Cutting a storm.
Last night, my mother gave me one of the finest compliments from her I've ever received: "I didn't know you could bake like that."
I'd decided to do something fun and fancy for the first night of Rosh Hashanah - a lunar calendar means the days are measured from sundown to sundown - and made this challah in the afternoon. I've never baked a bread that fancy or that pretty before, and I knew it was a good loaf, but I hadn't known how good it was until I heard my mother say that to me.
I think when my job ends, I'll spend more Fridays making challah. Beats the storebought stuff hands-down, every time; unless it's one of those tiny neighborhood corner bakeries, there's no arguing about the texture. It's something that needs to be made by hand.
And today, someone told me I was an inspiration.
One thing my gym offers is the occasional complimentary massage: five minutes for free to entice people to pay for a full hour. Before my five minutes started I chatted a bit with the masseuse, telling her what I'd done for the day's workout, which was squats - I did them today instead of Thursday so I could use the hard physical effort to deal with period cramps and a bad mood, and they worked wonders for dispelling both of those. And I got a new personal record on back and overhead, to boot: two hundred pounds, and eighty-five pounds, respectively. And when I told the masseuse, she was astounded at the amount, and after I was done in her chair, she told me she'd have to keep working on her squats herself now that I'd inspired her to do so.
I'm too restless and tired and it's too late for me to make some tea and focus in on either cover letters or fic since I've got work in the morning, and I'm in a good mood just the same.
I'd decided to do something fun and fancy for the first night of Rosh Hashanah - a lunar calendar means the days are measured from sundown to sundown - and made this challah in the afternoon. I've never baked a bread that fancy or that pretty before, and I knew it was a good loaf, but I hadn't known how good it was until I heard my mother say that to me.
I think when my job ends, I'll spend more Fridays making challah. Beats the storebought stuff hands-down, every time; unless it's one of those tiny neighborhood corner bakeries, there's no arguing about the texture. It's something that needs to be made by hand.
And today, someone told me I was an inspiration.
One thing my gym offers is the occasional complimentary massage: five minutes for free to entice people to pay for a full hour. Before my five minutes started I chatted a bit with the masseuse, telling her what I'd done for the day's workout, which was squats - I did them today instead of Thursday so I could use the hard physical effort to deal with period cramps and a bad mood, and they worked wonders for dispelling both of those. And I got a new personal record on back and overhead, to boot: two hundred pounds, and eighty-five pounds, respectively. And when I told the masseuse, she was astounded at the amount, and after I was done in her chair, she told me she'd have to keep working on her squats herself now that I'd inspired her to do so.
I'm too restless and tired and it's too late for me to make some tea and focus in on either cover letters or fic since I've got work in the morning, and I'm in a good mood just the same.