Contest Time!! THREE GIVEAWAYS!!

I haven’t had a contest for far too long so I’ve decided to have THREE contests. Giving something away is gangs of fun and I’m overdue for gangs of fun. Life has been alternately frustrating, painful, maddening, overwhelming, and generally ticking me off. I could give you details (and you KNOW I will) but I’d rather give you gifts for now, especially bread. So that’s where we’ll start.

Bread is good therapy. When you smell it wafting through the air it makes you feel as though all is right with the world. Maybe I’ll start my own Bread Therapy Group. I bet it would catch on. We won’t talk about any problems - we’ll just eat bread until we’re stupefied and then we’ll wander off into the night. And I’ll charge people for this. Yes, I feel I have entrepreneur written all over me. But at least I’ll actually FEED them with THE most delicious bread ever created. I know this to be true. I’m there nearly every Saturday. “THERE” is Great Harvest Bread Company.

They make warm and squishy and delectable things like this:

And this (which lasted for four seconds after this photo was shot):

Here’s one of their bakeries:

If you’ve been hanging around here very long, you know that I believe in REAL FOOD. I define that as food made from real ingredients, organic if possible, unprocessed or lightly processed, knowing the people who grow your food, buying locally, and buying fresh. It’s being in touch with what you eat.

Great Harvest Bread Company exemplifies the values that are important to me. They do business with small farmers, many of whom they’ve known and worked with for many years. Bread is made fresh daily, wheat is being ground into flour regularly, and customers are treated to samples that are generous.

But here’s something that’s really important to know:

They truly care about our communities. Kate Ord, Director of Marketing states, “At the core of our mission statement is ‘give generously to others.’ We donate more than 4 tons of whole grain bread to children and families in need.” They also take part in life-changing projects like this Habitat For Humanity home:

They get to know their customers with a Farmers’ Market presence in selected locales:

And they know what they’re buying and what they feed us. It matters. It’s at the heart of everything they do.

The company was recently named “Best Place To Work” by Outside Magazine and “Most Democratic Workplace” by Worldblu. They’ve also recently started a blog you can link to HERE.

I so love this company that I contacted them to find out more about who they are. I was fortunate enough to meet the lovely Ms. Kate Ord. We became fast friends and when I told her I wanted to introduce my blogging buds to Great Harvest, she did what they do: jumped in to help. And this is where our contest begins.

Great Harvest has offered to give one lucky winner a $50 certificate for your choice of fresh, lovely, squishy, delicious bread products from a bakery near you. And just in case you don’t yet have one of these wonderful places, they will send you a basket of mixes to create your own fresh-baked treats in your kitchen. (Fresh bread wouldn’t be all that fresh by the time they shipped it to you so making your own is the next best thing!) And here’s the kicker: They’ll send this basket to you WHEREVER you are. That means my international friends can enter, too! I’m officially jazzed.

This contest will be for my BLOGGING FRIENDS. You will be entered if you follow me and BLOG about the contest. It can be as simple as, “Hey, Robynn’s Ravings is having a contest for these items (and then list them). Go see her at http://www.robynnsravings.blogspot.com/ !! Or you can write a book, but whichever you choose, click the follow button to the right with all the photos and then leave me a comment with your blog link and I’ll head on over to your place.

The next items are for ANY followers and you tell me which contest you want to be entered into. One is from Chipotle. You may remember Chipotle from me blogging about them or you may have seen them featured on “Nightline.” Chipotle is a fantastic restaurant that makes every effort to purchase its meat and food from growers who raise their animals and grow their crops in healthy, sustainable ways. And the flavor of their food is proof positive. If you already follow me (or decide to) and you want “Burritos For Two including gourmet burritos, fresh chips with guacamole, and drinks,” then leave me a comment and include the words “Following” and “Chipotle” somewhere in the comment.

However, not everyone lives within a convenient distance of this food paradise so you may want to select an alternate prize. Therefore, I offer you this:

A brand spankin’ new DVD of the most fascinating look at why it’s important to eat REAL FOOD. This could change your life, your health, and your mind. I think everyone should see it. And my kids even loved it though I included a trip to see it in their homeschooling curriculum.

Again, just click that “follow” icon over there on the right. (If you’re following me on a feed or through a reader, please click anyway just so I know about you!) Then type in “following” and “Food, Inc.” somewhere in your comment and I’ll put you in for this one.

So there you have it. Lots o’ loot and fabulous reasons to eat good food and REAL FOOD! I hope this brings you out of the woodwork if you’ve been lurking and I hope it spreads the word about GREAT HARVEST BREAD COMPANY! This is the first time I’ve featured them.

The contest will end at midnight PST, Monday, May 10, 2010. Winners will be announced Tuesday. Good luck!

©Copyright 2010 – Photos Courtesy of Great Harvest Bread Company and internet sources unless otherwise marked.

You’ll Forgive Me But……

That’s my boy. And it’s Saturday again. And, well, they grow up so fast and….uh…..I told my kids this blog would chronicle our lives (as well as my general insanity) so…..……here’s lookin’ at you kid. I carried you in my formerly-functional-body and delivered all nine pounds of you at 37 weeks, even though the doctor said I measured 44 weeks and should’ve had two of you. My baby belly arrived places three minutes before I did it was so huge. (Okay, men, this is your chance to run away screaming.) I had way too much water and you swam around inside me in an Olympic sized swimming pool, using the high dive for cannon balls. During my c-section it was a flood worthy of Charlton Heston playing Moses. I think I saw some Egyptians and a Pharaoh get washed away. I think they came out with you. My mid-section will never be the same.

Neither will my heart. I love my boy.

Thanks for indulging me in this motherly moment. I couldn’t help myself. He’s just so very cute, in a MANLY sort of way!

Thanks again, my dear friend Chris, for your photographic talents and willingness to make my son feel important. I would like to tell you all about Chris sometime. You would love him.

CONTEST COMING MONDAY!

©Copyright 2010

The Kindness of A Dog

The news recently featured a man left to die on the streets of New York City after he had been fatally stabbed while saving a woman from her assailant. Twenty-five people, including the woman he aided, failed to act on his behalf. One of the people passing him got out a cell phone and took his picture for entertainment purposes. Finally, someone called 911, but it was too late.

This story has haunted me this week as I have pondered it. Did he look like a homeless man asleep on the sidewalk? According to news reports there was blood to be seen from the stab wounds. However, for over half-an-hour no one investigated further or even called 911 to ask someone else to look into it.

Who are we?

Contrast this story with the following video clip of a dog saving another dog. I was dumbfounded and moved to tears after watching the clip that follows. Please, Lord, always give me the good sense and compassion this little dog had. How can we do less as human beings?

(This is less than a minute to watch and has a happy ending for both dogs.)

I am reminded of these verses from the Bible.....

Matthew 25: 37:40 "Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

40"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' "

We're supposed to be living by these words. God can get our attention through any means he chooses.

©Copyright 2010

North And South

North: Me, on the left – location - California (Okay, yes, that IS my gray hair so there ya go…..I always said I couldn’t be fat AND gray and that is now a patently obvious lie. I have also blown my big reveal.)

South: Kate – location – Australia, author of the “Tatersmama's Take on Things” blog which you will love if you VISIT. She has been in Australia for 15 years and came home to the foothill mountains of northern California to see her son, grandkids, other family, friends, and blogging buddies. (She likes to have her picture taken about as much as I do. Consequently, this photo is an act of love on both our parts so our blogging friends could see us meeting - like when Ms. Pac Man comes out to meet Winkin’ and Blinkin’ and Nod, or whatever the heck their names are.)

This is what we REALLY wanted to put up:

We think it shows us to our best advantage.

My visit with Kate was shorter than I wanted because we were late. Speaking of which, here’s a riddle I made up:

Question: What happens when you show up some place early?

Answer: I have no idea.

The prevailing factor this day was Tom-Tom. She’s my husband’s other girlfriend (the first in his affections is his espresso maker, Sylvia). Tom-Tom may have a guy’s name but she’s definitely a girl and speaks with a British accent. Supposedly, her job is to navigate for us and tell us the best way to get everywhere. Due to palpable jealousy, she did her best to thwart my plans. She didn’t take us the fastest way; she took us the shortest way, which included abandoned stage coach trails, a child’s footbridge, through a living room, and finally the end of the road where we had to backpack in the last five miles.

But it was worth it. If you know Kate through blogging, I’m here to tell you, she’s the real deal. Loving, sweet with a vinegar tang, funny, and as warm as can be. She even introduced me to The Old Guy and her friend, Jenny. These people are frequent players in the dramedy of her life and actors on the stage of her blog. She had a warm and welcoming family and the setting was LUSH with verdant greens and wildflowers thanks to all the California rain. I could have stayed for a week.

It’s a funny thing when you’ve been keyboard-pals for a year-and-a-half. You bypass all those firsts and move right to sharing in the nitty-gritty of each other’s lives. We KNOW each other. Of course, there are missing elements but we were already friends in 2-D. We just added the Imax screen and our 3-D glasses. We skipped the popcorn but only because of time constraints.

Speaking of food, there are some things you need to know about hardships in Kate’s life.

This woman lives in an odd country – sorry my Australian friends but I think you’ll agree with me on this one. She cannot get Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. She cannot get Butterfingers or Dr. Pepper. And these are among her favorite foods. We could argue that these don’t fall into the REAL FOOD category and we would be right. She would agree and isn’t calling them virtuous. But that doesn’t mean she deserves to be force fed Vegemite. (Another Australian friend tells me she’s never had a Twinkie. It’s alright, Julie. When the apocalypse comes, these things will sail right through. And they have a shelf life of 5,000 years. You’ll probably get a shot.)

So I came armed with her favorite foods. She immediately ordered me to hide them from her son, like any good mother would do. I knew we were kindred spirits.

I brought my own actors from my blog stage:

Griz and the Wild Man – husband and son. Bo couldn’t make it. She was busy cleaning the River Parkway north of Fresno. She had gangs of fun (literally) tearing out old animal pens and rusty barbed wire while avoiding a baby rattlesnake.

In the photo below, you can see where Tom-Tom tried to dump me on an old miner’s trail: Mark Twain’s Cabin at Jackass Hill. This effort contained a complete lack of subtlety.

Writing didn’t pay that well, apparently, by the looks of the cabin. (Must have been a lot like blogging.) But Mark Twain’s first book was inspired here, “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,” and, like a few famous bloggers we all know, sometimes you get that big break and find your place on the map. I’m just hoping I can work up to a cabin like this one of these days. I might be able to afford this level of luxury. Somethin’ tells me fame and a size 8 will be forever elusive. I have a body made for radio.

But I’ve got this strapping guy to look after me in my old age, which, near as I can tell, should be here in about three hours.

So Kate, it was great, and I thank you. Now when I read your blog I will see you and think of you the same way you can now see and think of me.

From the forehead up.

©Copyright 2010

To Gray Or Not Too Gray

I’ve been going gray since I was 24.

The shock came on an Easter morning. I had just washed my hair and was blow drying, getting ready for church. Something glisteny (that’s a word as of now) caught my attention in the glare of the bathroom lights. I dove in after it like I’d just discovered fleas.

I could not believe my eyes and immediately ripped it out. I was quite sure it was a freakish anomaly and now that it had been annihilated, I could proceed with my youth.

The thought did occur to me that three more gray hairs were supposed to take its place. Just an old wives tale, I reassured myself, and proceeded to kiss Denial right on the lips.

But those old wives are much maligned and they get even by being right.

Consequently, I began a serious relationship with “Sun-In.”

Now, in case you’ve never used this fine product, I should explain that Sun-In is supposed to make your hair look like you’ve spent a scintillating summer frolicking in dazzling light rays. It’s designed to impart the color of young locks and lend highlights and streaks to your carefree, tousled hair. You exude an aura of babe-a-liciousness. And it does that about as effectively as an orange spray tan resembles softly burnished skin, fresh from tropical beaches.

I’m pretty sure the look I affected was closer to the Straw Man (Scarecrow) in the Wizard of Oz. But not as attractive. My boyfriend du jour summed it up with “What did you do to your hair?” Well, I recaptured my youth (as a hay stack), thank you very much.

A few years and job promotions later, I was in the luxurious financial position to have my hair foiled fairly regularly. This is achieved by taking small strands of hair, brushing them with a bleaching agent, wrapping each piece in tin foil, and not stopping until you resemble an aluminum Christmas tree. The general effect is a masking of your gray and it works well until you have so much gray mixed in with the blonde that it looks like you’re having a May/December relationship with yourself.

Enter coloring.

This would hide the whole mess, I figured. (Well, except during outgrowth periods which consumed 9/10ths of the period between coloring and recoloring.) So I went lighter. And the lighter was so light it matched my nearly white hair which was good for outgrowth but then, what was the point of coloring? And if I was going to have nearly white hair, why not have white hair? Well, I reasoned, because I was a blonde at heart. I was born a tow-head – yes, almost white, but with golden highlights. And I was always a blonde, even when it darkened as I got older. It made sense then to move away from gray/white and back toward more golden shades. And everyone was fooled and thought I actually looked 13 even though I was 45.

And then one morning, about six months ago, I asked Grizzly what he would think if I raised the white flag over my white hair. He said surrender was decidedly French but he’d love me anyway. Maybe more, if I came with a side of fries.

So I grew out. And not just horizontally.

It is a fascinating occupation to watch your actual, real, bonafide, genuine hair color appear. My blonde had become pretty light again so it wasn’t striking, but it was noticeable. My hairdresser friends said blend it. I said no. It would only delay what I was trying to achieve: the unvarnished truth of my real hair color. And with each haircut, more silvery white appeared and the blonde tips were fading and disappearing. I currently lack one hair cut being completely done. (Pictures will follow when I am.)

And what do I think?

I am trying to figure out why I waited so long. It’s deliciously freeing. As I suspected, it’s decidedly silver, almost white. I don’t recognize myself in photos. I sometimes think I look like I overdid it in the coloring department. Then I remember: that IS my color. I can’t quite get over myself yet but I’m starting to actually love it.

I’m a tow head again just like when I was a mere infant - minus the golden highlights, sun-suit, and the diaper. I don’t think the golden highlights or the sun-suit will ever make a reappearance.

Let’s hope the same holds true on the diaper.

(Me, at three.)

©Copyright 2010

The Boyz of Summer

It’s not the Big League. It’s not even the Little League. But it’s definitely a league of their own.

And NOBODY ain’t got nuthin’ on them in the good-times department.

Best Buds left to right – The Wild Man, The Arm, and The Goofball

The Goofball Goofs

Ready and waiting.

Hmmm……

Play ball.

Thanks for the photos, Chris. You rock. :-)

P.S. I added the watermark with photography credit because our friend didn’t want it. He doesn’t seek the limelight. So I must shove him into it. It’s what I do. Shove. And “The Arm?” That’s his kiddo. Can that boy ever throw a ball. Yep. Good times. Good memories. Good friends.

Good deal.

(For the interested, I've been asked to post updates on The Lila Minkler Project and I told you I am a bear of very little brain so, of course, I don't send out reminders. If you are interested, a new post appears EVERY DAY there because this is a fast-clip project. If you've missed something you think you want to see, you can link HERE).

©Copyright 2010

What Not to Wear

Perhaps this would be better titled: What Not to Share. But if one cannot humiliate oneself and get a blog post out of it, then really, what’s the point of humiliation?

Let’s consider three different shoe combinations, shall we? These are perfectly acceptable. They may not be your taste but I have foot problems (why of course I do – is there anything on my body which functions normally? No Virginia, there is no Santa Clause-only Dr. Scholl’s), and so they have to have a little heel, but not too much. And they have to have great arch support. These qualify and are therefore a shoe of choice: (Pay no attention to the wrinkly ankles.)

And again, this next pair has suited me so well they are nearly worn to a frazzle, like their owner:

While each of these pairs of shoes are perfectly acceptable on their own, combining them seems to be a fashion error:

And I think we could all agree it would be decidedly silly to think you could go into public with this combo and so, of course, we wouldn’t. Unless you’re me and then, of course, you would. It would happen while once again dressing in the dark, which we know always gets me in trouble – (if you’ve forgotten the underwear incident or never read it you can horrify yourselves HERE).

This time, it was apparently too much trouble to turn on the light in the entry way and actually survey the shoe basket. I simply reached in with my toes and felt my way around. Now, due to neuropathy in my feet from an unknown cause (no, it’s not diabetes), I have little “sensing” abilities. I can’t always tell when my feet are even touching something, let alone the RIGHT something. I’ve been known to shove a turned over toe into a closed shoe and not even realize it immediately. Consequently, I’m supposed to be careful but careful and I don’t get along that well so we don’t hang out as often as we should.

And so confident was I that all was right, I merrily flitted out the door and drove myself to community choir. And really, all would have been well, indeed possibly even undetected, if our dear choir director – thank you, Licia – had not insisted we all gather together out of our graduated seating positions and join one another in a large and convivial circle on the floor, where we might blend our voices in harmonious rapture.

The only problem was that would mean we were all looking at each other – from the ground up – full view – no hidden feet behind the chair in front of you. But I gave it not a second thought. I did not presume for a moment to be concerned about anything other than the part I was supposed to sing – in tune and on time. However, when others – yes, Kaylee, I mean YOU – happen to consider your frame (knowing it is weak), and they casually observe your less-than-desirably-shod situation, they are inclined to become uncontrollably hysterical, and, in so doing, they will draw others into their frivolity, happily revealing the source by pointing and laughing to the point of tears.

You will woefully realize, upon closer examination of your feet, that your extremities are the source of this spontaneous merriment. What are you to do under such circumstances? Why nothing more than to take a spin around the circle of song birds, advertise your feet, and allow them to crow more loudly.

And then you simply resume singing when everyone is done wetting their pants and crying, because, after all, it IS me.

No one really expects anything different.

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?” Mr. Bennet, Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen.

©Copyright 2010