Make Canned Biscuit Sugared Donuts - Day 223 of 365, Tutorial Tuesday

I think my family is probably getting tired of me pushing them.

I feel like I have some experience with the I don't feel well enough to do anything feeling. When I see someone in the family with that feeling, I've been trying to make them do things. Not something big, but just something. I know how important it is to have a purpose when things aren't going the way you'd like. I know what it is like to get up in the morning and not want to get out of the pajamas. I also know sometimes it's mind over matter. That despite how terrible you feel, you can do at least one thing you can be proud of. One thing to prove you were here. One thing to look forward to. If you asked me at the beginning of this project if that were true, I wouldn't have believed you. Even now there are days where I'm not sure I can do it.

But I do know the power of the one thing.  For the last several months my one thing has been the picture of the day. But I think the greatest contribution I've made is the sewing for others. It's the thing that gets me out of bed, the thing I look forward to, the thing I'm most proud of.

I want others around me to experience the power of the "one thing". So yesterday, when my husband was home sick and wanting some attention and I was in the middle of piecing a kids quilt, I made him wind a box full of bobbins for me. And he was happy he was able to contribute. Happy he learned something new.

It's like the fried pies and my mom. Trying out different recipes and different doughs gave her a purpose. Something to work on, something to think about, something to look forward to. Last week I made her do the tutorial, and this week she's doing a tutorial again.

This week is donuts. Quick and easy donuts made out of canned biscuits.

Click on the video to get the directions:

Day 222 of 365

As I worked through my day at home today, it hit me. My life has changed and I don't know if it'll ever go back to the way it was before.

I realized it when I was sitting in the office chair, at the dining room table, while eating. For every meal and every single time I sit at the dining room table I have to use the padded office chair. Ever since I hurt my back two years ago the straight back wooden chairs that go with the set - the ones that everyone else sits in - are too hard on my back. I tried putting in a seat cushion once but it didn't help.

I realized it as I took a shower. When I had my knee replacement a year and a half ago, I had to have a shower chair. When I started using that shower chair, I noticed it was easier to take a shower. Not just because of the knee issue, but because of the back issue. I'm unable to stand but a few minutes and bending over is rough. Using a shower chair allows me to take a shower without as much back pain as before.

I realized it when I used the bathroom on the elevated seat. It was suggested I use one when I had the knee replacement, and again it seemed to help keep the back a bit calmer. I tend to delay my restroom trips at work (I know, it's a bad practice) because it hurts the back getting up.

I realized it as I was sitting down and shaving my legs. Long gone are the days of standing and reaching.

I realized it as I squeezed the toothpaste with the heel of my hand.

I realized it as I was tying my shoes. At noon. It took me that long to get my fingers to be able to work.

And I realized it as I was having difficulty grasping the pen when I was writing a note to include in my box for Stockings for Soldiers.

While my body has required me to make adjustments that a 46 year old should not have to make, I still can sew on my machine.

80 stockings are now finished and ready to go out the door tomorrow.

I have to think that despite my grumblings about my body, those troops who will be receiving these stockings have bigger issues to deal with than I do.

Day 221 of 365

I've never been one to ask for help. I imagine most people are that way. Too afraid, too embarrassed, too proud. Too concerned about trying to be independent.

I've tended to be independent. I left home at 16 and was in college by 17. And being married to someone with a disability who doesn't drive forced me to assume an even greater level of independence. I've been the one driving us everywhere despite ice, fog, and blizzards, and the only one who pumps gas. I've been the one who uses the drill and the saw every time they are needed. I've been the sole lawnmower fixer and weed eater repairer. I've been the house painter, the bill payer, the checkbook balancer, and the tax preparer. The tech support person.   Every "assembly required" thing in this house was put together by me, along with anything requiring tying whether it be a rope, a shoestring, or a dress tie. And 99.99% of the pictures taken over the last 28 years were taken by me.

Over the years, I've gotten my husband to do more things here and there without help. He now uses a can opener by himself. He's gotten a nice collection of clip on and zip up dress ties. Just last week he learned how to text, and this week I showed him how to pay bills.

Recovering from three surgeries in less than a year required me to finally start asking for help. Both my daughter and husband had to pitch in more than they'd ever had before. It was a welcome (and necessary) change for me. But since then, I've again been holding back on asking for help.

25 more Christmas stockings for Stockings for Soldiers. Independently. All by myself. I probably should have asked for help in getting to 80. I might just do that pretty soon.

Day 220 of 365

I'm not a big comfort food person. I didn't grow up on casseroles and I'm not into mac and cheese. I don't even remember too many of my meals growing up.

As I think back on my childhood, it had two parts. Pre-divorce and post-divorce. Up to 3rd grade and 4th grade and on.

My parents divorced when I was a kid. A few months before my eighth birthday, we packed up the house in San Jose and moved about 80 miles away to live with my grandparents. We left the old house behind and I left my old life behind. I have few memories of the pre-divorce years, and the memories I do have revolve around the pictures I have from back then. Mostly birthday parties. The only food memories are birthday cakes, grilled cheese sandwiches, and fried eggs. (I'm sure my mom cooked, I just don't remember it.)

I remember some foods from when we moved in with, then moved next door to, my grandparents. Those fried pies from earlier this week. Tacos. Okra. Homemade pizza with Little Smokies on them. Sourdough bread. And fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

I still use the same homemade pizza dough recipe and sometimes still use Little Smokies. Tacos occur frequently in our dinner menu. I still like good sourdough bread. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes? Probably the meal I remember that's the closest thing to comfort food. We make chicken here at home, but bake it instead of fry it. I still love mashed potatoes.

But I have another meal that feels like comfort food. I imagine it was in my childhood somewhere, yet I don't remember who made it (mom, grandma, or great-grandma?).

Chicken and dumplings. Nothing better on a cool fall day.