The Wackadoodle goes Granola

I want to go to a place and take a cooking class.

I want to go to a place and take a cooking class out in nature.

Correction.

I want to go to a place and take a cooking class out in the vineyards.

Because I bet that class would have wine -I really, really like wine.

I want this place to teach me to make artisan breads.

I want this place to teach me how to whip up an herb-y dressing and create a gor-met meal with 5 items, half of which are picked from the nearby garden.

I want to BBQ a critter that was raised right there on the grounds, who maybe only moments ago was romping all joyful-like ('cause a happy critter is a tasty critter, I'm guessing). It was happy because it was free ranging and was fed organic grain and trimmings from the veggies that grow in the nearby garden.

But, I don't want to 'see' it romping and joyful, because then I'll be sad and feel guilty for eating it. I want the deed done in the back, behind the barn, out of my sight, 'cause I ain't going THAT granola. I don't want to perform an autopsy or fulfill some CSI type fantasy. No. And, thank you.

While I'm kneading that rosemary dough, that will soon be popped into the outdoor brick oven nestled among the copious lavender plants to become a delectable loaf of crispy deliciousness, I will be wearing a white flowing sun-dressy thing and floppy hat.

I might even be barefoot. (depending on the bee situation and if the animals are allowed to roam around all willy-nilly, pooping everywhere)

Oh, and we'll whip up some ice cream or scented sugar (that we'll sprinkle on our scones) from those Lavender plants...when we are done with the meal...and the bees go away. They sting you know AND they tend to float UP long flowy white dresses...let's NOT go there.

In case you are wondering, the answer is "Yes!"

Yes, I do sit and think up this stuff.

All.

The.

Time.

And...Yes, I DO develop these elaborate scenes in my head...complete with slow motion shaking of the hair when I take off my hat.

Do you KNOW how hard that is to do in real life? The movies make it look SO easy.

Yes, it probably would be a good idea if I had a chat with your psychiatrist, but no I don't want her number.

I'm full throttle into my wackadoodleness and I like it here.

In reality I do occasionally search for bread making classes in Napa, Sonoma or some other earthy local (within driving distance) - Alas, I've yet to find exactly what I'm looking for, which translates to: something that doesn't cost as much as my monthly mortgage.

I've considered selling organs...but my husband would probably get all pissy and start whining that he needs them or some such crap.

What? You didn't think I'd sell my own, did you?

I guess for now I'll just continue trolling the food blogs and picking up tips here and there- a little trial and error (with hopefully a bunch of yummy successes thrown in).

At least I don't get stung this way.