Transplanting Tomato Seedlings, Asparagus, And A New Cabbage Patch: Gardening Journal March

So, I thought it was time to transplant my tomato seedlings. Whoa.

Vegan Cinnamon Rolls (Fluffy, Light: Perfect Sunday Morning Inspiration!)

After having no sense of smell, for over a week now, I had had it. I was baking this morning. And I was baking the KING of all Sunday morning indulgences: cinnamon rolls (nose be damned. . . calories, too). Taste buds, these rolls are for you! Baking these would be the ultimate smell sensation test--was my head clearing? Or am I imagining the cinnamon wafting through this house? Sadly, I barely caught the teeniest scent of yeast-y cinnamon--but I caught some of it--which is better than none! This lack did not deter me from devouring two full rolls on my own. (Plus, I am certain if we were to have held an Open House, our home would have sold in a hot minute: "Welcome to Cinny-bon Lane!")

Yellow Split Pea Soup with Toasted Pumpkin Seeds And Bread Machine Ciabatta (On Pink Rain Boots, Z-paks, Naps And Fluids)

Short of wanting to lop off my head and demand a lung transplant. . . I guess you could say we're "alright" here. I know we're not alone in this. I wandered into Walmart yesterday morning, down the cold remedies aisle to find myself cornered. Nary a peep other than hacks and sniffles could be heard. It was a zombie scene: "pardon me", "excuse me"-- pale, chapped noses and lips, frail bodies holding themselves up with carts--filled, mind you, with daytime, nighttime and everytime in between symptom relievers. We are ALL not well here. Quarantining ourselves. Nursing ourselves back to health. (Why didn't we have kids. . . who'd ease the burden. . . who'd help cook, clean. Okay now I sound like what we really need is an indentured servant?! Okay, and this is probably the second time in my life I've ever uttered that whole thing about "offspring"--I MUST be really ill.)

Beggars Can't Be Choosers Linguine: French Fridays with Dorie

I ate ALL of last night's French Friday dinner by myself! All. Of. It. This recipe was like, I don't know, funnel cakes and caramel corn on top of pasta. (I swear to god, this stuff smelled like caramel corn while it cooked.) And. . . it was that good. If you're into carnival foods. . . and I totally am (but you can leave the clowns at home)! Now, could I have been so down and out over the state of affairs for dogs here in Missouri last night that my appetite for anything remotely sounding and smelling like runway food would win me over? Certainly. And now amid today's crisis in Japan, could I be AS down and out again? Absolutely. So I very much could have this tonight, again. . . along side a nice slice of pizza (which is what is always on the menu on Friday night).

Missouri Senate Bill on Puppy Mills: Today Voted AGAINST The Wish of The People (Missouri House, now it's your turn. Please vote to help the dogs!)

Fifty-two percent of the voters in Missouri last November expressed clearly that it was time for our state to cast off its moniker as "The Puppy Mill State". Amending Proposition B (that is, taking away the vote of the people) was on the agenda first thing for the Missouri Senate. Today, that vote just passed: to weaken Prop B. As if our vote meant nothing. The party that espouses individual rights is also the party that just said, "We. Don't. Care. What. You. Think."

One of the lucky ones. . . our baby.

As if the will of the people and all that is right with wanting to help suffering animals was somehow in and of itself wrong. How could people be so vainglorious? How much simpler could it be? We voted to help those who cannot help themselves. Those with no voice. Those stacked on top of stacks of cages, clinging to hope that one of us, any of us, might see that this time, this state, and these dogs will no longer have to suffer at the hands of the deplorable puppy mill industry. 

Missouri House: the vote is in your hands next. Please help. If not, then I pray our governor will veto the entire effort, realize that the vote of the people should stand (the same people that voted him into office) are those who voted in favor of Proposition B last November.

Vegan Chocolate Crunch Cake (3 o'clock Snack Attacks: Cake!)

I had been without cake for two days. The sun has not been out for a full day in nearly a week. Need I say more? And sorry to post this chocolate decadence here on Ash Wednesday. So call me a heathen. I was long overdue for a good cake smack down.

I won't lie and tell you this is the prettiest cake I've ever made. But those of you who've followed me know I would eat cake no matter how it looked. For some reason, I have way too many cookbooks without photos accompanying EVERY recipe. I take forever to make up my mind as it is (my sister and close friends can attest to this--my propensity for indecision can be quite "wearing"). Pictures would help, 'kay?

Vegan Savory Cheese And No-Chives-for-You Bread: Returning to French Fridays with Dorie (A Pyrex Story And Why Organic Isn't Always Best)

So I solved two great mysteries yesterday. First, I thought I was the subject of some great baking conspiracy whereby every single time I ran across a loaf recipe--be it cake or bread, and the pan size called for an 8 x 4 inch pan, all I've ever had in my pitiful collection were two very old 9 x 5 sizers in aluminum, from my mom's collection--nice and stained from years of holding meatloaf recipes. (I have turned out very good quick breads and the like from these old pans, mind you, some were squatty-potty breads because of the larger size I resorted to when desperate times called for desperate measures, I'd just make do with what I had.) But then comes Dorie. In her very clear style of writing and very encouraging words for this week's French Fridays with Dorie bread recipe, she stated: Generously butter an 8-x-4 1/2-x-2 3/4 inch loaf pan -- a Pyrex pan is perfect here. Pyrex. Say what?! I have one of those. It, too, was my mother's. So in went my head into the dark cavernous kitchen cabinet holding all things to bake with, hands reaching around in the dark waiting to hit something cool and smooth feeling (knocking over every other cake, bundt and muffin pan along the way, spilling several pans out onto the floor and onto my lap), until I felt the cool slick side of something. I pull it out. My glass loaf pan! I turn it over and viola! Well I'll be darned, THAT's the mysterious eight inch loaf pan! I've had it all along!

Vegan Chocolate Torte (Dear Click and Clack: My car went "Pop" then "Hiss" so I baked a torte--seemed to help me, but not my car! Why?)

I do my best to not panic. Famous last words. Sunday I was out and about, trying to cram in a few errands, leaving DH at home to "rest" and have his own down time. He'd had a busy week. So list in hand (I always have a list, can't live without my lists), I was out the door. I try do my "Sunday Shopping" before noon--when "church" folks hit the roads because once all the praying's over, seems the shopping begins. (Which totally blows my mind, but that's for another blogger to discuss.) Anywho, list in hand, I was heading down the highway, when suddenly, Pop and Hiss and Gurgle, Gurlge, Gurgle. Typically I would not have heard such goings on because I would be listening to music--really loud, singing to myself. As it so happened, I had the new Adele CD in the car (LOVE it!), but had not yet hit play, so my ears were privvy to the mechanisms of my dear eight year old car. I knew immediately something really bad had just happened. Worse, I was on the highway. So I changed lanes--got over to the right hand side, thinking, well, I could at least coast to a stop--then call hubby (hands free--always hands free--safety first). I called hubby after realizing as I tried to change lanes that to even do so--change lanes that is, I had to literally use my ENTIRE upper body strength to get the car over! OH, WTF?! Phone call placed, panic now definitely in voice, I am like, "Honey, uh, there's a problem." Well, to say this is a new conversation--I mean, one where I call home in a bit of a tizzy over my car, is an understatement. In the last thirty days alone--three such calls have been placed, all having to do with my car, and all on DH's day off! First, there was: Honey, my tire has a crack in it. New tires put on car. Second, there was: Honey, my car won't start. New battery replaced. Third, and most recent: Honey, I don't have power steering and have to turn my car using my whole body: I'm heading toward the car dealership NOW, could you please come get me! New power steering pump thingy needed. LOTS of money--lots. Sigh.