BREAD CITY: THE RECKONING

Well would you believe it, ladies and gents? Would you believe it if I told you that after all of that hoo-ra back in Iowa, I suddenly today with zero fanfare turned out a beautiful crusty loaf of delicious springy bread?

I don’t know what was wrong back in Iowa. This time it was easy and straightforward. I honestly can’t explain what my problem was before. Remember how I tried like 9 times and every single time it was an unmitigated disaster, and I started dreaming about it, and finally my old man told me I had to stop trying to bake bread or I was going to make myself sick? It’s remained a mystery all these years. Then suddenly today I was like, huh, why don’t I give that a shot again? I have yeast still from making pizza dough last week. Lets do it! And then I just…..did it. The dough was light and springy and it rose like a charm. Every step made sense intuitively. Maybe it was all psychological–maybe I just had to liberate myself, emotionally? Maybe it’s like all those housewives in the 60s having their first orgasm and being like WHAT and that’s why feminism happened

For whatever reason I feel like finally getting the hang of pie crust had something to do with it, even though the two acts are quite different. Something about trusting one’s gut about when dough has been worked enough. Something about pushing through when things get scary or seem too sticky.

Anyway, this is a major breakthrough for me and I am feeling pretty exuberant about it. The loaf didn’t fit on the pizza stone, either, so I just shoved it into an S shape, big deal. Now I have a beautiful golden crusty loaf that looks just a BIT like a turd. It’s perfect!

It’s the small things in life, I tell you. I will carry this loaf with me all the rest of the night, like a gentle pleasurable stone I can smooth my thumb over when times get tough. Can’t wait to eat it with butter and whatever leftovers are in the fridge.

I also am enjoying getting to know the local beers here. I’m getting into beer! There’s a first time for everything. There’s this very odd little brewery based in Maine that I discovered at the co-op; their beers are named things like “Another One.” The labels are minimalist and attractive. The brewery gives 1% of profits to various causes near to my heart. They caught my eye because one of them is a stout called “Old Mean Tom.” Which is simply a great thing to name a beer. How do you even think of a name that weird and wonderful.

We’ll see what that tastes like with this fancy-ass bread

I also got a haircut today and it was heavenly. First of all, let me say right off the bat that she did a good job and my hair looks the way I wanted it to look, which is basically reason #1 to say you got a good haircut, as far as I’m concerned. BUT, usually when I go to a new person I get nervous about telling them not to shampoo it or put any product in it, because I’m scared they’ll secretly think it’s gross to have to touch my hair when they find out I don’t wash it. Instead, this lady goes “AWESOME! You came to the right place!” I said “really?” and she said “Yeah! I’m always trying to get my clients to stop washing their hair!” HELLO LADY, MY HERO. She was so on my same page. When she was done cutting it she noted my truly outrageous cowlick and I said that cowlick is the only reason I blow dry my hair, and she looked sorrowful, as she said “Oh, I’m sorry you have to blow dry it!” This lady gets me. Lady! How tragic I have felt, blow drying my hair so grudgingly day after day! Thank god someone understands. I was so worried after getting my hair cut by a good friend for years! To go back to a stranger seemed horrid, and yet look, it worked out. Plus it’s only $40 which for a lady’s haircut in today’s world seems fairly cheap. Plus, they have copies of Bitch in the waiting area, and it’s always fun to read Bitch and feel that mixture of “hell yeah!” and “oh my god SHUT UP” whenever you read Bitch. They also have copies of a tiny little magazine from the early 60s called SHORT HAIR

Look at THIS. That’s pretty fun, huh?

Yesterday I took Mr. Snoop back to the river he likes to stomp in. I thought it would be packed because it was a hot Saturday but it was more or less deserted. I have moved to heaven. We ambled around acres and acres of crickety chirping woods and fields, probably getting covered with ticks carrying Lyme disease, hardly seeing another living soul. When we got to the first little path down to the water Snoop BOUNDED down it. This water dog, who is this man?? What have you done with my old wiener dog who cried and cried whenever anyone went near water? He bounded down and leaped right in. He’s so funny in the water. He thinks it’s cool and weird, and he STOMPS in it–he doesn’t just walk, he lifts all his legs up high and SLAMS them down, causing a huge scene and making great splashes wherever he goes. He dips his whole head under the water and then snorts and shakes and flaps his ears. He tries to bite the water. You can see that he is laughing and yelling in the way of dogs not people. You pitch a stick for him into the water and he goes stomping out to where he thought it landed, not understanding that it got swept down on the current. Sometimes he’ll see it and go after it, stomping slowly with his neck outstretched toward the stick and his mouth wide open, not quite able to seal the deal. He is very dumb and cool.

My dear partner is still out of town. He has been out of town for what feels like months. Years. It’s actually two weeks. We haven’t been apart for this long since the days when we lived in separate cities. Turns out, it sucks! I always think it’ll be so fun to be alone in the house. Oh, I’ll do all kinds of projects and I’ll listen to TMBG really loud and I’ll watch all the TV shows he won’t watch. But then in reality, I do the same projects I do when he’s here, and I listen to TMBG when he’s here too, and actually, he will watch any TV show, so what am I doing. All I’m doing is being bored and scared in the house, missing my best friend, and making a list of movies I have to wait to watch until he’s back, like Snowpiercer, because I want to discuss them with him.

Boo hoo. It is not such a big deal! But “when you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible,” as Billy Crystal says in the terrible yet bizarrely compelling (probably due to being such a foundational film during one’s formative years such that one has seen it literally hundreds of times due to it being one of the few VHS tapes on the shelf in the common room of the dorm along with Forrest Gump and Sixteen Candles, and one thus has it memorized almost in its entirety and one sincerely laughs at its jokes, for example Bruno Kirby famously yelling BABY FISHMOUTH during the Pictionary scene, get out of town that shit is funny) “When Harry Met Sally”

Bruno Kirby is a deeply under-appreciated actor. Not by me! Just by awards and accolades, I guess. He is a genius.

“When you’ve loved and lost like Frank has”

I am becoming hysterical and weird due to the unusual degree of isolation I am currently experiencing. I am not being very scintillating like usual

What a great word

Is this loaf of bread scintillating? I think I don’t actually know what that word means. Does it mean gleaming and glinting like jewels? Ha! Just looked it up and indeed I am right. Good job, ol’ brain!

That is just a great example of a word just sounding like the thing it describes. “Scintillating.” It sounds like jewels or bread gleaming