Babble

Who is still here?

October 8, 2022

I was forced to make a decision, recently, regarding this ridiculous blog. Bluehost renewal was coming up and just like everything else these days… prices have gone up. A lot. I simply could not rationalize spending upwards of $500 for three years to keep my online, searchable recipe-box active. So I made the decision to let it go.

Honestly, if you knew how much time I’ve spent over the years thinking about this… it’s embarrassing. I stopped writing back in – 2016? 2017? — because it felt so self absorbed and silly. What’s the purpose? Who cares? What a waste of time!

It honestly still feels that way and yet, as you can see, I was not able to let it go. I got an email from Bluehost that it had expired and immediately went to work to find a cheaper host. And, just like internet providers and car insurance, you seem to be rewarded for shopping around and switching. I got a deal for under $100 for three years. So here we are.

Curious if anyone is still around. Does anyone still read blogs? (I know I don’t-who has the time??) But I do enjoy writing. I entertained myself by writing a few chapters of a book a year or two ago and quickly decided my original reason for NOT writing a book was a sound one: I have to wait for the Main Characters to die first so that there can be no lawsuits. And, to quote my niece, there are a lot of main characters in our family…

It’s taking quite a bit of moxie to even hit “publish” for this post. But why not, eh? Maybe I’ll start writing again from time to time. And if not, if it’s too embarrassing, then I’ll do this same drill when it expires again in 2025. 🙂

Stop the Insanity

November 17, 2017

It seems like the world we live in is falling apart. The sexual crimes and #metoo phenomenon has brought so much of this to light. How can we ignore it? There is something fundamentally wrong with our society and while I think all of it is disgusting, I also know, deep in my heart, that many – if not all — of these men are broken inside and in pain. They don’t know it, of course. And most never will truly see this for what it is because they don’t want to. Because society supports it. Because it’s the status quo. Because they’ve gotten away with it for so long. Because it makes them ‘feel good’ – when nothing else does — they then feel ‘entitled’ to continue doing it.

My daughter recommended a documentary a while back that I never watched until very recently called “The Mask You Live In” on Netflix. It’s a little over an hour and really brings to light the crisis boys (who eventually become the men that are committing these terrible acts) face in this country. It has given me insight into my own relationships with the men in my life. I wish I had seen it before my son grew up. Before I got married. Before now.

We can no longer pretend that only “bad men” do things like this. Very good men have done it, are doing it, and will do it in the future. And while the public pounds their fists and cries for justice and revenge, nothing really changes because the root cause is ignored. I ask: are you ready to burn your son at the stake? Your husband? Your dad? Your brother? Because these are the men committing the crimes. It seems no one is untouched by it. And not that all who commit the crimes don’t deserve punishment. But simple contrite apology statements, hand slaps, and financial penalty aren’t going to change anything for anyone other than the ones who are being caught. It changes nothing in the long run. Another question: are you ready to roll up your sleeves and try to help? If so, start by watching that documentary. It might give you some empathy.

After yesterday, and the Al Franken disclosure, the thing that sickens me almost the most in the midst of all of this sexual misconduct is how, in the past week, it has become hyper-politicized. I am BEGGING the world, the women, the media to STOP THIS. It devalues and changes the very nature of the problem. It is sick. To suddenly cast sexual crime and its consequence into the political arena is simply a tactic to divert the discussion. To use it for political jockeying is criminal. Wrong. Disgusting. So just STOP.

What I want my daughter to know

August 24, 2017

[ I wrote this a while ago and decided not to post it. “Too weird!” But it just keeps circling around in my head. I can’t be the only person like this, can I?? So here goes: ]

I listened to something today that broke my heart. It was on a podcast that I’ve been binge-listening to…

What I heard on the podcast was how this actor makes himself cry when he needs to conjure up tears for acting. He read something that works every time. And it goes something like this:

Kate Winslet always felt bad about her body growing up. She carried that into adulthood. She didn’t want her daughter to feel the same way, so she’s standing next to her daughter and they are both in their underwear in front of a full-length mirror and she says, “Aren’t we lucky to have curves?”

(So, Kate, if you are reading this and I got it wrong, don’t blame me, blame the podcast – just leave me a comment and I’ll fix it…)

I was listening to this as I was walking with the dog (in the rain) (again) and it sort of took my breath away. One of those moments where you go: “I totally fucked this motherhood thing up.” I tipped my face up to the rain and thought… I don’t remember. But it was meaningful. Which brings me to my point.

Would I want another chance? To go back and fix it?

No, no, no. Hell no.

But in theory, yes. Yes, please.

Because honestly – and I’ve had this discussion with some of my friends – it is highly likely that even knowing everything I know today, I’d still fail miserably. Still be the same, stupid, well-meaning-but-literally-clueless mom to my kids. I am still such a work-in-progress myself!

I just keep hearing this stuff that is so BEAUTIFUL. So RIGHT. So REGRET-INSPIRING. How do they know all this?

Anyway.

Lately my daughter – she’s 22 — has made a few comments along the lines of knowing that I meant well, but understanding that I had my own baggage; that I “couldn’t help it.” So, basically implying what I’ve already admitted: I failed motherhood and that Kate Winslet really IS all that. Of course my knee jerk reaction was to disagree with her. To twist it around to try to make her see that she was imagining everything and/or misunderstanding my intentions.

(Another one of my skillz: master verbal manipulator. Very damaging to children and husbands, alike. Very hard to control. Very regretful…)

Truth is, she’s right. I did bring my own baggage. So, with every “positive message” I was sending a negative message right along with it.

As in, “That’s not a healthy choice.” being heard as, “You will get fat.” Or, “You are fat.” Of course she WASN’T fat. She ISN’T fat. (And so what if she was??! Would I love her less? Is my love conditional??) (For the record, no. But I can see where a child would believe that.)

They say it’s never too late.

What I would like my adult daughter to know and believe:

I thought I was teaching you how to be healthy
I didn’t know I was saying you weren’t good enough.

I thought I was helping you to see the other side of the story when you were sad and having problems…
I didn’t know I was saying your feelings didn’t matter.

I thought I was giving you good advice
I didn’t know I was saying you weren’t capable.

I thought I was responsible for your soul
I didn’t know that God is bigger than that.

I thought I was helping you to find your style
I didn’t know… Nope, that one I’m gonna stick with. Shopping with your grandma at Target was always a bad idea.

I look back at my mistakes and my well-meant intentions and realize…
I really fucked this motherhood thing up.

I’m pretty sure your apartment needs a good cleaning and your hair probably stinks, but YOU are LOVED UNCONDITIONALLY. I hope you can forgive me for the mistakes I made and will continue to make as your mom.

~Love, ~~Super~~ Mom

Dear Woman Who Hovers to Pee in Public Restrooms:

April 7, 2016

Why do you hover over the seat to pee? Is it because you think the seat in an otherwise immaculate bathroom is inexplicably dirty and disgusting?

Did you ever stop to consider that the reason a seat might be dirty is because, by hovering, you just PEED ALL OVER IT? Then you stand up and leave it there without a second thought, all the while screaming at your kids, “DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!” in that hysterical voice you reserve for public bathrooms?

Along comes Jennie, doing her trademarked potty dance, where she alternately crosses her legs and bends over while chanting, “You can do this. You can do this. It’s all in your head… COME ON, Jennie, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!” Then standing up and realizing, nope, she can’t. So she looks both ways to see if anyone is watching, discreetly “holds it” and jogs the remaining steps to the bathroom, frantically unbuttoning her jeans as she scampers to the stall, barely making it in time and lands on the seat with a sigh of relief. “I made it!” she exclaims. …only to find the back side of her thighs WET with someone else’s pee.

I’m not talking about a bathroom in Tijuana — even I might hover there. I’m talking about a bathroom in, say, The Galleria in Edina. Marble floors. Granite countertops. Cool fixtures. Gleaming floors that are cleaned 4 or 5 times a day.

And pee on their toilet seat.

From you.

So let me just implore you: wipe the damn seat after you go. I won’t judge you for hovering if you just wipe the seat.

In return, I’ll work on my psychosomatic potty issues. Thank you in advance for your consideration

Sincerely,
Jennie Menke

A Random Update From My Bed

February 20, 2016

As you can see from the picture, I’ve got a LOT of choices surrounding me from my (horizontal) perch in my beloved bed on a Saturday morning — and for some strange reason — I’ve decided to write a post when I have literally nothing to say. Full disclosure: it is 8:55 am. I’ve just finished my latte, and I’m wishing someone would appear with another one, and…

Stop judging me. I know you are.

I’ve paid my weekend morning dues! My kids are almost grown. Dave is working out while I sit in bed with my really skinny dog. Just let me enjoy this.

Yesterday, I made bread for one of my Auction clients (damn you, Joel Landskroener. I hope someday Joel googles his own name and finds this post. That would almost make up for the fact that HE is the REASON I bake my fool head off every month during winter.)

Cheerfully. I’m a cheerful giver.

Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. ~2 Corinthians 9:7

Well, yesterday I wasn’t, but don’t tell anyone. Only God knows! And, well, I guess you know now, too… Anyway, I was trying to update my bread videos on YouTube and instead of taking a few hours of time, it took me all damn day. I haven’t made a video in… like. I don’t even know….

I just looked on YouTube: 6 years.

That’s all? My gosh. I feel like it’s been ten. Huh. But then, I told someone it took us 25 minutes to get someplace yesterday and Dave called me on it and I argued, bringing it down to 20 minutes, and he timed it on the way home and it was 16, so I guess it’s confirmed: I have no holy clue about time or anything else.

Anyway.

My videos on YouTube are outdated. I’ve made several recipe modifications and when I tell people to use my videos (to save myself the time of spending an entire day teaching them, when I know they will never actually make the bread, love them though I do… I mean really. Go. Watch. The. Video.) I want to make sure that I’m giving them my BEST self. My BEST effort.

Honestly, it’s also because I’m a little sensitive to some of the ridiculously dumb things on those old videos. Like, for example, the phase I went through when I used a loaf pan filled with nuts and bolts and chains in the bottom of the oven and poured water over that to create steam. What the hell was I even thinking?

Or storing the bread under the sink on top of the compost bucket and chicken scraps.
Or letting the ciabatta dough blow the lid off the container because I forgot about it.

Plus, there are all these comments like: “galvanized metal creates toxic fumes that will… blah, blah blah…” “Proofing your bread inside a Gap bag is toxic…” Have you ever spent any time actually reading YouTube comments? These people… they do exist. And they are mean and crazy and have a lot of time on their hands.

But oh my gosh the work involved in making video. And honestly. What happens if I go viral? Am I really ready for YouTube stardom? Think about that. Really think:

…I’d be like on the Today show as one of the most random YouTubers ever born and they’d be interviewing me and then I’d have my own show… And a, of course, a couple books… And I’d totally change. Just like The Pioneer Woman. When we all went from loving her to hating her.

And here’s the thing: poor Ree! She didn’t do anything wrong! People just love her too much, so she’s flippin’ everywhere! She hasn’t changed! She’s still the same dripping-with-kindness person she always was! But now, we love to be all snarky and judgey, hating her!

Or is that only me and my mini-me, Morgan?

It doesn’t matter. I just don’t want that for myself. No siree. Same goes for the PowerBall. No thank you.

[You guys know I’m kidding, right? (no, no, not about Ree. I really cannot take her. She’s way too nice.) Well and not about the PowerBall, either. That’s a whole other topic. But about stardom… oh never mind.]

Back to the videos.

It took me about an hour to figure out how I would even film the bread-making. I literally have no idea how I did it six years ago. This time around, I was using my phone. Then I kept running out of phone space (Mantra: buy more space than you think you will ever need!), having to go to my office, download the video, erase the phone video and run back to the ciabatta that was oozing all over the damn place.

Then the Frontier Communications guy showed up with no warning in the middle of… I don’t even remember what.

Why, you ask? Because I made my very first Better Business Bureau complaint against them due to “contractual failure.” –And they showed up out of the blue to basically test my internet (for like the bazillionth time) and tell me — honestly, for once — that there are over 50 DSL lines connected to my area’s 35 megabyte service line. Do your math, people. If each of those 50 users have the same 3MB download speed that I am supposed to have, and every user was on at once, that requires 150MB. We have 35MB. BUT: I learned that not every user has the same 3MB that I am limited to (and rarely enjoy). No: I found out that many users have 6MG and 12MB service. One guy even has 24MB! That means that if that 24MB joker is online and gaming, there is only 11 MB left for the other 49 users. OMG. No wonder our internet stalls out, like every damn hour of every damn day! And yet, Frontier keeps selling the service out here, despite knowing they are way over-subscribed and can rarely meet their minimum service obligation. It is wrong!

*pant, pant* I digress. Many apologies. But seriously, if you live in the area, email or call the local office and ask for Ron Winebarger (or email Ron.Winebarger@FTR.com) and complain! They are flirting with the idea of fiber out here and the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Ron already hates me, so I don’t even care if you use my name. Thank you in advance.

Holy cow. OK. That was a bit of a diversion, eh? So anyway, the Frontier guys shows up after I’ve already spent hours trying to film these three videos and —what?— now I’m supposed to stand there in my kitchen talking to a camera while I bake bread while he’s in the office? Like anyone would ever do that.

I have some pride, you know…

Actually I have a lot of pride. It’s my achilles heel and main Christian stumbling block. Again– fodder for another post.

So, this guy really screwed up my filming and I’m pretty sure the vids are now unusable.

But still I soldier on!

In the middle of shaping the Rosemary Cheese Boule, a client — who shall remain nameless — calls and the conversation was… so truly frustrating, I cannot even.

Like, am I that bad at explaining something? Am I crazy? Are you stupid? Should I just stop talking now?? Seriously. That bread in the oven has to come out and I have to film it and…

oh just forget the whole damn thing.

I’m sitting there in the office. The timer on the oven is going off. This woman is, like, saying I-don’t-even-know-what cuz I wasn’t listening to her anymore. Lola was doing her daily start-at-3:00-crying-fest-because-it’s-time-for-a-walk…

And did I even mention the part about the rain? The sheets and sheets of rain and wind that turned my daily walk route into a mud-zone/danger-thin-ice zone? Don’t even get me started. I was forced on to the out-and-back-wind-gusted-hated dirt-road-route with Lola, aka Cujo, the mean dog that makes walking in a public space very anxiety-inducing.

No, I don’t put her on a leash.

Yes, that would reduce anxiety.

Anyway, I developed an epic migraine, and by the time Dave came home I was just a real picnic. WELCOME HOME, DAVE! #poordave.

…I have these pork chops in the fridge that I should cook. He wanted to go out. That makes me feel like a bad wife/mom. #guiltridden

So we went out. [cuz I’m not stupid. ]

And now I’m sitting in bed realizing what a shallow and lame person I am. My armpits and feet are sweaty, which is always my signal to get up; I’ve lain in bed long enough.

Time to Seize the Day! Be a better person! Be productive! Be happy! Put on deodorant! Make another latte cuz clearly one is not going to magically appear!

And pray that the driveway isn’t as muddy as it was yesterday.

Highlights from the Holidays

January 4, 2016

Actually I just liked the alliteration of the headline. This post is pretty much about one thing: how great I am.

Kidding!

(Partly.)

FIRST, I have to share the most Amazing Gift opened on Christmas day by the Most Amazing Gift Giver Ever:

Yes my friends, it is THEE Travel Scrabble game.

And it’s as cute as ever. I need to repair the hinge and count the tiles but… it is back in the hands of its rightful owner. My brother never appreciated it the way he should have. Its tiny perfect board with its tiny wooden tiles. Its locking tile trays and its self-contained perfect tiny box… And don’t fool yourselves: it was not he who treasured and protected it these last 33 years, it was apparently in the basement of the cabin. We can thank my parents for this most treasured and Amazing Gift.

…Now, if only I can get back my beloved Scrubbing Bubbles beach towel from him, I think we could call it a day.

(Not likely.)

The second Amazing Gift the Most Amazing Gift Giver Ever wants to share is perhaps the pinnacle of her life. Oddly, it did not come from her family; the ones who – logically – should have been so thoughtful, for it is they who reap the benefits of her Amazing Gifts.

[Shift to third person is both acknowledged and intentional so that the writer can be free to write without the shackles of her normal humble modesty.]

This gift was dropped off by friends late one night after the Menke’s wild Watertown Christmas party. Jennie thought it was crazy because — at least as she understood it — it was a hostess gift from a friend who planned to come but couldn’t make it.

“Totally unnecessary,” she exclaimed as she took the large package from her friend!

Then she hugged her, said “Merry Christmas”, shut the door and ripped the package open.

A cashmere sweater?

What the…?

She found the card in the apocalypse of the wrapping and opened it.

And this. This. Was The Most Amazing Gift Ever. Not the sweater (which was damn cute), but the card itself. Words. Simple, beautiful words.

Formula for The Most Amazing Card Ever:

Proper salutation.
Acknowledge the recipient’s best attributes.
Show that you mean it and aren’t just blowing smoke with proper examples
Reaffirm recipient’s best attributes. Don’t repeat the exact same thing in step two, but flesh it out a bit. Embellishing is totally acceptable in this section.
Show some vulnerability.
End on a positive note.

Example of The Most Amazing Card Ever:

Dear _______,

Neither ____ or [sic] myself would ever dare challenge you as the best [sic] gift giver ever. That is your title alone. BUT, as Students For Life, we just want you to know that for the past 2 years, ____ and I have talked about ways we could show, tell & maybe just express how special you are to us. So we researched. We Googled. We read reviews. We called boutiques in CA. But mostly we just thought about you. You know you are awesome. You are generous with your heart, your love, your faith. You truly are an exceptional person, ______ .

The gift isn’t perfect. It isn’t what we wanted “exactly.” BUT we included the gift receipt. We’re thoughtful like that!

The Merriest of Christmas to you!

Love, _______ & _________

These writers really showed true prowess for the formula. Particularly in the section of Step #4. Either that, or Jennie has them pretty snowed. But then, I’m not sure if Jennie has ever told you guys this: she’s a Gemini. Not that she buys in to any of that Zodiac stuff, but if you read the profile of a Gemini, it’s pretty spot on. In other words, Jennie can be just a total delight to friends, neighbors and acquaintances and almost in the same breath be a total psychopath with her family. She’s a Jekyll and Hyde kinda person. She can be laughing merrily on the phone with a friend, hang up the phone and go on a total soul-crushing rampage about hearing her husband chewing from across the room.

Still. She loves her new sweater and wore it on Christmas Eve.

She’s… an enigma.

Her behavior, as any dog trainer worth their salt would tell you, portrays is what is called “Self-Rewarding Behavior.” It seems to be working for her [see letter above] and therefore is not likely to change any time soon.

Which is really too bad for her family.

The good news for them is, Jennie is a fairly good cook.

At least they have that.

Stick to the List?

December 10, 2015

I’m surprised my brother hasn’t already contacted me about this article that appeared in the Minneapolis StarTribune, Stick to the List: Why Giving, Getting So Often Dissapoint.

It is both a long-running joke and a badge of honor that I carry: I am the ULTIMATE GIFT GIVER. I pride myself unabashedly on almost a daily basis.

(Reinforcing my need for Jesus and the humility that just doesn’t seem to come for me, despite my best efforts. Holy Spirit, I’m waiting patiently for you to take over. Any time now would be good. But until then, I just gotta be who I was apparently made to be… Sorry readers: that ‘s a little snapshot to the near-constant convos I have with myself and my brain and I see no reason to spare you from this.)

So anyway, despite my routine of paging hurriedly through the newspaper and throwing it in the bin, this article caught my eye. Stick to the List. Yes… seems like a good idea. Indeed, I DO stick to my list. My list is lovingly and obsessively curated all year long. I have a notebook in Evernote dedicated to Gift Ideas. I observe and listen (YES I DO TOO LISTEN TO WHAT PEOPLE SAY ON OCCASION). When someone (you?) admires something that I have, I jot it down under your name in my list. I snap pics in magazines. I copy links from emails. I brainstorm. I Stick to My List. Because:

I. AM. AN. AMAZING. GIFT. GIVER.

So, mom, when you give me your list and all it has on it is: “New Potholders, Perfume (again), and Slippers.” Forgive me for not shopping from your list. For, I have much better plans for you. Why? Because I LOVE YOU MORE THAN THAT, OK? Now for the love of PETE, stop complaining to everyone you see that you did not receive your damn potholders and go buy them yourself!

With that said, I am also quite well-known in certain circles for my sometimes ulterior-motive gift giving. While we all know that my blog-hating brother Bennett is too cool to chime in here, I would be remiss if I did not pre-empt what I know he will throw in my face the next time I see him, if I don’t just put it right here in black and white:

The incident of the Travel Scrabble Game of 1981.

First, let’s be clear about something: this was way before I had truly honed my Amazing Gift-Giving skills – I was 16. I really, really wanted that Travel Scrabble Game. What better way to ensure that I, 1) had access to its tiny, blue-encased cuteness with the tiny wooden squares, and 2) had someone to play with, than to give it to my brother for Christmas?

I’m still thinking he should finally just shut up about it and say “Thank You.” I don’t recall getting anything from him at all back in those days. And really: who doesn’t want a Travel Scrabble game? Honestly: it would have lasted a lifetime… I wonder if he still has it.

Anyway, I’ll admit: I can occasionally still be accused of pushing my own agenda when selecting gifts. Mostly it’s in the electronics category. iPhones, iPads, The Fly Pen, LeapPad, Bluetooth Speakers, Swag Headphones. But seriously:

WHO DOES NOT WANT TO RECEIVE GIFTS LIKE THAT?

But MOSTLY I give from the heart. From my carefully curated list. You are welcome, lucky recipients. I truly envy you.

The second issue I have with being the Most Amazing Gift-Giver Ever, is my distain for those That Aren’t. I DESPISE giving people my “list.” For heaven’s sake, if you LOVE ME, you should DELIGHT ME with THOUGHTFUL GIFTS like the ones I GIVE YOU.

Is that so hard?

Apparently it is. To be fair, I understand that not everyone is as great as I am. So I have learned to adapt. I provide a list. But with the list goes the magic of Christmas.

Just sayin.

(I just thought of something else that relates to my brother: I should admit that based on my stance, my brother does not request a list from me anymore. However, he pisses and moans about this ad nausea, so it almost doesn’t count. I believe there is also going to be a funny addendum to this post after Christmas based on a text exchange he and I had regarding Christmas shopping. But that will have to wait. –Arent’ you SO EXCITED?! Oh the suspense!)

Coming back to the article that prompted this post: Sticking to the List. So, just what do they have to say about this topic, you ask? You can read the whole article here if you like, but just to paraphrase:

Here’s the quandary: We want to (or feel compelled to) surprise and delight our friends and family with gifts that demonstrate the time and effort we put into finding just the right present for just the right person. (YES, EXACTLY!)

Surely… our loved ones will be touched by our thoughtfulness, by how we met desires they didn’t even know they had (YES, EXACTLY!)

Wait. There’s more…

Studies say that people who get unexpected gifts often wonder why the giver was so thoughtless as to ignore their wish lists … so selfish as to think that if she liked it, everyone else would, too. (????!!!!)

“With regard to thoughtfulness,” the study said, “it’s the giver who appears to reap more benefits from thinking a lot about the gift than the receiver.” (SO?)

Seriously?

The article goes on to say we should all stick to other people’s wish lists or get them a gift card (you read that right: a gift card.). It’s finally official: this world has officially gone to Hell in a hand basket.

To be clear, I will continue to be the thoughtful and Amazing Gift-Giver that I am. As I mentioned earlier, I can no sooner change this Amazing Trait any more than I can change my potty mouth.

Besides, as the sayings go:

It’s not about receiving gifts, it’s about giving them.
It’s not the gift, but the thought that counts.
It’s not the gift, but the giver.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it. And smile and tell me how much you love your gift (and me). The good news is that I always include the receipt.