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That husband of mine, he knows me well...

Thank you, Oven Monkey Bakery

Good For Your Heart Lemon Tart

Don't let the looks of this thing fool you, it's really incredibly easy. And if you're feeling like I am - kinda run down, kinda tired, kinda uninspired and in need of a long winter's nap when it isn't even winter yet*- well, this may be the tart for you!

I'm not kidding.

It will make you feel like summer.

Next thing you know you'll be running around in your tankini with your sunglasses on and a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic in your hand (and your neighbors will all think you've lost your mind).

Well, maybe.

Good for your Heart Lemon Tart

3 large eggs
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice (2-3 lemons)
3/4 cup sugar
4 TBsp unsalted butter, room temp, cut in small pieces
1 TBsp lemon zest

for pastry crust:

1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/8 tsp salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 large egg


Lemon curd: In a stainless steel bowl placed over a saucepan of simmering water, whisk together the eggs, sugar, and lemon juice until blended. Cook, whisking or stirring constantly (to prevent it from curdling), until the mixture becomes pale in color and quite thick (like a hollandaise sauce or sour cream). This will take about 10 minutes. Remove from heat and immediately pour through a fine strainer to remove any lumps. Cut the butter into small pieces and whisk into the mixture until the butter has melted. Add the lemon zest, cover, and let cool to room temperature before filling the pastry crust. Put in the refrigerator, covered with plastic wrap to avoid getting a film on top of the gorgeous curd you just slaved over.

Try with all of your might not to dip your finger in there and sample. I won't tell if you do.

Now, it's time to make the pastry crust.

Mix the dry ingredients together in a separate bowl. In a mixer, beat the butter until smooth. Add the sugar and egg until well blended, then slowly add the dry ingredients. Form the dough into a ball and cover in plastic wrap, flattening slightly until it resembles a disc. Or a spaceship. Whichever you prefer. Chill for about 30 minutes.

Take dough out of refrigerator and turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Roll it out to about a 12 inch circle. Don't worry if it doesn't look perfect - pastry dough never looks perfect but believe me, nobody will notice when they're devouring the finished product!

Place the pastry into a tart pan and press the dough up the sides so that a nice "lip" is formed on the outer edge. Prick the bottom of the pastry with a fork several times and bake in a 400 degree oven until just slightly golden brown. You do not want to overbake this bad boy because you want it to be delicate and flaky.

After the pastry has cooled, spread it with that tantalizing lemon curd you made earlier (if there's any left). You can get super fancy and make designs with it or even pipe sweetened whipped cream around the edges. I like to keep mine simple and just spread it in there and then top with fresh raspberries. Oh yes. Yum.

And if that doesn't cheer you up, I don't know what will!

*Originally posted in October, 2010

Just. Because.

They kinda make me smile.

Not My Turn

Written on January 6, 2011 - it has a happy ending...

I'm writing because I have to. In one hour I will be in the car, on my way yet again to the Comprehensive Breast Center and I won't be able to write. I won't be able to think. I'll function on auto pilot, letting the valet park our car, checking in like everybody else does and sitting in the crowded waiting room trying to keep my husband calm as we both wait for them to call my name.

Then I'll go back into the little room resembling a locker room, except with really ugly "shirts" that all patients wear. They look like the material on the couch of a really old RV, with teal ties to secure them shut. I'd like to have a few words with whoever chose this pattern and thought, "Hey, what a wonderful thing for a woman to sit around in while waiting for her mammogram."

I'd rather be naked.

Ok, maybe not.

Last time I was there 2 weeks ago, a woman paced like an angry cat waiting to be called back for her ultrasound after they "found something" on her mammogram. I sat there, with my locker key springing up and down from my wrist, pretending to read Coastal Living as I tried with all my might to will good thoughts in her direction as she walked back and forth, back and forth. They finally called her name and I forced a smile in her direction, although I know she never saw it, as she exited the room.

I so don't want to be that woman today.

Obviously, I have to go back. Obviously, I'm petrified. I've been fighting with myself all week since getting the call that there had "been changes" in my left breast and I needed to come back in for "further testing."

I resisted the urge to google, for about a day. Dense breast tissue. Abnormal mammogram following a hysterectomy. What causes dense breast tissue? Mom had breast cancer, should I be worried? Abnormal mammogram at age 38.

I highly recommend not googling anything more intense than how to bake a mayonnaise chocolate cake or how to remove grass stains from baseball pants.

I go back and forth in my mind between telling myself that everything is fine, only a few abnormal mammograms actually end up being cancer and I have no reason to worry. I figure that positive thoughts are they only way to occupy the days between getting the call and getting more information. I mean, why waste all of my time worrying and stressing out, right? But then I start worrying even more because if I don't worry, I'll surely have cancer and then what will I do?

Does it have to be like this everytime I get an abnormal mammogram? Is it going to be like this for the rest of my life?

I had a few minor breast issues before, but they never ever have called me back for MORE TESTING.

And that is exactly what I'm so freaked out about. The more. The call. The lack of an envelope in my mailbox telling me "all tests were normal, please come back and see us in a year." That is what is making this week of waiting hard. That is what is causing the fear and the crushing feeling that my time could and may very well be limited. I can't help myself. What else am I supposed to do?

In the past year and a half, my mother and THREE friends have all been diagnosed with breast cancer. My mom finished radiation and has been doing great following her lumpectomy in July 2010. My friends have all had double mastectomies. They are all under 45.

Will I be as strong as they have been? Will I need to be? Am I making no sense at all and worrying over absolutely nothing?

I have no idea.

But I'd like to be surprised with the news that my worrying was for nothing.

Because I'm not sure I could fight like they did. I'm not sure I could do what they're doing. Every month I stand up in front of the Relay For Life crowd here in my hometown and encourage our teams to fundraise and educate themselves about cancer prevention. How am I going to do that if I have cancer too? And if I don't have cancer, how come I got off this time while so many others don't?

It could drive a person crazy, this type of thinking.

I just want to be wrong.

I want to have warded off cancer. I don't want it to be my turn. I don't want to be 1 in 8. I want to be brave enough to face each future mammogram thinking only about the fact that Aflac will give me a check for getting this necessary test done and not one little bit about the fact that it could be me. I could have cancer. And then I hate myself because I feel like I'm asking too much, I'm being selfish.

So for today, for right now, since I have to leave here in 20 minutes (yes, it took me a long time to get this out via my keyboard), I'd like to have worried for nothing, selfish as that may be.

And some crazy part of me thinks that by writing this, I will have accomplished that.

*Turns out, hysterectomies (even if they DO leave your ovaries) can cause some pretty major hormone fluctuations (which I kind of assumed, given oh, the HOT FLASHES, MOODINESS, IRRITABILITY, INSOMNIA and WEIGHT GAIN) that can also cause breast changes as well, which is exactly what landed me back at the Comprehensive Breast Center.

While I now understand why they needed to take a closer look at my breast, I also received a very stark reminder of why it is so, so, so important to have these tests done regularly and early, especially if you have a family history.

And I also know that next year, when they keep me longer to take a closer look, I won't be so scared because this is me. This is my normal, and that's nothing to be afraid of.

It's Only Monday

I smoothed her creased forehead, her arms practically strangling my neck during the nightly ritual of putting her to bed. I don't mind the not being able to breathe momentarily while she clings to me, just one more hug mama. But it's the breaking away that becomes so difficult, especially during this time of year when all I can think about is getting them all to bed so I can bake and wrap and do all the things that busy people everywhere are doing to get ready for the holidays, which seems like an endless (but fulfilling when you collapse to bed after midnight 10 days in a row) chore.

I love Christmas.

I love the closeness we all feel, even if sometimes I get a tad bit claustrophobic from the togetherness. I love the tree, lit up, glowing in the window while the outside blankets itself in frost for the night. I love the stockings hanging over the fire, the candles lit and a few kiddos playing a board game on the floor. I love the cookies and the treats and the libations. I love it all.

But I'd be lying if I said it was easy.

No matter how much I plan ahead, how prepared I think I am or how ready the house looks, I am a complete mess during this time of year. How do I get it all done? How do I keep my kids from fighting everyday? How do I make sure I didn't forget anyone on my list? How do I keep my sanity?

Nighttime has and always will be my soft place to land. I pry her fingers from my neck one by one, reminding her that yes she does really have almost 2 whole weeks of Christmas vacation left and yes it's only Monday, I promise. I sprinkle her forehead with no less than 10 sprinkles for sweet dreams, refresh her ice water and tuck her and her monkey in under the soft comforter. Then and only then is it time to get to work on the things that seem impossible to do during the day.

And it's like this every day until Christmas. The constant busy.

While I feel incredibly blessed to have wonderful family and friends to share holiday memories with, I wish there was a way I could not make it all feel so...so...much. I wish I knew how to give myself peace, everyday, so I could pass that along to my kids, instead of the frenzied mess of a mom I feel like. And it's only Monday...