Surely You’re Not Saying We

Jacqui the organic farmer gave me a sourdough starter as a pet. As you know, I adore a new pet! But I knew less about taking care of sourdough starter than I did about feeding giant pandas. Did you know you can learn anything on YouTube?

Jar full of yeast is yeasty.

It is…ALIVE!

The procedure is this: you dump out about half your sourdough starter, feed it with a water and flour mix. I had some trouble with this. The mix ratio is 1:1 water to flour by weight or 1:2 water to flour by volume. You can use almost any kind of flour you like. I’m using whole wheat.

There are variables. If you keep the starter on the kitchen counter, it bubbles and grows. You have to dump out and feed quite often. If you keep the starter in the fridge, it sleeps. You have to pick a feeding schedule, say once a week. When you get up in the morning, take the starter out of the fridge and let it come to room temperature, feed it in the afternoon, then put it back in the fridge before midnight. It sounds complicated, but that’s because it’s so easy.

It's not like the chickens can go out for McMuffins.

When life gives you sourdough goop, get yourself going on some pancakes.

Once I’d worked out how to care for my new pet, I was left with one more problem. Each time I fed my pet, I would be pouring out some otherwise useful goo, which I could not bring myself to do. I looked out in the backyard and realized I also had chickens to feed.

Discarded goo makes a good basis for pancake batter. Add it to your favorite pancake batter and feed pancakes to your chickens – or my chickens. My chickens are very nice people with an excellent sense of humor, but every morning, they’re going to want breakfast.

Glittering Prizes And Endless Compromises

Today, I heard an intelligent person say, “Trump says all the right things.”

Posture is important, especially for slackers.

Invisible bad kid sits in yard corner, contemplating what nobody saw him do.

Obviously, my new hobby is trying to convince a middle class, state-employed, Hindu immigrant that a WASP billionaire con artist doesn’t give a rat’s ass about her or people like her. She will never be white enough or rich enough to be spared by his jackbooted followers.

Their Battered Dreams To Heaven

I’m three weeks into a six week college course. My co-workers joke that three weeks have flown by. To me, it feels like I’ve been at this for months, in a quonset hut in Antarctica, and, when daylight lasts six months, when did I last feed the penguins?

Agog, aghast.jpg

The look I get when I don’t know all the words to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

 

My teacher pointed at me and asked why I’m not taking the second summer semester of American Sign Language. I said, “I didn’t know I could,” but I meant I think I might have a nervous breakdown. Next time you’re tempted to tell a toddler to get a grip, realize that language acquisition is no day at the beach.