I got up at 5am, made some raisin bread, and while I was waiting for it to proof, I worked in my quilt. where is my Amish bonnet? Seriously. I need to get out more. the Brit doesn’t mind. he gets yummy cinnamon raisin bread. I hope my bread rises. I don’t know how old our yeast is. it got all frothy like its supposed to so I have high hopes.

yesterday, after breakfast with our Australian family, the Brit and I headed into the city for some chores. I was meant to look for a book on easy elimination diets (“easy” being the operative word). I’m not liking the one my doctor gave me and all subsequent searches on the Internet gave me nothing pleasant and easy. but, I found no such book. so I bought three other books that have nothing to do with elimination diets. and a teapot for work. and a tin of organic green tea. and then we decided to go to Paul Smith.

that place is dangerous. i splurged and have no more money until i get paid again. I got some nice things though.

… so my dough kind of proofed. but I dont think it doubled in size like the recipe said. I can’t remember how big my lump of dough was when I started. that was way over an hour ago. I have the memory of a goldfish. it felt like it proofed a bit as I was kneading it. I sprinkled my sugar/cinnamon mixture on it and rolled it up and now it as to rise again for another hour. man, making bread isnt quick. it better be worth the effort.

I booked our hotel in hong kong. we are staying at the upper house on hong kong island. I pick hotels based on the bathroom. the Brit thinks I’m weird but we all knew that already, didn’t we? it’s also part of the pacific place complex which has the best shopping mall so my decision wasn’t based purely on where best place to poop is. in true Brit style, he has ordered DVDs, books and apps for us to learn about hong kong before we go. I don’t think we’ll get any farther than the mall.

we also bought a bed last week. now we are hunting for some nice bedside tables to go with it. the old bed is being moved to the spare room which is currently a dumping ground for my clothes, shoes and bags. the Brit kindly offered to put it all in bin bags in the garage for me to sort through which I perceived as a passive aggressive threat. I pouted and said that i would clean it all myself (spoken like a petulant child). the Brit looked incredulous but I’m determined to prove him wrong. it’s a big job and I’m not looking forward to it. I have four weeks.

I decided to grow my hair long again. I’ve been waxing nostalgic about my days of long hair.

the Brit prefers me with short hair but my mom wants me to have long hair. she thinks young girls with short hair can easily be mistaken for lesbians (seriously. this is what she’s like). of course she has short hair but she says it’s different because she goes to church (again … W.T.F.!!??). anyway, I think if I give into this, maybe she’ll stop all that crazy talk about making babies.

ps. I just checked on my bread, I don’t think it really rose but I’m gonna bake it anyway. might be kinda dense.


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