1. Make two loaves of sourdough fermented bread -- make, not bake, as this recipe requires another 24-36 hours in the fridge after the loaves have been formed into their brotfrom baskets and before they go into an exceptionally hot Dutch oven in the oven. We won't be slathering butter on fresh bread until mid-morning tomorrow. . .
2. A doctor's appointment. . . just crossing my fingers the waiting-room won't be full, and I can be back home quickly to "fold" my bread dough on schedule (don't worry: Pater will be baby-sitting it while I'm away).
3. A short run. I haven't managed a gym workout this week, which is unusual for me, but I've logged a fair number of kilometres walking. And last week, at my son's, I started back at the beginning of a simple program my physio made up over a year ago, for me to build up my running fitness again. I had to dial that right back, and then abandon it for several months, but I'm really missing something running gives me that so far nothing else does. I won't force it if it doesn't work, but I'm going to see what happens if I build back up with more rest days in between (more than a week, for example, since I ran at my son's).
4. Reading -- and perhaps working on a post for my reading blog. I've just finished a very moving and surprisingly entertaining memoir by my good friend and longtime neighbour Carol Matthews, Minerva's Owl: The Bereavement Phase of My Marriage. Carol's husband, Mike, died six years ago -- they'd been married 47 years, and she's been learning since to live with him and without him at once. More on this later. For now, I'm trying to decide which book to follow it with. The choice is between Edward St. Aubyn's At Last, the final volume in his Patrick Melrose series (I posted about the series here); Roz Chast's graphic memoir about the final years of her parents, Can't We Talk about Something More Pleasant; and the considerably lighter fare of Elly Griffiths' A Room Full of Bones, a Ruth Galloway mystery. Which would you choose?
5. Painting -- I started my watercolour classes yesterday, and brought home a sketch that needs much work. Foregrounds, backgrounds, wet-on-wet, wet-on-dry, mixing colours, choosing brushes, drawing in shapes to leave light, adding detail after this section dries, going back in after the next section dries to paint the negative space. . . so much to think about, but I also remind myself that I don't need to learn it all at once, that much of the knowledge, and any craft or skill I might acquire will arrive through the doing.
So I got this far, and then realized that if I didn't get out for that run, it wouldn't happen before my doctor's appointment, and if it didn't happen before my doctor's appointment, it wouldn't happen at all today.
By the time I got back from my run, I only had time enough to look after my bread dough before running out the door. Which means that as I write, I've already finished Items #1,#2, and #3, save shaping the dough into boules and letting it rest before popping those boules into the fridge until tomorrow morning. I've just brewed myself a cup of tea, and it's time to attack Task Number Four on today's list of Things To Do, and I'm leaning heavily toward indulging in a mystery novel this rainy day. Comfort is needed. . .
Now, before I do anything else, even before I pour that tea, I'm going to ask you what's on your list today, and how you're tackling that? Have you built some comfort into your day, or is there no room at all? (Perhaps your blog-reading is comforting, and I hope you might find that here if you need it.)