The lines and whorls on my palms and fingers are darkened with grease.

My hands still have the lingering scent of gasoline.

I smell like an auto mechanic's shop.

[I wrote three quarters of this entry yesterday afternoon, and only posted it now. Hence the date and time.]

Wheatberry was excellent, as evidenced by my post at quarter of four this morning. Shannon came in at 5 and we rocked the shizzle off the fizzle. I keep forgetting to take my camera with me and photograph the breads. The pain au levain types ( Read more... )