About gretchenwing

A high school English and History teacher for 20 years, Gretchen now lives, writes, and bakes on Lopez Island, Washington.

Promotion? Careful What You Wish For…

Posted on August 7, 2013 by gretchenwing

I’m a head baker now.

No, this does not mean I bake heads. (Although if you prepped ’em for me just right, I would pop ’em in my oven & make sure the eyelids came out nice & crispy.)

Need I say more?

Here’s what the Assistant Baker does at Holly B’s Bakery (where “Holly’s Buns Are Best”):

–takes dough made during the previous shift and fills, rolls, and/or twists it into cinnamon rolls, butterhorns, brioches & rugelach

–scoops or chops and presses cookie dough into flat rounds

–makes macaroons and chocolate chip cookies from scratch (these doughs don’t keep as well, plus our fridge isn’t that big)

–assembles & cuts out scones & biscuits with pre-made dry mixes

–makes brownies & bars….

…and puts all of the above on racks for the Head Baker to decide when to bake.

“You WILL be the most delicious croissants ever. Resistance is futile.”

Here’s what the Head Baker does:

–makes bread doughs & sets them up to rise

–rolls out, fills & assembles danish and about a zillion different kinds of croissants, working FAST so the cold dough doesn’t get sticky and refuse to roll

–shapes, rises and bakes all bread loaves, including our filled baguettes (can you say carmelized onion and brie? Mais oui!)

–bakes everything the Assistant Baker puts on the racks, keeping in mind a) how long each item might need to rise; b) how long each item might use up oven space; c) how hot said oven needs to be for said item; and d) when each item is needed up front.

Here’s what an Assistant Baker Worries About:

Am I making this right?

Here’s what a Head Baker Worries About:

Am I making this right? Am I rising anything so long it flattens? Are my ovens hot enough or too hot? Am I burning anything, or underbaking it so it falls apart when de-panned? Am I missing any special orders that need to be picked up by, God help us all, 7 am? Am I noticing whether we’re running out of any ingredients that the next shift will need? Am I paying attention to my Assistant Baker’s work in case, God help us all, she’s as much a rookie as I am?

You get the idea.

Friends from my former life, who knew I walked away from 20 years of teaching high school into a blessedly, no, miraculously stress-free life of writing and assistant baking, are now a little baffled. “You want more stress in your life…why, exactly?”

Here’s all I can tell them, all I can tell myself: After three years on the JV, I wanted to join the Varsity.

Yep, it’s more stressful. I’m already starting to dream about those little oven timers going off like panicked baby ducks. (For the record, I still dream about trying to teach out-of-control classrooms too; guess that stays with a teacher for life!)

But it is WORTH it. If I was proud of my work before, now, as a HEAD BAKER, when I see those racks of bread that I BROUGHT INTO THIS WORLD FROM RAW INGREDIENTS AND DID NOT BURN, I want to grab the nearest customer and yell, “Hey! Aren’t they gorgeous? I MADE those! Eat them! Bow down to me!”

Of course, it’s only been a week. I’ll get back to you on the stress thing.

How about you? Ever felt like you’ve bitten off more than you could chew, workwise? Ever decided it was worth it anyway? Tell me your story. You know I’ll relate.

Trash Talk: Portlandia’s Not So Far Off

Posted on July 30, 2013 by gretchenwing

If you’ve read more than a couple of my posts, you know by now that I’m not the world’s most up-to-date, culturally hip blogger. So it should come as no surprise that I only this past week watched my first episode (recorded, of course) of “Portlandia,” which has been on…well, don’t ask me, but I’m pretty sure it’s been all year by now.

It made my adopted Northwestern self laugh. Especially this episode about recycling:

I KNOW, right? Especially that part about recycling leftover lotion!

Thing is, I was laughing with recognition. Because our little island voted last year to become an independent sanitation entity, taxing ourselves. So we can be as PICKY as we want to in our recycling. And we want to be very, very picky. Here are some examples from our dump:

Not just “plastic”…but Plastic With Necks!

See what I mean? PICKY. I love it.

There’s a special section just for gardeners and farmers.

Special attention is paid to oil and such waste at our dump.

Best of all is our Take It Or Leave It. Definition? Just what it sounds like. But ours is SUPER organized. Here’s what I mean:

We call it Neil’s Mall–named after the guy who runs it, originally as a volunteer.

“Towels? Aisle 3.”

SOMEBODY will find a use for this stuff. But you can’t have the cabinet.

Thing is, it’s fun to laugh at the Sanitation Twins. But there’s a reason “Portlandia” has been singled out to be mocked for its earnest do-goodiness. Here in the Northwest, some of us really ARE that way. And no apologies!

How about you? Do you think recycling to this level of detail is silly? Does your town’s recycling plan make you crazy, or do you love it? Talk trash to me!!

Girlfriend Getaways? You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet

Posted on July 26, 2013 by gretchenwing

So I emailed my guitar teacher last week to cancel the week’s lesson. “Heading to Massachusetts,” I told him.”It’s time for my annual get-together with my three best friends from high school.”

His response: “Oooh. Girls gone wild!”

Weeellll….not exACTLY. But he did get me thinking about how we could spice up what is otherwise, typically, four days of lying around, cooking, sharing book and movie titles and going on sedate hikes or paddle trips.

Girlfriend Getaway Idea #1: The Colonoscogetaway.

I know, I know–nobody’s idea of fun, but bear with me here. Without divulging our ages, I can safely say that my 3 besties and I add up to more than a 200 year-old when we get together. So we’re all due for one of those…procedures. Why not increase the pleasure factor up to not-quite-negative numbers by doing it with some buddies? We could line up our clinic beds real close, watch each other’s scope screens, have a contest to see who gets done fastest…I better quit before the disgusting puns start.

“Hey, this ain’t so bad with you guys here!” (courtesy Pinterest

Girlfriend Getaway Idea #2: Colonoscogetaway Deluxe.

Same as #1, but with a simultaneous mani-pedi. Hey, if you’re just lying there…

Girlfriend Getaway Idea #3: Colonoscogetaway Deluxe Deluxe.

How about a facial while we’re at it?

Girlfriend Getaway Idea #4: OK-Enough-With-the-Colon-Thing, Musical Wine & Chocolate-Tasting.

Book of Mormon + Pinot Grigio + Sea-Salt 82% Cacao = !!!!!

(Courtesy Lynne Kelly Author, WANA commons)

(Courtesy Lynn Kelley Author, WANA commons)

Girlfriend Getaway Idea #5: Cooking Class & Male Stripper

“Then, you pinch the dumpling tightly so it won’t leak, and…OH yeah. OH my. Talk about pinching dumplings…!”

Girlfriend Getaway Idea #6: Book Study & Bike Trip

For the hardier, brainier gals…”SO… WHEN GATSBY SAYS THAT THING ABOUT OF COURSE YOU CAN CHANGE THE PAST…”

“WHAT? HOLD ON, LEMME CATCH UP TO YOU.”

“ARE WE STILL TALKING ABOUT CHAPTER FIVE? I CAN’T HEAR YOU GUYS.”

“THE GREEN LIGHT’S SYMBOLIC, RIGHT?”

“WE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT THE GREEN LIGHT.”
“OH, GREEN? LET’S GO THEN…”

“NO, NO, IT’S RED, DON’T GO–LOOKOUT!!!!!!” [crash]

OK, maybe forget about that one.

(Courtesy Lisa Hall-Wilson, WANAcommons)

How about you guys? Want to share some fun girlfriend getaway ideas, real or unreal? What’s worked for you? What hasn’t? What would you like to try?

Tattoo You: I Ink, Therefore…?

Posted on July 23, 2013 by gretchenwing

Butterhorn spoken here!

I could be the mom of most of the people I work with now. A young mom [even a hot young mom, she thinks hopefully], but still. I got a good 18 years on all but two of ’em.

So I pride myself on being able to converse freely with them about most topics. Music? Hey, I’m down. I love Mumford & Son, and don’t even flinch at Macklemore lyrics. Politics? I get ’em from The Daily Show and Colbert like most 20-somethings. And of course since we’re all working at a bakery, we share the universal language of FOOD.

But recently ~~these whippersnappers~~ my colleagues have begun discussing tattoos. One of ’em’s about to get one–a barn owl, if you’re interested–and everyone else is chiming in. And I’m hopelessly out of it.

It’s not that I wouldn’t consider getting a tattoo. I would…if someone very close to me died suddenly, and I thought s/he would appreciate that kind of remembrance. Or if I had a radical mastectomy and wanted to beautify my chest. Other than that…not feelin’ the tattoos so much.

I’m also not anti-tattoo. I’ve seen some beautiful ones, and I understand, with my rational brain, why some people want one. But I have to admit, this wholesale dive by so MANY people into an inky, painful, expensive sea leaves me a little baffled.

Doubtless there’s a story behind this… (courtesy cellar_door_films, WANA Creative Commons)

Is it generational? I’d love to hear from some representatives of different age groups how they feel about tattoos. Personal, private remembrances only? Body-as-canvas? I wish I could take a survey, but this will have to do. Tell me how you feel about tattoos, and why.

At Least We All Speak Yoda…

Posted on July 20, 2013 by gretchenwing

The comedian George Carlin, bless his soul, used to have a wonderful spiel about freeway drivers.

Paraphrasing: “Anyone who goes faster than me–what a maniac! Anyway who goes slower–what a moron.”

I’m totally stealing that for today’s discussion about cultural literacy.

I live on an island, ok? So I am not only isolated from popular culture, I am LITERALLY INSULATED. (Insula = island in Latin. Yup.) Here on my little isle, we call trips to the mainland “going to America.” I’ve already found myself resisting such trips.

And I’ve only lived here full-time for three years!

Along with my new home, I have a new job that has almost nothing to do with teenagers–unlike the last 20 years of teaching, where I was ~~marinated in~~ surrounded by them. So you can see how I’ve begun to lose just a teensy bit of my once-awesome cultural literacy.

Recently my blog ~~guru~~ teacher, Kristen Lamb, posted this wonderful bit on her blog: http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/2013/07/18/what-sharknado-can-teach-us-about-writing/

It’s a great post, as you now know since you read it. But when I did, the whole time I was thinking, “Sharknado??? Oh man, where have I been?”

And here I thought I was all hip because I kinda/sorta know who the Kardashians are.

Anyone else out there feel like the world of what-you-have-to-know-about-to-avoid- being-a-fossil is expanding at light speed?

Then a local (meaning island) friend of mine (who’s not all that much older) rescued me from my self-pity pit. Responding to an email I’d sent, he asked, “Yeah, what does [colon + parenthesis] mean, anyway? My niece writes that all the time.”

🙂 🙂 :)!!!! Hurray–someone less literate than I am! I got to teach him all about emoticons. And no, I did not call him a moron–any more than I’d call Kristen Lamb a maniac. 🙂

I told my friend I’d try not to sound too smug when telling this story. Then I quoted Yoda’s dictum: “Do or do not. There is no try.” Then I asked him if he knew who Yoda was.

He did. Definitely not a moron! But probably still wondering, as I am, how insulated fossils like us are possibly going to keep up. Maybe I’ll assign myself an hour of YouTube a day.

So how about y’all? What examples have you run into of folks who are hopelessly ~~moronic~~ less hip than you are? Or your own lack of hipness? Or are you the maniac on the highway of cultural literacy? Let us hear!

(Original photo courtesy Hexmar, WANA Creative Commons)

What SHARKNADO Can Teach Us About Writing

Posted on July 19, 2013 by gretchenwing

Kristen Lamb's Blog

SHARKNADO is a phenomena that is taking the world by storm. I mean, how can it get better? SHARKS AND TORNADOES! Tonight, SyFy is re-airing the show and we will be holding a #myWANA #Sharknado party on Twitter so we can all share in the goofy fun, because sometimes stories are so BAD they are AWESOME.

But what can writers learn from Sharknado?

Belief is Already Suspended

One mistake new writers make is they feel the need to EXPLAIN, to make an idea PLAUSIBLE. Here’s the thing. The second someone actually decides to give our stories a chance? Belief is already suspended. The Force was better before it was explained.Metachlorians ruined Star Wars. An entire generation had already fallen in love with Star Wars and accepted The Force. We didn’t need to know what it was or what caused it.

Really.

Don’t feel the need to break down your…

View original post 836 more words

The Importance of Names

Posted on July 18, 2013 by gretchenwing

I’m an old folkie from my deepest roots. I was raised on Peter, Paul & Mary, The Weavers, and Joan Baez. I consider Pete Seeger to be an honorary uncle. (Also Walter Cronkite, for what it’s worth–any Walter fans out there? “And that’s the way it is…” still chokes me up.)

So I can’t remember how long I’ve known the Woody Guthrie song that goes by the name, “Deportee.” It’s actually titled “Plane Wreck at Los Gatos,” but no one calls it that. Probably because of the haunting chorus, which goes like this:

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita

Adios, mis amigos Jesus y Maria

You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane

All they will call you will be deportee.

Woody wrote the song after a 1948 plane crash in California, which killed 28 people. The passengers were all Mexican nationals being returned to Mexico. The crew were Americans. News accounts of the time named the dead crew members, but referred to the remaining men, women and children only as “deportees.”

But that’s all I knew about the story behind the song. No, I’m lying–I knew even less. I didn’t know the date of the crash, or the number of people who died, or even that the Los Gatos in the song isn’t the suburb near San Jose, but a desolate area in the Fresno County hills.

Then a music pal of mine, visiting LA, sent me this article from the front page of the LA Times, which not only filled in all the missing information I never knew about the crash and Woody Guthrie’s reaction to it, but the really important part: the NAMES of those poor people, lost to anonymity for 65 years.

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-deportees-guthrie-20130710-dto,0,2642231.htmlstory

I really hope you click on this link and read the article; it will probably move you to tears as it moved me. But in case you’re in a hurry, I’ll cut to the chase. A descendant of some of the men killed, and a writer, both searching independently for records that would confirm exactly who was on that plane, found each other, and together they found that information. This September, those folks will be honored with a ceremony and a plaque dedicated to their memory…a memory that had been all but wiped out for 65 years.

Why does this matter? The families of those poor folks whose plane, witnesses said, exploded in mid-air, have long since known they were gone. They won’t get them back; they won’t get money, or even an apology from any authority figure.

But their loved ones can now be remembered as PEOPLE, not as a vague, pathetic lump. The naming of names is an honor in any human culture I can think of. The removal of names is a dehumanization. Think of any event in history where people’s names were converted to numbers, or to tribal groups. The removal of names makes people into the “other.” When that happens, empathy dies, human connection is broken, and all bets are off.

I, for one, am proud of, and thankful for, the people in this article who tracked down the names of those lost and brought them back to life. Now, whenever I sing Woody’s haunting song, I will remember that some kind of miniature resurrection occurred, and feel a little less haunted.

And, speaking of that song, here it is, as sung (many years ago) by Arlo Guthrie and Emmylou Harris:

What about you? When you think of the importance of names, what comes to mind? What other thoughts did this article or this song bring out in you? Please share!

Sibling Sweetery

Posted on July 14, 2013 by gretchenwing

We get a lot of summer visitors. Why wouldn’t we? Scenic island–check. Sunny, mid-sixties-to-seventies days–check. Kayaks, trails, farmers market–check. Terrific bakery (OK, I’m a little biased since I work there, but 99% of customers agree, “Holly’s Buns Are Best.”)–check.

https://gretchenkwing.wordpress.com/?s=In+my+professional+opinion&submit=Search

By the way, lest you think I am bragging–the rest of the year is largely clouds, rain of some form or other, wind, and temperatures in the 40-50s range. Not so many visitors then. But summers here in the San Juans are AWESOME.

So, lots of visitors: family, friends, friends-of-friends. Currently we’re being visited by the family of the sister of my best friend from high school. And she has the Best. Kids. Ever.

The daughter’s about to turn sixteen, the son’s not quite thirteen. I’ve known families with just this configuration of ages, and their parents usually end up apologizing for infecting our island paradise with their squabblesomeness, as though it were contagious. “Pshhh,” we say. “All sisters and brothers fight. That’s nothing. You should’ve seen me and my sister…”

(courtesy someecards, via Pinterest)

The thing is, this bro & sis DON’T fight. They LIKE each other. They’re affectionate. They tease, but in a sweet way, like besties. Even when they’re playing competitive games that my husband and I have learned not to engage in without marriage counseling. Crazy Eights and Hearts? No fights. Bananagrams? Nothin’. Washers? They try to beat their parents.

And of course they split the last piece of pie as a matter of course.

My husband and I are astounded…and delighted.

And I am CURIOUS. How did this come to be? Why is it so uncommon?

Is it parenting? These kids’ parents are certainly mellow, cool people. But I know lots of mellow, cool parents whose kids act like contestants in The Hunger Games.

(courtesy someecards, via Pinterest)

Is it birth order? Our own two boys always got along pretty well, but our younger son acknowledges that if he’d been the elder, there’d have been a new sheriff in town. Maybe our friends’ girl is just one of those sweeties like our son. (Where was she when I was undergoing mental waterboarding by MY older sister?)

Is it the fact that they’re on vacation? In my own experience, that makes the squabbles worse, not better. So much interesting new stuff to squabble over!

Is my sample skewed? Maybe there are tons of great sister-and-brother pairings out there, and I’ve somehow never met ’em.

So help me out here. What causes some sibling pairs to get along while others fight like cats and dogs? What variables are at play? How did your own experience with your siblings inform your thinking on this?

(someecards, courtesy Pinterest)

Disgruntled that Gruntled Isn’t a Word

Posted on July 10, 2013 by gretchenwing

…and I say it’s time we do something about this.

Say it with me: gruntled. It’s got that lovely piggy sound, mixed with that soft “l” that conjures images of nestling and cuddling. After a nice meal, cozy on a sofa with my sweetie and a glass of wine, am I “satisfied”? “Happy”? Heck no, those words don’t begin to cut it. I am gruntled. I am as gruntled as a pig in…in whatever makes pigs feel gruntled.

(courtesy trickfist.com)

But you know when I just said the word conjures up images? Actually that’s wrong…it conjures up sounds. Which brings up another missing word in our otherwise ridiculously repeatedly redundant language. We can “visualize” something even if we can’t see it. But what do we do if we want to imagine a sound? Shouldn’t we be able to “audiolize” it?

(Can’t take credit for that one, gotta admit. That one came from my colleague Laura, an impressively smart 21 year-old.)

(courtesy Pinterest)

When I think of all the missing words in our language, I can start to feel…well, not exactly overwhelmed. Definitely whelmed, though. And guess what: “whelmed” IS actually in the dictionary! It’s just not used. I say we bring it back. I mean, doesn’t that pretty much describe how you feel most Fridays? Save “overwhelmed” for when you really, really are…like when your mother-in-law and the landlord arrive on your doorstep at the same time.

(courtesy Pinterest)

In an earlier post, I gave you “Cutiful,” a word I definitely need to describe my dog Juniper: https://gretchenkwing.wordpress.com/2013/06/07/stephen-colbert-got-a-new-word-for-ya-cutiful/

Scritch my schnozz! I’m CUTIFUL.

Now it’s your turn: What word is missing from our lexicon? Nominate your favorite Noah Webster wannabe!

Dare I Say It? Dogs Off-Leash?

Posted on July 8, 2013 by gretchenwing

I try to stay away from controversy. Anyone who knows me knows I have my ~~correct~~ opinions and like to argue, but here in Wing’s World, I try to keep it sweetness & light.

But it’s summer. Tourists are flocking to my island. And since the chunk of federally-owned land adjacent to my house has been declared part of a National Monument, they seem to be flocking in, well…rather larger flocks.

With their dogs. Who may or may not be leashed.

See, here’s the thing. I hate leashing my dog, Juni. Off-season, when no one’s around, I used to set her free to romp with her buddies along the wind-swept shore.

Juni romping with her buddy Jess

“Oops, romped myself right off that trail! Meant to do that…”

Then I became a volunteer BLM Monitor. That’s Bureau of Land Management, a sub-agency of the Department of the Interior. As a Monitor, I get to do what I do every day anyway, only carrying a clipboard and noting things like birds, plants in bloom, numbers of people, and dogs on or off leash. Including me, and mine. And, oh yeah, if I see someone with an off-leash dog, I’m supposed to ask them to leash up.

Out of sheer embarrassment at the hypocrisy of the situation, I began leashing Juni, even when there was no one around. It did feel better not to have her crushing all the pretty flowers in the spring.

“Look OUT! Here comes another DOG!”

It’s called Common Camas. But it’s really not all that common.

Later, at a BLM monitors picnic, I learned about the sparrows who nested near the trails, and got reminded about some of the endangered plants that could easily get trampled.

The extremely rare Spotted Coralroot Orchid

So okay. I want to be a good role model. I got religion on leashing my dog…in this space, at least. But I’m still torn. Dogs have SO MUCH FUN off-leash! And when I meet friends with free-romping pooches who just shake me off when I give ’em my BLM spiel, I have a hard time feeling too upset with them.

So…here goes the controversy. Does LEASH YOUR DOG really mean what it says, or does it mean “We really wish you would keep your dog under control, and if you can do this without a leash, that’s cool”? What’s been your dog off-leash experience? Any horror stories you need to tell?

I got my clipboard handy. Fire away.