• Ode to the Titty Fairy

    For ten long years you blessed
    my scanty boozums
    abundantly.
    How wondrous to fill
    out my dresses and shirts
    and to, for the first time,
    justify wearing a bra.
    For the duration of your visit
    my body swelled and
    shrank,
    four times in all.

    My uterus has ballooned
    for the final time,
    never to distend again,
    though I will appear
    four months pregnant
    every time I eat too much.

    My baby,
    my seca leche
    (milk dryer-upper),
    is three-years-old next week.
    You are no longer needed,
    so you have pocketed your fairy dust,
    packed your wand and flitted away,
    stripping my chest of its curves.

    Just because you aren’t needed
    does not mean you aren’t wanted.
    Did you know that?

    I miss you.

  • Another use for

    Okay, here’s another Way-To-Use-Sourdough recipe: Baked French Toast. Of course it wouldn’t have to be made with sourdough bread (it would be really good with a cinnamon-raisin bread), but since I make it with sourdough, it belongs here, on this blog.


    Baked French Toast is kind of like a bread pudding, but much better—more eggy and breadier (I’m afraid that didn’t make much sense since bread pudding is made of eggs and breads, but, oh well), and the top gets crunchy and crusty from the cinnamon-sugar that you sprinkle over it before baking. It’s another one of my favorite breakfast recipes because it requires a soaking period, making it perfect for assembling the night before and then popping it into the oven after you blearily scuffle your way downstairs in the morning. And it’s fancy enough for company. The leftovers are delicious, too, only requiring a brief re-heating in the microwave.


    I have found that it is important not to use more bread than the one pound that the recipe calls for. I have often made the mistake of trying to add extra bread to the recipe, thinking more is better, but in this case it is not. A surplus of bread makes the dish too dry, so don’t do it.


    The original recipe called for an entire eight ounces of cream cheese, but it works fine with just four to six ounces of the cheese. Also, if you want to gussy it up, you can experiment by adding different fruits: fresh cranberries (first simmered in a sugar-water solution) with some orange zest are tasty, as are frozen blueberries (this last time I made three-quarters of the pan with blueberries and one-quarter without, for Yo-Yo). I suspect it would also be good with chopped apples (first sauteed in some butter and sugar), raspberries, dried dates, cherries, or raisins. And you could sprinkle some toasted pecans or walnuts over the top…

    Baked French Toast
    Adapted from The Grand Matriarch

    1 pound stale bread, cubed
    4 ounces cream cheese, in small cubes
    12 eggs, beaten
    1 ½ cups milk
    1/3 cup pure maple syrup
    3 teaspoons sugar
    ½ teaspoons cinnamon

    Mix the sugar and cinnamon and set aside.

    Grease a 9 x 13 pan and place half of the cubed bread on the bottom. Sprinkle half of the cubed cream cheese over the bread. (If the cream cheese is too mushy to chop, set it in the freezer for about fifteen minutes to harden prior to cutting.) Repeat.

    In a separate bowl whisk together the eggs, milk, and maple syrup. Pour over the bread. Tightly cover the casserole and put it in the fridge to soak for 8-24 hours (and I think you could get away with letting it there even longer).

    Right before baking, sprinkle the reserved cinnamon sugar over the casserole. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-40 minutes, until puffy, golden brown, and set (poke it in the middle with a knife to make sure it is no longer runny).

    Serve with maple syrup.

  • Gripping the pages

    If you read my sidebar updates, you know that I was reading Louis Sachar’s Holes to the children. I had read it to myself a year or two ago, but I didn’t consider reading it to the children because I thought it would be over their heads. But then a friend gave it to us for a Christmas present, causing me to reconsider. My brother teaches the book in his middle school English classes, so I called him up to get his opinion on the matter. He thought it over for a minute and then pronounced it a good fit. We had our next read-aloud.

    Once I started reading the book, we couldn’t stop. Or maybe I should say I could not stop. I didn’t even give the kids a chance to beg me to read just one more chapter—I simply plowed right through, ignoring the fact that there even were chapters. Needless to say, the kids were delighted; they found it hilarious that I couldn’t stop. We read the book in just a few days, reading some nights upwards of one-and-a-half hours.

    Holes introduced the children to a new genre of literature. The story isn’t your classic straightforward story, such as Ramona Quimby, Heidi, and Tom Sawyer. It’s a mixture of fairy-tale and real life, drama and mystery. I could practically see the wheels turning in their heads as they struggled to fill in the holes (the book could not be more appropriately titled).

    I found myself gripping the book extra tight during the scary parts and sometimes pausing to silently read ahead because I was too darn impatient. Other times the story line was moving so fast that I had to pause to give myself a chance to catch my breath. At one point Miss Becca Boo had to get up from the sofa and go stand in the doorway to put some distance between herself and the story—it was just too intense for her. However, despite the scare-factor, she adored the book, carting it around with her and showing it to anyone who walked into our house.

    We finished the book about a week ago. I was sorely bummed; what a letdown. After being on that high, I didn’t think there could possibly be anything out there that would be half as interesting to read, so we didn’t read anything—for a whole week. A couple days ago I forced myself to go dig out a book, any book, because we were missing our story time. The kids and I settled on Miss Hickory, which is a respectable book and one that the children enjoy. Even so, it leaves me feeling rather empty and unsatisfied. It’s just not Holes.