It's log, it's log...

So there I am, minding my own business and kneading bread dough, when a horrible noise comes through the window from behind the house. There's a guy in a cherry-picker, with a chain saw, taking branches off the maple tree behind my next-door neighbor's house. Yes, it's got a number of dead branches, which could be dangerous, but he's taking off the live branches. So I walk outside and ask one of the guys on the ground whether they're taking out the whole tree; yes, they are. I stand at a safe distance for a while, watching, and it occurs to me there's probably some really nice wood in there. I scope out a fairly straight 4-foot section of branch with minimal knots, about 6" diameter, and as soon as there's a break in the action, I ask whether I could have it. The guy with the chain saw (who's now down on the ground) very kindly cuts it to order, so now it's lying in my back yard. I guess I'll have to split it, put it up on the rafters of the garage, and let it age for a few months... and then think of something to make out of it.

Back to cooking, with perhaps a break or two to write class notes, or a book review, or a textbook, or to fix the broken image links on my medieval-tents Web site (@#*$(&* British Library reorganized their site so the old links don't work, and in fact many of the pictures may only be available by paying for them), or ...

cooking

Washed a bunch of dishes.
Baked two loaves of bread.
Washed more dishes.
Baked a dozen crustless broccoli tartlets.
Washed more dishes.
Baked seventeen Paris-Pie pasties (before I ran out of pastry dough; I've used up less than half of the filling).
Sink is overflowing with dirty dishes.
Still to come: maybe make some more dough and some more pasties, maybe make some macaroons with the leftover egg whites, definitely wash more dishes.