My roommate, Molly, told me this weekend that she could never be a baker because of the delayed gratification – the cooling, the waiting, and everything in between. I smiled and nodded in agreement even though sometimes I’m just as bad as the rest of you, because I’ll admit that for some things I'm a stickler for instant gratification. Wait, that came out wrong.

I’m talking about yeast, folks! Those little kitchen microorganisms need some extra love and attention, but are well worth the wait. This past weekend I spent a good part of Saturday proofing, or rising, dough for pumpkin cinnamon rolls that I had been hoping to make all month. I had wanted to share pictures of proofing the dough but low and behold I got so carried away washing dishes and simultaneously singing that I only snapped some lousy photos of my zester and the finished product.

Topped with cream cheese icing, and these boys were the perfect treat to celebrate a Packer win. Enjoy.

Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls
Courtesy of Smitten Kitchen

I’d like to introduce you all to someone that has become very dear to me, my favorite mug.

I first fell in love with my amethyst, floral scrawled, uniquely me mug when I stepped into anthropologie. Had I known I would fall in love with everything in that store I should have stopped myself there, turned around, and marched right into the chocolate shop next door to teeter on to another addiction. Although I think my waistline is thanking me.

I bought my mug for my last birthday not too long ago, and rightly justified my purchase by how much use I would get out of it, and justified it was. I begin almost every day the same, minus Mondays and Wednesdays when I’m out the door in a hurry before the sun has even had time to wake up. I greet every other morning by having my me time - mug in hand, blue heeler in mug, Good Morning America on TV, and Whitey around, on, or near my lap. This has become my happy trigger, something that I always look forward to and it really can make me forget the awful week I've had, or will have.

The weekends are another story. I will admit I am guilty of buying coffee on the go two or, gasp, maybe three times a week. My weekend happy trigger is going to the farmer’s market early on Saturday mornings when most of the noisy visitors are still recovering from their previous nights out. I’ll sometimes get a coffee at Michelangelo's, my favorite pre-market stop, and mosey around the capital square until I've taken in all the fresh produce, cheese curds, and baked goods that my senses can handle. After this I feel like I can officially start my day, usually homework or heading out to get groceries.

Tonight, though, my mug is holding tea. Aside from sugar-laden sweetened and flavored iced teas, I didn't grow up really appreciating the different flavors and notes of hot tea until I was a little older. While I couldn't get enough of the creamed and sugared coffee as a kid, tea is something that I’m learning to appreciate because of my roommate, Molly, who is an avid tea expert. I've chosen “nighty-night” tea tonight to promote nighttime relaxation and, well, my heated blanket and statistics homework don’t hurt either.

I also enjoy tea at night when I’m reading to wind down before bed. Having been a light sleeper for most of what I can remember growing up, I’m easily woken by Whitey when he shifts throughout the night adjusting to get his little joints nice and comfortable. Recently, I've been trying to incorporate non-school books into my nighttime routine which has really helped with my restlessness, tiring out my eyes before it’s time to zonk out. My most recent purchase is The Sweet Life in Paris written by David Lebovitz, a pastry chef and American turned Parisian, and not to anyone’s surprise one of my favorite food bloggers. The book is filled with witty anecdotes about his adjustment to living in Paris, after he decided to move there 30 years after making a post-college trip to taste his way throughout the City of Light. (Swooning). It’s wonderfully written, laden with delicious recipes and shows David’s colorful personality that has left me almost finished with the book in three short days. Needless to say, it comes highly recommended by this girl right here who, incidentally, also has a copy to share.

And yet, we've come full circle to my mug. Or at least I feel we have. A mere $8 kind of impulse purchase that greets me every morning and tucks me in every night, but I feel holds much more than the 12 ounces it actually does. Goodnight readers; I hope you’re reading wonderful stories before bed and waking up feeling refreshed with whatever your mug has in store for the next day.

I woke up the other day to take Whitey out for our morning walk, and I knew autumn was here. Of course the temperature for the past month affirmed that it was truly autumn, but for the first time last week I felt it. The street silent, except for puppy paws crunching through some orange leaves, I realized that the smell of the air reminded me of a Rentscher tradition: the Halloween candlelight hike at Harrington beach. When we were kids, Mom and Dad would bundle up the Rentscher girls, and the Rentscher dogs, and we would head to Harrington Beach Park along Lake Michigan for their annual Halloween night walk. The forest trail was lit by nothing other than milk jugs with tea lights, and the air was crisp and chilly. I remember the dogs paving the trail ahead of us, and Dad’s maniacal laugh trying to spook us as we walked along, probably telling a scary story or two. Although it was dark and the trail led us to no place in particular, we never complained and looked forward to it every year.

I know that I should be prepping for my seminar presentation tomorrow, but I keep coming back to the smell of damp leaves nestled underneath our feet as we crept alongside the dark quarry only lit by those small lights and a bright moon above us. It’s times like these that I am so thankful that my parents helped create memories like this. Because I'd much rather associate wet leaves with a Rentscher tradition, than painfully remembering that winter is on its way. I hope someday to recreate these memories for my family too, paws and all.