Cross your fingers! So far, it's rising. Sitting in a loosely closed Rubbermaid bread storage container on top of a 350 degree F oven. The outside of the stove top is just right warm. It's gained an inch so far, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Proofing bread dough is proving to be my nemesis in our new home. Old techniques are not working this winter - location of kitchen with the cold of garage draft is sabotaging my efforts. I will get this. The bread machine creates bricks of bread - I was more interested in good artisan hand kneaded bread. I've spent hours this week, and keep ending up in failure. Boiled water in a pan in my oven and my loaf to proof does not work. The oven itself is too cold. Lowest setting is 170 degrees Fahrenheit too hot to actually turn on for a warm proofing oven. I'm actually crossing my fingers with today's attempt. I just made my own proofing set up with multiple pans and a lot of hope; sitting on top of the oven with the temp at 350 so the exterior is a warm surface for the set-up. I know I'm spending much more in resources to make this bread than a bought version - but it's a challenge and hobby that I'd like to master. Maybe I need a mentor.
A morning epiphany, it was then that I realized that I just really am never going to "get" it. I'm never going to be able to make sense of the input. I'm never going to feel okay. I will however learn to cope with it, forgetting or not, it will diminish like the light of a star burning out millions of years ago that we only just see today.
The concept of time, waiting, thinking new thoughts, fighting for new goals, will eventually flood the space that is covered with the ominous and give birth to yet a new me. I wonder how many there will be?
I think people I know would laugh at me for caring about this AT ALL let alone enough to warrant a journal entry, but what the hell. If it's prompting me to write, fucking write woman. Write.
I actually wonder about this entire saga from Sheen's profile these days. What the hell says this man isn't finally fucking being REAL? I'm not condoning anything he's said or done, believe me - I couldn't even if I tried because there's no end to it, and I'm sure I've not read enough of the stories. Stories! That's what we have folks. Stories that are as good as a lame plot for another Scream-quel. He's doing what he wants to do, and he's saying what the fuck he wants to say. If it's sounding insane? Oh well. Let it be. LET it BE! Let him do his gestures of grandeur and move along Daisy.
I just think its entirely ridiculous that I care about this piece of not news when there are worse things happening in the world. But for some fucking reason - my mind is screaming he's realer than any of those assholes out there taking his picture or tailing him to find out what he fucks up next. He's in a fucking up phase, but it doesn't appear to be sucking too badly for him. His children should be allowed to see him; perhaps a middle ground would be supervised visits until his life settles down; if it settles down.
It's now or never people. Perhaps Sheen finally got it too. You live now. Your chance is now. Live it.
amused
optimistic
pensive
busy