The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Up at 5:00, baking bread.

It used to be up at 4:00, making other people's coffee.

Life is sweet.


I'm making the pugliese -- a soft half-semolina bread -- out of Peter Reinhart, for those interested. Really, go obtain this book. Copy the recipes into a notebook if you get it from the library. The level of detail just makes it impossible to screw up, so long as your yeast is alive.

Theoretically one loaf is for us and one is for the in-laws, but I make no promises.

And now Bast is wondering why I have been into the kitchen several times, appear to be moving of my own volition, and yet haven't found the food bowl yet. *sigh*

This morning I woke up with a dislocated shoulder.

Yuh-huh.

While I writhed, screamed and carried on in an undignified manner, my wife soldiered through the ordeal. And eventually there was a sickening crunch and we all went and had breakfast. The end.