In No Time

The dog books that I have been reading say that your puppy will be house-trained "in no time" if you are attentive and don't let them have any accidents in the house.  I am not sure what they mean by 'in no time", but it is not what I mean by the phrase.

We have spent the first week of our holiday diligently running outside to pee (her, not us) twelve or more times a day.  We sleep with one ear tuned to puppy whines to make sure to take her out when she wakes up in the night.  It is an awful lot like having your ear tuned to baby cries in the night.

The nights seem to have settled into 5 hours of sleep, then a bathroom break.  After that she is primed to play.   We, at 4 in the morning, are not.  So there is an extended period of whining from the crate in the kitchen when we go back upstairs to bed.  And we don't really get any sleep during that time because we are worrying if she needs to go again, or if she is being scarred by our letting her 'cry it out'.  More flashbacks to the worries of my two human babies when they were learning to sleep through the night.

I am very hopeful that "in no time" will be before January is over.  LK and I are a little punchy due to lack of sleep.

Long Day of Firsts

It was a day of firsts for Astrid.  First car ride. First visit to town.  First visit to vet.

We have read hundreds of pages of puppy-raising books and blogs and articles between Fi, LK and I in the past three weeks.  (The intensely focused desire to research things to be prepared has been passed on to the next generation).  We have amassed vast knowledge in what we should do to avoid raising a Marley.  However, reality and what should be rarely coincide in my life.

First car trip should be short and to someplace fun in ideal puppy world.  In reality we drove 90 minutes to the vet and to do several hours of errands.

First vet trip should be cheerful and low stress.  In reality she spent the entire drive to town practicing her "I am dying of loneliness and fear" sounds in a small enclosed car.  40 minutes in Fi had her ears covered while she murmured, "Astrid, be calm,"  over and over.  It worked in short bursts and then the wailing began again.  By the time we arrived in town I felt like I needed an appointment for something to calm my nerves.

However, although reality is far from perfect it was also a great day.

Fi was amazingly mature and responsible.  She listened carefully and followed what I did with Astrid.  She sat patiently in the car with our Houdini while I madly dashed in and out of stores to do errands (because a 180-minute round trip cannot be done for only one reason).  She listened carefully to the vet and asked intelligent questions.  And when she heard me telling this to her father after we got home, she visibly walked taller. 

That was worth endless sleepless nights to this mom.

Houdini

The last two nights a new talent has been revealed in our little bundle of joy; escape artist extraordinaire.  We may have to change her name.

Her first two nights were as expected.  Lots of sad piteous crying when she was left in the kitchen while everyone else went up to bed.  My heart cracked into little pieces as the sadness she oozed at being asked to sleep all alone after eight weeks of a cozy puppy pile with all her siblings.  I even started to suggest that maybe letting her sleep in our room wouldn't be so bad.  I know, puppies, they make the hardest hearts into mush.  But the sad cries were shorter the second night and we hoped for a good sleep by Christmas Eve.

Her third night here she lulled us into complacency with a peaceful and quiet bedtime at 10:30.  Then we were awoken at 1:30 in the morning to her shrieking in what sounded like agonizing death and a strange scrabbling sound.  Then PIT PAT, PIT PAT of little feet climbing the stairs.  Astrid pushed the baby gate up and crawled underneath.  And at the top of the stairs she plunked her little bottom down and looked up at me as I came out of our bedroom bleary-eyed and stumbling.  "Aren't you proud of me that I could find you all by myself?"  those big brown eyes asked.

First thing in the morning a piece of plywood was fastened to the gate completely destroying any modicum of decor in both kitchen and living room.  Raw plywood is just not a look.  Of course, puppy toys strewn about the floor is not really in any kitchen decor book either...

Last night another deceptively quiet bedtime, and then in the wee hours we woke to more shrieking and a loud THUMP.  Then PIT PAT, PIT PAT.  Up the stairs came our little billy goat and plunked her bum at the top of the stairs.  This time she used the plywood to climb the gate and vault herself over it.  I know as I witnessed her do it right after I took her back to the kitchen.

She seemed so confused that I wouldn't be thrilled at her persistent faithfulness in seeking out our company.  Was that not her role as faithful canine companion and escape artist extraordinaire?

This morning, more plywood. 

And then there were five....

We have spent the past two weeks in much discussion.  Should we take the plunge?  Are we ready as a family?  When we decided to commit, the question became who?  How will we find a good match for the energy level and temperament of our family?  All those questions were slowly worked through and we are ready (I hope).

We spent this evening preparing our home for a new family member who will be joining us after school tomorrow.  The kitchen rugs were rolled up and put away.  A cozy crate was scrubbed of all its stickers by two diligent children.  A soft mattress was tucked lovingly inside.   A special tote was filled with chow.  Toys had tags taken off.  A brush, collar, and leash were placed carefully in readiness.

This is the first puppy adventure of my life. I am both excited and nervous.   LK has had many dogs growing up, including several puppies which are fond memories for him.  The Sprouts are thrilled at this new stage in our family life, having already fallen in love with Astrid at Nana's house.

Astrid is 8 weeks old and was born to my parents' latest rescue dog, Wasapiica, just before Halloween.   Her litter mates have been moved to foster homes waiting to find families who will adopt and love them.  She is the last puppy left at my parents' house, waiting for us to finish school so we can spend out holidays finding new family routines that incorporate the love and affection of a puppy into our life.

I am sure there will be many stories to share with you in the next few months.  Hopefully they won't be anything like those of John Grogan.

Bragging Rights

I have the most amazing spouse.  He is an artist of talent that has amazed me for 16+ years. 

When we met (soooo many years ago in university) I was awestruck by the way his fingers flew across a keyboard to bring life and soul to mere notes on a page.  His ability to lead congregational singing on an instrument is the most well-crafted I have ever heard in my life.  And he sings and composes too. 

It's no wonder I fell for him.

After our first Sprout arrived he picked up a camera.  And now he has become a craftsman with light and colour.  A perfectionist who is never satisfied with his craft, but a craftsman nonetheless.  I am blessed to have the results on my blog regularly.  As a family we have the most gorgeous family photo walls in our house.

Of course he doesn't believe me when I tell him that his pictures are amazing.  Or that he is creative, or really anything else.  I have to think so because I am his wife (is his thinking).

Well, the ultimate affirmation for an artist is recognition by other artists.  LK received that a few weeks ago with a request from a magazine to publish a photo of his that he had on Flickr. 

He told me about it just as I was falling asleep one night with, "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.  One of my pictures is going to be in a magazine." 

"What?!?!  You almost forgot?  Holy cow sweetie!  That is awesome!"

Can you tell who is the introvert? 

Yesterday in the mail the concrete evidence arrived.  My husband had his first photo published in a magazine!  And I am bursting with pride.

You can check it out here. 

Reflecting on Change

Big change is coming. 

LK's parents are about to embark on the step of downsizing from house to apartment.  LK's dad just started his retirement.  So they have a great big adjustment to make in the coming months.  We have been thinking about them lots in the past few weeks. 

The idea of retirement seems infinitely far away.  We both feel that we are still actively building our careers.  We have yet to set down permanent roots, having lived in an apartment in Toronto for ten years and then being guests here in a First Nations community for the past four years.  LK completely changed professions when we moved up here, from church musician to classroom teacher.  I never feel that I have 'made it' to mastering teaching (I suppose that is lifelong learning at work).  So we both feel that we are still working towards the peak of our professional lives.

Every once in a while we get the itch to find that little place in Ontario that will be our picket fence.  A community with a church that nourishes us deeply, a school system that will inspire our kids to grow into their gifts, and a little home that belongs to us.  We wonder where that place could be.  Will it bring us close to family in the south?  Will it keep us here, serving a community that we have grown to love deeply?

As we see, from a great distance, LK's parents move from the home that we have such wonderful summertime memories in to an apartment, we are reflecting on where we may be at that point in our own lives. 

Where will our adventure take us?

No Dynasty Here

As we pulled out of the Walmart parking lot in town.

LK:  Hey isn't that guy from that show on tv?

EK (searching for a celebrity):  Which guy?

LK (gesturing to a beat up minivan):  That one in the van.

The man in questions has long greying hair, a bushy streaked beard, and is wearing plaid lumberclothes. 

EK:  Do you mean Duck Dynasty?

LK: Yeah.

EK (looking carefully):  No, I think he's just Canadian.

'Jibway

Jo: Do you want to play 'Jibway?

Fi:  You can't play Ojibway!  You speak it.

Jo:  Oh, what do you want to play?

Ojibway is a descriptive language, with words often being poly-syllabic to include enough detail.  I find them very challenging to spell, pronounce and remember.  I have only a handful of phrases, mostly slang that I know.  My Ojibway vocabulary is pretty much like my Dutch vocabulary.

However, the Sprouts are regularly exposed to it in their second language class.  Jo was spoken to in Ojibway at the daycare before he came to school.  And to them it is natural.  Plus they have the advantage of young elastic brains that acquire new language far faster the my old inflexible brain can anymore.

At the dinner table, the Sprouts share what they have learned in Ojibway class.  Jo tells me the names of the months and what they mean in English.  October is "the leaves falling" and November is "time when the water freezes".  Fiona corrects him in getting the phrasing just right.  She is able to share complete sentences.  The words roll off both their tongues like water.  I have no idea how their exposure to this language will be a blessing in the future.  But it is awesome to hear my kids learn something that is completely beyond my skills.

Extra-Curricular

Since moving to a school where the  arts are not really big I have been trying my hand at a variety of different extra-curricular activities.  For the first ten years of my career it was all arts all the time.  That was my strength.  In the past four years I have had to try other avenues to support students outside thenc classroom.  From these I learned that cross country skiing is fun with all ages.  I am not any kind of soccer coach even though I love to play with kids.  And I love to encourage and support colleagues through mentoring new teachers.

A new year means new opportunities for challenge and growth.  So I am trying yet another way to meet my required hours for extra-curricular activities.

This year I am participating in Pow-Wow Club.  The goal is to support student in learning about traditional cultural celebrations of the pow-wow through designing and creating regalia, learning traditional dancing, drumming, and beading.  Now I don't have any of the traditional knowledge, but I can operate a sewing machine, and understanding clothing design and construction well.

Fi is also participating.

Tonight was our first gathering.  We had a cafeteria full of girls (and one brave young man) sketching and measuring and giggling over shared ideas.  It was absolutely lovely.

It was also lovely to stretch a little more in seeing students through fresh eyes.

Can I read now?

LK and I take turns doing tuck-in with the kids.  One night I read to Jo and he tucks Fi in, and the next night we switch.  Tonight was my turn to read to Jo.

After the requisite teeth brushing and face washing Jo was snug in his bed with me curled up beside him.  We opened the chosen story for tonight, which happened to be from a silly series of Lego books.  These are full of silly puns that LK and Jo find great humour in.  Jo loves to discuss the story lines and how they relate to the "real" adventures of his own Lego characters.

After I read the first page Jo turned and said, "Can I read the words now?"

Be still my beating heart!  My boy wants to read to me.  Happy Mama!

And he did.

I bit my tongue instead of jumping in to give him words when he got stuck.  It was quite wonderful to see him look at pictures and think about what was happening and use letters and sounds he knows to figure out words that make sense in the story.  I was amazed at the way he used so many clues to solve the riddles of reading.  If I had jumped in when I wanted to he would have been able to accomplish so much less.

I need to remember to sit back and let my kids do more.  They don't need nearly as much help as I think they do.

And this miracle that is a child learning to read never fails to astound me.

Car Troubles

Since we are about to reach 160 000 km on our dear Subaru it was time for some major work.  Fi and I combined this with a shopping trip to stock up on clothes for her for the next six months.  We had it all planned out.  The car would spend a day at the "spa", we would spend the day thrifting, and have a girls' sleepover in the city.  It was a much anticipated treat.

Then Thursday there was this freak storm right between home and Winnipeg.  Several people discouraged us from going, worried about the highway being closed and the conditions.  We went anyway.  On the way we passed twelve cars in the ditch and one 18-wheeler jack-knifed.  We soldiered on, albeit at 50km/hour.  After a five hour drive we arrived.

To allow enough time for all the work on the car we dropped it off at 8 am.  Subaru treats us well and usually there is a courtesy car for us to motor about the city while they tune our baby up.  The previous customer hadn't returned it yet (they must have been stuck in the snow) and so we were treated to a rental.  All good until 5pm when we went to pick up our car.  It wasn't done! 

Moment of panic.  I had family at home expecting to celebrate Thanksgiving together.

 I think Subaru felt bad about it not being ready and so when I said, with a lot of reluctance in my voice, "Well, I guess I could take the day off work on Tuesday or Wednesday..." they offered for us to take the courtesy car home for the week. And our car was promised to be done by then.

So we drove a lovely white 2013 Forrester for the week.  It was lovely.  And big.  And drank gobs of gas.  But it was quiet.  And had mp3 capability, which I like.  But I worried all week about scratches, and crashes, and all the things that could go wrong with someone else's car.

When I finally got our car back this weekend I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  Even though it is a bit noisier, and older, and dirtier it is ours.  And it runs beautifully now that it had two days of tune-up. 

Sewing Frenzy

It started when I was little with a love of Little House on the Prairie. There was a scene where Ma made Mary a new stylish dress to go off to college and the dress was described in such specific detail.  I retread that description hundreds of times imagining the dress in my head.  It was fed by Jane Austen and far too much historical fiction with detailed description of gowns.

College didn't help with a four year stint as the Costume Room Coordinator and unhindered access to the entire costume department.  I used to go to class in jeans and tails or jeans and a French Revolution era bodice.  Once I even tried the full Victorian garb to see what it was really like to wear a corset for a day.  Uncomfortable, if you want to know.  But also elegant in a curious way.

I have a passion for historical fashion (as well as contemporary fashion).

For the years I taught in Christian schools it was fed in little drips and drabs with book character dress up days.  And now, it has been plumped into what some may see as obsession with the gleeful celebration of Halloween at my current school.

My kids may be happiest with store bought costumes, but not me.  This year I am revelling in creativity and personal expression.  I am indulging my inner historical diva.   I am creating the most awesome steam punk princess ever.  And I am having so much fun doing it.

I have had an entire education thanks to YouTube and Pinterest and google.  My sewing machine has been very busy on weekends.  I have learned through trial and error and many fittings with the Sprouts giving their two cents.   Last night I experimented with historical hairstyles and tomorrow night its make up time.  

I wonder what I can sew from my living room curtains?

Not Enough

The first few days of school I was missing the routines of the classroom.  I was sentimental about leaving the relationships that you build with students as a classroom teacher.  I was nervous about not having a clear expectations from administration.  I was worried about not being able to meet expectations of which I was unaware.  I lay awake at night.

Since I realized that I am not even close to enough for all that my students need or that my colleagues need I prayed and laid it all on God. 

Now I am just running and praying.  Running to learn about my caseload of students and praying to remember what they need in each moment.  Running to herd kindergartens inside after recess and praying that they will adjust to the routines soon.  Running to find resources and strategies for classroom teachers and praying that they will enjoy success in working with their students.  Running to meet with parents and administration and praying that we will be a team to serve the needs of their children.  Running to set up schedules.  And then change them.  And change them again and praying that the schedules will be right sometime in the next week.  Running to get responses quickly and accurately and that the words on the paper will be honest and loving.  And there is no time to worry or be anxious.  There is just trusting that God will be enough and use my hands and feet for serving the community that he loves.

It is exciting and fun, and there is a new adventure around every corner.  And even though there are many moments of absolute terror that I still won't be enough, it is wonderful!

Not Made for Walking

I am not always a practical woman.  Well, actually I am rarely a practical woman.  And this week I paid for it in pain.

After two months of living in sandals, bare feet, and wedges my feet have gotten used to being footloose and fancy free.  And I thoughtlessly tired them up in my prettiest, but least comfortable pumps the first three days of school.

Oh, what foolishness!

Well, the first week of school my feet always complain about how much time I spend on them regardless of the footwear I choose.  They are most unhappy about being sentenced to closed toes for the fall and winter.  And this fall adding insult to injury I didn't give them a gentle adjustment period, but went straight for the highest heels three days in a row.

I spent Wednesday night with my feet elevated, icing my left ankle.  And then the rest of the week was spent in flats.

This weekend I am researching pretty options for lower heels or amazing flats.  They just don't have the same boost to my self-esteem as 3-inch heels though, and so I am a bit mopey. Oh for mile-long legs.

First Day of School

What a wonderful day!  The very best first day back ever.

Lots of students stopped to chat with both LK and I, which always makes a teacher feel loved.  It is lovely to see them grow older and still share their lives with you.  LK even had some his former students who are in high school now lurking in the halls to touch base.

The energy in the elementary wing is positive and high.  Students were sitting on the porch at 7:30 in the morning waiting for the school to open.  And there were so many smiling faces.

My own kids had a great first day and were full of stories to share at dinner time.  After a full day of not having to play together, they played together beautifully both before and after dinner.  In fact, Jo asked Fi to read him stories instead of a parent.  She graciously snuggled up with him in his bed and the two of them read Richard Scary and hunted for Gold Bug on each page.

LK was grinning as he shared about his day while cooking supper.  He has moved out of the 'new teacher' zone of fear and into the 'maturing teacher' zone of confidence and joy.  It is really lovely to see him talk about his class.  I think he likes them already.  And they are a happy, cheerful group.

I don't have a class to get to know.  And that feels very odd.  But I have lots to learn and juggle, which will keep me incredibly busy for the next month.

It feels good to be back.  For all of us.

Back to Work

First day back to work. 

My room isn't ready.  There is still painting to be done, chalkboard and bulletin boards to reattach to the walls, and the floors need waxing.  But there is a brand new Smart board hanging on the wall waiting for my students and I to have a blast with our learning. 

Until then I am patching together a portable office and trying to get paperwork underway.

Tomorrow will be another busy day.

All Accounted For

My parents arrived home very early this morning.  LK mumbled it at 2 AM when we heard the dogs out for a pee break.  And then we went back to sleep anticipating a lovely day today enjoying having them home a full day earlier than expected.

Unfortunately that wasn't the end of the evening for my parents.

When they arrived on their front step their house key no longer worked.  So, in the middle of the night they were locked out of their house.  Rather than coming over to crash at our place (as they are very independent - and perhaps somewhat determined to sleep in their own bed after a very long three day trip) they broke into their own house.

Dad dug through the trailer to find tools and removed part of the front window.  Thankfully he had tools with him.  Otherwise he may have been just tired and frustrated enough to break in with a rock through the window instead.

By 4:30 this morning they were inside and crashed, only to be woken by grandchildren looking for hugs a short six hours later.  I supposed there are worse ways to be woken up.

My poor mother was sure that somehow she had messed up and that she just had the wrong keys.  Well, we both tried every key we could find and no key is opening any of their doors.  But the locks are the same.  And the house key goes into the lock.  Crazy.

But you know, I have realized that this is just life.  There is always another challenge to deal with around the next corner.  And there is always a way to deal with it. 

On a good day, you can see the humour in the situation right away.  Or within a few days.

Lunch Date?

I wandered through McDonalds with my tray perched carefully trying not to overbalance it and lose my lunch onto the floor. And I ran into our Director of Education.  Not literally, thankfully.  But she was sitting right under my nose as I tried to decide where to sit.  I may not even have actually have registered who is was if she hadn't greeted me (zoned completely out as I often am when doing errands all by myself).

After a brief hello I impulsively invited myself to sit down and join her as she was also eating alone.  We had a lovely conversation and enjoyed our matching salads while we shared the joys of other treats (praline pecans for her and the new cookie recipe I tried this week for me) and caught up on summer news.

As I drove home afterwards with a smile on my face I realized that there aren't many workplaces where you have that relationship with your boss.  I was very thankful to be working in a place where instead of a brief hello and finding a spot to sit far away, I felt comfortable to engage in a serendipitous lunch date. 

False Start

I went to school yesterday with the intention of getting some work done in my new room.  We don't officially go back to work until next Monday.  I am changing jobs into the resource department and have a big learning curve.  I was anticipating gently gearing up with a couple of hours moving furniture. 

But the room isn't done. 

And I was a bit relieved. 

There isn't much I can do until I dig out the files to start developing IEPs from my spring meeting notes.  And they are buried in a box in the pile of furniture from my room.

Usually I am chomping at the bit to get back to work.  But each summer for the past five years I have engaged a bit more in my family life during the holidays (you have heard of football widows?  my children are teacher-orphans) than the previous year.  I disengage from work more completely and come back to work better fortified for the challenges ahead.

This summer I disengaged completely.  I didn't even read a teacher blog over the summer!  It was really wonderfully refreshing.  And very much needed.

The room can wait until Monday.

Running From Dogs

On Friday morning my beloved spouse came home from his run looking for Polysporin and Band-aids.  Curious, I asked why on earth he needed them, assuming that he had a blister or some such minor injury.  Nope.  He was sporting a pair of puncture wounds on the back of his calf courtesy of a nasty little yapper up the road.

"Can I put some Poly and a band aid on it?" he pleaded with hope all over his face.

"I am pretty sure that a dog bite requires actual medical intervention.  Those look pretty deep, sweetie.  You better go to the Clinic."

An  hour later he returned with a lovely stitch in one puncture and bad news.

"They are out of  tetanus shots and I have to go into town for a tetanus shot between now and Sunday."

Alrighty then.  There is no walk-in clinic in Kenora.  If you don't have a doctor of your own the Emergency waiting room becomes a place described in Dr. Seuss's The Places You'll Go.  Since the Emergency room is busy on weekends, we decided that getting in on Friday morning was likely to be when the lines are the shortest.  Ah, sweet naivete.  Sprouts, Kindles and iPads packed up (essential to any trip when a waiting room is involved) and we hit the road.

We parked the car and tromped in.  LK registered, got a green arm band (meaning he was low priority) and was told the wait was four hours long.  So, the Sprouts and I went off to pick up a lunch for him and left him to his waiting.  After dropping off his lunch we wandered into to town to while away the hours.

We took a pizza picnic to the park.  We played on the play structure.  We waded at the beach.  We walked up to DQ for ice cream.  We did the school clothes shopping for fall jackets and pants that fit little people who seem to grow several inches each summer.  We went for a long walk along the water.  Then another one.  We started thinking about what to do for supper.

Five hours later LK had the 30 second shot to protect him from tetanus.  He also had a prescription for antibiotics that have proven to be much more miserable than the bite itself. So off to the pharmacy for another hour of waiting.

Now most of the rez dogs are very nice.  In fact we have made running buddies with some, enjoy the occasional visits of others to us at home, and are sorely tempted to adopt one each time students bring an adorable puppy to school.  But there are just a few that are a wee bit feral and scare the living daylights out of me.

I have run twice since Friday.  The first time I forced myself to do my normal route right by those dogs.  But I made sure to be well armed with rocks in both fists, just in case.  The second time it took an hour to screw up my courage to go.  Then I just drove the car off reserve and ran on the road to town.  It was a lovely run with no concerns about dogs.  And the bears, they just look at me and then trudge off on their berry hunting.

Baking and Breaking

I have been working on learning to bake bread the old fashioned way as we crave fresh bread but have neither a bread maker nor a bakery around the corner (or 50 corners for that matter).  I have the assistance of my lovely stand mixer, which has become my assistant in much of my baking in the past year.  For the rest of it I have to use patience and scour our recipe books for just the right recipe. Patience not being my strongest suit.  And careful attention to detail hard for me to have during summer holidays.

I should have known there would be a few bumps in the road.

My first attempt was taken from Michael Smith's Best of Chef at Home cookbook.  This book has the world's best brownie recipe.  So it should also have some other solid stuff (my logic).  However, the recipe for City Bread was far too moist (yes, I checked the measurements twice) and our bread had a lovely crust, but a damp inside.  5 cups of flour and 2 cups of liquid are not quite the right proportions.  In fact, now that I think about it, I seem to have had the same problem with this exact recipe before.  Better write a note in the book.  Despite the dampness we ate it anyway.  It tasted okay, and "waste not, want not".

My second attempt was started yesterday.  Traditional bread baking has a long rising for the first rising (8-12 hours) and so there is some forethought required in planning.  I was all into getting pizza dough mixed for dinner and had the mixer out anyway so I started a few hours earlier than was perhaps wise.

Here is my thought process that I worked through after starting the dough. 

"4:30 PM plus eight hours is about midnight.  Hmmm, not the ideal time to knead bread dough and set it for the second rising.  That would mean the third is a 3:00 AM.  Not quite perfect.  But wait, 4:30 PM plus twelve hours is 4:30 AM.  That is just a few hours before 7.  Surely I can get up at 7."  (During the summer holidays?  Dreaming, girl!)

As it turns out a few extra hours (it was 9:30 before I got to the dough this morning) doesn't do the dough any harm at that stage.  Good to know.

However, it is really important not to leave a glass baking dish in the oven while preheating and then putting hot water into said dish to provide steam during baking.  Just in case you didn't know, that makes glass baking dishes shatter all over the inside of a very hot oven.  I'm just letting you know because I didn't even think about it until there was already glass everywhere.

After cleaning up the glass shards and preheating the oven again it all went quite smoothly.  We enjoyed lovely fresh bread for lunch and had a half a loaf left for lightly toasting for breakfast tomorrow.