Tag: baking!

The Conspiracy of Things

What went before: Yeah, that bread isn’t gonna rise, but I’m giving it a chance. I Did Something. Or Failed to Do Something. We’ll see, but I Will Be Surprised.

In my own defense: I was sidetracked because a bag fastener exploded into my face when I was unsealing the plastic bag around the flour bag.

That was bad enough, but it deconstructed as it rebounded. I found the two big plastic pieces, but? I didn’t find the spring. As those of you who have read the syllabus will be aware — I have cats.

So, I went into overdrive, looking for the damned spring, got out the mop, the vacuum cleaner, and finally found it — far, far outside the kitchen (good spring), and then I got back to the dough, which was cold, and ‘way too sticky.

And, I expect I’m going to have a bruise on my cheek where the plastic casing hit, so that’ll be worth a Look with the Do You Feel Safe At Home question at the doctor’s office next week (answer — no. My Things are trying to murder me.)

Bread dough has been dismissed.

Now deciding if I’m going to push my luck and make a plain vanilla, so to speak whole wheat, or break out the Emergency Loaf from the freezer.

In other news, I’ve made an appointment to get a COVID booster on Monday, which is sooner than I had wanted, but an allowed move, since my last booster was in September, and I’m over four months. I’m hearing that COVID boosters may no longer be A Thing, and I am going to Baltimore in May…

SPOILER: I made a quick loaf of “plain vanilla” whole wheat. It turned out great. Photographic proof:

Saturday. Sunny and chilly.

Woke up at 6, went back to sleep until 7:30, laid there for another half hour trying to think of a reason to get up. I did not actually think of a reason to get up, unless, “Oh, for Goddess’ sake, don’t be a crybaby,” is a reason to get up.

Breakfast was toast (the “plain vanilla” whole wheat makes great toast — just a note for those playing along at home), cottage cheese, the last of the grapes. Finishing up the first mug of tea. Lunch will be, it says, here, That Yam you meant to eat last week.

I have a few chores to do, and I may pull out the scrapbooks that I’d been putting together last year about this time, and see if I can recover any idea of what I thought I was doing.

A quiet day, in other words, with nothing much on the schedule. Except putting the kettle on for another cup of tea.

Who has a schedule today?

Saturday morning cat census:

Monday morning you sure look fine

What Went Before: Aaaaaand back from ASL class. I remember a little bit of finger-spelling and some signs, but I’m sloppy, and need to clean up my act. Fun doing something that’s not writing, in any case.

My package from the Royal Mail arrived, however, the Royal Mail thought I was gonna sign for it, and sent me instructions to be on-hand. Our local carrier wasn’t interested in getting out of his jeep in the wet, so he just tossed it in the mailbox. No harm done, and the package is in the drawer.

The cats were in post-Happy Hour places when I came home and were initially startled. Then Trooper got with the program and started demanding to be fed.

I have a glass of wine, and ought to look around for something to feed myself.

Friday. Cloudy and cold. Snowed on the overnight. (All together now, with feeling: Will this torment never end?)  Dry ingredients for today’s loaf of oatmeal/wheat bread mixed and coming up to room temperature, while I gird myself to meet the day, and set the kettle to boil.

…continuing…

We here in Central Maine are under an Active Wind Advisory. Hopefully, it will blow the snow off the driveway. OTOH, I’m not going anywhere today. One of the news feeds would have me to know that many folks in York County have already lost power.

Breakfast was one egg yolk (because I need the egg white to stick the oatmeal to the bread crust) and a whole egg, scrambled with leftover tomato, onions, rice, with the last piece of bread from last week’s loaf, toasted. Finishing up my first cup of tea, with Trooper on my lap, purring. Lunch will be fish and something. I’ve fallen off the fish wagon, which is all too easy to do without Steve around to remind me.

There are eleven in the ASL class, plus the teacher. I have homework — practice my ABCs, count from 1-10, which isn’t as easy as you’d think, work out how to fingerspell my last name — *cough* — and the name of the town I live in. Also, there’s a website and I’m to do Lesson One. I may have to teach Firefly how to Sign, because here’s the thing — you not only need to learn how to make the sign; you need to learn how to read the sign when somebody else is talking. Which is Every. Bit. As. Hard as trying to follow a conversation between two native speakers of, oh, Spanish, after having aced your Spanish 101 vocabulary test.

The classroom we’re in has … character. Also, a line of rubber duckies on a ledge above a bulletin board. There’s a podium with stickers all over it — colleges, coffee, sports teams. And a sign up with the duckies that says, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM WHINING. I’m not doing the room justice, really. For me, it’s Just This Side of Sensory Overload, and I have to force myself to focus on the teacher and my fellow students, instead of spacing around to study the Things.

So, that. As reported elsewhere, today I bake bread, ref “last piece” and “toast” above, and also the ASL homework. What else I do — depends.

What’cha all doin’ today?

Today’s blog post is brought to you by Fleetwood Mac, “Monday Morning,” not because it’s Monday morning, but because, in order to pass my very first sign course, 50 years or so ago, I had to sing a song in Sign, and for some reason I chose “Monday Morning.”  Yes, I got my certificate.

Oh, I had a debriefing when I got home last night:

Dancin’ in the dark

What went before: So, today’s work revealed to me that the niggling feeling that I had regarding something being off about the timing was, indeed correct. I need to recast a few scenes, but thank ghod I caught it this early in the process. If I’d written half a book incorporating this error, fixing it would have been a Nightmare.

I spoke with Eileen Stevens again this evening; she plans on beginning her narration of Diviner’s Bow this weekend.

Onward.

Oh, let’s see. Thursday?

Thursday. Dim and! It’s going to snow! Bah. BAH, I say.

Breakfast was oatmeal with inclusions of dried cranberry and walnuts. Lunch will be — I took some of that ham and pea soup out to defrost. If it’s gonna snow…

Today’s plans are to make the last of Steve’s bread kits that he squirreled away. This one is for a multigrain loaf. The flours and seeds are all premixed. I’ll be using my own yeast, rather than trust the little packet that came with. So, that should be good.

I have some PR to do, and a couple letters to write. Also, writing. I left myself a V. Cranky Note last night, to wit: WHAT TIME IS IT ON TINSORI LIGHT? Which — wow, talk about a head-scratcher.

Tonight is supposed to be my first ASL class, which is in-person at the high school. I’m hoping the snow just blows out to sea and leaves us to it. That would be nice.

The cats would have me believe that they are Out of Food. This is almost true, and they’ll be due for a refill about lunchtime.

I am still like The Plan that has me driving to Balticon, then stopping at Corning on the way home to do the glass museum for a couple days before coming home. If it still seems good tomorrow, I’ll have some reservations to make.

For those playing along at home: my ears have not fallen off, or turned red or black. I’m cleaning them three times a day, like it says on this sheet of paper here, and turning them per likewise.

This morning so far, Firefly and Tali have played a game of tag; Tali and Rook have played a game of tag; and Firefly has smacked Rook repeatedly on the head. Trooper is napping in the copilot’s chair.

And so it goes. Time to start the bread.

What’s the weather where you are today?

Today’s title brought to you by Bruce Springsteen, “Dancin’ in the Dark.”

He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude

What Went Before: Yesterday, I changed out the cat boxes, vacuumed the basement, made bread, and wrote, all against a background of snow, then sleet. The plowguy came by in the late afternoon to plow the accumulation, leaving a skin of snow for the sleet to fall on, rather than taking it down to the asphalt and turning the driveway into an ice skating rink.

I also posted a snippet, which is reproduced below. Before we go there, however — A Word About Snippets: I often snippet from the WIP. I do this to share the joy of the work. In my mind, it’s analogous to my having baked a batch of cookies and offering you one. I am aware (sigh) that some people are … offended by snippets for various reasons that seem Good To Them. If you are one of those folks, and you see SNIPPET in one of my blog posts — skip over that part. You don’t need to write to me to explain how offended you are; I’m fine with not knowing. Both of our blood pressures will thank you.

SNIPPET: He sighed, and tapped the screen, swearing to himself that if it was anything less than news that the twelfth quadrant had disappeared, he would allow it to languish unopened until he had – and froze, staring at what was assuredly one of the rarest items in all the universe.

He had a letter from Theo.

Rarity though it was, he made no move to open it. Such things ought to be treated with respect, if not active alarm.

Monday. Windy and V. cold. Right now, it’s 17F-feels-like-7 (-8C-feels-like-minus-13). Avalanche warning for the White Mountains (in New Hampshire, about 120 miles from the Cat Farm) through Tuesday mid-morning.

Trooper is sitting on my lap helping me write this.

It snowed another inch or two on the overnight. Somebody was kind enough to plow out the berm at the end of the driveway last night. I know it was last night because a fresh-plowed pile would be dirty, and this one is white, so it was snowed upon after it was created. Dunno if the plowguy will be by for the last couple inches; time will tell, and as previously advertised, I’m not going anywhere.

I hereby declare that the trash and recycling will not be going out to the curb tomorrow. I cleared the trash containers in the house Saturday before it started snowing, so we’re all good here.

Breakfast was oatmeal with walnuts and raisins. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch will definitely be leftover stew.

Last night, I again tried the reading-in-bed thing, eventually joined by Tali, and then Firefly. Rook did a check-in, but it was too early for him to go to bed. Trooper was in the big cat ring, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to leave it — that thing is cozy.

I was not particularly restful after I turned off the light, and even after Trooper joined me. He finally grumped, got down — and about five minutes later came back with Firefly, talking all the way. They both got on the bed, Firefly took up her position on my hip, Trooper on my ankle, and that did the trick. I slept until the late, luxurious hour of 6:15am. Cat magic FTW.

Dishwasher is doing its thing; I have my duty to the cats, a few pieces of correspondence, and some banking on the to-do list, but mostly, I’m free to write. I’m very interested to see where these letters lead us.

Apparently, I’m expecting a UPS delivery, but no mail — oh, wait. It is, in the US, President’s Day. No mail delivery. That’s fine.

How’s Monday treating everybody so far?

Today’s title brought to you by The Eagles, “Life in the Fast Lane”

Yesterday’s bread — this is a Pullman loaf, swiped by the US train chefs from the French pain de mie.  Its chief attraction is that it makes a uniform square loaf that’s good for same-sized sandwiches, with very little waste.  Mine is whole wheat; the original is a white bread loaf.

 

And go-kart Mozart was checkin’ out the weather chart

What Went Before: I returned to the keyboard after serving up Happy Hour. Trooper is calling foul and is trying to get Tali to fill out the form in triplicate to the Committee Cat. Tali is not interested in getting carbon on her toes, so I’m not sure that complaint’s going to be filed any time soon.

956-ish new words on the WIP, which brings it a whisper short of 5,000 total words. I’m pleased with the day’s progress, and look forward to making more progress, tomorrow.

I would like to report that the portable deadbolts I bought from Amazon really do work well, but I had reckoned without the Resident Void, who can quite easily stand up on his back feet and dork around with the chain — not a particularly safe situation. Cats, man…

I have received a Very, Very Dangerous Email from Vacassa offering almost-affordable places to stay oceanfront in Old Orchard Beach. I tried to avert my eyes — well, no, I didn’t. I opened the dern thing right up and started clicking. It’s a little unnerving to find that I know where most of these places are, including the one in Ocean Park, which is, yes, Just A Walk from the Beach, but it’s a Rather Stern Walk.

The ‘beans are clinging to this upcoming Weather Event like it’s their firstborn child. I’m not going anywhere, myself, and the generator is ready on standby, but I could honestly do without a Weather Event. I’m ready to be done with winter. Witness my explorations at the beach, above.

I think I’d better be done at the desk for the day, before I get into even more Dutch with the coon cats. I do still have to pair socks and clear the dishwasher, and by that time Trooper may have decided to file the report himself.

SNIPPET: “Treachery is always possible,” his former master reminded him in memory. “Honor is always possible. It is our task as traders to nurture honor while being alert for treachery.”
OR: “Trust in Allah, but tie your camel.”

Onward.

Sunday.  Snowed a couple inches on the overnight. Looks to be taking a breather right now, then we’re supposed to be treated to more snow and the ever-popular wintry mix.

Breakfast will be scrambled eggs. Lunch will be — dunno. Maybe leftover stew. Maybe a grilled cheese sandwich. We’ll see.

Today’s plans include changing out the cat boxes, baking a loaf of bread, writing, and contemplating the precipitation when and how it chooses to fall from the sky. Surely, that’s enough for one day.

So! Those who attended — how’s Boskone?

Everybody else — how’s the weekend been treating you?

Today’s title brought to you by Bruce Springsteen and Manfred Mann.  Yes I do realize this is a Religious Thing that’s just as heat-inducing as Oxford Commas, and How Many Spaces After a Period.  That being so:
“Blinded by the Light,” Manfred Mann
“Blinded by the Light,” Bruce Springsteen

Sunday morning photo shoot:

In Which the Poolish Survives the Night

What went before:  I did finish “Core Values” last night — go, me!

I have a bunch of these little so-called Spot thermometers from ThermoWorks, and I put them in various places, trying to find the warmest place to overnight the poolish.  It turns out that the dining room microwave is by far the warmest spot.

Onward.

Sunday. Still dim, but I can see an orange crack in the sky behind the trees.

Got up early to check the poolish, which — Against All Odds — not only survived the night, but was bubbly and stinky, and Just What the Baker Wanted.

Dough is in for the first rise. I’m drinking my first cup of tea and should probably turn my thoughts toward breakfast.

For those following along at home, it turns out that the Heritage Microwave in the dining room is the warmest spot in the kitchen-and-kitchen-adjacent rooms, by a good 2 degrees, so that’s where the poolish overnighted, to what success we have seen.

Aside the baking of bread, today is Tax Paperwork Review, and filing, because I let it stack up again, banking, and other mundane details — and I’ve got to finally deal with the whole stevemillerwrites thing, which I’m still inclined to let go.

I see that we’re starting to play Twenty Questions regarding the new director. I’m not just being playful; I don’t want to jinx anything. Believe me, I’m just as excited as you are. We can all practice Being Patient together.

So, that’s what’s exciting at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, this early Sunday morning.

Who else is having an exciting morning?

In which there will be the baking of bread

What went before: Still not finished the story, but! I feel much better about the story as a whole. It’s a rare wonder what the Active Voice will accomplish. I know I keep saying this, but! Maybe I’ll finish it tomorrow.

Also, I could really feel my brain clicking along, rather than struggling for each paragraph, so, yanno, I may be able to write a book sometime realsoonnow.
Onward!

Saturday. Sunny and the ‘beans are calling for a high of 24F/-4C.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with ham, cheese, onions, and toast. Kettle’s on for my second cup of tea. Lunch will be chili.

Today I’m working on the story, but, also! I intend to bake French bread this weekend. I was going to get into making bread every week, but the Lightning Turnaround on Diviner’s Bow, followed by getting sick, twice, kind of threw those rosy plans into the bin.

This recipe is a little tricky because you have to make the poolish the night before and let it rest overnight at “room temperature.” Overnight “room temperature” here at the Confusion Factory is 60F/16C, which is a little cool for dough, and of course the silly electric stove doesn’t have a pilot light (yes, yes, still bitter about having to give up my lovely propane stove). I guess I’ll just cover it and set it in the microwave to rise.

Assuming all goes well, and the poolish rises as should, this will be the inaugural use of the baking stone. I really hope I can pull this off; the batards I made at King Arthur Flour school were amazing, and I’ve been wanting more ever since I ate the last slice.

I also have a recipe for oatmeal blueberry lemon breakfast muffins that I’m wanting to try, but not today. I need to seek clarity of the differences between the “quick-cooking rolled oats” called for in the recipe and the Red Mill Old Fashioned Rolled Oats which is the household go-to.

Yeah, looks like I’m pretty much back online.

Those who follow the writing schedule should be aware that the deadline for the book after Diviner’s Bow (deadline=when I am to turn the book in) is April 15, 2026. This means there will probably not be a new Liaden book in 2026 (unless Baen opts to do the Lightning Thing again). I’m sorry about that, but I really need to protect my brain, which, aside the coon cats, is the Number One resource of the House.

Regarding The Big Cat Hunt — there is a cat show this weekend, so planning is on hold until next week. Watch the skies.

I think that’s all I’ve got.

What’s on the books for you this weekend?

Oh, hey, let’s do the Time Warp, again.  Sharon Lee at Boskone 45. Photo by Steve Miller.