Last night at 9:30, RDC suggested we go to bed, since I was already snoring through "8 1/2." So I uncurled myself, brushed my beak, got in bed, and bingo, I couldn't sleep.
I had fascinating reading though. In addition to "8 1/2," I borrowed Cheryl Mendelson's Home Comforts: the Art & Science of Keeping House from the 'brary yesterday. I was interested in the first 150 pages or so: her (pedantic) reasons and theory and how and why. The home is important: yes, I can get behind that. Some ways are better than others to do stuff. Yep. Then all of a sudden she threw herself into Germs Will Kill You Dead and Here's How to Pronounce Fabric Names and I was bored.
Though not yet asleep, so I continued with The Gospel According to Jesus Christ.
Which is why I was so proud to be in the gym at 9:30 this morning.
20' elliptical, manual program (a flatline, no hills no dips), level 13, heart rate higher than it ought to have been.
Hacksquats, 3x12 @110. Natethetrainer said I should add weight every two weeks. Can't I just add reps for a while?
One-legged leg presses, 3x12 @70. My left leg had an easy time than my dominant right. What's up with that?
Weighted seated calf raises, 60. Those fuckers are hard.
25' elliptical, hill program, level 13, heart rate not so bad.
It wasn't only because of this stupid housekeeping book. It was mostly because of talking to Maman two weeks ago. She took Emlet to her playgroup and some of the parents were talking about breadmakers--Frenchies!--and how wonderful they were and Maman had to bite her tongue.
She makes the best bread ever, and usually when I go home, I try to finagle a baguette to bring home. Where, malheureusement, I have to share it with RDC. Her only allowance for breadmakers is that they at least save people from store-bought bread. But she opines that baking bread is so easy a breadmaker is ridiculous.
I have occasionally wanted to make bread. I tried once. I glued--flour+water=glue--one half of the kitchen to the other half. Then I stopped. That was probably eight years ago. I have read the bread-making chapter of The Enchanted Broccoli Forest a couple of times. I really like how Katzen likens what happens to gluten between its flour-state and its bread-state to what happens to wool between sheepsuit and sweater: still wool, but profoundly altered in its structure.
It's also because yesterday we finally went to a little market on 17th that's new since Dot Org moved, I think. It would have been wonderful to stop there on the walk home for fresh bread or produce or fish. It sells King Arthur flour! I'm not often in the market for flour. I've been buying it bulk from Wild Oats or Whole Foods for years now, and who knows what quality that is. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen the King Arthur brand very often in Denver, though, and it is still pretty strongly a New England distribution, I think. I bought some.
It's also because I met a couple at a party last week. One man worked with the hostess, hence the connection; the other is a painter. "Oils," he responded to my query. "Watercolor. Some pen and ink."
"Plus he's a master gardener," supplied the first.
So we talked of gardening--he likes English cottage gardens or whatever he can mock up here--and also of pets, because Charley was curled, sphinxlike, on a comfortable human leg. I admired Charley (that grey thing I have) and when they said all their animals were black and white (my other preference for animal colors) I asked their names. One (the only one I remember) was Tasha. "For Tasha Tudor?"
It wasn't much of a guess, considering he's an illustrator and keeps a cottage garden. But people are always so surprised when I guess why they name their pets what they do. Also he was just really pleased that I know who she is.
So that's why I tried to make bread today: Maman and Tasha Tudor don't eat boughten bread and I had my favorite brand of flour.
I was very careful that the water be only wrist-temperature, as Molly Katzen directs. I added fresh dry active yeast and a dollop of honey and the right measurement of flour. As I waited, I reread the chapter on kneading and listened to The Universe in a Nutshell. RDC wandered by and asked how I liked it. I knew he meant the Hawking but I was thinking only of the Katzen. Both were beyond me. After 40 minutes, I blended into a sponge that didn't look quite riz despite my care with the water temperature a mix of melted butter, honey, and salt, then gradually added in the other seven cups of flour and kneaded the dough until it assumed the consistency of an earlobe. I covered and planned to ignore it for two hours. RDC wandered through again and pronounced it dead.
I think I want a breadmaker.
The housekeeping and woodworking books are a wealth of obscure, industry-specific terms.
I didn't know the etymology of "sleazy": it applies to cloth flimsy, limp, or loosely constructed which should not be.
Camber: slight convexity, arch, or curvature
Cheek: part of the joint that is parallel with the face or edge
Cove: concave molding cut into the edge of the board
Hackling: the process that separates flax into long fibers and short, or staple.
Hardwood, sapwood, springwood
Lappet weave: a method using additional warp yarns to create designs on the face of a fabric.
Quirk: the small groove that defines the edges of the bead
In woodworking the warp is any distortion in the shape of a board caused by changes in the moisture content of the wood; whereas in weaving it is the lengthwise threads in the loom.