It was snowing yesterday and last night, the kind with big flakes that always makes me think of shaking a snowglobe. Can you tell I didn’t grow up with snow?
A month or two ago we picked up a waffle iron at Salvation Army for $3.48. The first waffles I made were out of Bittman’s How To Cook Everything. They involved yeast and rising overnight and were amazing. Since then I’ve gone with a simpler recipe from the same book, and I’m starting to think I should just keep a jug of waffle batter in the fridge. We’re not really morning people by nature, but it’s hard to be grumpy when there are waffles for breakfast.
It’s hard to see progress day by day. There’s so much to do around here that even after a really productive day, you can end up overwhelmed and feeling like you’re even further behind.
After I dug up those pictures from a year ago, the guys have each made comments to the effect of “Wow, we really gotten a lot done.” And then they follow that up by remarking on how much better life is now, with the building done and the business growing and the garden and everything, and telling some horrifying anecdote about The Way Things Were showcasing their casual disregard for their own welfare. For example, over breakfast they told me about how K was here working late one night before the place was heated. It was -6 and he ended up mildly hypothermic. N showed up, found K shivering in the basement, and tried to screw down some subfloor but it was too cold for the drill’s motor to work, so they left. I think the story ended with “At least we aren’t dying anymore…” and then they told me I should blog about that.
That’s right. We have waffles now.