I don't remember losing track of you.
( weekly horoscope )
Yesterday I did the writerly equivalent of method acting. I got an idea for a story, started thinking about it, then decided to engage in one of the activities of the principal character to give me some tangible ideas and setting for the story. Which is how I ended up baking bread. Lowenstein is already amused at how proud I am of my accomplishment so I'm sure me writing about it will make her laugh. It was a simple whole wheat sandwich bread and it didn't turn out perfectly. A little too dense, probably from a combination of not kneading enough (I was so scared of over-kneading that I think I barely touched it) and not giving it extra time to rise. But it tastes really great and the consistency is just closer to cake, so the dense-ness won't be keeping me from consuming the entire loaf, probably by tomorrow night. But that's okay, because it's a new hobby so more will come. Why I took this up in the summer is beyond me -- hanging out in the kitchen with the oven on isn't conducive to my comfort. Though in some ways, it's a great activity while working at home, since it takes lots of time that's "largely unattended", to quote the cookbooks, but requires some physicality and finesse I enjoy and the end result is edible and cheap.
This weekend I was still recovering in part from my illness (which is 90% gone except a nasty-sounding cough), which mostly meant I didn't really want to spend any time in smoky crowded places or exerting too much physical energy or being overly social (or being social period). I spent most all of my time communing with my record player and getting lots of reading done. Pages and pages and pages of reading done. I went for a couple walks. I went out for sushi and did some "communing" with Lowenstein. I probably watched about half a dozen episode of Buffy, but that's all the television I saw all weekend. I read about events at the Printer's Row bookfair, but didn't go to any of them. In fact, I'm just realizing although I had two long phone conversations with people, I didn't SEE anyone except for Lowenstein, which is little unusual for me, but perhaps I'm just preparing me for my super-busy and social week, which starts tonight with Film Noir night at Miss Rook's house.
This is my last full week at the office. I should probably get on that.
Yesterday I did the writerly equivalent of method acting. I got an idea for a story, started thinking about it, then decided to engage in one of the activities of the principal character to give me some tangible ideas and setting for the story. Which is how I ended up baking bread. Lowenstein is already amused at how proud I am of my accomplishment so I'm sure me writing about it will make her laugh. It was a simple whole wheat sandwich bread and it didn't turn out perfectly. A little too dense, probably from a combination of not kneading enough (I was so scared of over-kneading that I think I barely touched it) and not giving it extra time to rise. But it tastes really great and the consistency is just closer to cake, so the dense-ness won't be keeping me from consuming the entire loaf, probably by tomorrow night. But that's okay, because it's a new hobby so more will come. Why I took this up in the summer is beyond me -- hanging out in the kitchen with the oven on isn't conducive to my comfort. Though in some ways, it's a great activity while working at home, since it takes lots of time that's "largely unattended", to quote the cookbooks, but requires some physicality and finesse I enjoy and the end result is edible and cheap.
This weekend I was still recovering in part from my illness (which is 90% gone except a nasty-sounding cough), which mostly meant I didn't really want to spend any time in smoky crowded places or exerting too much physical energy or being overly social (or being social period). I spent most all of my time communing with my record player and getting lots of reading done. Pages and pages and pages of reading done. I went for a couple walks. I went out for sushi and did some "communing" with Lowenstein. I probably watched about half a dozen episode of Buffy, but that's all the television I saw all weekend. I read about events at the Printer's Row bookfair, but didn't go to any of them. In fact, I'm just realizing although I had two long phone conversations with people, I didn't SEE anyone except for Lowenstein, which is little unusual for me, but perhaps I'm just preparing me for my super-busy and social week, which starts tonight with Film Noir night at Miss Rook's house.
This is my last full week at the office. I should probably get on that.