I am left handed. Small, in the way revelations go, but not totally insignificant in the course of life. Y’all know there was a study published in the 80s that showed left handers live an average of NINE years less than right handers? NINE. That is not insignificant. It’s also thankfully not true.
Continue reading “Left Hander’s Lament”
The well is a bit dry today… so I’m going back to one of my favorite pump primers and seeing where a random word generator will lead us. First though, a cat update.
It’s microchip official. It’s like marrying your pet.
Alabama, our just under one year old former stray adoptee, is just back from the vet after getting all the standard nips and shots. He had a bit of a rough go at it I think- when I dropped him off on Tuesday he had this tiny little squeaky baby voice meow- very cute coming from quite a large tomcat and the girls and I were big fans. When I picked him up the next day he had a much deeper and rougher voice. I actually commented on it and told the vet tech that had to be the first time a voice got deeper after a neuter! She said no, it was just because he meowed for 30 hours. Straight. I could tell in the way she said it that she wasn’t sad to see him go home. Poor guy!
Also, he’s taken to following me around and napping near me more often during this week. I think he sees me as his rescuer from the horror that was the vet office; forgetting that I was the one to take him there in the first place. I would fall to my knees and declare “It’s my fault! I’m so sorry!” but it’d be immediately followed by “And I’d do it all again too!” so I don’t bother. He slept it off most of Wednesday and now on Sunday it’s like nothing even happened.
So now onto… Random Word Prompts!
Strew: I don’t strew much in this life, besides blog posts and flowers seeds; being a more ordered and controlling person by nature. But the word reminds me of this quote: “Don’t worry about being scattered; remember that stars and seashells are scattered too.” Too much order and too much control are a bad thing- like that one planet in A Wrinkle in Time, so I should try to keep it more loose.
Winter: Well like, it IS winter, so not really going to be breaking new ground with that. But Texas winter is not like real winter. The grass is still green and we hang out outside a lot. It’s interspersed with cold days, and we’re probably getting into the real bits now- but by mid February it’ll be planting time for the hardier annuals and veggies. It still gets dark before 6pm though, so that blows.
And in fact some of the hardier veggies are already in. No the Toscano kale doesn’t need tomato cages… aside from it keeps the dog from running through it or peeing on them. Even the best of dogs is still a dog.
One thing that I do (remember that controlling thing I mentioned) is I watch what color plants I put in the front yard to ensure that flower colors don’t clash with the Christmas decorations. So no yellow or orange out front, even though they’re some of my favorite flower colors. We had roses and geraniums and a few others bloom through Christmas… it’s a thing I pay attention to.
The pink and bright purples are mostly in the back as well, like these decorative kale. Kales? What’s the plural of kale actually? (Google says it’s “kale.”) The decorative kale is right next to the vegetable kale- and this makes me uncomfortable in ways I can’t really put my finger on…
Also, no one think I’m rubbing the mildness of our winters in their snow chapped faces- we just trade the months that are impossible to be outside with you northerners. July and August are MISERABLE and we tend to not be outside nor do outdoor activities during those times. It all balances out, promise.
Unaccountable: Something unexplainable… okay. I know exactly what this should be actually, but hesitate because it seems so insane to write out. Nothing ventured, nothing… alright. Here we go.
One morning in a summer many a long year ago (I was 10ish) my brother and I woke up before sunrise.
Let me back up. I woke up, immediately threw my legs over the bed, and walked out of the dark room. This is the antithesis of how I woke up in those days- which ALWAYS entailed sleeping much later and until I was dragged out of bed by my mom. I was also completely afraid of things under my bed… and so would wait for her to come get me so the alligator couldn’t. So every bit of this one morning is out of character.
Even weirder? My brother turning the corner out of his room at the same time I walked out of mine. Even weirder than that? We said nothing to each other, and just both walked to the front door, unlocked it, and went and sat on the stoop outside… to stare at a light in the distance, that slowly rose straight up and disappeared into the just starting to lighten sky.
I can still feel the marble of the front hall on my feet. And the stoop was so low as to be uncomfortable (only a few inches above the sidewalk.) I can remember sitting there and the size of the light we were looking at. (It was round, white, and slightly larger than how Venus looks in the night sky.)
My brother and I said NOTHING the whole time we sat there. It was probably an hour before Mom woke up and found her children sitting outside the front door. (I can’t remember if we shut it behind us.) But being a parent now I can’t imagine the heart attack this caused her.
My brother and I talk about it now every few years- just to confirm to each other that it wasn’t a dream I guess. But nope- we both remember it. It happened. It’s completely impossible for me to explain. One of those things I guess, like how I don’t really believe in ghosts but have heard them. Or how I don’t believe in aliens… but don’t think that was what the light was… but don’t know what it could have been… but it can’t have been that. But dammit… it was something. (I just called him to re-re confirm. This happened. He’s thinking ball lightening these days.)
I never speak of it honestly, though I guess now I just did. Maybe because it is so unaccountable. Maybe because I know if someone told it to me I would roll my eyes and judge them for such ridiculousness. Maybe because… I just don’t talk about it.
Bright: We painted our bathroom on the very last day before I had to go back to work from the holidays- on a day we had my folks over for dinner too, actually- and our bathroom is much brighter now, which I love. It was a lot to cram into a day- but it sure felt great to accomplish it.
The difference in switching from a flat sheen in paint to satin is IMMENSE in the brightness of your rooms. We also went from a dead looking but warm beige to a cooler grey/light blue. (I realize no one wants to read about paint after the Steven King-esque incident I just wrote up there… I’m trying to plow through myself, so let’s slog through together here okay?)
Anyway, we’re continuing the quest to banish ALL beige from the house… and same as our last house- looks like our bedroom is going to be the very last place we paint. It should be the first! The bedroom should be a sanctum! And yet… it’s easy to put priority on the public spaces of our house. It’s on the to do list in 2019, promise.)
As for the bathroom- it actually is giving me a bit of trouble. I tend to LIKE warmer colors- but the painting I really like in there is in cool colors. (Seen HERE. ) The painting looks good with the new wall color and the marble counters and floors. But NOW how to warm it up and tie it into the bedroom with the warmer colors in there? How to bridge this gap without clashing… I’m spending some real mind space and time on this ‘un.
Taste: Hmm. I have developed a taste for many things I didn’t like as a kid- chicken skin. Eggs. Bone in Chicken. Stuffed peppers. But god damn is caviar the grossest thing I’ve ever tasted and i can’t imagine that ever changing. Especially the big red salmon ones. Lord!
Considering I’m sitting here in unmatched socks and a bathrobe I’m really wondering if I’m one to be offering tips of any kind… but it’s one of those blog ideas I had while blow drying my hair that I wrote about on the last post and so I’m hoping whatever I was thinking about rises back up to the surface as I type… it’ll be a surprise for both of us to see where this list goes!
First up: Ebay
Cross reference any book (especially if its older) on Ebay before you purchase on Amazon. Goodwill has a book division that sells books on Ebay for steep discounts… like just a few bucks for a hardback. And a lot of libraries sell their older books as well. I can’t tell you how many books I’ve bought off Ebay this year, but damned if I’m not gonna try:
Grand total is neighborhood of $60 on books for the year. Anyway, the tip is check there first.
Second up: Ebay
I also bought this rug on Ebay for $28 and free shipping
I could have asked him to move I guess. He’s not wearing weird mid-calf shorts, was just the camera angle.
Look, Ebay is great for books and rugs… I’ve bought some earrings on there too… but steer clear of anything name brand or anything glass (learned not to buy wine glasses on there this year…) etc.
Now this rug? It definitely is old, which is what I wanted, and a third the price or less than it would be in a shop. If it really is or isn’t a 1930s Afghan rug I really don’t know. Also, it’s what’s called over-dyed, where they know Americans almost always just want red rugs and so old rugs are dyed that color in a little too vivid of a red to ever seem authentic. But for me, I don’t stand on my art and so am not a rug purist.
I also have count ’em 4 cats- so between the slight risk of cat pee (they mostly stick to bathmats and only when I miss their cranberry pills) and sharpened claws I wouldn’t drop any substantial money on a rug. But whatever- I like it and that’s what matters! Even the larger rug sizes are cheap and generally have free shipping… it’s an untapped rug resource, I tell ya what.
Finally- I have NO patience for online bidding- all these purchases have been Buy Now options, except the rug actually, but no one else bid on it so I got it at asking price.
Third Up: Cranberry Pills for Cats!
They’re treat like pills- the cats love them… so no cramming a pill down a cats’ throat involved
So the second oldest of our cats has always had some urinary tract issues, peeing places she shouldn’t when she’s uncomfortable, multiple trips to the vet due to it and crazy crystals in her urine. I think it’s because she had a litter of kittens much to young, which I take the blame for, so am more forgiving about all the bathmat cat pee than I would be otherwise. I actually got a call from the vet’s office when my husband was dropping her off to be spayed- he said they could still do the spay but it’d be more expensive because she was already pregnant and what did I want to do? I was horrified! I said of course we’ll keep the kittens and to bring her back. As my husband was hanging up the phone I heard him tell the vet one of the funniest lines I’ve ever heard in my life: “I guess we’re only pro-choice when it’s people…” It, to this day, still cracks me up.
They were cute kittens. My brother kept one. But boy did it jack with that cat to have kittens so young, so like, don’t do that. Anyway- these pills work WONDERS. I shake the jar and the cat comes running and jumps on the counter to eat two of them a night and no bathmat peeing ensues. I used to break the pills in half, but they’re chewable so now I just let her have at them whole. I buy these on Amazon. They make a hairball one too, which has been successful with the long haired white cat in the past. That one (our oldest) now ALSO gets one of the cranberry pills, just in case he needs it because he occasionally likes peeing in laundry baskets of clean clothes right in front of you and how we haven’t murdered him for it yet is a mystery. He’s aggravated about the new black and white male cat- and so his peeing is just him being a jerk and trying to tell us to drop the new cat off a bridge in a sack, I think. Still though… cranberry pills just in case.
The full list of our cats, for clarity:
I promise my house doesn’t reek of cat pee- regardless of how I have made this all sound.
That’s it. It’s a weird and short list- but it’s pretty outside and I should really go garden. High of 70, low of 60- god bless winter in Texas!
Looking back, from the vantage point of December 30th at the blog year- lots of ice dying, tomatoes, and recipes. See here , here , and here .
Also graveyards and insects. here and here.
There was like, more going on though- like battling multiple rounds of super lice, getting tired of Trump’s bullshit, volunteering for the county democratic party and the Beto O’Rourke campaign, working full time, and parenting a toddler, a 9 year old, and a 12 year old. Also loss and travel. And somehow less cleaning than would be effective but seems like more than should be humanly possible. (I clean all the time. The house is still dirty. It’s my least favorite magic.)
Favorite picture from 2018
But 2018 was a tad light on the narrative posts, something I kinda intended to focus on when I started this whole thing… with this post really being my only one in 2018: This one right here.
Cheers, Baby
Some previous years favorite narrative posts are these: On Meditation and Lettuce , It’s really the easiest of choices, Sweetheart , Talking in My Sleep , Birth. A Stream of Conciousness Love Story , The Zen of Parenting. Also this one, which is fiction actually, but I’ve always liked: Foray into Fiction: Goodbye
Are you allowed to say you have favorites of your own work and share them? Because I think you should be able too, but sometimes this kinda stuff escapes me. Like when someone comes by unexpectedly, like a neighbor, and I talk to them from the front door, and then come in after they leave and my husband tells me I should have invited them in… like… how do I not know this stuff? It’s a wonder I have friends at all. Also- something I learned THIS YEAR from another blog- if a mother at school pickup tells you their toddler talks about your toddler all the time- that is an invitation to set up a playdate and be friends. I HAD LITERALLY ZERO IDEA! Do you know how many friends I could have right now?! UGH. What did I do in those situations? Say thanks, that’s so cute, and then walk away going “Sheesh, so many kids talk about my kid- but she NEVER talks about any of them by name. Weird.” D’oh.
Some things I keep meaning to write about/ or that are stuck in the Drafts folder:
So when I turned fifteen my mother told me to get a job. So I went to the Mill Stores (shopping center in town) and started at the book store on one end and applied all the way around to every store till I got to the furniture store on the other end. (I didn’t get the book store gig I really wanted because I forgot my social security number and made one up. Turns out that isn’t one of those things like a zip code that doesn’t really matter.)
Anyway, I alternated between saying: “Hi. do you have any job openings?” And “Hi, are you looking to hire anyone?” Like the shopkeeps would compare notes and judge me for saying the same thing every time and not hire me because of it. (The awkwardness.. it’s not new with me, dig?) Well, I got 3/4 of the way around and was kinda tired and hungry by the time I went in the jewelry store to apply. To this day I can CLEARLY see the guy behind the counter’s face as I mixed up my two scripts and said; “Hi, are you looking for any openings?” To which he repeated, slowly, “Am I looking… for any… openings?” You know those moments where maybe you’re a part of some random person’s memory? I bet the guy still talks about or thinks about that occasionally, 25 years later. It was horrifying to all involved. I did not apply at the jewelry store and booked a REALLY hasty retreat.
I did actually get the job at the lingerie store though and so was not grounded. Few stories I may write about from that first job experience:
I hope to have some more posts with stuff like that in the new year. Projects wise I’d like to figure out some new craft for the 2019 craft fair, work to get my husband’s family private cemetery listed as a state recognized historic cemetery and MAYBE set up a cemetery board and serve on it. My DREAM is setting up a Dia de los Muertos event out there… nighttime, copal incense and candles everywhere, the whole cemetery cleaned up all at once, marigolds… it’d be awesome.
This place exists in the world… what a glorious planet
And maybe work on being a better, more patient parent. The middle child is having a rougher go of it than her sisters… I wonder is that just part and parcel to being a middle child? But she could use more attention… I’m resolved to do better about giving it to her in 2019. These children… you have to parent them all so differently. It isn’t like riding a bike, you know. It’s like riding a bike, then adding in plate spinning, and then adding sleight of hand card tricks when you have that unexpected third child. It’s developing a whole new skill, every time, and somehow not losing the momentum of the others. Ain’t for sissies, let me tell you.
As for me personally, that 10 pounds my endocrinologist told me to lose is now 25. The metabolism in the year before I turn 40 hasn’t been kind. I feel like I look alright in mirrors… but oh god the pictures! I look like Margaret Thatcher in pictures these days… not a fan. A lot of it is my hair that has also morphed into “mature hair” territory, but the weight is also a thing. (If the camera adds 10 pounds, how many cameras do I have on me?!) So as I wrote about here I’ll be doubling down on my health in 2019.
And, in important charitable work territory- I am still contributing monthly to the Desert Flower Foundation to end female genital mutilation in Western Africa, as I wrote about here . If you’d like to learn more or to contribute yourself the link is here: Desert Flower Foundation. It’s based out of Germany, so don’t be put off if the English seems iffy on the website- they’re amazing and I’m so thankful to be able to sponsor 3 girls for their schooling, medical care, and their protection from genital mutilation. The world changes one child at a time, don’t you know.
So anyway, thanks to all for reading in 2018 and for sticking it out for this long and link filled final post of the year. I’ll still be here, in my tiny corner of the internet, if you care to keep reading in 2019! Which just HAS to be a less “kick in the teeth” year than 2018… but that I’ll go ahead and knock on wood for all of us, just in case.
We had our first freeze this past week, and some dry days… so this happened:
No mas tomates
So the tomatoes are done for- we pulled them out and piled as many as we could in the fire pit. We let them dry out a few days and then torched them this weekend, quasi viking funeral style. The youngest actually toasted marshmallows on a dry tomato stem, improbable as that would have seemed before witnessing it with my own eyes.
When I pulled the plants out there were only two quite unhealthy looking tomato tobacco hornworms left; both were yellowish, a little translucent looking, and hadn’t moved for a day- I think the cold got to them. All the others are gone- so what that means for them I don’t know- all I know is I wasn’t the cause nor means of their destruction, so I’m okay with it. (The unhealthy tobacco hornworms got moved to the leaf litter around a climbing rose. I’m sure they’ll live long, healthy lives.)
I have some parsley, Toscano kale, and a new English thyme plant in the spot where the determinate tomatoes (Bobcat and HM1823) were. I put in three decorative purple kale, another thyme, two roses, and a loropetalum shrub in the side of the bed the cherry tomatoes were in. MUCH too crowded, but I’m using it as a nursery bed to carry the plants through the winter easier than the collection of smaller pots in the pot ghetto at the back of the driveway slab.
As I look at the varieties for a final review: I’d grow Bobcat and HM 1823 again- if I had to pick a favorite I’d go with Bobcat- it cracked less, but taste was the same between them. As for the cherries- I will definitely grow Sungold again, but I might finally be moving on from my Sweet 100s for a red cherry… I’m open for trying a new one next year. It lagged so far behind Sungold and got a bit leathery and less tasty in the hot weather.
Ah my tomatoes… till next year, buddies.
What a pain in the ass these things are when not in use though! I can only imagine it’s similar to those big light up deer you then have to store year round aside from Christmas…
Speaking of the first freeze, as I’ve mentioned when discussing our old tub and old windows here – we live in an old house. It is crazy cold in the winter, especially in the front of the house- luckily the bedrooms are okay. And we had only yesterday because of wet weather and it getting dark right after work due to daylight savings (thanks, Ben Franklin- I hate you) to finally get some insulation in under the floor in the living room and front room before it rained again.
It was… not an enjoyable job. And yet, I loved every minute of it? It’s hard to explain but these dig in and be capable moments are some of my favorites. My elbows are killing me from abrasions due to army dragging myself around in the 18″ crawlspace- I probably still have fiberglass in my face (is like microdermabrasion?), and I 100% know I have to go and reinforce it more with more supports so it doesn’t sag- but I have to make the damn supports myself because our house having been built in 1910, the joists aren’t the standard 15″ or 23″ spacing so standard store-bought supports won’t work- the jerks are only 22″ spacing on the main house and 24.5″ spacing `on the front/ dining room. Thanks a damn lot, Ebidiah, kinda a pain in the ass there.
This is actually from a couple of weeks ago when I got under the house to try to fix a broken hot water line. We didn’t fix it and ended up having to call a plumber on a Saturday- but damn we tried first!
Anyway, my husband and I spent the late morning/early afternoon dragging ourselves around under the house stapling up insulation, it was great. I love doing this kinda stuff with him, its fun- even when the job has your nose in fiberglass and your back on cold clay soil that hasn’t seen the light of day in 108 years. Fingers crossed it’ll make a difference because I can’t STAND not feeling warm! Oh well, you know the thing they say, the one thing they aren’t making more of is old houses!
Pic from when the paint was getting finished… I should take a new picture but its raining now and this bed is warm and the cat is asleep next to me and this coffee is hot…
Thanks to the recent rains that scourge of the late summer/ fall Texas garden, the red spider mite, is gone. They killed my tithonia and came THIS close to killing the tomatoes before the prolonged recent rains gave them the ol’ Wicked Witch of the West treatment and they melted away. So, when it finally DID dry out enough to pull out the tomatoes I actually found a halo of healthy leaves coming in… so they got a haircut instead of being executed.
He’s only MOSTLY dead… which means that he’s SLIGHTLY alive!
From this… to this!
Better looking than I was expecting, honestly.
I was quite pleased with them… as well as with the perfectly formed baseball sized green fruit on Bobcat that I hadn’t noticed under all those dead leaves. So for all the folks who rip out their determinate tomatoes and replant in the fall may I suggest that next year you try laziness? Worked for me.
But then, of COURSE on the last bit of cleanup on that first tomato plant I found this guy:
Dang you!
Here’s the thing- I grow plants for caterpillars! I like them! My husband got me a book on pollinators for my birthday one year! The striped ones for swallowtails I literally smile at and call my buddies:
My buddies!
But tomato hornworms!? Agh! Their appetite is HUGE! They can decimate a plant! And I found SEVEN more of them as I was cleaning up the rest of the tomatoes! So I had EIGHT of these massive green caterpillars… on my precious tomatoes. I was conflicted. And yet I couldn’t just squish them. Or throw them away. I actually DID put out a call to a friend with chickens to see if she wanted them for chicken snacks- is like the circle of life, right? She didn’t. That might have been too weird of a 7:30 am text honestly, now that I think about it. And so… I left them on the plants. They turn into the hummingbird moth after all… I just straight up couldn’t kill them, especially when they all seemed JUST about maximum sized and therefore should be crawling off to make chrysalises soon, right?
And even now, after researching for this post when I find out they aren’t in fact tomato hornworms but are, in fact, TOBACCO hornworms (they both feed on both plants but are different species. Differentiated by markings on the caterpillars’ sides- tomato hornworm s have v shaped white markings and tobacco hornworms have diagonal stripes). And so they DON’T turn into these:
Hummingbird Moth ( from the TOMATO hornworm caterpillar) cool and all if you could just do something about that oversized abdomen…
… but instead, the tobacco hornworms turn into these nightmares:
Aw hell.
AND yet… I’d already decided to let them stay! Ugh… FINE. And besides, I remember seeing one of those moths on the front of the house… what if it was their mom? (I fully also see how crazy this all is, don’t think I don’t).
Turns out they eat ACTUAL tomatoes too. Fantastic.
And so now the Sweet 100 cherry tomato has literally zero leaves from this brilliant decision of mine. But at least I am guilt free and happy in the knowledge I won’t have any angry tobacco hornworm moth parents coming after me.
Besides, it’s the Sungold that is still putting up the real numbers these days and still has enough leaves to see it through.
So pretty!
So, a bit of a soft spot for insects I guess- which along with liking wandering around in graveyards puts me well over the line of quirky and unique and instead into downright odd territory. Whatever. Life is much too short to worry about anyone’s opinions- do what you like while you have the time. Besides, we’re all weird somehow- anyone who tells you they aren’t must be hiding some REALLY crazy shit.
Did I mention my pet 2″ spider on the Basil? Yeah…
Cough cough… I also might have had a black and white jumping spider as a pet on the kitchen windowsill and have my second wolf spider pet on my desk… so… yeah. At least my weirdness is only for bugs and graves… imagine if I liked scrapbooking or napkin rings? Shudder.
I know it’s the stereotype and all, but even though I’m female I really hate baking. The cutesy aprons, adorable flour tins, and rainbow cupcake scene just ain’t my bag. Give me pastas and sauces and gravies and roasted veggies and spices. No precise measurements needed- that’s where I’m at home! But baking? Sheesh, recipes have varied instructions based on elevations, and a cup isn’t just a cup… it has to be a sifted cup, or a perfectly level cup, or better yet weigh the ingredients… bah. Also, since I have a generalized disdain for aprons and wear mostly dark t-shirts that much loose flour can be an issue.
But I had pan de muertos to make for Dia de los Muertos. And the thought that the dead wait for no one really kept me to a pretty tight timeline here. Pan de Muertos means BREAD OF THE DEAD!!!!! (but without the overwrought punctuation and capitalization). With a name like that I’m sure a sweet bread that’s great with coffee is like, not what you were picturing. Anyway, I had an offrenda to put this on and so had to make it and did, in fact, quasi enjoy it. I did also, in fact, get flour god damn everywhere.
I see now I should have made either one loaf or three… two seems like… yeah…
…like this scene from The Naked Gun, only in bread.
ANYHOO…
Pan/Bread Ingredients
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup milk
3 Tbsp orange juice
3 cups all purpose flour (don’t get me started on how many different flours there are…)
1 package (1 1/4 tsp) dry active yeast
1/4 cup water
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp. anise seed
1/4 cup white sugar
3 eggs, beaten
2 Tbsp orange zest
Glaze Ingredients
1/4 cup white sugar
1/4 cup orange juice
1 Tbsp orange zest
Turn oven on to 325 degrees. Heat milk and butter over medium/low heat till butter melts. Add warm water and a pinch of sugar to a bowl and sprinkle over the yeast to activate it. (Weird bubbling ensues). Zest off the outer peel of an orange with a zester or by carefully slicing and dicing. Once butter is melted into milk remove from heat and let cool a little. In a large bowl add anise seed, 1 cup flour, 2 Tbsp orange zest, sugar, and salt together and then add eggs, yeast, and milk/butter. This is the part where folks would use a stand mixer, but since they sure as hell didn’t have that in 1932 Guanajato Mexico, I mixed by damn hand with a spoon. Here’s the secret though, get that first cup of flour mixed until smooth before adding the rest of the flour slowly until it’s all incorporated.
I took the picture so I’ll damn well use it
Once it’s all added together it’s a little sticky and a little shaggy looking. Turn out on a lightly floured counter to knead.
Turns out that’s an assload too much flour
Then just knead until stretchy and you’re bored
Once the bread is kneaded (5 minutes or so) put back in a lightly greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise for 2 hours.
I took the picture and I’ll damn well use it
Then once the bread has risen, punch it down and form into loaves. I pulled about 1/4 off and set to the side to do the design on the tops and then divided the remaining dough into two balls. I then made the crossed “bones” and knob on the top (stylized skull? Not sure, but it’s the tradition) by forming it like it was playdough. Then I just pressed them into the top of the balls of dough. (AGAIN, though that’s what I did, maybe form into one big loaf or 3 small ones.) Place on a lightly greased baking sheet, place in the oven, and cook for 20-25 minutes.
While the bread cooks, add the orange juice and sugar to a pot over medium heat and stir to prevent burning. Heat until your glaze is lava.
Once bread is done, remove from oven, drizzle on the glaze, then while still hot sprinkle with white sugar.
It’s tasty, and not too anise-y, which I don’t really like, but this amount isn’t too much. I think Mexicans do anise WAYYYY better than the French do, frankly, so really don’t worry about it- you’ll like it. This bread is great heated up the next day, spread with butter and eaten with coffee. And remember- the dead wait for no one, so like… hurry it up.
the something garden 