Baked this before I left for school.  Here in college life is a mass of ticking clocks and moving digits. I watch the clock more than ever. Time is ever and always running out.  Time to sleep, time to read, time to practice, and time to study.  But all the same each day is like a week, and each week a month.  Upperclassmen warn us that freshman year will fly faster than Santa's sleigh during Christmas break. Time will tell.  I just realized that come Olympics in Rio I will be graduated from college!

Today I biked by some gorgeous landscape.  Lush green grass surrounding healthy maple trees.  Trees so tall that your eyes get lost trying to find the top.  Their sturdy branches knock together in the August wind, enjoying these last weeks before they change color.  Who would have known that this place was in a drought?  Just weeks ago the grass, if there was any, prickled your bare feet as it glared up at the sun.  The sun was ruthless and the clouds even worse.  I suppose they were on vacation.  No.  I remember the clouds this summer.  They were heavenly.  But at times it seemed like they taunted the thirsty ground.  Drifting slow enough to give a little rain, they would pass by without a drop. But in the past couple of days, the thunders came and the rain fell. It woke me several times in the night.  Lightening so violent and terrible lit my room.  Thunder loud and startling, fierce and angry drove me under my covers.  But when it came at last,  the forever desired rain storm, who could not help but stand in its showers?  They were welcome and wanted.  They brought life back to our dry and thirsty city.  Everyday I hear another lawn mower.  It sounds as if it's been longing to be out. Plowing down the fresh green grass it sends off that midday summer scent.  That smell of cut grass at a baroque where the hamburgers sizzle and children play volleyball.  Though the summer has ended, the green grass makes me feel like it's just begun.

chocolate marshmallows or cookies?

A good cookie baker reads a recipe and follows directions.  An OK baker looks at the picture, glances at the recipe and does her best.  A great baker reads the recipe aloud and the creation takes form on its own.  Imagine if you could  read a recipe aloud and it would come to life. Imagine was all I could do when I attempted to make brownie clusters yesterday.  I forgot to take note of the chemical reaction of egg whites when I whipped them up.  Puddles of chocolate batter went into the oven while mushroom tops came out. I'm afraid they tasted worse than they looked.  A heavily burnt marshmallow with a hint of chocolate. I suppose you could call it a chocolate marshmallow with a third degree burn.

When I was little I wanted to be like Amelia Bedelia.  What little child doesn't remember the maid Amelia with the funny, daisy covered bonnet. Unfortunately as a maid who's suppose to clean and do laundry her only strength is baking.  In the end of every book she wows her accusers with some amazing delicious creation.  And even if she had turned the whole house upside down, she is still adored for her baking.  All she ever did was put in a little of this and a pinch of that and something amazing would come out of it.  But I'm no Amelia Bedelia.   I'd rather glance at the recipe instead of follow it meticulously.  It's fun to try new things until you fail.  But what is failure but an opportunity to find success.

Like A Baby Without A Diaper

Spent the afternoon baking these! They're a little gritty because I added coffee grounds  straight from the can.  Next time I may grind the coffee a little more before adding it!  While baking, I took a taste of batter just to see how it was.  The bitter taste was no surprise in light of the smell.  Vanilla.  It's the one ingredient I forgot. With chocolate chip cookies, I never use the recipe.  It's engraved in my mind like a signature on a painting. But now and then I forget something, like vanilla.  A cookie without vanilla is like a flower without a smell, a diver without a splash, a baby without a diaper!  Well maybe not the baby, but definitely the flower. Vanilla gives off such a delicious scent that my sister and I use to take a whiff just for fun. Since the coffee smell was so strong and bitter, I put in a whole tablespoon of vanilla extract. Don't ask me, but that could be as risky as putting diesel fuel in a your mini cooper!  Though they came out fine, I'll grind the coffee a little more next time. 

Skyline Cupcakes

Today was wonderful. Yes the clouds were beautiful and the weather was perfect. But that's not what held my smile when I arrived at work.  The first thing I saw when I walked back to clock in was a pink box of cupcakes.  I leave for college next week and my coworkers decided to have a goodbye party! Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, chocolate with peanut butter and good old vanilla on vanilla.  It was such an uplifting day.  I bagged sweets, helped costumers, and swept floors.  I love helping costumer who are about to leave on a long road trip.  They need sweets or bread for the road.  I always suggest muffins. They don't crumble like scones do.  When I'm packing a sandwich for someone on the go, I get so excited.  They are someone I don't even know, but somehow I am a blessing to them by making and wrapping their sandwich. It's kind of a motivation to make it the best way I can. But the costumers I like best are the one's buying bread as a gift.  They are so precise in how they want me to pack it.  The jam they want wrapped in paper and bagged first.  The cookies they want placed in a paper bag with the largest one's on the bottom. I love when little kids come in.  They stare threw the glass at a chocolate chip scone biting their bottom lip with anticipation.  I slip on a glove, grab the biggest one in their view, and slip it into a brown paper bag.  The paper crinkles as I carry it over to the register.  Mother pays. She grabs her bag of bread and hands him the scone.  And they disappear out the door.  People come and go so quickly that I sometimes help the same costumer in the same day without knowing!  I think I'm going to miss helping costumers when I leave for college.

Why do we have bad days?

What do you do when a bad day just gets worse?  The buzz of your phone on vibrate wakes you up, and it's your boss asking you to come in three hours early. So you scratch that two mile run you were supposed  to take, and try to find breakfast. When you arrive, work is dead silent and as peaceful as two swans in a lake.  Then you realize your presence is as necessary as a watering can in a thunderstorm. Why were you called in?  Because somebody got sick.

 A hassle to get sandwiches ready for a catering order gives little time for even a sip of water, let alone a glance at the clock.  When the time comes for a water break you realize coming in early leaves you a 9 1/2 hour shift instead of 6 1/2. A bad day of slipping on tomatoes and refilling empty coffee pots only get's worse when lunch break rolls around. You try to recreate that delicious tuna melt you  made last weekend, only to find that too much tuna makes the bread soggy and there's a live ant worming it's way through your sandwich.  The sandwich goes in the trash: tuna, Swiss,  avocado, bacon, insect and all.

It's after six hours that  your feet feel as heavy as cinder blocks.  Your brain can't take another song by Jason Mraz or Michael Buble. And just to make you feel all the more irritated with the radio, Call Me Maybe comes blaring out of the speakers. You ask for Saturday off, but your boss says no way.  So you work all the more, giving 110%, and watching the clock like Michael Phelps after a race. When your hands are red and hurting from washing dishes, your stomach is still sick from lunch, and the only thing that seems comforting is a giant bed, you think of your creator.  He sees it all.  He cares. Sometimes it seems like bad days are a glitch in God's radar. But maybe they're just there to humble us,  or to help us learn to trust Him?

You know that moment when you've been on the interstate for a long while and the sun is just coming up?  The sun's heavenly rays break through the clouds like Sherlock Holmes flashlight in the foggy streets of London. The first rays of daylight dwindle down to the dewy fields of barley where pretty blue flowers grow along the roadside.  In a moment your eyes grow wide while a smile creeps across your face.

 The same expression and excitement appears right before you go on stage. The heavy red curtains hide the faces of an anxious crowd. You wait for the lights, and when they fire up, a sense of breathless awe captivates your mind in just a moment. And yet again that breathless sense of awe appears as you listen to or play an amazing composition of music. A college senior recital or an orchestral concert captivates both your eyes and ears.  The music takes you on an adventure and you never leave your seat.

It may seem difficult to liken baking to any fantastic moments.  But when you really think about the chemical reaction of baking, it is fantastic.  It's that moment when a tray of raw cookie dough slides into the oven, and slides out soft, crisp, and chewy.  At Great Harvest we have the most exciting cookies for this month.

 Who knew that adding a half cup of roasted ground coffee beans to a chocolate chip cookie would create a taste of heaven?  They're called mocha chocolate chip cookies. Their dark color gives them a warm personality. I find that everything we bake at Great Harvest has a personality.  From the pumpkin chocolate chip muffins, to the grainy, seed covered dakota bread, they give our costumers a wide range from which to choose.

Look for what brightens your day in just a moment. Captivate it and savor it. In this world where things change constantly, and you feel like a bubble surging down a drain pipe towards the ocean, it's good to stop and savor the precious moments around you.

Virginia Brasier 

This is the age

Of the half-read page

And the quick hash

And the mad dash

The bright night

With the nerves tight

The plane hop

With the brief stop

The lamp tan

In a short span

The big shot

In a big spot

And the brain strain

And the heart pain

And the catnap

Till the spring snaps

And the fun's done.

Just a part of my home town

Work was hot and tiring yesterday.  After an accident of 12  burned cinnamon swirls the oven made us all pay for the Baker's mistake. Though I arrived closer to closing, the ovens were still cooling down while fresh baked swirls did the same.  I pushed back my sweaty hair as I hurriedly swept the dusty floors.  A costumer would come in and I would grumble. There was so much work to do, I didn't have time for them.  Of course I had time for them, it just meant I would still be cleaning up after closing.   Dishes cluttered the sinks, lettuce mayo and squashed tomatoes dirtied the sandwich area, and the trash waited for me to empty it.  Some how I managed to finish up at a decent hour. A tiring afternoon turned into a fun night as my family zoomed off to the state fair.

Its the same fair every year, but different.  Back then I was terrified of the fair.  People were everywhere and they smelled like deep fried dough.  The loud crazy rides with flashing lights and screaming people scared me to death. Now I see a place that's just a part of my home town. The deep fried dough is actually good if you taste it.  I wasn't allowed to as a kid. The rides are not meant to scare you but to give you a thrilling experience. And the crazy people screaming? Well they just do that for attention :)

We saw tractors and mowers, farm equipment and farm animals.  We saw people play games to win prizes, win money, and to just embarrass themselves.  But the most memorable event we saw was the horse show.  At least that's what we think it was. The familiar Pepsi Colosseum was coated with fine dirt while little ponies, pulling little chariots, trotted around.  They diligently followed the instructions on the loud speaker. My sister and I slid down into our chairs with embarrassment as our little brothers cheered on the dead silent show, as if it were a horse race. The audience was so quiet you could hear the horse hooves. But my little brothers put an end to that. "PASS HIM ON THE INSIDE!" They would holler.  "YOU'VE GOT THIS! JUST STICK WITH IT." Another would chime in.  Even my five year old sister joined the commotion with a loud, "LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD!" You've got to love a big family. We all bring something different and unique to every situation.

How's that for inspiration?

It's a hot day and I'm sitting in traffic.  The air is on but the car won't cool off.   The windshield is a magnified glass cooking me like an omelet. The traffic lights plot to trap me.  My car creeps along the road and passes a 40 mph limit sign.  Why is it so crowded?  Time would tell.  So I thought.  Time lied.

My sister and I went out shopping because I had the day off.  Little did we know, everyone else in Indianapolis had the same idea. Cars were lined in every which direction making me feel like a gumball in a jammed machine. Then a saw it, a little frozen yogurts shop: Orange Leaf Frozen Yogurt.  Now I wish we had stopped and tried some.  It was only this summer that I discovered how wonderful frozen yogurt is.  It's the yogurt shop experience that makes it fun.

Just down the street from Great Harvest is a Yogurts shop.  I pass by it everyday contemplating whether or not I should make a stop.  Turns out the yogurt would come to me. One of my coworkers brought in some one afternoon right when I needed it. Swirled beautifully in a pink cup were two delicious ice cream flavors: cake batter and cupcake.  I slowly ate the creamy goodness, savoring each cool, sweet bight. I would much prefer working at a cool fro yo joint all summer than a hot bakery.  Speaking of cool, the 2012 Olympic games had one of the coolest things I've ever seen.

A double amputee from South Africa raced in the Olympic stadium. How's that for inspiration!! I can't get enough of the games.  Each night of watching swimming, track, or gymnastics sparks a desire to do hard things.  It's at the Olympic games that I see the impossible become possible.

Sunday Afternoon

Sometimes I feel like the world is moving too fast for me. Things like technology and fashion change faster than ever; and I ask myself how am I supposed to keep up with this?  I am a child on a moving merry go round, fighting to stay on. But today I saw something different, something that made me smile and think, not everything changes.  Today I saw something that since the dawn of time has never changed, and will never change.  Or so it seems.

After a long Sunday service of sitting still and quiet, the little children went out to play.  I was seated at a picnic table with my brothers and sisters, shaded by a huge pine tree and enjoying a familiar church meal: Sloppy Joe.  And then I saw them,  a crowd of boys and girls running across the yard chasing a frog.  I couldn't even count the number of screaming children.  Of course my little brother Isaac was among them, moving faster than ever with a styrofoam cup.

They cheered and chased: down the dry gassy hill, towards a low creek, and around a small pine tree.  Little boys had loosened their ties and rolled up their pants.  Little girls with long dresses held up their skirts and squealed with pleasure, following close behind.  The mob of children moved this way and that, with a long legged frog hopping for dear life. The whole scene was a chapter out of Tom Sawyer or To Kill A Mocking Bird.

I remember too well the long sermons that melted into long prayers.  O how I longed for the pastor to say You Are Dismissed.  Every Sunday afternoon was a new adventure of running through the woods, splashing in the creek, or climbing the huge birch tree by the south entrance.  Thankfully I find Sunday morning sermons a great blessing these days.  A sermon is often a cool drink of water, refreshing to the soul and mind.  Or like today, a reality check,  studying the wrath and anger of the Lord. Change is good when it's maturity and growing in Christ.  But some things don't change, like little kids after Sunday service. And to me that is a pleasant truth.

What Makes You Smile?

Jordyn Wieber drops out while Gabby Douglas makes it to the all arounds.  The Olympics is so unpredictable.  I certainly thought Michael Phelps would get another gold medal but Lochte slammed the door in his face.


 Sometimes at Great Harvest we do a monthly theme for the holidays.  I sure wish we could do a 2012 Olympic theme. Right now we're stuck with Christmas in July. Our specials are: Cranberry Orange Bread,  Cranberry Orange Scones, and Chocolate Cherry Cookies. The scones are to die for.  January always finishes them off with her citrus glaze that makes them glisten. Oranges are best in winter. But a taste of winter in July is like getting a gift on your half birthday.



For my Dad's birthday this year I made him a vanilla orange cake.  Believe it or not the recipe actually called for orange juice in the cake after it was baked!  My sister and I eyed each other with hesitation as we pierced a whole in the top layer.  The sugary juice mixer funneled nicely into the cake giving it a moist texture.  I topped it off with some gourmet decor.  But this of course was in April, months ago.  Lately I haven't baked anything too extreme supreme.  Watching the Olympics makes me want to work out and get in shape, not bake and eat sweets. I mean, what Olympian eats cookies everyday?  It's almost too funny to see MacDonald's commercials during the Olympic Games.  Next to gymnastics, my favorite event is the synchronized high dive.  Maybe it's this summer heat, but diving into a pool of water from fifty feet up looks so refreshing.