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(Still experimenting with the feed thing. Would you all hate it if you had to click to read the blog? Would you actually do it? Tell me honestly because I don't want to make things less convenient for you.  I'm trying to get some quantifiable numbers just in case I ever want to allow advertising or, um, get a book deal and need to prove my vast readership.)

There has been a flurry of activity at the Cooper Clubhouse lately because I am all about the holidays this year.  ESPECIALLY Thanksgiving, which I love with a passion anyway.

So, first I had some old business to attend to:

I finished Tara's socks and sent them off to her.  I am particularly proud of them because A) did NOT run out of yarn (for, like, the first time EVER) and B) it's good knitting.  There's a feeling when you know the knitting doesn't contain any...well... creative fixes. I guess maybe that feeling is pride.  They're good solid socks, knit with love and good craftsmanship.  I'm proud of them and I hope Tara will feel the love when she wears them.

Next, I have been dialing in my Thanksgiving recipes.  I've been baking bread like a MAD WOMAN because, y'all, I just discovered that you can make dough in your bread maker and then bake it yourself and it will look like bread you totally threw your shoulder out kneading but your shoulder will actually be intact.  The other thing I've discovered is that most people, regardless of their political or socio-economic status, or their stance on the new TSA regulations (my stance would be appalled), LOVE BREAD.  (Except for those who cannot eat wheat and/or gluten and to them I mean no offense.) (And I'm sorry I can't share my bread with you.) I've been giving it away like crazy because I am trying to avoid the pre-Thanksgiving roll. (Get it?? Get it??)  (Oh, hush.) Anyway, I've given it to my yoga instructor and to Jane's drum teacher and we've eaten a good deal of it and I think I've finally dialed the recipe in.  Tomorrow I am going to make some and try putting a pan with an inch of water in it in the bottom of the oven to help "steam" the bread and hopefully create a nice crispy crust.

This is the first couple of loaves.  The others didn't last long enough for pictures.

Yesterday, we had the house cleaners for the first time in several months. I so love the cleaners. I love them and I would like to make them many loaves of bread.  I love them so much that I usually feel the need to clean the entire house before they come in hopes that they will come to my house and spend all of their time doing things like applying courtesy stripes and toilet paper points.  (Also? Scrubbing the toilets and dusting, because I really loathe those jobs.) 

We haven't been having the cleaners come lately in a general belt-tightening effort, but we are having an open house today (did I mention our house is STILL on the market? Yes, it is.  Although sometimes we go for whole months without noticing that fact because there is so little activity in the housing market and no one is coming to see our house.  We have had a few offers but they've been nowhere near what we paid for the place and since we're not in a big hurry, we are waiting for the market to come back up.  (Oh, please, FSM, let it come back up!) On my good days, I think that this is just inevitable and on my bad days I think that I will grow old and die here.

After the Open House today, on Monday, my PARENTS ARE COMING FOR THANKSGIVING! I am very excited about this, despite the fact that I feel terribly guilty that they will be undergoing the TSA's new invasive (and almost certainly unconstitutional) search methods.  My mother doesn't seem very concerned.  Since she's got two artificial hips and a fake knee (my brother hopes she'll leave her spare parts to him when she's gone--he wants to build a go-cart), she's used to getting felt up by strangers.  I dunno, if a woman will go through those kinds of excruciating joint-replacement surgeries, is she really going to say "Oh, what the heck?" and carry explosives to blow up an airplane? But there is no arguing with an agency in full-on panic and retreat mode.  (Guess what, guys? You keep that stuff up and it will be hard to tell who exactly the terrorists are. Just sayin'.)

Okay then, I have some bread to bake.  And a house to sell.  And then, I will tell you how yoga is changing my entire life and how much I love it and how I miss it when I can't go... and you will wonder who the heck is writing my blog these days.