I have heard the people say that once one thing breaks in a house, the rest of the things are soon to follow. Seems like my house is living up to that phrase. We have lived in our house for 10 years now and love being here. But I forget that my house is much older than 10 years. 30 years to be exact. That's getting up there in house years.
Our house was built in 1980. So let's see, in 1980, I was 8 years old and living it up in 3rd grade. 80's rock music was blaring out in the old Dodge van my mom could manuever like it was a Volkswagen Bug. My older sisters, who have children in high school, were just breaking into junior high. That puts it all in perspective, now doesn't it? I have to keep reminding myself that my house has been around the block and then some.
What brought me around to this post is that we have been noticing that certain things around our house are beginning to give out. Our front doors are starting to let the blustery winter wind in and some daylight too. Not good.
This morning as I was cleaning the shower, I managed somehow to put a hole in the wall. Okay, now, granted I am doing my Pilates with Sally at the gym, running, and doing what is called power yoga, I am not that strong. Which means there is something much more serious going on behind the tiles. Sigh.... It looks like I am going to be waving good-bye to some of our hard-earned money as we begin to fix what is ailing our house.
Amid my stress and surprise of being able to move a wall with my muscles, I decided this afternoon to make homemade bread to de-stress. This is my grandmother's recipe that she used to make the bread that always graced her table. This is the recipe that I distinctly remember loving as toast in the morning when we visited her house.
For quite some time, I have been asking my parents for her recipe so that I could make the bread that I grew up with. But no one seemed to have a copy and Grandma had already passed away. Then, one day, my mom and dad found the recipe. What a treasure! It was written in Grandma's handwriting from many years ago and was the bread I remembered. The recipe even had her cross-outs on it and notes of what worked and what didn't.
This is a bread that requires a little muscle because you do not use a bread machine or a stand mixer, if you do it Grandma's way. It requires one to strap on an apron and get the hands nice and messy. But it is incredibly satisfying as you knead cup after cup of flour into the dough. Ten minutes of moving a mound of dough around on the counter with the knowledge that for dinner there will be fresh bread with melting pools of butter. Ten minutes of knowing that this was the way Grandma did it from the age of twenty well into her 80's. Satisfying....
Now that the bread is rising in a warm spot and my hands are free of flour, I am in a better place about the hole in my bathroom wall and the breeze seeping through the front door. Having a home that is almost as old as I am means that there will be more and more TLC needed as the years go on. Having a home that is getting older also means there will be more and more days of making bread as more and more things decide to give. So, be ready, you might be getting a loaf of bread from me as those house moments happen more frequently and I need to de-stress myself. Not a bad deal, I think!
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