Idle chatter

Yesterday as I was leaving the shop, one of my customers stopped by. Seeing as she's a bona fide pastry chef, trained in South Carolina where they might know a thing or twenty about patisserie, I let her try one of the croissants. Her response was extremely favorable, which I deduced not just from her pleased expression, but from the fact that she chose not to save some for her husband.

As a self-taught baker, everyone assumes I won't share my recipes, but you'd be wrong. Behold the fountain of all baking knowledge, the only book you'll ever need to make fabulous artisan breads, breath-taking desserts and cakes, and of course, an array of 'breakfast pastries' that will make you legendary. "Baking with Julia" is the only book I'd grab if my kitchen were on fire. It's the necessary first ingredient in every pastry I make.

I sprouted an extra copy when the original started spewing pages. One to peruse, and one to use. Now I'm beginning to think I may need a copy for each child, penning in my notes on how to make it "like Mom's" where necessary (like adding a drizzle of corn syrup to the brown sugar in the sticky bun pan so the resulting 'caramel' won't be grainy), but the butter-stained, crinkled paged first edition will stay home with me.

Well, that's about all I have to 'fess up to this morning. It's time for my haircolor (just covering grays, nothing fun about it) to be rinsed off. I've had an urge to sew today, since every time I pick up my knitting it's like someone switched on Bob Ross in my head and I find myself drooping off to sleep. I knew this day would have naps in it. So, after a shower and some basic grooming, we're (the chirruns and myself) off to retrieve my sewing machine from the shop (Madeleine's, too), and it's going to be a stitchin' day.

I also have the back to buy for the ugly bookcase that still needs it's fresh coat of paint, but a trip into Lowe's sounds too painful for words. I may have to drug myself for that one, but I can't be the only person afraid of being crushed to death by five-gallon paint buckets in the big-box hardware store. Gads, Margaret.
Okay, gotta get busy being busy... I think Thimbleanna's bee motif was apt, but then again, what symbolizes ADD better? I know. She's right on the money with that, eh?