What am I even doing here? I have nothing to say! There is nothing to write about!
Everything is strange and stressful and disorienting and yet utterly, mind-fuckingly boring.
Since I last updated here, I reorganized our pantry. I planted some flowers that should be growing by now, but aren't. I made cookies and ravioli and garlic ginger paste. Jason spent like three days making an insanely complicated, beautiful ramen. Afterwards the kids begged and begged for Domino's pizza until we caved and ordered them some frigging Domino's pizza. I learned that Oxi-Clean and boiling water will make the inside of a trashed-to-hell Le Creuset Dutch oven look practically brand new.
(I also learned that I had zero concept of how much money I'd actually spent on said Le Creuset Dutch oven, sweet merciful jebus, what was my life even. Once I realized how much it would cost to replace that sucker I was going to restore it to some semblance of its former glory even if it took hours of scrubbing, an entire box of baking soda, and half a layer of my finger skin. But I forgot to take before-and-after photos so like, why? Why am I even talking about this?)
I also got photographed and fingerprinted for my gubermint ID badge! I didn't get to see the photos but the woman who took them said "these are really good, actually!" I do not believe her, but I suppose I'll see when I pick up the final, approved, actual badge on Wednesday, YAY!
And then I get to wait some more, this time for a laptop. I was advised not to give notice to my "current employer" until after the laptop is finalized, which HA. HAHAHAHA.
Ezra, Ike and I spent Saturday outside painting random flower pots and bottles and basically whatever junk I could find for them to paint. I forgot to put on sunscreen and got a terrible sunburn.
I'm so sick of television I could scream. (We're in between Hunt a Killer boxes at the moment.) Most of our conversations revolve around food and recipes and what we're doing for dinner. We had our first Quarantine Quarrel the other day when I forgot that Jason had a loaf of sourdough proving in the oven and preheated it for dinner. There was a mutual, momentary snap of AAAAHHHHHH YOU'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY and then everything was fine. Now he puts a Post-It over the oven buttons to let me know there's dough in there.
(There's always dough in there! AAAAAHHHHH HE'S DRIVING ME CRAZY.)
Since some of you have asked where in the world we're finding enough flour to sustain our crazy level of stress-baking: Back when flour first started to get a scarce, Jason ordered 50-pound bags of both AP and bread flour from some bulk food/restaurant supply site. (We already had a bulk supply of yeast in our fridge and freezer, from The Before Times.)
I agreed to this plan, as long as the not-super-attractive plastic trash cans he bought for storage had someplace to go other than in the middle of the kitchen.
So we have a LOT of flour. And it is not TECHNICALLY in the "middle" of the kitchen.
(Jason tried to make it up to me by also ordering me some really nice, restaurant-quality baking sheets, but didn't realize they were full, industrial-oven sized and do not fit in ours at all. So they are also sitting there, because we'd pay more to ship them back than they cost in the first place, and yet have zero idea what to do with them.)