Nice Buns

I can't find a good cinnamon bun in Houston.  It never occurred to me before that cinnamon buns were a Midwestern phenomenon, but I believe now that they must be.  So I finally swallowed my fear and made a batch last weekend.  Truth be told, I am partial to the frosted variety, but in this case, I had to pick a recipe that didn't scare the pants off of me for the first go-round.  This recipe is from Savoring the Seasons, a cookbook produced by the chef of my favorite restaurant in Minneapolis.

I will keep working on them until I can produce a frosted one that makes me stop feeling ornery with the lack of Houstonian baked goods, but in the short-term, we had no trouble eating these.

Big Girl Pants: Conclusion

I recently wrote about having accepted a position as a relocation consultant.  I'm not going to lie; I had reservations from the beginning.  But it's always flattering to be offered a job, and it did not feel appropriate to decline while my husband was between contracts.  I felt obligated, and also curious, but not particularly confident or excited about how the position would fit into my life.

That was back in late January.  Fast forward to April and now I'm sure that this position is not the way I want to move forward.  I fought urges to quit (which occurred almost immediately and then continuously), but kept at it long enough to realize that while parts of it are quite easy, it still wasn't right.  At the same time I learned some important things about what I do and don't want to be spending time on right now.

Closet New Yorker

I'm of the mind that it takes six months to firmly settle into a new space.  Maybe it's just me, but when I review the process of getting comfy in a new home, consistently around the six-month mark, the furniture gets rearranged a certain way, or the kitchen cupboards get permanently tamed...perhaps the pictures get lifted off the floor and hung, which frees up the spare bedroom to be organized.  Something  occurs around that time that makes things click and feel noticeably better.  Also possible is that I have considered these dynamics far more than a normal person, after having set up seven different homes in the last seven years.

Additionally abnormal is that I find few things as soothing as cleaning out a closet or reorganizing a cupboard.  When faced with the unknown, the unruly, the upsetting, or the inexplicable; taking control of an inefficient traffic zone or a dysfunctional office calms me.  Along the way, I find an item or two that can be shared with others, or dropped at Goodwill.  At the end of the day, I have the illusion of being in control of my life, with the added bonus that things run more smoothly in the house.