Time Savers: Bakin' yer Bacon

 

 

I can bring home the bacon...I can fry the bacon...I even know how to save my own bacon (usually), but baking bacon? That just sounds unnatural, so of course I had to give it a try. Here is what I learned, and a step by step tutorial on doing it yourself.

 

Step 1: Set oven to 350 degrees 

 

Step 2: Cut entire slab of bacon in half with kitchen shears. I use kitchen shears because I can cut through the whole slab much easier than with a knife.

 

Cutting your bacon in half is not strictly necessary, but I wanted sandwich-sized bacon.

 

Step 3: Lay a sheet of parchment paper (if available) on a cookie sheet with edges (you don't want hot grease rolling off the sides into your oven.) Now lay out your bacon in whatever arrangement works best for your pan and your purposes. You can see I reuse my paper until I have all my bacon baked.

Step 4: Put your bacon in the preheated oven for 20-30 minutes depending on how crisp you like it. (Ok, so this is a picture of me taking it out, but doesn't it look yummy?)

Step 5: Use a spatula to move the cooked bacon to a paper-towel covered plate to drain.

Step 6: Yum! Drool a little...and then sneak a piece when no one is looking. From this point, you can devour all the yummy goodness or save some for later.

Step 7: We made a couple of sandwiches and put the rest (I cooked 2 lbs) into a Ziploc bag with another paper towel to catch any extra grease. Store it in the fridge, so it's available for sandwiches, bacon bits, a quick breakfast, or just to sneak a piece now and then.

 

Warning: You may need to hide the bacon or put it in a tub marked {insert something your family hates to eat}--to keep it from disappearing too quickly.

Step 8: Don't throw out that bacon grease! Save it for the next time you make eggs, fried potatoes, cornbread, or whatever else you might want to flavor with bacon grease. My grease jar today used to be a baby food jar, and it just barely holds the grease. Learn more about grease jars here.

 

Step 9: Throw out your parchment paper and put your clean pan back in the cupboard. Or, if you didn't have parchment paper, buy some for next time and then take dish soap and squirt a good amount on your pan. Use your hand to make sure the entire pan is covered, including corners. Let the pan sit for an hour or two and then wash off with a sponge.

 

Step 10: Tell all yer friend's about my "Bakin' yer Bacon" post so they can try it too!

 

Now, wasn't that easy? No more bacon splatters from skillet frying either!

Taking Time Off Mid-Project can CAUSE Writer's Block



In his book, On Writing, Stephen King writes "I'll also suggest that you can take one day a week off, at least to begin with. No more; you'll lose the urgency and immediacy of your story if you do."

Dun Dun Duh... This is what I have allowed myself to do. I have taken too many days off and allowed my story and characters to stagnate. Now...how do I get them back?

Neil Gaiman suggests: "Put it aside for a few days. Then sit down and read it as if you've never seen it before. And often, when you get to the end you'll be both enthusiastic about it and know what the next few words are."

I have already put it aside for (more than) a few days, so this is definitely a good one to try.

Orson Scott Card says: “Writer’s block is my unconscious mind telling me that something I’ve just written is either unbelievable or unimportant to me, and I solve it by going back and reinventing some part of what I’ve already written so that when I write it again, it is believable and interesting to me."

Ok, I can see this point as well. While I think my block has to do with too much time away from the story, I should definitely reread and make sure my scenes are believable and important to the story.

Charlie Jane Anders writes about 10 Types of Writer's Block. "If you've been stuck in the middle for a while, though, then you probably need to do something to get the story moving again. Introduce a new complication, throw the dice, or twist the knife. Mark Twain spent months stuck in the middle of Huckleberry Finn before he came up with the notion of having Huck and Jim take the wrong turn on the river and get lost. If you're stuck for a while, it may be time to drop a safe on someone."

Well, I HAVE been stuck for awhile now...perhaps it is time to throw in a plot twist that even I didn't see coming.

MJ Bush at WritinGeekery says "What causes writer’s block? It can be any number of things, but the most common is reaching a plateau in your learning curve."  She goes on to define my particular problem as: "Burnout: You have no inspiration or motivation." Some of her suggestions for conquering writer's block include "Focus on getting better rather than doing good. Reflect on your progress. Track your improvement. Gauge your real skill level."

My favorite take-away from MJ is to focus on getting better. As long as I am improving my craft, whether by reading, studying the craft, or writing on another project, I will never be a victim of complete Writer's Block.

In her Top 10 Tips for Overcoming Writer's Block, Ginny Wiehardt writes: "Implement a Writing Schedule. Carve out a time to write and then ignore the writer's block. Show up to write, even if nothing comes right away. When your body shows up to the page at the same time and place every day, eventually your mind — and your muse — will do the same."

This advice is some I have seen several times in researching how to overcome the dreaded "block." It may well be the first idea I implement. I absolutely think this suggestion will help in my writing. (Now, how to schedule this time around working full time midnight shift, homeschooling and generally being available as wife and mother...but that is fodder for another post.)

I'm No "Niche" Writer

Recently, I have been on hiatus from blogging, and really, from writing of any kind. My muse seems to have gone on an extended vacation and the joy I normally feel when creating has been robbed.

I originally took a break from my blog, planning to do some soul searching. I needed to find my "niche market." I needed to determine who my target audience was, and write the things they need or want to read. It seemed every writing blog was telling me to stop writing about the things I care about and focus on one area.

Well, I have a problem with that...I am not a 2-dimensional being. I am multi-faceted and I cannot channel my writing energy into one subject area.

http://scrappybaglady.blogspot.com/search/label/Life%20Skills

Learning this about myself gave me some pause at first--I wondered if my readers would be put-off by the fact that I cannot stick to one subject. In the end, I decided to attempt to categorize my posts and if a reader isn't interested in a post about homeschool, she can skip through and read a sewing tutorial or a bit of flash fiction.

So far, the categories I have come up with are:

Homeschool

Tutorials

Flash Fiction

Life Skills (Home and Family planning, organization, budgeting, parenting, etc)

Writing Rubbish (Anything I wish to write about writing).


Almost everything I write can be categorized into one of these five areas. This will give me more leniency than trying to write about only one subject, and will serve as a bit of variety to (hopefully) increase my readership.

I understand that some people feel this decision may hurt my chances as a writer, but I have to do what I feel is right for me.

 

And that is what I want to leave you with...follow your own heart instead of trying to fit someone else's mold. Your own mold is waiting for you, and it fits you perfectly.

Flash Friday - Willow's Wrath

Picture Prompt for Flash Friday @ http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/ 

Click the link for rules and to enter your own flash, then read my response below.

 

Bell Tower of Guadalest, Costa Blanca, Spain. CC photo by Anguskirk.

 

 

 

Willow's Wrath

 



 

Willow sprinted through the old forest, flames licking her heels. This was her final race--the bell tower, her goal.

Tears streamed down her face--she cried for the trees, for the animals, and for the spirits.

She stumbled up the stone steps towards the tower. At their summit, she summoned the last of her strength to ring the bell. Its peals echoed through the hills--a warning of approaching danger.

Willow murmured a final prayer for her people and flung herself from the tower. Eyes closed, she welcomed death.

Her eyes opened in the spirit world--but nothing had changed. She rode the wind, untouched by the fire as it consumed the forest.

As her village came into view, she willed the wind to turn south--it hesitated, unaccustomed to following orders. She strengthened her resolve and commanded the wind to change direction.

Seeing her village was unharmed, she searched for the pale faces--they would not escape their carelessness, nor her wrath.

 

 

As a bonus, here are two more bits of flash I wrote recently which I didn't blog.

 

 

Earth goddess. Imaginary Worlds exhibit, Atlanta Botanical Garden. Photo by C. Joey Ivansco.

 

 

 



Fountain of Beauty

In a fit of jealous rage, she trapped me here--turned me into an earthen statue, living but dead. It was not my fault Zeus loved me, I did nothing to entice him--but Hera is a jealous woman.

I do not create the water, but it flows from my hand. I can influence it, poison it, imbue the drinker with special qualities. Now...what would infuriate Hera?

Each maiden who drinks from my pool will be given a double portion of my beauty. The nymphs who make their home in my waters will be second in beauty only to Aphrodite herself.

Zeus will be filled with all-consuming lust for these, my daughters. Hera will have no choice but to release me from my prison. But in case she gets any ideas to partake of my nectar herself, my spell will work in reverse on any immortal who drinks.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.



Chia Goddess

“Earth Goddess” my sign reads but the flowers here have given me another name.

“Ch-ch-ch-ch-chia!” they call.

“In a few days you will be nothing but a grass-covered hill,” laughs the Peony.

“You look like an overgrown Chia pet,” chortles the Dahlia.

As the seeds begin to grow, I fear they are right—their taunts weaken me, and even my Chia grass withers. I will be but a barren hilltop—not even fit to grow grass.

Deep inside, something stirs. Their barbed words no longer bind.

I set my mind to my task. I enrich my soil daily. I drink in the water, the sun, and the nutrients available. More plants inhabit my soil—only a little Chia grass remains.

When the botanical garden opens, people hurry past the Roses, Irises and Dahlias. The Lilies are admired but a moment.

At my exhibit, people linger; they gaze on me with wonderment. I am now worthy of the name Earth Goddess.

 

 

 

I welcome your comments. Which story is your favorite? Why?

Flash Friday 5-16-2014 -- Independence Day

Picture Prompt for Flash Friday @ http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/ 

Click the link for rules and to enter your own flash, then read my response below.

Emil Jannings in Berlin. Creative Commons photo Bundesarchiv, Bild 102-07770.

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Independence Day 

(140 Words)

 

Oh, the celebration!

America’s most recent purchase from France has arrived and all the world has turned out to see. Dignitaries from across the globe have front-row seats for this momentous occasion. The Queen of England with her entourage sits next to the Prime Minister of India with his.

 

The crowd cheers as the president is led to the platform. For all he has done for America, our esteemed president will be the first.

 

Everything is in place, the tracks are greased, blade sharpened, equipment tested, only the basket is missing.

The crowd grows silent in anticipation of the release.

 

Whoosh…Thud!

The president’s head rolls at my blood-spattered feet as the crowd thunders.

 

“Best seats in the house.” I wink at my husband as more politicians are brought to join the growing line.

America has declared her independence once again.

Your comments are welcome, but please be nice. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to be representative of any specific person. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

Flash Friday 5-9-14

Picture Prompt for Flash Friday @ http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/ 

Click the link for rules and to enter your own flash, then read my response below.

Past and Present No 2, by Augustust Leopold Egg, 1858. Public domain photo.

The Strong One

I heard Mama scream and ran into the bedroom. I watched her lift his lifeless body. She held him for several long minutes. I broke the silence. “Mama…” She looked toward me and then blankly past me. Absently, she passed baby Jonah to me and stumbled across the floor to her rocker.

Mama was still rocking when I saw Lizzy coming up the lane from school. I wanted to keep from upsetting Mama more, so I stepped out to meet Lizzy. I explained what had happened in the best way I knew how, but I mustn’t have done a very good job, because she ran inside and buried her face in Mama’s lap.

I re-entered the house to find Mama absently smoothing Lizzy’s blond curls and felt a pang of jealousy. I wished momentarily that I was small enough to crawl into Mama’s lap and let her take away my troubles.

Now it’s my turn to be the strong one...

(The above is a (condensed) excerpt from the historical fiction novel I am writing.) 

____________________________________________________

 Here is my second entry.

No More Secrets

Loraine’s sentient hair curled around her mother’s fingers, drawing her closer. Warmth spread through her body under Leda’s touch.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I’ve kept this secret for sixteen years. Your father doesn’t know we lived and I didn’t think you would understand.”

Loraine pulled back from the embrace. “Understand what? That my father tried to kill both of us—simply because I was going to be different than other kids?”

“He was trying to protect us both—or so I am told.”

“From what? And you don’t protect people by killing them!”

“Your father was confused and scared—he didn’t know any better way.”  

“Loraine, I want you to know; you saved both of our lives.”

“Me? How? I wasn’t even born yet.”

“I didn’t understand until later, but somehow a tendril of your hair coiled around my heart—and started it beating again. I thought I had dreamed it until you were born with these abilities.” 

____________________________________________________
 

Edited to add: I won honorable mention for this second piece at #FlashFridayFic. I am truly grateful.

I'd love to know what you think--leave me a comment!

You can also follow me on social media.

Twitter: @CharityPaschal2 https://twitter.com/CharityPaschal2 

Google+: https://plus.google.com/111131437103050318091/posts/p/pub 

The Morling Stronghold - Picture Prompt

500px originally shared:

"1000 Years" by Impossible: http://bit.ly/1lC5rjT

The Morling Stronghold

Loraine gazed over the city from her vantage point on the cliff. The fog hung low in the streets and cracked with electricity. Her hair twitched nervously. She knew this must be a Morling stronghold and that she had no choice but to enter. It was her duty as a Protector. If there was any chance her charge might be there, she must risk all to find him and return him to his parents.

Looking over her shoulder, she interrupted the whispered conversation of her companions--her parents. "You don't have to come with me," she said, half-hoping they would agree to stay behind--at least then they would be safe. "Balderdash," her father said, "This little boy may be your charge, but the fate of an entire race is at stake--you're not going in alone."

Thanks for reading. Constructive criticism or unfettered praise is welcome.