I just produced the saddest two loaves of bread ever seen. Each loaf stands a mighty 2 inches tall with wrinkly little tops, most likely the result of the not so high quality Kroger brand (el cheapo) yeast I recently purchased with the intention of saving some dough. Next time I will buy the good stuff with the intention of saving some dough. Aside from its hideous exterior, the bread is pretty scrumptious. We just have to make itty-bitty sandwiches this week.
The cold Autumn air left us for the last few days to deal with her crude sweat-stained cousin, Summer, who just continues to linger around like a guest who has far outstayed its welcome. However, this morning Autumn returned and was welcomed with windows opened wide. She was celebrated by a large mug of hot chocolate. The cool breezes brought with them the strange desire to split fire wood. I miss the hard labor of the country life. The labor that imprints its worth on every muscle in a way that is felt at the end of a long day. There are few places on earth better than sitting in the warming glow of a fireplace blazing with wood you cut from a tree then split into usable pieces with your own two hands (an axe helps of course). But until my day of metropolitan exodus comes, I will keep chopping away here watching my hands grow softer.
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