Litte Miss-chief

When I see this smile, I know she is doing something verboten and will likely make a run for it.  I should start doing this at work:  when someone asks me to do something I don’t like, I’ll just make a break for it.

This morning I was up at 6:20 mixing up a sourdough starter.  I am trying Hamelman’s Vermont sourdough.  The procedure is a little different from Reinhart’s, and I’m interested to see which yields a better bread.  Well, better is subjective, but I know what I like—thick crunchy crust, open structure, creamy taste with a little tang—and we’ll see which comes out the winner.

This morning our office went out for breakfast.  After two cups of coffee, I am reminded why I don’t drink coffee.  I felt like I would buzz out of my chair and shimmy across the floor like a vibrating phone on a tabletop.  But two plate-sized pancakes, sausage, and fried eggs counteracted it, so I’m in metabolic limbo now.  Tonight is Oktoberfest, and my wife and I plan on consuming beer, brats, and faux-German culture in equal measure.  Oompah!

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