There may be a connection between sourdough baking and sanity.
Or so it seems to me these days.
While Israel defends herself, as she should, I can't help but notice the silence from my local congress critters. These men are ridiculously liberal, so it shouldn't be a surprise, I guess. And yet it is.
They're so quick to send out an email when there's a way to toot their horn for whatever liberal policy they're pushing. Or when they have a "gimme" way to slam conservatives.
But here, in a situation that is not political (or, at least, should not be political) they sit in silence like the cowards they really are. Because they know they can't come out and support Israel. But they also know if they join the deranged minority that somehow thinks Hamas is anything other than a group of terrorist thugs that it's not going to end well for them in the polls.
It's ridiculous.
And it does hideous things to my blood pressure.
So I bake.
I've been in the habit of 2 loaves of sourdough a week. Generally, they last until the next baking day. Or closely enough that it hasn't been a huge sadness that we're out. But this week, not only have both loaves disappeared with haste, but I've been playing with other sourdough recipes.
Today it's dinner rolls.
Tomorrow, if the pages of Revelation don't flip in fast forward overnight, perhaps I'll make sourdough waffles.
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