Sunday

Sunny and warm, supposed to be very hot today and tomorrow.

Bread day today -- must set out ingredients so they'll be room temp (not refrigerator-cold) when we start.

Have almost finished Moab Is My Washpot, not sure what's up next. Probably either Indra Singh's Animal's People or Tom Stoppard's Rock 'n' Roll.

Not much else -- very blah this morning.

An Observation

It's quiet outside.

Chango decided she wanted to chase a tennis ball, so I went out on the deck with her. I heard one car go by, and that was it. There's no one doing yard work, no kids playing. A jet went over. I put some fresh water and ice cubes in the bird dish.

104 right now, will probably get up to 106 before the day is out. Yee haw.

And Then It Was Night

But it was still hot out. Supposedly it is 98 right now, after reaching 107 today. Isn't that just lovely. Hee.

Made bread today -- unbleached + whole wheat, 10-grain and sunflower seeds. The two loaves look great and smell wonderful.

Finished Stephen Fry's Moab Is My Washpot this evening and absolutely loved it, so here's a terrific quote from it:

What I believed I was looking for I cannot say. I can only assert that, as in a novel, the locations with which this story climaxes are the same as the locations with which it begins. Life is sometimes novel-shaped, mocking the efforts of those authors who, in an effort to make their novels life-shaped, spurn the easy symmetry and cheap resonance of reality.

And that's all for right now.