It was one of those days yesterday . . . . .

That day were you driving one way 5 hours(sans air conditioner), staying for an hour and a half then turning right around to drive back 5 hours. That day where you wake up dreading the full 24 upcoming hours. We, Dearest Husband and I, are half way to our dreaded destination when the tire becomes shredded. Not shredded where you can tell it hit something that made it come apart. It was shredded like a shark ate it for lunch and threw it back it up. The only thing I threw up was a few choice words. We had been planning to get new tires for my birthday in 2 weeks.

Disaster averted with a phone call to father in law, who woke up from his nap to rescue us. Well actually Dearest Husband called father in law’s neighbor to go wake him up because we could not get to him by phone. Within an hour we changed cars and were back on the road, this time with air conditioning. We even made it to the dreaded destination with 10 extra minutes to wash our blackened hands from changing the tire. We even got all the way back home by 1:00 am.  

We were dancing in the minefields, and my feet need a rest today.

Dearest Husband VS. Dough

I have just spent all morning preparing dough to make bread today. I got up early and mixed the ingredients, and set it aside to let it rise as I clean around the house. When it comes time to punch down the dough, I decide to ask Dearest Husband if he would like to do the honors. (I usually let the neighbors kids do it because they think it fun to watch it sink.) Dearest Husband gladly obliges and walks up to bowl. But this is not just any bowl; it is a very special bowl from my grandmother who has passed away. As Dearest Husband looks at the dough that has pouched over the sides this strange look passes over his face, a look I have never seen. As he pulls back his fist to his shoulder I realize that look is a focused and stern stare. He is literally going to punch the dough, in my special bowl. All much too fast for my interference, Dearest Husband jabs the beautiful puff with a “whap” that sends me into a hysterics. When I am relieved that the bowl is still in one piece, I am immediately almost on the floor laughing and can’t stop. Dearest Husband has no idea what I think is so funny and is starting to get frustrated with my giggles. I finally get to a place where I can catch my breath and begin to explain that “punching down the dough” it not a real power packed, fighting style punch. It is just making a fist and pressing the dough from the top downward. A simple “oh” from Dearest Husband and his cheeks brightened pink. 
 

I have been focusing lately on not over explaining how to do things that he obviously knows how to do. He may have needed a hint on this one.

P.S. This bread is super easy to make (especially with a kitchen aid), and makes enough loaves to give away one! Challah bread is traditionally Jewish Sabbath bread but I like to enjoy it all week.