Riding

Riding my bike has become a chore. I have discovered that this foldable bike is vastly different than a standard sized bike.

I have hit curbs, run into bushes, fallen going up a driveway entrance. It is embarrassing. I have ridden bicycles since I was four years old; how can I have forgotten how they work?

I have not forgotten; as I said earlier, this foldable bike is completely different. I think it is the driver, actually, though I am not sure, at the moment. The driver of this bicycle is older than the she was the last time she rode a bike, and her equilibrium is off, especially with the deafness of her right ear. Excuses, excuses.

Practice. I keep thinking that I will go outside, every morning, and ride around the park; quietly, in no hurry, with no traffic to concern me. Then something always comes up, (thank the Lord) to keep me from said practice. I mean well, I just do not follow through.

Then, I end up riding my bike over to the cousin’s house, to deliver a loaf of bread, and end up falling into shrubs, or hitting a curb; all in traffic I am unsure of. Very embarrassing; not to mention scary, and painful.

It is as if I have developed a palsy when riding. Something happens to the handlebars, and they go back and forth without my control. Embarrassing. It is similar to driving a large vehicle for years, a Cadillac, say, and then driving a MiniCooper. Everything is different. The center of gravity, (Lord knows my center is off), is to short; there is no room for error. So, I run into things. Practice, practice, practice. Ha.

Eventually, I will ride the darned thing without fear of doing myself irreparable harm, but until then, you know what to do. Please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones. We are doing the same. Well, except for the bike riding, that is.

Languishing

That, I have read, is the new buzz word for 2021.

None of us are depressed, or, just “existing”; we are languishing. That is a very sedate way of describing incarceration, is it not?

I do not know about you, the reader, but I definitely consider myself, and my husband, as languishing. In the dictionary, it reads “to be or become weak or feeble, droop, fade, to lose vigor and vitality, to undergo prolonged inactivity,” a state of melancholia.”

We are languishing; are you?

Originally, I thought this word did not fit our current lifestyle. After really reading the definition, I admit, now, that it is spot on. As much as we try to stay busy, the inactivity is a killer.

Some days it is hard to get out of bed; each day is the same as the last. I try to do as much as I can, especially first thing in the morning, to change things up a bit, though I do not always accomplish it. Baking is what makes the difference in a day; for me, at least.

My most recent attempt.

It sounds, at the moment, here, in the apartment, that all of the others, incarcerated as well, are languishing, too. I can not hear a single sound; maybe the electricity went out. I will have to check.

Until I know for sure, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

They are alive, for the most part

Yes, the peace lily, and the schefflera are alive. Well, the lily, is, at least. The schefflera is alive, but, still in recovery, in guarded condition.

I bought a Houseplant Survival Manual that is a few years old, but fits my needs nicely. It did not get here until a few days ago. In it, I learned that the schefflera prefers to be on the dry side, and not drowned. To save it, I took it out of the pot, and am allowing it to dry out on newspaper, and more potting soil. Poor thing.

I learned that one must water ones indoor plants with the same water that one drinks. I did not know that, and had been watering everything with the water from the faucet. Most of the herbs have died; they did not care for icky water, is my guess. Only the chives have survived.

Now that I have started watering less, and using the bottled water we buy, things are looking up. Better than that, I have moved the large philodendrons into the office, and the spider plant and peace lily to our bedroom. That should help considerably, as they will not be where I can see them all day, and want to make sure they have enough water. (Read, drown them.)

Why not just purchase a water meter, you ask? I have. It will not arrive until mid May; must be coming from China, via India.

Speaking of India, have you read, or heard, how awful the virus is affecting them? We read, here, that they are doubling up patients, in hospitals, two to a bed. How horrible for them.

Please, do not wait to see how they fare; prevention is worth our time, and effort. Stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

Lazy is as lazy does

That is me, alright. The last few days have been busy; making bread, repotting plants, recovering some.

I moved three of the bigger plants back to the spare bedroom, allowing much more indirect sunlight for them. It has an eastern facing window, so it gets sunlight, mostly in the afternoon, however. Because of the configuration of the buildings, the sun has to come up, and over, the top of the front of the building, so we do not receive its bounty until after noon.

Today, I have to make some kombucha. It is quite a process in the prep work, so I am often hesitant to even start it. Once I get going, though, it does not really take much time at all. Cutting up the pineapple take the most amount of time, and is quite messy. The pineapples are bright yellow, so they are both sweet, and juicy; hence the mess.

I suppose I have put it off long enough. I had better get to it. A cup of coffee first, I think.

While I build up my resolve, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

I need a moment…

Luis, and Martín, were here, this afternoon. And, well, the few things they brought have, actually, left me speechless. NOT!

First, they brought in the glass tops for the hutch, and the dressers. Then, they brought in the base, for the kitchen, under the fermentation station. We discovered that they built a cutting board into the base for us. Who does these things? They do.

Before.
After.
Our new cutting board.
The most used appliances are now at hand.

I have so much more space in the kitchen, and, in the pantry, that I had to stop, sit down, and write this post. My mind is overwhelmed; I am having difficulty deciding what to bring into the kitchen, and what to leave in the pantry. So much to do, so much to do. I cannot stop smiling.

Here are a few photos of the hutch, in the living room. I brought all of the dishes, and most of the glassware, and filled the hutch this morning, just before L&M arrived. I think it has turned out quite nicely.

The hutch had a solid base at the floor, but we requested they make it open, so that was changed this morning, as well. I keep trying to think of what I want to put in the drawers, but, as we only have three tablecloths, at the moment, and no placemats, I am having a bit of difficulty with this, as well. I am sure, though, that something will come to me, in the wee hours of a morning some day.

Until I figure out what will go where, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

Hot as Hel……

I have been six hours, working in this hot kitchen today. Of course, I have a photo to show you what I mean by hot.

I could not stand to watch it keep climbing so I stopped at one hundred five degrees F. I think it is a shame that I cannot lose weight, working in this sauna. Fortunately, the breads that are being baked will be well worth the sweat! Since I no longer have long hair, I can stick my head under the bathroom faucet, and cool myself off. Yay for me.

While not in the kitchen, I spent an hour, maybe less, repotting all of the Sansevieria’s; the little ones. Tomorrow, after my silica sand arrives, I will repot the large San’s into several different spots, in one of the larger green containers that go in the large flower box. Right now, I am trying to loosen the block of dirt surrounding the roots. It cannot make a dent in it.

Until all of that happens, let me show you how nice the little ones look after having been repotted this morning. After that, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

Just when you think…

Just when I think I have everything under control, I find out, usually the hard way, that, indeed, I do not.

This morning, I made my morning pot of coffee, as I do every morning, with one, very important exception; I forgot to dump the half cup of coffee left in the pot, from yesterday. Ugh!

I was going about my business this morning, trying to keep to some sort of routine, after having very little sleep last night. That is nothing unusual, however, this morning I am quite tired; down to my bones. I cannot get my head into the routine; I seem to be floating, ghost like, around the apartment. Even sitting down to type this, I am sitting on my chair, but feel like a lump of coal; zombi-ish.

I got up, opened the living room windows, and breathed deeply of the morning air; made, and drank, my (retch) apple cider vinegar with honey, and water; started a load of laundry; lit the oven to preheat it for bread baking; then, noticed the coffee, running on the countertop. (That, I should admit, to myself, at least, was a feat in itself, as the countertop is black speckled granite, if you recall.)

I mopped up the countertop, then, continued on my way. I fixed myself a cup of coffee, sat at my “office”, (the table in the living room,) got out my iPad, and started typing. Thus, what you are reading, before you, was the beginning of my day.

Fortunately, this morning was one in a thousand. I have not had such a start in quite some time. Why do you not return to bed, you ask? Simply, because, then my morning, my time of solitude, peace, reflection, is gone; utterly. I cannot retrieve it once it has passed.

Getting up, after seven thirty, or eight o’clock, is just not me. I need this time, by myself, to get my affairs in order, if you will. I can plan my day without having any distractions, (not that I would ever call my beloved a distraction!), however, if the shoe fits….

The bedding is in the washer, soon to be hung up on the clothesline in the laundry area to dry; the first loaf of bread has thirty minutes to bake; the plants are all “good morning”ed, and I am ready for a second cuppa.

That all said, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

I just saw this; thought it was parchment paper from the bread I just took out of the oven!)

Will not do that again. Hahaha.

Take a look at this

I must tell you, that, with the higher hydration rate, and the sifting of the bran out of the Einkorn flour, I am able to make a loaf of sourdough bread that looks like this.

Personally, I prefer less perforations, as everything falls through them. However, it is the look for which most bakers strive. No longer.

I am currently making two loaves of bread that have a seventy seven percent hydration, and will let you know, tomorrow, how they turned out.

Until then, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

We are back

Hello, again. We were gone, but we are back now.

Today, I came out to the living room, after putting on a pot of coffee, and saw some horrific things happening in the “garden”. We have two beautiful plants that I have begun to slowly kill, by drowning them.

I did not do it intentionally, but I have done it all the same. The peace lily, and the schefflera are drooped to almost the shelves they inhabit. They look the same as when they need watering.

I repotted half a dozen plants yesterday, and gave all of them a nice, healthy watering. Not such a good idea, I am learning. Time for research.

I got online, and found that if I changed out the soil, wet for dry, it might save them. So, that is exactly what I did. I also apologized, profusely, to them both, and told them that I hoped they would be better after a bit of resuscitation.

So far, they are still trying to recover. Hopefully, I have not dealt them a death knell. We shall see.

Until then, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

Baking bread

It appears that I do my best when baking breads on Wednesday, and Friday.

These were made this morning, using a seventy three percent hydration, and one hundred fifty grams of Einkorn flour, as below.

I feed the starter Tuesday morning, and, evening, then again, Wednesday morning, if I am going to bake sourdough bread on Wednesday. When the starter is well into its rise, I mix the flours being used; usually one kilo of all purpose, with one hundred fifty grams of Einkorn.

Next, I add seven hundred and thirty grams of water to the flour mixture, to achieve a seventy three percent hydration. That gets mixed together, covered with a shower cap, and left to sit for one to twenty four hours. That part is called the “autolyse”, which allows the flour to start relaxing, making it easier to knead, when the time comes.

Personally, I rarely use a recipe for sourdough bread anymore. I found, then learned, how to use the baker’s percentage formula to determine how much flour, water, salt, and starter I need to use to make a loaf that weighs x amount of grams. I am not going to explain it here, but if you are interested in what it is, and how to use it, check it out.

I like a hydration rate of seventy three percent because it is wet enough to give the bread some significant holes, but stiff enough that I can knead the dough by hand, and not have to use my stand mixer. The wetter the dough, the more open the “crumb”, you have in the finished loaf.

Aesthetically, the more holes, supposedly the better the loaf. Me? I do not want any of the toppings I am using to fall through too many holes. The loaves you have seen on this site work just fine for me, and mine.

To know what is in each loaf of bread I make, even, to go as far as the sprouting, drying, and hand milling of the Einkorn grains; having made each loaf entirely by hand, gives me the greatest joy imaginable. Few have had the courage to tell me what they think of the bread, but, in my heart, I know exactly what they are tasting.

And am very proud of it.

Japanese milk bread. Should be soft enough for Ivan to eat.

Now, until my Japanese Milk Bread has risen enough to bake, (also kneaded by hand for the first, and, last time, EVER), stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.