Michael Buble Anyone?

Michael Buble.  Need I say any more?  Great singer, great song, not too bad to look at!

Flying in the sky...

Place: T.F. Green Airport in Providence, Rhode Island
Time: 9:47 A.M.
Date: October 10, 2009
Reason: Flying to see my good friend in North Carolina
Thought in my head: I am going to die, I am going to die...

Today I have been challenged to tell about something that brought me great joy and here it is.  Recently, I flew from Rhode Island to North Carolina to see my good friend.  She is an amazing Army Wife carrying her third child while her husband is serving our country in Iraq.  I just wanted to give her a hug and tell her that I love her and that I am proud of her.  But, to do that, I had to get on a plane and that was REALLY hard for me.  I told everybody how scared I was, strangers and friends alike.  Anyone who basically made eye contact with me heard my story, to the point that I was tired of hearing about it. 

And, as always, God came through for me in spades and put the nicest people around me on every single flight.  So, I am filled with joy today that I conquered that fear and looked it in the face and didn't let that fear control me and my life anymore.  We are even planning our next flight for next summer.  I can't believe it.....

He is a gracious God and He is my Friend.

My message to yeast..

Let me take you back in time.  It was about 14 years ago and my boyfriend (now husband) said he was going to make sweet rolls for dinner.  Now, my Mother's motto when I was growing up was "God helps those who helps themselves."   Now in all my reading of the Bible, I have never found that verse or chapter in the Bible.  So, as you can imagine, with my very limited culinary experience, I was a bit in awe of him.  Still am, I must say.  I watched him knead and roll and actually PUNCH the dough, something I have never seen.  And can I tell you that those are still the best sweet rolls I have ever tasted.  Hands down. 

Fast forward about five years later and Sean, the fabulous husband, was building a deck for a woman and she wanted a certain kind of roof that he had never made before(the kind escapes me at the moment) and he came home and told me about it.  I was so worried he would lose the job and I said wide-eyed, "What did you say?"  He told me he told her no problem and then proceeded to ask me to find a book about these roofs at the library.  Hip roof maybe?  I found said literature and that roof came out beautifully.  I had asked him, "Weren't you worried?"  And he said, "Worried about what?  I knew I could figure it out."

That attitude still amazes me, the way he takes life by the horns and lives it with gusto and doesn't worry. He actually has faith in himself.   I quiver, I quake, I worry and analyze something from every which way.  You see, I have wanted to make bread for a long time.  I have longed for the rich smell that wafts from the kitchen when bread is being baked.  Maybe it's the chilly day or the changing leaves, but something inside me yearned to make wheat bread.  But, you see, something about yeast scares me.  I always heard about bread falling and the perfect temperature of the water.  Yada, yada.   I know, I know.  I would look longingly at it in the grocery store and last week I said, "No more! You are coming home with me."

So, today I made bread!  I haven't cut it, I haven't tasted it but I conquered my fear.  I said, "No more".  And you know what my message to yeast and fear is?  Shut up.  (Here's a picture of my creation!  So proud.)