Corn Tortillas-Take One

This morning at 2:15am I was sitting at work waiting for someone to pee.  ('cause I didn't make an informed decision about my career choice when I was 17yo)  And I decided in the moment that I wanted to learn to make my own corn tortillas.  Fresh tortillas.  I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget it. And I came home from church this afternoon on a mission.  Oddly, I already had masa harina, a plastic shopping bag, and a tortilla press in my cupboard.  (Unlike last Sunday when I had to borrow 4 eggs at 10:30pm to make cherry bars) Because the STP had a desire for fresh corn tortillas a long time ago.  (That's what make this marriage work.  We think alike--just years apart.)  Here is what I learned:  I need a bigger cast iron skillet or griddle.  My tortilla press does not work as well as the press in the youtube video.  You should have a plan for what you plan to put in your tortillas before you start cooking them.  All said and done, with the STP's enthusiastic help, we had quesadillas for lunch today made with fresh homemade corn tortillas.  And I am determined to get good at this. Putting "Master Corn Tortillas" on my bucket list.
I'm not on call tonight. Plan to sleep straight thru the night.  Unless I have to get up at 2:15 to pee.

If I Took My Camera to the Camp Out

I would have snapped a picture of our tent in the woods.  I would have taken a picture of our queen sized air mattress before it deflated.  I would have taken a picture of the STP sleeping flat on the ground and me up in the air. A picture of my feet wearing my pink wool socks.   And one of my sleeping bag with a lump in the bottom where the SLD was snuggled.

I would have taken a picture of the campfire.  One with high dancing flames and another with red hot coals.  And the perfectly toasted marshmallow just before I put it inside a peanut butter oreo. S'moreos.  You would have taken a picture of me with my mouth open wide, stuffing a peanut butter s'moreo inside.  And one of everyone who ate a s'moreo.  

I would have taken a picture of the SLD in the kayak with the STP and myself.  It would have us all three perfectly framed.  Smiling. I would take it with a selfie stick (if I had one) so my face would not be disproportionately large and distorted.  And the SLD would be looking at the camera.  And the background would be lake and mountains with pine trees and blue skies with white clouds.

I would have taken a picture of the cow and calf moose along the shore of Sibley Lake.  You would be able to see what large majestic animals they are.  I would have taken a picture of the beaver dam and the pine tree the beavers were cutting down. Cut deep in on opposite sides of the tree.  I would have taken a close up of the wood chips on the ground around the tree so you could imagine how big and strong beaver teeth must be.  I would have taken a picture of the seaweed in the lake shimmering as its flat surface reflected the sun.  And a picture of the kayaks on top or the car.  

I would have taken a picture of the glassy lake surface when we went back for an evening kayak ride. And a million of the sunset.  From the lake.  From the car.  Glory rays shooting up from the horizon. You know I would.

I would have taken a picture of the STP preaching at the worship service outside.  And I would have snapped one of my friend Lisa standing behind her tripod on top of an ATV taking the group picture. And a picture of all the church campers lined up waiting for fellowship dinner.  

At least one of the rocks we went to see on the ATV.  The ones we climbed over and on.  I would have posed by the hoodoo so it looked like I was holding it up and I would have asked the STP to take my picture.  And I would have taken a picture of the deep pool in the stream so I could remember how clear the water was and how I could see the fish swimming.  

I would have taken a picture of the food I cooked and the food I ate.  Pizza Nachos.  Salmon/green bean foil packets.  Taco salad.  

I would have taken a picture of our tent coming down.  The empty campsite.  Of two little ones stomping their feet and refusing to leave when their parents insisted it was time to go home.   Because I felt the same way.  

And then I would leave the pictures on my camera.  Or delete them by accident.