if it's raining, you must be baking

Yesterday I went on an adventure over to the city (SF) with 4 other women.  We wanted to check out a place that salvages architectural stuff from chateaus and villas in Europe.  It turned out to be a bust.  Everything was very expensive.... like a pair of finials?  $7500.  So back in Jana's suburban we decided to go to Berkeley and hit a few stores and have lunch at an Indian restaurant one of the women suggested (she is Indian, so she should know good food, right?)  It was good and I don't usually like Indian food.  All the way home it was pouring rain and I made the comment that now I would have to go home and bake cookies, because it was that kind of day.  One gal suggested that I go to Smart & Final and get their chocolate chunk cookies that she said were REALLY good.

I got to thinking about that later as I launched into making snickerdoodles (I still have plenty of chocolate chip cookies in the freezer.)  I have always associated rainy days with baking and consequently my daughters (and granddaughters) do, too.  But it's not just wanting a sugary treat--I can definitely find those on my own without baking.  It has to do with the warmth, the smell, the dough, and spending time puttering around in the kitchen waiting for them to bake.  Yes, I could have gone to Smart & Final and purchased some cookies that were probably delicious.  But the smell of cinnamon wouldn't have hung in the air for the rest of the day if I had.

That is, until the smell of popcorn replaced it as Mark and I sat down with a large bowl of buttery goodness and watched a movie.

brought to tears

This girl brought me to tears with her performance last night in the ladies figure skating short program.  Joannie Rochette skated beautifully just a few days after her mother died from a heart attack while in Vancouver with her.  She is a Canadian athlete, so skating before a home crowd I'm sure she felt their love and support.  Amazing strength.  If you missed it, you should watch it.

I also loved her dress.

whining

This last month has been a challenging one in the early morning world of seminary.  We are more than half-way through the year, and we are entering the dark days of winter.  Just as we start to see a little early morning light, we will be plunged back into darkness when we switch to daylight savings time.  The students are used to me and are probably becoming bored with my teaching style.  They are there to be entertained and there is only so much entertaining a person can do.  We have done games, quizzes, role playing, memorization of scriptures for candy, video segments, puzzles, more games (they are a little too competitive).  They have become too chatty, disruptive, do their homework, play with their cell phones.... I've had to rein them in and be more stern with them and I'm not sure they like it.  Or me.  Or I them.

So I started feeling sorry for myself.  Why do I have to do this?  Why can't they just sleep through seminary or listen politely?  This is hard and I don't like it.  And then I read "The Seamstress" by Sara Tuvel Bernstein and it brought me up short.  There's nothing like a book about the suffering of people put in concentration camps to make you realize you have nothing to whine about.

This young woman was one of 10,000 young Jewish women who were rounded up in Bucharest and marched around the surrounding countryside, digging trenches and cleaning up rubble from bombs for four months and then sent to Ravensbruck.  By the time they got to Ravensbruck, only half of the women had survived.  Two months later, only 1,000 women were left.  Five months later the 100 surviving women were put into a railway car for several weeks.  In the end, only about 30 women survived.  Sara weighed 46 pounds when they were liberated.  She and her sister survived on sheer will alone.  They didn't whine.

I am now halfway through "Left to Tell" which is about a Rwandan woman who, along with 7 other women, hid in a secret bathroom 3 feet by 4 feet for three months while all around them their families were being slaughtered.  She had such faith in God that she would be preserved.  It is an amazing story.  She didn't whine, but rather looked for her life's purpose as a result of her preservation.

I guess I've learned my lesson.  For now.  (She said in a whiny voice.)