When I think about Tuesday, it gives me a headache. So many strange little mishaps, so many non sequiters... the line between dream remembered and reality remembered gets blurry.
The Bread Disaster
My new cooking bible, the Clay Pot Cookbook (who has led me to the green pastures of superb pilafs, lentil soups, heavenly fish, to name a few) has one bread recipe in it. For carrot bread. I have never cooked bread by myself before. My mother used to cook it in the 80's before she discovered she was allergic to yeast. I didn't have any carrots, but I had a baggie full of frozen persimmon pulp. They are both orange, right? I went to New Leaf and purchased the yeast and flour and other sundries. I followed the directions and the dough turned out like evil orange goup.. so sticky, that no amount of flour could dry it up. I kept adding more and more, in the attempt to make it kneadable. I used nearly a pound. It took three hours to rise. My mother recommended a heating pad. Yes, the yeast was alive. I started the process around 4 PM. I didn't pull the specimins out of the oven until 12:30 AM. (well, ya have to let it rise twice!) And it was still raw inside. I scraped out the pulp and I threw the charred and blackened crust away. Slow food doesn't necessarily mean "edible."
I tried to go to work, really.
I was motoring up the 17 this morning when right around Santa's Village, the traffic stopped. I think I already wrote about this. But it counts, dagnabbit.
But I ran out of USB ports!
Occasionally I kneel at the altar of retail consummerism. My latest episode took place at a Fr*s. You know the place-- the mega tech-temples with the "themes." An unholy hybrid of Costco and a Las Vegas casino. They even have a conveyor belt to help the patrons into the store. I needed a printer. The one I purchased was on a table supported by egyptian jaguars, as if those printers were on a one-way ticket to the Under World. I was able to commubicate with the helpful, but totally incomprehensible staff, and I got what I was looking for. Then it came time for a cable. I was expecting one of those old style things with the wide mouth and the little teeth. Au contraire, I was informed, I needed a USB cable. But I was out of ports, I tried to say. The man just smiled and handed me the cable. I tried to explain again. He insisted, that was what I needed. By the time I got to the car, four people were waiting for my parking space, my hands were bleeding from paper cuts from the printer box and if I saw one more poly-ester-resin sarcophagus, I think I would have hurled. As I was pulling out I realized there were other places to get printers. I had this strange superstition that Fr*s was the Only Place To Go. Thankfully, that is not true, I don't have to go there ever again.
All I need are some refrigerator boxes.
Went to the resource area to get cardboard. They had a ton, but none of it was for sale. So I settled for a recycled white board, banker's boxes and plexi-glass. Its always so weird going there. They have a ton of junk that no one else in the Valley has found a use for, and they are protective of it. I had to sign in, and give them my number and blah blah blah. What are they afraid I am going to do with all those old VHS tapes?
Walkie and Movie with the Contessa. Went to a different sylvan setting (a friendly, but muddy dog left paw prints all over our legs), and watched one of my favorite musicals, the Merry Widow. She fed me lots of good food. This episode wasn't so strange, but given the length of a normal day, how was I was able to fit it in?
Mr F's Magic Touch
The Evil Router is Working. A Real Man Touched it and now it has worked without a mishap for over 14 hours! A new record. Mr F, the M*ster's bro started tinkering with the network around midnight. All he did was wiggle the wires, after he plugged them in. (for the record, I unplugged everything after I was sure it was busted). Is there a magical combination? Shasta Co Man, Plus Wire Wiggles, At Midnight, or no dice?
"Men have cycles, too!"
NY called. We discussed Feminine Hormonal Cycles, because he's reading a book about anthopology and the endocrine system (at least that was what I sussed). I was dubious about his position that the moon emits EM radiation that is parallel with its phase cycle. While he was talking my mind went straight to the diagram of the perpendicular waves and the biographical details about Maxwell and its now occuring to me in retrospect, that perhaps he just meant varying levels of light.
"I have a dominatrix/slave set at home"
One of the T*ster's friends offered to model for me (I am always looking for new victims, er models) and I mentioned that I am also looking for clothed models as well. She listed off the highlights of her collection and she ended it with the quote above.