girlfiend

Wednesday, Boyfiend’s dad called to ask if I could use any tomatoes or basil. I said sure, figuring I could make some sauce and pesto to freeze for later. When he, with Boyfiend’s mom, sister, sister’s boyfriend, brother and brother’s wife showed up around nine on Friday night, with close to 50 tomatoes, it was not what I was expecting.

Yesterday I cooked. In the insane heat I made enough sauce to last us through December, pesto to take us through October and I unsuccessfully attempted to make wheat bread. This was the first time I’ve ever tried to make a yeast bread. I screwed up. My Williams-Sonoma baking book was kind enough to tell me that I overproofed it and I could punch it down and try again. So I punched it down and stuck it in the fridge to leave overnight. Frustrated by my failure I made a batch of meatballs to make up for it. At nine last night, when I paused for a moment to take stock of the situation and realized I was making meatballs to make myself feel like less of a failure, I was reminded of just how crazy I’ve become.

Now, at 10.30 on an 87-degree-heading-to-93 Sunday morning, I’ve convinced myself even further of my craziness. I’ve got another loaf proofing downstairs and I’m supposed to go to the shore in an hour. Maybe I’ll just shove it back in the fridge and let it proof really, really slowly. Or maybe I’ll just toss it and try again when I’m back.