Good bread and work.

I started a loaf of bread kind of late tonight. Seth is in a bad position and I feel guilty for it. He hates change, it seems. The past year has been full of it. I dragged him to Virginia, married him, made him a father, dragged him back to Louisiana, encouraged him to take jobs, and to leave jobs and now I'm encouraging him to switch jobs again. Something that seems like a really good opportunity has come along. He's happy at his current job and things are going well there so I think he is hesitant to leave.
I can tell it's really getting to him.

He said he wanted bread earlier so I started making bread. I forgot it takes 3 long hours to make so I'll be up until 11:30 or midnight I suppose. Everyone else has already gone to bed.

This time I loosely followed the recipe on the back of my bag of flour. I added too much honey and butter but both of those are delicious so I don't think many problems will be caused. The dough feels exactly the same, but tastes a little better than my previous attempts.


It will be nice to have fresh bread again. It's so wonderful homemade, and so wonderful to make. I haven't done it in awhile. I'd call it laziness, or procrastination.

Sometimes I wonder how people have made it so far with infants around. How does anything get done ever?
I guess it does. I guess it does around here, too, but mentally it all just feels incomplete, in-progress and very scattered.
Thus is life, hm? I'd be feeling the same way without an infant, really.

It's actually no different.

The chickens are big now and I love their soft feathers. They are all pretty sweet and tame. Even though it's a hassle to move them back and forth, morning and night, it's the only time we spend with them besides feeding and watering. It's good that they're so used to us.
I really love those creatures.

Signing off now, as I await a warm slice of bread with butter and honey... or perhaps the sound of a crying child.