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Persimmon of Leave
Sep. 27th, 2025 08:06 pmI had a fairy ring of tiny white mushroom caps in my back yard. I was taking pains not to step into the middle of it. Today, the weather took a turn for the warm again, and the summery sun seems to have discouraged the mushrooms. They've turned beige and stopped rising. Belatedly, it occurred to me that maybe I should have hopped in and waited for someone to come and get me!
After an excessively wakeful night, I got more sleep by sleeping late. The down side of that is that then the day starts late. Nothing much happened. I did my homework for the child protection meeting--rereading the endless policy statement to see if it's correct on THIS iteration. We were down to our last heel of bread, so I made a new batch. It was an experiment. We had about a pint of half and half that had soured before we could use it up. That happens when we buy from the farm store, because, I guess, it's not ultra-pasteurized like the dairy products from the store. We are not the kind of people to buy raw milk, so it's not raw, but just a bit less processed. I decided to try putting it in the bread. It seems to have worked fine. I think the bread has a slight tang of cheese flavor, but the Sparrowhawk says he doesn't notice it. I also feel the bread didn't rise quite enough to have satisfied Paul Hollywood. I may have hustled it a bit because I wanted it to be done in time for us to go to church. And then we didn't go anyway. I was coughing again, and I really have developed a bit of a paranoia about going to public places when I'm having coughing attacks. It's just so demoralizing, and I want to apologize to everyone around, because I know that these days, people feel alarm and resentment when someone coughs nearby. Besides, I was not feeling that great. So we stayed home and had dinner quietly instead.
While eating, I got an unexpected call from the desk of Madame's residence. They were calling on her behalf, and turned the phone over to her. She sounded quite agitated and upset. She wanted me to contact Mademoiselle and tell her that Madame wants her phone back. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear me, so I was unable to reassure her. She just kept repeating Mademoiselle's phone number and saying she wanted her phone back. I did try, but Mademoiselle had her notifications turned off, as she frequently does. It's a hard life for people with dementia, but also for those who care for them.
After an excessively wakeful night, I got more sleep by sleeping late. The down side of that is that then the day starts late. Nothing much happened. I did my homework for the child protection meeting--rereading the endless policy statement to see if it's correct on THIS iteration. We were down to our last heel of bread, so I made a new batch. It was an experiment. We had about a pint of half and half that had soured before we could use it up. That happens when we buy from the farm store, because, I guess, it's not ultra-pasteurized like the dairy products from the store. We are not the kind of people to buy raw milk, so it's not raw, but just a bit less processed. I decided to try putting it in the bread. It seems to have worked fine. I think the bread has a slight tang of cheese flavor, but the Sparrowhawk says he doesn't notice it. I also feel the bread didn't rise quite enough to have satisfied Paul Hollywood. I may have hustled it a bit because I wanted it to be done in time for us to go to church. And then we didn't go anyway. I was coughing again, and I really have developed a bit of a paranoia about going to public places when I'm having coughing attacks. It's just so demoralizing, and I want to apologize to everyone around, because I know that these days, people feel alarm and resentment when someone coughs nearby. Besides, I was not feeling that great. So we stayed home and had dinner quietly instead.
While eating, I got an unexpected call from the desk of Madame's residence. They were calling on her behalf, and turned the phone over to her. She sounded quite agitated and upset. She wanted me to contact Mademoiselle and tell her that Madame wants her phone back. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear me, so I was unable to reassure her. She just kept repeating Mademoiselle's phone number and saying she wanted her phone back. I did try, but Mademoiselle had her notifications turned off, as she frequently does. It's a hard life for people with dementia, but also for those who care for them.
