What Is up with Amber?

“What is not up with Amber?” should be the question. I’ve been having one of those whole “life interrupted” experiences filled with non-stop streams of sour news and chaotic crap that continues to happen, leaving the well of my writing resourcefulness rather dry, in turn leading to my noticeable absence from my blogging abode and making me wonder if this drought of mine has lead to a whole “absence makes the heart grow fonder” effect, as a few friends have been moved to remind me of said absence and offhandedly mention that more frequent bloggage would be nice – would be nice to have for some summer [break] reading material that is . . . .

So at this point my mind jumps a bit – perhaps it’s a lack of self-esteem on my part, or perhaps even the opposite, an overdriven ego which has made me misunderstand my friends’ insinuations, but I find it very odd that I am relied upon as the source of anyone’s summer entertainment, for I am sure there far more entertaining reads (with far shorter sentences) at one’s local library than I can ever ink out: The Woman Who Walked into Doors and its somewhat superior sequel Paula Spencer, both written by Irish author Roddy Doyle, being two perfect examples . . . , just sayin’. *smiles coyly*

Nonetheless, a request has been made (I think), and I certainly do not want to let the very small handful of those who have been steadfast readers of my scribed spewing down and out, which leaves me to beg the question: What do I do when life throws me dried up lemons with no writing wit in sight . . . ?

I post a recipe for CITRUS SUGAR COOKIES, and give the requesters something to do during this turbulent time of mine, hoping they will still be around when I make my return to regularly written essays.

May you be able calm your cravings with something for your palate while I calm the chaotic currents of my currently crazy life . . . . Happy baking!

CITRUS SUGAR COOKIES (recipe adapted by moi from http://www.marthastewart.com/)

Makes about 30 large cookies

* indicates to check note at base of recipe

3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 3/4 cups granulated sugar
1/4 cup packed light-brown sugar
2 large eggs
*2 tablespoons finely chopped candied orange peel (optional, but don’t use orange zest if using candied peel)
Zest of one lemon
Zest of one lime
Zest of one orange
*1/8 tsp lemon or lime oil
*1/4 tsp orange oil
Fine sanding sugar, for sprinkling

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line two baking sheets with Silpats or parchment paper; set aside. Sift together flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside.

2. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream butter and the granulated and brown sugars on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, beating to incorporate after each addition. Mix in candied orange peel, the zests, and the oils. Reduce mixer speed to low, and slowly add dry ingredients. Beat until fully combined and dough begins to form around paddle.

3. Use a *2-inch ice-cream scoop to drop cookies onto prepared baking sheets about 2 inches apart. Flatten cookies with palm of hand. Sprinkle with sanding sugar. Using a pastry brush, lightly brush tops with water. Sprinkle with more sanding sugar. Transfer to oven, and bake until just set and beginning to turn golden at edges, 12 to 15 minutes. Remove from oven. Transfer cookies to wire rack to cool completely.

*Candied orange peel can sometimes be found in stores around the holidays, but there are recipes on the internet to make your own.

*The citrus oils can be found at most stores with candy making supplies. For example, in Columbus they can be found at Drug Mart and Hobby Lobby.

*Feel free to make the cookies as large as called for in the recipe, but they are just as I said, large. I usually make them with a traditional cookie scoop and begin to check them after about 6 min. Always check your baked goods early until you know best how they will bake in your oven.

Critical Catharsis

Add some sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what good food is made of; a dash of care and some salt to spare to ensure my taste buds will love. But the soda's not right and the chocolate's not light, so the creation does not rise. Into the trash it goes unabashed, but at least it's not onto my thighs. I get a new spoon, a new bowl, a new goal, and this time it will be right. I mix and I stir without being deterred, the result is my tongue's delight . . . .

The needle plunges between two strands of thread, takes hold, and tugs back through the trail it has taken. A loop has been made, progress appears plausible. The strand wraps itself around the hook that offsets slipping and makes another passage through the filaments. A single stitch is complete, a stitch in the chasm I slip into slowly if the aperture is left in place. The longer the gorge is gaping, the further I fall, and the probability of crawling back to the surface seems staggering. So I press onward, allowing the process to repeat, ensuring the stitches seam the stretch of the slit. Progress seems solid. This pursuit is practically complete – that is until it happens, the inevitable . . . a mistake, an error, a sin if you must, and the stitches are unseamed, ending up further behind than where I have first begun. Relentlessly, the process repeats, and new stitches are made once again, suturing the split in my soul.

The fingers pound away; the letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, and pure genius appear before my eyes. I can't believe that something I've never done for pleasure before, and in fact once dreaded, is coming to me so easily. The words flow flawlessly to the page and I am pleased past pleasure. Who knew I've had this in me all these years. I put it to rest for the evening and upon my return I am revolted. How could I ever have deemed this prose passable, let alone pure genius? I'm embarrassed, no mortified. Whatever makes me think I have the talent for such tricks? Why am I wasting my time on the seven or so ideas I've started and have been unable to complete? I know I've gone mad; I'm beyond mental . . . . The fingers are relentless though; they return to their pounding undaunted.

No one is more critical of my adored avocations and the respective presentation of these leisurely pursuits than me. I am constantly unsure of my performance in the aforesaid arts, and nothing boosts my self-belief more than being praised on a product I've produced from these pastimes, because I have a penchant to be paramount in every task I choose to tackle and I blossom upon the prospect of being the best. I often opt for the path to perfection, which is viewed by some as a disparaging part of my personality. Nonetheless, when I have a perpetual passion for something, I am powerless to release it until I deem it mastered. I constantly question my conquest of such precision and wonder why I hold onto the assumed unattainability, but then I ponder what pleases me when the cake is crumbling, and it's hooking onto these hankerings that bestow the baptism my soul seeks. Clutching onto the craving to accomplish the ideal is the very thing that dissuades me from drifting downward. As much as my sanity requires religious routine, my soul forces me to fulfill my fervor. Baking is beneficial for averting aggravating anxiety, crocheting calms the concerns that constantly cloud my thoughts, and writing is way to release the woes that warp my wits. The process of each one of these is critical catharsis for my spirit and support for my soul. This blog empowers me to write away my worries and enjoy the essence of my existence. So in the end I must say thank you to all who frequent my frivolous features of feeling, and for allowing my funky therapy to invade your thoughts. I appreciate more than words can say.