Here is a great news story - a true miracle!

Holiday miracle: lost and found 

By DIANNE RUSSELL

For newlyweds Will and Amanda Mech – who got married in September – it was heartbreaking when Will lost his wedding ring surfing a few months later. However, this wasn’t just any ring. It was irreplaceable.

Will says, “For our wedding, I was lucky enough to be able to use my Grandpa’s ring as my wedding ring. It has an incredible sentimental value since he is no longer with us. On the weekend of November 9, about two months after the wedding, I went down to Woods Cove beach for a quick swim. I was body surfing like I always do down there and then after I dove through a wave, it slipped off my finger. 

“I spent a solid hour looking and even enlisted the help from a couple guys with a mask and snorkel. No luck, so I eventually called it off. I was incredibly bummed that it was gone.” 

Click on photo for a larger image

Submitted photo

Will and Amanda

Fortunately, a knight in shining armor or rather a knight with a shiny metal detector was going to save the day.

“My mom, Lianne, who lives just up the street, goes to Woods Cove just about every day to swim. One day, about five weeks after I lost the ring, she ran into a guy who had a metal detector. She explained to him that I lost the ring and asked if he would be willing to search for it. She described the ring in depth and exchanged contact information.” 

This savior came to be known as “Tracker Joe” to their family. 

Click on photo for a larger image

Submitted photo

Will’s mother Lianne (holding the ring) and “Tracker Joe” 

Will says, “Soon after that, he texted me asking about all of the details of where I lost it, when, and what time of day so he could track the tides. He went out just a few days ago and searched the spot where I told him I lost it. He told me he was under the weather that day and had a bad headache but he thought he would give it a try.”

Thank heavens for Will and Amanda, he did. 

“He went into the water, where the waves were breaking and got a hit from his metal detector. He was about to call it quits after his fourth scoop with no luck since he wasn’t feeling well,” says Will. “Something inspired him to try one more time and on the fifth scoop he found my ring. I’m so incredibly thankful that he took the time and put in so much effort to find my ring.” 

This was indeed a holiday miracle. It’s impossible to explain events in life that can’t be anticipated and run counter to the logical flow of the universe. The chances of finding a small piece of jewelry in the ocean must be one in billions or even more. Yet it happened. If this story doesn’t make you believe in miracles, nothing will.

So, if anyone needs help finding items in the future, please email “Tracker Joe” at trackerjoe2019@gmail.com.

Sourdough Bread

Using a mature sourdough starter that has been to Washington DC, back to California, up to the mountains and back to the Pacific, create a sponge using 4 oz starter, 4 oz water, and 5 oz flour. I use King Arthur flour but a good quality flour with higher protein will do. Mix the sponge with a wooden spoon until no flour remains. Cover with plastic wrap.

Allow the sponge to sit in a draft-free spot for 8 to 12 hours. If you need more time, you can put the sponge in the fridge. I’ve left it as long as 12 hours and the bread came out just fine.

Using a wooden spoon, combine the sponge with 10 oz of bottled, room temperature water, 15 oz of flour, and 1 3/4 tsp of salt until it forms a shaggy ball. Then, in the bowl, knead about 4 times. I like to use a folding action - fold the dough in half, turn 1/4, and fold again, and so on. The dough will not be smooth. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and place in the warm draft-free place for 8 to 12 hours. Again, if you need more time, or the timing is off, you can put the bowl in the fridge for up to 12 more hours.

Once the dough has risen, turn it out on a well-floured counter top and with floured hands (the dough will be sticky) knead 15 times. Again, I like to use the folding action. The dough should form a tight ball. Place the ball, smooth side down, in a floured banetton. Brown rice flour works nicely. Loosely but completely wrap the banetton with plastic wrap and put in the fridge for 8 to 12 hours.

Setting your oven on the proof setting, place the wrapped banetton with dough in the oven and allow to rise for 2 to 3 hours. If you don’t have a proof setting, put a bread pan with 3 cups of boiling water in the oven on the rack below the dough.

Remove the dough from the oven and unwrap the banetton. Spray a piece of parchment paper with olive oil (Mediterranean diets are very healthy) and place, oil side down, on top of the banetton. Using the big spatula you use to take pizza out of the oven - a baking peel - turn the banetton over so the dough is sitting all lovely on parchment paper on the peel. Carefully lift the dough using the edges of the parchment paper and place in a Dutch oven. I use a beautiful orange Le Creuset Dutch oven. Score the top of the bread - you can get creative here. Be sure to make the score deep enough or your bread can explode out the bottom. It still tastes great but is not as pretty.

Cover the Dutch oven with the lid and place in a cool oven. I have put it in the oven that was proofing the bread and it worked just fine. Turn the temperature to 425 degrees F and bake for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, remove the lid and bake another 30 minutes until the bread is 210 degrees F according to Thermopen.

When the bread is finished - the crust should be a deep brown - take it out of the Dutch oven, carefully using the parchment paper. Allow to cool for at least 2 hours before slicing. Enjoy!

Archie

Time for a good dog story. Archie had a fan club. What more do I need to say. To look at him was to love him, with his fetching smile and tiny swagger. He knew he was the center of attention - when you went to pick him up, he leaped into your arms with the confidence that came of the sureness that he was the most important person in the room (or the universe depending on who you ask). Of course, he had his limits. Hiking was not one of his favorite pastimes especially if it was hot (we lived in Phoenix; Keri lived in LA). Well he did like short hikes - under a mile no more. Once you crossed the mile line, Archie sat down and if you wished to progress, you picked him up (i.e., he leaped into your arms). Hiking was also difficult in crowded places because absolutely everybody had to stop and admire how cute he was. And he was very very cute. His arch nemesis, Boo, was not half as cute (see photo). Archie is an epoch dog, right up there with Spike. He saw Keri through the times of her life - graduating from college, numerous jobs, meeting the right man, and being the best man (okay, so Nick's brother was really the best man but really it was Archie) at Keri and Nick's wedding. Our hearts are breaking that he won't get to see more of her life but we understand. Archie was there at the most important times. We love him and we miss him.

The Wine Solution

Why the wine solution doesn’t work. i.e., a negative treatment effect in a highly flawed experiment.

After a great game of volleyball (won one; lost one – but it was close) it was time to get back to writing. It was suggested (by Anna*, noted doc student) that wine helps with writing first drafts – and Andrew*, noted associate professor of sociology) noted that since nobody was going to read the draft, all would be well.

Here are the problems with that solution and why I have to report a negative treatment finding (although I do not mean to imply that we shouldn’t play volleyball):

1. My fingers got jammed somewhere during the game so when I went to type, I couldn’t type any words that included letters that required any reach. That includes important letters like t and w; critical in professional writing. W was particularly painful.

 2. Apple wanted to install a new update. Without wine, I would have carefully selected “later”. However, I did not and went outside to enjoy a beautiful sunset while my computer took 20 minutes to install updates (I noticed no statistical difference).

 3. Because my mind was really not interested in running descriptive statistics, I then decided to look for recipes for chicken pot pie. I know. Sounds yummy and that is what Jay is having for dinner tonight – as soon as I quit writing why the wine experiment produced a negative treatment effect.

 4. So I am now writing an entry for my “Cabin Tails” blog (yes really – I have one follower – my son. Not even my husband and daughters follow me). Actually, my husband does follow me (good thing).

 5. I shall share my findings with the key volleyball participants because it would be nice to see whether the null findings (well negative findings when it comes to productivity – depending on how you define productivity) of the wine experiment can be replicated.

*Pseudonyms to protect confidentiality.

Aerial Sphinx

"So... do you want a naughty dog story or a good dog story?" I asked. Josie and Lilly shouted, "A Sphinx story!" So this is a Sphinx story. ...a naughty cat story.

Finally, our cabin was being painted (long overdue). Sphinx (Florida orange tabby), typically used the dutch door to enter and exit the cabin. Alas, the dutch door was covered with plastic in preparation for paint spraying and so he was trapped in the cabin. He growled and complained to get out. Then growled and complained to come back in. Finally, in frustration, he positioned himself on the back porch, which is at least 20 feet off the ground, and in front of the giant redwood (Fragrant Sequoia) eight feet away, hesitated and then leapt. The rest you can see for yourself!

How is it that a family with three dogs came to have a cat?  Sphinx adopted us when we were living in Tallahassee back in about 2006. I was arriving home from work and pulling into the driveway when I noticed a charming orange tabby sitting by the garage door. I thought to myself, what a handsome cat. He had a lean Siamese cat build, was bright orange with spots (evidently these are  interrupted stripes). I opened the garage door and the cat rushed into the garage and started eating the dog food. This is when Sunny, Sky, and Keegan were all living with us. "Hungry kitty!" I thought to myself and retrieved a can of tuna from the pantry. I opened the tuna and placed it before him. He ravenously ate the food and looked at me. I rubbed his ears and went inside. Of course, this shows how little I know of cats. He never left and nobody ever claimed him. "What are you going to call him?" Jay asked. "I think we should call him Sphinx because he is mysterious." I replied. And that is how Sphinx adopted us.

Mutti's Ghost Story Continued

So Tilly went to live with the very rich woman and her daughter.

 The woman's house was opulent with a large parlor full of red velvet furniture and tables filled with photos in silver frames and delicate ceramics. The little girl who had been so ill was recovering and kept Tilly busy all day. Tilly told her funny stories about her sisters at home, how they worked in the notions store, and shared a bedroom and a bed. The two played splendid imaginary games where they pretended they were princesses and sorceresses who saved beautiful unicorns and handsome princes. They read books to each other aloud (remember, this was before electricity) and watched the busy traffic with horses and carriages traveling back and forth.

But Tilly soon missed her sisters and her mother. Moreover, the rich woman had an owl that perched on a large tree trunk in the parlor. Every time Tilly walked past the owl it would follow her with its luminous round eyes. Tilly did not like the owl. One day, Tilly informed the rich woman that she wanted to go home. The rich woman was furious and told Tilly that she was the only companion her daughter loved. "You may not go home!" Tilly grew more and more unhappy. Another month passed and Tilly was still despondent. She asked to go home again, and again, the rich woman would not take her home.

 Finally, Tilly was so desperate, she ran away from the dark opulent mansion all the way home. Her mother and sisters were so happy to see her.

 The next day, the rich woman came to the notions store and demanded that Tilly return to her home with her. Tilly's mother said, "No. She does not want to live with you any more and I will not make her return." The woman turned and said angrily, "You will pay for this!" And stalked out of the store. 

Now one of Tilly's sisters was delicate. It seems there was always a frail child in every family back then. And shortly after Tilly returned home, her beloved sister began to fail. Because the sisters shared a bedroom and a bed, they would have pillow fights and generally horse around before falling asleep. However, the delicate sister would cry out in pain every time somebody touched her pillow.

Tilly's mother was concerned and ripped open the down pillow to discover a rope wreath. Feathers had woven themselves into the rope creating an almost perfect wreath of owl feathers. Only one feather was missing!

Tilly's mother called the priest who quickly came to their home. When the priest arrived, he took the wreath and quickly went into a trance. "This rope is cursed. When the feather wreath is complete, your child will die." When he awakened from the trance, Tilly's mother was in tears and asked him what to do. He said, "close and lock every window in your house. Draw the curtains and the shades. Close and bolt the door. Then, sit in a circle with all of your children and throw the wreath into the fire. Do not open the door for anybody!"

 Tilly's mother called to her children and told them what the priest had said. They quickly went to work closing and locking all the windows and drawing all the shades and drapes. Tilly's mother carried her precious daughter down from the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the big kitchen where a fire was roaring. They bolted the door and sat in a circle holding hands. "Now pray" said Tilly's mother. And as they all prayed, she threw the wreath on the fire. As they watch it burn, they heard a frantic pounding at the door. Tilly slowly started to stand up. "Stop," said her mother, "Do not break the circle." Tilly turned slowly and, taking her sisters' hands once more, she finished the circle. They continued to pray as the wreath was consumed. Finally, the frantic knocking on the door stopped and the fire died down. The beloved delicate sister looked around her and smiled. "I feel much better!" Tilly's mother smiled too, exhausted and very relieved.

Several days passed and Tilly was once again working in the notions store. One morning the rich woman, heavily veiled, walked into the store. Tilly started to greet her when the woman stopped her with a quick wave of her hand. Slowly she lifted her veil and revealed her horribly burned face. She pointed at Tilly and said, "You did this to me!"

Mutti's Ghost Story

August 1968, Maine, Ellsworth on the coast

I remember the night clearly, we were visiting my grandparents at their cabin in Maine, which was actually called a cottage: mountains = cabin; ocean = cottage. Our summer friends and family were finishing the nightly baseball game and we kids (I should say children here, in deference to Mutti; baby goats are kids) decided to visit the graveyard and tell ghost stories. My summer friends had been coming to this part of Maine’s coast for over 5 generations. They claim to be among the first settlers of Massachusetts and I believe them. Maine was their summer camp with cabins that had no running water but did have electricity. Funny the priorities. The graveyard was old and unkempt but their ancestors were evident – Martha Hayes 1644-1679 – such short lives. Imagine childbirth in a day without our medical advances and only midwives and prayer. When my turn came, I said, “My grandmother has the best ghost story because it is true. Its about her mother.” Of course we decided to go ask her to tell it right then and there.
All of us gathered in my grandparents’ small cottage (which did have running water and looked over the bay) filling the parlor. “Mutti,” I asked, “Please tell us the ghost story about your mother.” With a sharp look, she imperiously replied, “That is a story only for the family.” My mother, watching and amused, was silent. “Please” begged John Madore (very cute – I had a crush on him every summer). And so she told the story. This is in her words and as I have told it to my children in the boat, on the lake at our cabin under the stars.

Cincinnati 1842.

“My mother was Otilli, called Tilly, by her family.” Mutti began (Me: Tilly was my great grandmother and so your great great grandmother. Mutti was Jesse Mueller Toboldt, formally baptized Josephine Ellen). “My mother’s mother was a widow and owed a notions store, which fed her family and provided a home. The notions store was cluttered with large spools of thread, cards of buttons, hooks and needles. Otilli worked there everyday helping customers and working the old cash register with her mother. She was one of 6 children, who all helped in the store as soon as they were old enough. School was optional. Indeed I,” Mutti explained, “dropped out of school in 7th grade to join the theatre.

“On this particular day, a very rich woman entered the store. Tilly was waiting on her and the woman was so taken with her that she offered Tilly a position as a friend to her daughter, who was recovering from a serious illness. ‘Would you care to come live with us?’ she asked. Tilly's mother started to say no but Tilly, irrepressible as always interrupted saying, ‘Yes!’ Her mother, however, was not so sure and was, indeed, a bit miffed that Tilly had said yes so quickly.

To be continued...