at some stars and planets!”

          From another part of the house came a squeaky yell. “Coming, Mommy! I’m bringing your knapsack!”

          “No rush dear! It won’t be dark for an hour yet!” She smiled at how her little girl’s face lit up when told earlier that she could also help set up Mommy’s high-powered telescope. Darting in and out ever since, her willful little scamp was probably, Connie knew, trying to talk the sun into setting even sooner.

Rather than ADD (Connie hoped), Bessie simply had a serious case of something else; falling in love with the planets and stars practically since learning to walk. And quite frankly, the prospect of finally showing her these through Connie’s high-powered refractor telescope had her as revved-up as Bessie was. 

          Walking over to where the ‘scope stood in its accustomed corner, Connie patted it affectionately like an old friend. Which it was, this instrument having been in her family since Teddy Roosevelt was President. Qualifying as an antique, the tipped-up tube’s intricate scroll work designated the major constellations, the best known comet back then - Halley’s - and depicted with artistic license all eight planets, Pluto remaining undiscovered for another thirty years or so.   

Built of steel before aluminum found common use, the bulky apparatus was heavy and cumbersome to move around. Fashioned by an exceptionally skilled crafter, however, one of its saving graces were the lenses. Able to magnify far-off objects with amazing clarity, these and the marvelous workmanship overall made the ‘scope more than worth-while for Connie’s great - grandparents to pass it on until it was hers.

Fairly young when schooled with it by her own mom, Connie easily pictured Bessie as the next owner and in the not too distant future, either. In any case, Wisconsin’s clear summer skies promised excellent viewing tonight, a perfect time for her daughter to learn how to use it.

          Hearing some scuffling and grunting, she turned to see little Bessie dragging Connie’s old knapsack over the carpet. Her long reddish hair or most of it anyway, was scrunched up beneath one of Rob’s old Green Bay Packers caps. Big blue eyes barely showing beneath the brim, she two-handedly hoisted up the knapsack by its strap. “Here’s all our star gazing things! Let’s go, Mommy!”

Smiling back, Connie held up a hand. “Whoa honey, I’ll take that. It’s too much for you.”   

          More independent with each passing month, Bessie’s vigorous head-shake dropped the cap down over her eyes. Pushing it back up, she wagged a finger (the same as Connie), “No-no-no, Mommy, it’s not! I’ll get the door for you!”

          Connie laughed, “Okay, little Miss Helper, be there in a second!” 

          As Bessie held open the door, Connie squeezed by while hefting the out-sized ‘scope. As she set it down on the stoop for a better grip, her daughter hopped down the steps ahead of her. Somehow tangling the strap in her legs, she tumbled head over heels into the grass.

          Connie exclaimed, “Oh, honey! Are you okay?”

          Bessie leaped to her feet. “Of course I am! Let’s set it up!”

          “Then find us a nice open spot and I’ll follow, OK?”

          Trailing Bessie, Connie smiled ruefully over this latest pratfall. Her head always so a-buzz over so much to see and do, the little klutz would forget to watch  her step. The resulting scrapes, cuts, and bruises had Connie constantly digging for disinfectant and bandages, plenty of which she’d learned to keep on hand.

          When well away from the big oak, Bessie sized up the amount of viewable sky. Setting down the knapsack, she stamped her foot. “Here’s a really good spot!”

Connie obligingly set the ‘scope down beside her in the grass. “Whew! Honey, you’ll have to grow bigger to carry this! It’s heavy!”

Bessie stretched way up on her toes. “No Mommy, I’m already taller than my friends!”

She truly was by a couple of inches. Then again, tallness was a given for both her and Ben, Dad Rob being a strapping six-footer and Connie at five-eleven minus her shoes. For all she knew, though somehow doubting it, her daughter’s falling-down-itis might be partly due to an early and very awkward growth spurt.

          Staring up, Bessie wrinkled her face. “It’s still too light to see Mars!”

          “We will when it’s darker.” Heading for the settee beneath the oak, Connie motioned her to follow. Taking a seat, she patted the cushion next to her. “Sit yourself down, okay? Before we do any viewing, I need to teach you some things.”  

          Anxiously glancing skyward, Bessie saw not one single star showing just yet. Mollified, she plunked down. And so did the cap. After turning it backward, she beamed up at Connie. “All right, Mommy, teach me everything!”

          Without question, all kids her age wanted to know everything. Whereas, Bessie’s curiosity seemed to burn more insistently than anyone’s, no matter what their age. Only last week she bombarded Connie with a barrage of questions as they moon-watched through the 7X50 binoculars. They were too bulky for Bessie’s small hands to grip solidly, so Connie steadied the field glasses by propping them up on the picnic table to stay steady. Despite the awkward positioning Bessie’s few tantalizing glimpses of the Moon’s cratered surface merely whetted her appetite to see more, much more. Which was why in the week gone by, Connie often saw Bessie in the den staring longingly at the telescope. 

          Bemusedly watching her squirm, Connie smiled, “My-my, you are an eager beaver tonight! So, let’s begin.” She first explained, “With nighttime coming on the air cools, so the ‘scope needs to sit for a-while. This lets the lenses adapt to the lower temperature and not fog up.” Next she pulled a pen-sized flashlight from the knapsack. Clicking it on, she aimed it at Bessie. “This helps us to see what we’re doing. Notice anything different about it?”

          “It shines red! Why?” 

          “The regular shiny white light causes our irises…” Circling her eyes with her fingers, Connie closed them together. “…to get smaller. That lowers our night vision and we can’t see as well. Red light doesn’t do that as much.” Opening her latest copy of Astronomy Magazine, she spread out the star map for the month. Pointing to one of the constellations, she began, “Remember this one? It’s…”

          Clapping her hands, Bessie finished, “Orion! I like it more than any of the other ones!” Back while seeing The Hunter through the binoculars she was utterly fascinated by the star-clustered nebula at his belt.

Continuing the lesson, Connie explained the map’s plane of the ecliptic illustrating tonight’s most viewable planets. “We’ll first see the brightest one low in the western sky. You know which planet that is, right?”

“Oh-yes! The brightest is always Venus!”

“Correct and soon after, Saturn will appear higher to the southwest. Tagging along behind will also be the planet…”

“Mars!” Bessie yelled. “That’s the one I love the very most!”

Connie laughed, then put a finger to her lips. “Shh! I think the neighbors heard you. So anyway, what is it that you love about it?”

Bessie felt, for a reason not even she knew, that the Red Planet was hers and hers alone. Honesty a large part of her natural chemistry, she shook her head. “I don’t know, Mommy. I just do.”

Automatically looking up, she saw finally showing amidst the steadily deepening blue a few points of light. Grabbing Connie’s hand, she practically dragged her back to the telescope.

 Since it wasn’t fully dark yet, the mount was visible enough for Connie to adjust without using the red light. By now in fact she could have done it blindfolded. But to keep Bessie busy and to quit hopping around, she handed it over. “Switch it on and hold it steady for me, all right?”

          All seriousness, Bessie bobbed her head, “I will!” and again the hat slipped down. In no mood to fool with it anymore, she yanked it off and dropped it. Dutifully aiming the light at the mount, she kept it as motionless as she could.         

Following a peek through the eye piece, Connie made a final focusing adjustment and took another look. “Ah, perfect!” She made a summoning motion. “Now, dear, it’s your turn! Before Mars drifts out of sight!”

          Bessie bent to the eyepiece. Momentarily jittering around, she froze. “Woo-hoo! I see it really clear!” Completely enthralled, she didn’t move a muscle.

Connie knew that by her helping to set up the ‘scope and then seeing Mars so greatly enhanced, something very special was happening here. Purely delighted she grinned, “Good for you! Plus, magnified like this, you can see much better why we call it the Red Planet!”

           Not budging an inch from the eyepiece Bessie giggled, “We should call it the Orange one!”

          “Come to think of it, we should. Try to find the polar cap at the top. It’s like our own but smaller. You’ve seen Earth’s polar caps in our big coffee table book.”

          Turned from the eye piece Bessie poured it out so excitedly that Connie could hardly follow. “The book said they have more snow than the whole rest of the world! Our north one has polar bears and the south one has penguins! But Mars doesn’t, because there’s no air they can breathe! It’s also way too cold!”

          Connie laughed, “You know what you are?”

          There came another giggle. “I’m a chatterbox!”

          “You sure are, but I like that!” A K-5 teacher and a good one, Connie encouraged her students to toss lots of questions at her. They came unceasingly from Bessie of course and normally able to field these too, tonight she was hard pressed to keep up. Half hearing her daughter’s next remark, she lost track. “Slow down, dear. Say again?”

          “The book also said it’s so cold that a certain kind of gas in the…” Pausing to recall the right word, she repeated it carefully. “…the at-mo-sphere of Mars freezes! I know they don’t mean the kind you and Daddy put in your cars, right?”

           “Right, it’s what we call carbon dioxide.” Anticipating the next question, Connie headed her off. “When frozen it’s the same as that dry ice I showed you.”

          “You mean the smoky kind?”

          “It was frozen CO2 and Mars also has it.”

          Bessie repeated that carefully also. “See-oh-two! Brrr! It was really cold!”

          “And so is Mars. It’s cold enough during its winters to freeze the CO2 into snow. See if you can spot the little bit of white at the south polar cap.”

          Bessie was too quick for her this time. “Why can’t we see the north one just as well?”

          Connie angled her cupped hands. “Sometimes the north tilts away from us like this, so the south cap is aimed toward us. That’s why we can see it.”

          “Oh! Isn’t there snow in the middle of Mars?”

          Connie thought-Good question! “The middle of Mars is warmer than its polar caps. We call that part…”

Breaking in, Bessie carefully pronounced, “The…ee-kway-ter. We have one here!” Raising a finger as if at a lectern, she finished, “Ours is also very hot!”

          Seeing the raised finger, Connie nodded – She’s more like me each passing day. She smiled at her added thought – But smarter. Starting to read at three, her daughter now paged through books of all descriptions. When no one was around to ask, she kept the dictionary close at hand to look up words like this one. Already adept at using the family PC, Bessie also browsed the internet to learn about not just astronomy, but anything else that sprang to her busy little mind, various people, places, and things. In other word, everything.

          Connie nodded, “Yes it is, dear. The one on Mars gets warm too during its summer. But at night the temperature gets lower than our coldest winters in Wisconsin.” As far as she knew from NASA’s latest findings this was so.

          Looking away, Bessie muttered, “I’ll dress warm and bring my own air.”   Hearing that, Connie was a bit startled. “For what, honey?”

          Without the slightest hesitation Bessie replied, “When I’m there, Mommy.” She sounded already signed aboard for the expedition.

          Letting it pass, Connie glanced at her watch to find it was after ten, long past time to get her pint-sized astronomer into bed. “I guess so, dear. Anyhow, before we go in, take one last look, OK?”

          The Earth’s rotation had again shifted the refractor’s field of view. Bessie saw only the planet’s disappearing edge. “I can’t, Mommy! It’s almost gone!”

          After readjusting the mount, Connie urged, “Hurry before it moves away!”

          As taught Bessie carefully held her hands away to not accidentally bump the tube out of alignment. Unwilling to risk Mars drifting from sight, she said without looking up, “I wish we could do this all night.” Came the after-thought, “And I will as a grown-up astronomer.” A couple more minutes went by and then - “Oops! It’s nearly gone again.” Backing away from the eyepiece, she looked up at the reddish dot. And kept looking and looking.

          After letting her be for a slow count to ten, Connie patted her shoulder. “You did wonderfully and I’m proud of you.  But that’s enough for one night. Now I need you to help me take everything inside.”

          Still looking up, Bessie nodded absently, “I will.”

Another time check made Connie raise her voice. “Now dear!”

This broke Bessie’s spell. Resigned to her fate of soon being in bed instead of out here, she said quietly, reluctantly “All right, Mommy.” Then pointing up at Mars, her own voice raised up, “But someday I’m going there!”

          The determination in those big blue eyes was not lost on Connie. She nodded slowly, “You know, sweetie? Somehow it won’t surprise me if you do.”

 

 

 

 

Hi all after another long time away from my blog-spot. We've had so much stuff going on these past couple of months that I've not had time to post any entries let alone write anything. Which I'm finally back to doing with "Here & There" - Book Two and also with my YA (Young Adult) sci-fi novel "Bessie Howard; Cyber-Sorceress" Her Amazing Travels Through Time and Space!

So from now on I'll post some of my ongoing thoughts about both of these books along with excerpts from them. Plus, I'm also ready to serialize major portions of "Bessie" here in this blog-spot simply to bounce it off you readers and see how it flies. I've already done this, in fact, with the book's Prologue and also an expanded chapter about Bessie's "Perils on Pluto!"

Oh, and I also sought Ruthie's advice as to whether or not I should do this (since she's my day-to-day editor with this epic masterpiece), asking something like... "Jeez sweetie, I don't want to bore any of our readers with my far-fetched YA yarn. Some of our friends who follow the blog might not like science fiction, y'know?"

She laughed, "Oh POOF dear! So what if they don't? They won't stop being our friends and besides, a lot of them know that you're nuts anyway. Plus, it's your book, so just go ahead and serialize it to your heart's content!"

And so, I'll give it a go. Right now. By first feeding you dear readers the Prologue again. Enjoy!

Bessie Howard - Cyber Sorceress

                  Her Amazing Travels through Time and Space!

                                                   *

                                 PART ONE

                                         *

Prologue    

The torrential rain had let up but an oncoming mass of towering black thunderheads promised more that could last for days or even weeks. The clouds were parted enough during this brief interlude to allow a few slanting rays from Earth’s young sun to strike a Triassic beach. Momentarily calmed, the sea rolled in on long, slow swells lapping the red-colored sand. Beyond stood tall palm-like cycads amidst gigantic rain-soaked ferns bent to the ground.         

High overhead a winged red-crested reptile spotted a small amphibian scuttling across the sand. Eyes instantly locked on its prey the pterosaur partly opened its long narrow beak lined with sharp teeth and dropped in lowering circles.

          Its tiny mind perhaps suddenly sensing danger, the amphibian broke back toward the water in a side to side scurry. Splashing into the shallows, it dove to safer depths a half second before the predator could snatch it up.        

          Vaguely annoyed, the pterosaur angled its six foot wingspan and glided in a wide turn back to the beach. Landing atop a dune and folding the wings, it stretched its long neck. Darting bird-like glances from side to side, its sharp eyes saw something glint nearby. Hop-walking over to the object, the young reptile looked down at it.

 Partly obscured by a sandy outwash from the earlier rainfall was a clear plastic bottle with a white cap. A portion of the exposed label read “250 coated aspirin tablets…caffeine free…325 mg”. Re-balancing on spread webbed feet, the reptile tapped it experimentally with the tip of its beak.

There came a flash and a loud “Pop!” Jerking up, the startled animal nimbly ran off in long strides. Stopping a safe distance away, it stared back uncomprehendingly at what now hovered several feet above the sand. Nothing about it looked the least bit familiar, neither the creature in the chair nor the computer monitor in front of it. After a few seconds the strange apparition sank gently to the ground.

As the intruder abruptly reached down and grasped the bottle, the wary reptile hopped backward a couple more steps. Thus spotting the pterosaur while raising back up, the strange creature went motionless and stared back for a moment. Then holding up the bottle in one hand and wagging a finger with the other, its mouth formed words that could not be heard nor could the eyes be seen behind the tinted visor. Next clutching the bottle to its chest, the odd-looking thing leaned back in the chair. There came another bright flash and a resounding “Pop!”…and nothing was there!

           The incident soon forgotten, the pterosaur was aloft once more and searching for something down there to eat.

 

(To be continued)

 

 

Hi again finally-finally after more travelling by Ruthie and me to Boulder, Colorado, and next to Manchester, Connecticut, and to Minneapolis-St. Paul after that. In any case, here's another travel piece I think you'll enjoy that's a lot closer to home.

Roche-A-Cri State Park

          Ruthie and I visit lots of places, but for some reason I’ve never gotten around to writing about our very favorite one. Which is - go figure, because there it is only a few miles south of our mailbox and towering above Hwy 13, the tree-covered ridge of Roche-A-Cri Mound State Park. So, I went there last week to jot down whatever struck me the most. And same as always, for all the times I’ve been there, some closer looks showed things I’ve hardly noticed before.

          Walking in on the prairie trail, I hung a left to the huge stand-alone fir atop the rise. Its great-sized branches starting close to the ground make it the perfect climbing tree not only for young kids to easily climb but for me too (with adequate supervision by Ruthie).

          A short way into the woods, I stopped on the bridge crossing Carter Creek winding from east to west through the park. Realizing for the first time how crystal clear the water is, I wondered how anyone could catch the stocked trout here without their shying off and dodging away. Even our smart aleck son, Kevin the fishing champ, has caught only a few pan-fish here (also stocked).

Reaching the ring road, I looked up and up at what is claimed the most distinctive and beautiful rock formation (and the highest one) in our whole state.

(Image # 1; Sheer, red-colored sandstone wall above petroglyphs)

At its base is Petroglyph Rock and leaned toward it as close as I could, I saw, also entirely new to me, that Charles Caron chiseled in his name back in 1881. Before him, a passing explorer or settler simply scribed Oct. 31, 1845 maybe to say Happy Halloween, if they even had it back then. The sign said that in 1861, the Wisconsin 1^st Cavalry Sharpshooters fired at this rock during marksmanship trials. More interestingly, it suggested the half-moon crescents put here by the ancient Ho-Chunk people might even represent - a partial solar eclipse?

Continuing around, I picked up a plastic top saying “Made with Real Onions” (Pringles?) and tossed it into the dumpster. After using the park’s washroom at the office parking lot I joined three employees, Mona, Scott, and Ron taking a break.

Knowing Scott, I enthused, “Great job, you guys! This is the best-kept park I’ve ever seen.”

He nodded, “Yep, I keep at it with road maintenance and repair.”

Mona asked, “Notice how clean the washrooms are?”

My turn to nod - “Mine was spotless and unlike most, it even smelled good!”

Grinning, she gave me a thumbs up. Next, Ron spoke of the campsites (41 of them!) at the base of the Mound. “Camping there as a kid, I still think it’s the ideal place for it. Our campers pick up after themselves pretty well, too.”

I agreed, “All I found was a can lid some idiot left beside the road.”

Ron pointed behind me. “Speaking of which – did you lose a water bottle?”

No longer in my fanny-pack holder it was mine all right. When I picked it up, Ron said not a word but he wore a big smile.

Continuing around, I stopped short of the park’s most popular part, the 303 stairs to the overlook offering a spectacular view in all directions. Among the 5 miles of trails here, I turned off on the one almost hidden on my right to Chickadee Rock. A huge favorite of our grandsons, they bee-lined for it the last time we brought them. Had Ruthie not called a halt, they’d have spent all day tunneling through its little natural cave and climbing all over the huge boulders. Back then she finally hollered, “You guys get down here before you’re hurt! You too, Gilbert!” (Calling me that instead of Gib means I better or else).

(Image # 2; Gib and grandsons climbing Chickadee Rock)

We also climbed the stairs of course, the boys refusing to leave if we didn’t! Starting up amidst tall oaks of several varieties, red, black, and white, we relished their blazing fall colors. Higher yet were mostly red, white, and jack pines whose piney essence filled the air. Matt, the smallest, was struggling by now. But halting to give him a break, we got told off.  “Hey, no stopping! Let’s get to the top!”

And so it goes, folks, this not stopping thing with most of us who come here. With so much to see and do at this gem of a park, who wants to?     

Tuscan Loaves but No Kidding

          Two of our best friends said they enjoyed my funny article about Tuscan bread, but now they want the recipe for real. Anyway Joyce and Linda (and for anyone else out there) I’ll be serious just this once. So this one’s for you.        Ingredients; 1 cup very warm water, 1 oz. active dry yeast, 2 2/3 cups bread flour, and that’s it. In Tuscany these loaves are salt-less and no sugar is used. (back when starting out I for some reason added ½ tsp of salt and 1 tablespoon of sugar. But everybody liked these first loaves so much that I’ve kept adding them ever since. Just don’t tell anyone in Tuscany about this, OK?)

Methods; put the yeast in a small bowl of warm water and leave ‘til frothy. Heap the flour on a work surface, make a well, pour in the yeast water, and work in with a fork. Knead dough until smooth (about 5 min.) and shape into a ball. Place in a bowl dusted w/ flour (I skip the dusting and spray with PEM), cover, and let rise for 2 hours.

          Turn the dough onto a floured work surface, PUNCH it down, and divide in half. Shape the halves into ovals, place on a baking sheet (maybe I did something wrong when first using cookie sheets because my earliest loaves came out flat. So, I switched to either my small Pyrex bowls or bread pans) dusted w/flour (no, I do my PEM thing again), and let rise for 30 min. Place sheet on middle rack of the oven pre-heated to 400 F., bake ‘til loaves are golden brown (about 30 min.), and let cool on a wire rack before slicing (which never happens at our place because Ruthie saws off end pieces, her favorite part, 3 seconds after they’re out of the oven).

          And speaking of bread recipes, I might as well give you this one too, which my mom started using 70 years ago.

Ingredients; 1 oz. dry yeast, 2 ¼ cups bread flour, 1 egg (or 1/4 cup Egg Beater), 1 cup cottage cheese, 1 tablespoon sugar, 1 tsp. salt, ¼ tsp. baking powder, 1 tablespoon minced (or dry chopped) onion, and 1 tablespoon dill seed.

Method; put yeast into ¼ cup very warm water and let froth (sometimes mine does and sometimes not but I use it anyway). Setting aside the flour, heat cottage cheese ‘til warm, add to the other ingredients (incl. the yeast water) in a large GLASS mixing bowl (plastic ones don’t work as well-honestly), and mix with a beater. Add flour slowly while stirring with a WOODEN spoon (plastic ones are also strictly for the birds) until well mixed. Cover and leave in a warm place until doubled in size (1 hr.). Scrape out onto floured surface, knead while dusting with more flour ‘til not so sticky, shape in a bread pan sprayed with PEM, cover and let rise 30 min. Place on middle rack of oven pre-heated to 350 F. and bake for 40 min. (And keep people from tromping around in the kitchen, otherwise the loaf might collapse!). When it’s out, baste with butter and shake on a little salt.

          So Joyce and Linda and all the rest of you, if this 70 year-old recipe doesn’t make the best-tasting onion-dill bread you’ve ever had, then I don’t know what. Plus, I’d make it a lot more often, too (if Ruthie would quit stealing all  my yeast).

Hi all. A woman friend at church mentioned how much she enjoyed this column when it appeared 8 or 9 years ago. So, after just now upgrading and shortening it a bit, I've re-submitted this article to the AF Times Reporter. Before it appears again (if they use it), it's yours to enjoy.

Tuscan Bread; One Loaf or Five?

           While visiting Tuscany, Ruthie and I loved the deliciously crusty little bread loaves served on the side; so much in fact that I learned to bake them myself. And my own Tuscan loaves are pretty good too, because while they’re still in the oven Ruthie’s already circling like a vulture with her bread knife. But, before I pass this simple recipe on to you be warned that like most guys baking anything, I wing it with precise amounts and all that other boring stuff. That said, let’s begin.   

          First, I use self-rising flour marked “Ideal for Bread Machines”. I quit using ours, by the way, because the dumb thing always overflowed gooey dough down its sides. Next set aside 2 1/2 cups of flour, or 3, or 4, or 5 (we’re winging it, remember) and don’t fret over extra loaves, they make great gifts.

           Add 1 tablespoon of yeast, although sometimes I put in 2 or 3, to 1 1/4 cups of very warm water. Hotter than lukewarm, that is, but not too hot or you’ll kill those hard-working little yeast buds. Add 1 (or several) tablespoons of sugar to excite the yeast into expanding. Except, then add salt so it won’t get overly-excited and leave gaping holes in your loaves. The right amount is tricky, since too much stops the dough from rising. Just cool it with say half a teaspoon and you might be OK. Now, does the mixture get frothy? If not, the yeast is outdated, so toss it and go buy more. I usually do, since Ruthie steals it for her own silly baking projects.

Stir the liquid and slowly pour it onto the flour spread on the counter. Oh, did you shape the flour into a crater? No!? Uh-oh, so now you’re chasing this gooey mess all over the counter, right? Well, just sprinkle on more flour but not too much! Otherwise, you’ll be adding yet more water, though too much of that will get it gooshy again. Of course, at this rate you’ll have enough loaves to take to the middle school for the kids’ lunch hour (I’m not making this up, I did this once).

          Keep kneading and re-kneading the dough until smooth and free of lumps. And if any sticks to your fingers, then just do what I do…and eat it. This won’t hurt your diet, either. Having already burned a jillion calories by kneading it, by now you might’ve even lost a few pounds.

          Put the dough ball in a large bowl sprayed with non-stick stuff, cover, and place in a warm spot for 1 ½ or 2 hours (or sometimes only 1) to rise. Re-knead, shape into as many ovals large or small that you want, arrange in non-stick Pyrex bowls (I found three at Practical Cents for next to nothing), and let rise for another hour. After placing the bowls on the middle rack of the oven preheated to, oh I don’t know, between 350-400 degrees, bake for 30 minutes. Or maybe 35.

          Now’s the tough part, or it is for me anyway. After placing my hot loves on wire racks to cool, I have to fight off Ruthie who’s ready to pounce on these beauties with her bread knife. And naturally, so will you with kids or spouses irresistibly drawn by that wonderfully fragrant aroma. But no problem with that, because by using this recipe, trust me. You’ll have plenty of these delicious Tuscan loaves for everyone. And then some.                                                          

Hi all. Here's a travel piece that fits into an upcoming date - June 6. It might also appear in next week's issue of the Adams-Friendship Times-Reporter.

Memorial Day and D-Day

       The town of Bayeux, France has more than enough historic sights to draw the usual ooh’s and ah’s from Ruthie and me. But we mainly chose it in order to visit the D-Day landing site on the coast of the English Channel. One of the first towns liberated by the allies, Bayeux itself had monuments and plaques on virtually every street thanking the American forces for freeing it from German occupation. Testifying that U.S. troops had fought their way through all of these streets was the name of our hotel, Logis des Remparts - ‘Lodgings with fortified walls’.

Except, we couldn’t find a van-tour to Omaha Beach tomorrow morning that wasn’t already full. Explaining our woes to the young woman attendant at the Tourist Information center, we asked, “Is there a bus we can take?”

She smiled sadly, “There are none on Sunday, but a taxi? Maybe! Try getting one from your hotel and…bon’ chance!” (Good luck!)

Ruthie finally tracked down a cab guy on WIFI. She told him in tongue-tangled French-English, “We’re at #4 Rue…(blibbety-blib!)… Bourbesneur!”

He replied in fairly good English-French, “I know that place exactly! Meet me in front demain! Au-vois!” and hung up.

Left staring at the phone, Ruthie turned to me and laughed, “I think he said he’ll meet us in front tomorrow morning.”

He did and we told him, “Omaha Beach, see-vu-play!”

Introducing himself, David grinned, “Bon, I will get you there vit - vit (fast)!” The highway speed limit was 110 K, roughly our own 70 mph max back home. By going not the least bit slower, we got there in record time and better yet, he stuck around to give helpful suggestions. "Instead of wandering aimlessly, follow the signs and use your brochure. Then you'll see why we also know what a wonderful event this was!” He pointed at the restaurant across the street. “Call me from there later and I'll pick you up!” That said, he zoomed off.

Still early at 8:30 AM, we were the only ones here and all was quiet but for the surf rolling ashore. Stretching a mile or more each way, the beach looked like any other on a summery day, but for the tall monument directly before us. Erected by the French in 2004 to honor the 60^th anniversary of D-Day, the plaque read simply - “The allied forces landed on this shore which they call Omaha Beach…to liberate Europe June 6^th 1944.”

To think we stood right where it all began, literally sent chills down our spines. The same thing happened when our brochure told us those sheer cliffs to our far left were those the American Rangers scaled at such tremendous cost. Turning around, we climbed up atop the high ridge 100 yards in from the water’s edge.

Surprised at how high we were and checking the map, Ruthie exclaimed, “These bluffs are from 100 to 170 feet above the beach! Good grief, the Germans had the very same view of our guys coming ashore!”

I read the sign. “Just at this section they faced 8 artillery pieces and 85 machinegun pits, all of them hidden up here in concrete bunkers!”

Just ahead was an artillery casemate left here for people to go inside. We did and found the heavy gun in there too. Sighting over the barrel, it was aimed down directly at the shoreline which looked only a stone’s throw away.

Returning along the shore, we saw barely above the water a few feet out some pieces of rusted metal. These, as per our brochure, were all that was left of one of the gigantic concrete Mulberry Harbors towed across the Channel after D-Day.

Later seated on a seawall and waiting for our cabbie, we saw a tour bus empty out at the monument, take a few minutes, and then leave. Ruthie nodded, “Dear, I’m glad we took the cab. Oh! And here he comes!”

Getting up, we took a last look at the calm sea so empty of ships and the clean sandy beach with so few people on it – so fittingly peaceful compared to what it had been over 70 years ago. Before joining David, we gave silent thanks to all who came ashore here on that day.