I think my stomach is fermenting.
Yesterday I made Martha Stewart's chocolate babka -- mmmm, babka -- recipe, which Deb vetted over on her site. Being a fiend for any kind of dough, I of course had some before baking it, and the rest of the day I kept having these little yeasty burps. The finished product was amazing, well worth the 5 hours it took to make the damn thing.
In other news, this morning when my alarm went off, I was dreaming that I was gardening in France. When I first reached up to turn the alarm off, I could swear my hand was still wearing gardening gloves - but by the time my hand touched the clock, I wasn't wearing it, and I was back in bed.
I could have killed my alarm clock. In fact that may be part of my plan for the day: destroy France-stealing clock.
In other news, this morning when my alarm went off, I was dreaming that I was gardening in France. When I first reached up to turn the alarm off, I could swear my hand was still wearing gardening gloves - but by the time my hand touched the clock, I wasn't wearing it, and I was back in bed.
I could have killed my alarm clock. In fact that may be part of my plan for the day: destroy France-stealing clock.
posted by Brooke at 1:41 PM
2 Comments:
God, you NEED to be gardening in France. And you need to have a guest room for your friend who is on holiday from her quirky house on a pokey street in London. Where there is also a guest room.
I was in the middle of writing a really good piece when my alarm went off and made the cat dig his claws into my stomach. Urg.
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