Project 333: 10 days in and two items down

I did not expect to post another Project 333 update so soon after beginning my spring extravaganza. And yet, here we are.

I've found that, the longer I participate in Project 333, the less patience I have for ill-fitting or shoddy clothing. When you're down to the bare bones (I guess 33 is bare bones, it still seems like a lot, really), every single thing needs to work. And when things don't work, I get cranky.

Skilly wanted to be in the photo, too.

On Tuesday, I wore an outfit that SHOULD have made me feel like a rock star. Instead, I kind of felt like a bag lady. (Is that PC*?) First problem: My sandals. They're cute and not even a year old yet, but they're too loose for my narrow feet, and the stitching is already coming undone in places. They are also not particularly comfortable. I actually had them in the donation pile for a while, and then took them back when the weather suddenly turned awesome.

My bad.

The second problem was my pretty mint sweater. It's a little over a year old, well made, and Abby claims it's a great color on me. And in theory, I love it. But I bought it a size too big (I wasn't as conscious of size pre-333) and, even though I have washed it on hot and dried it on hotter, it didn't shrink at all. Not very flattering. I guess there's a reason this was one of my "on notice" items.

At the end of the work day, I came home, kicked off my sandals, took off my sweater, and added both to the ever-growing rummage sale piles. Instead of sadness, I feel relief. Being able to just accept when something isn't working for you and moving on? That's kind of an amazing gift. Too bad I can't always embrace it on the first try...

Anyway, that brought me down to 32 items--I counted all my shoes as a single unit, that's why the total isn't 31--and while my first instinct is always to immediately Shop and Replace!, I decided to just bring another sweater out of retirement (grey cardi) and see how that goes. It might turn out I really do want another pretty bright sweater. It might turn out that my retired grey sweater goes back into retirement for good this time. It might turn out that what I really want is a t-shirt. Life is mysterious that way.

This is too much to say about a pair of shoes and a sweater, but I am endlessly fascinated by the lessons I learn from my minimal closet every day. Ah, well. You gotta do something to pass the time.

* For my international friends, PC means "politically correct." We're kind of uptight about that sort of thing here in 'Merica for some reason.

What's the most rebellious thing you can do at 41? Look 41, that's what

See anything alarming yet?

I've mentioned many times on the blog that I color my hair. When I was younger (which is the best time to make bold declarations, just FYI) I swore I would NEVER dye my hair. I heard stories of Great Grandma Maud (I think it was Maud) who was completely gray by age 40 and knew that was going to be my fate, too... and thought that was okay.

Fast forward twenty years or so, when, Christmas 2009, Mom snaps a picture of my 37-year-old self and, while my hair isn't actually completely grey yet in real life, it TOTALLY looks like it is when the film is developed.

And you guys, I got vain. I had my 20-year high school reunion coming up the next summer, and I was like, Homey don't play that.

So began a period of "dye auditions," and by the time that reunion came around, not a grey hair could be seen on my lovely brown head. (I noticed, by the way, that while all the guys were balding and/or in various states of grey, the girls--all except one brave soul--were completely grey-free. Go figure.)

Anyway, I guess the moral of this whole sad tale is that vanity is a powerful instigator, and that I'm not so immune advertising. Damn you, The Man!

But recently I've started to wonder why the hell I'm doing this to myself. My hair grows pretty quickly, so every six weeks or so (sometimes sooner), I'm back in the chair doing it all over again. I'm lucky because my husband is awesome and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty, i.e., he's the one who dyes it for me, but it's so super boring. For both of us. And the dye makes my scalp itch. And I can hardly breathe when it's going on my head because of the smell.

And honestly, who am I fooling anyway? I'm clearly a woman in my early 40s, everybody knows this, and if I happen to have more grey hair on my head than brown, who cares?

I guess that's the main question: Who cares? When I started announcing (because I thought that would help me NOT go back on this... I'm still very vain, you see*), the first thing people generally would ask was, "What does Eric think of that?" Um, Eric gives zero craps. He wants me to be happy and healthy. My hair color isn't really a deal breaker as far as our relationship goes.

Ahem. Feeling a rant coming on. Reeling it in. Drinking more coffee. That's better.

I've decided that the most rebellious thing I can do as a 41-year-old is to just look 41. My roots are definitely huge at this point, and I can see a lot of silver in my bangs especially. We're WAY past when I would normally grab the box of color. I was tempted at first to get some more stuff poured on my head that would strip the dye all at once so I didn't have to mess with growing it out, but my hairdresser says it's really toxic and doesn't recommend it, so I'm on the "just get my hair cut a lot and hope for the best" mode of coping.

I'm finding the roots don't bother me as much as I thought they would. I'm not really into hats or ponytails, but who knows, maybe when it gets really bad I'll suddenly decide I look darling in both? :)

And I guess the moral of all THAT is this: I'm embracing my age, people. Wish me luck.

* Pregnancy taught me that I'm vain, motherhood taught me that I'm selfish. Fun lessons, I tell you what.

Pointless recipe: Naan

This is so not a recipe blog (you couldn't pay me enough to go there), but after writing about giving up processed foods for Lent, I wanted to give an example of something I could buy--if I didn't care about 50 ingredients and preservatives--that is super easy to make at home. Naan fits that bill.

Oh, right, and maybe cranking out a post a day has something to do with this, too.

I stole this image from Wikipedia. I have no idea
where they stole it from. 

Naan is flatbread, and it is delicious. And multi-purpose, of which I am a big fan. I like to make a quadruple batch of this stuff--I think it's like five batches to a quart of buttermilk--and freeze balls of dough for later. I make a double batch at a time in my KitchenAide mixer (I love you, KitchenAide mixer!) and once it's done, I divide it in two and into containers it goes. I don't bother with rising time because I figure when it's sitting out on my counter all day thawing, it has plenty of time to rise all it wants. Also: I'm super lazy, people.

I use this as pita (my kids are big fans of Naan and hummus), as pizza / stromboli crust (another kid hit), as tortillas (seriously good tacos that way) and as sandwich wraps. Having a ball in my freezer means I can crank out awesomeness any ol' time I want to. So like a couple times a month--that's about how often Abby requests stromboli. This is a Serious Walker Family Staple.

Anyway, if you have a mixer, this is going to be super easy, but even if you don't, it's going to be super easy. If you've got the mess going anyway, why not use the entire quart of buttermilk and give yourself a leg up on future dinners? That's my theory.

My notes in parenthesis. Because I can.

Naan
Joy of Cooking, 1999 edition

Makes 4 large

Combine in a mixing bowl:
2 cups all purpose flour (or whatevs)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 teaspoon yeast

Add:
2 tablespoons melted butter
3/4 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon to 1 tablespoon of water as needed (I generally do not)

Mix by hand (um, no, that's what the KitchenAide is for) until a soft ball is formed, then knead 10 minutes with mixer (now you're talking) with dough hook attachment on low speed until dough is smooth and elastic (and a general thing of beauty). Transfer to an oiled bowl (oops, I generally forget that part) and turn over once to coat. Cover with plastic wrap (boo! Use a kitchen towel!) and let rise 1 1/2 hours at room temperature.

Punch down dough and divide into four pieces. Roll into balls, cover, and let rest 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, place baking stone in oven and preheat to 475º. Roll out each ball into an oval 8- to 10-inches long and 1/4 inch thick (also what you would do if you were making stromboli, just FYI). Brush tops with:

1-2 tablespoons melted butter (nope, never bother)

Place dough, butter side up (duh), directly on stone--as many as will fit without touching--and bake until each oval gets puffy and just begins to turn golden, 6 to 7 minutes (more like 20 to 25 minutes for pizza and stromboli). Remove from oven (because at this point you're kind of committed) and bake remaining ovals.

Fold Naan in half and place in cloth-lined basket. Keep covered and serve warm.

You're welcome.