Today I'm reading Between East and West: Finland in International Politics, 1944-1947, which is so much more interesting than Helsinki of the Czars, I can't even tell you. I'm working on Sampo. I'm playing CDs compulsively to try to keep "Tell Laura I Love Her" from breaking forth, because the movie theater tortured me with it last night when we went to see "Spiderman 2," and given a chance, my brain bleats, "Tell Laura I lo-ove he-e-er" and howls in pain, by turns. I think a good chorus of Liz Phair's "h.w.c." should be enough to get rid of it. Because it's pretty much the most inappropriate song I know, light and folky-poppy and very very bad for me to sing in the grocery store, as I have learned the hard way. (Don't know the song? The chorus goes: "Gimme your hot, white" -- aaaand we're all adults here, you can figure it out.) Anyway, it's the songs you can't sing in public that stick with you. Or at least with me.
I'm also making blueberry pecan wild rice bread. It's very fiddly, and next time I make it I'm going to do 4 or 6 loaves instead of 2, because it won't be any less fiddly that way. pameladean, if you'd like to try some, it's entirely and accidentally vegan, and then you could have some nice bread, too, when I get around to giving dd_b the Guinness gingerbread I promised him back in the mists of MiniCon.
(I bet he forgot. I keep very good track of what I've promised to make for, loan, or give to someone else, because in my brain it is no longer mine. The poor battered paperback of Driftglass became Michelle and Scott's the minute they said they wanted it. This gets rather tricky with baked goods, as there are things that only exist in my head and yet are not my rightful property up there. I don't do this with stuff people have promised me. It just goes one way. I also keep much more careful note than others do of when I've said, say, "I'll make you some of that" and when I've said "I should make you some of that." Big internal difference.)
Apparently I'm incompetent at copying out recipes. I got to the kneading stage and had never noted when the veggie oil went in, or half the white flour. Luckily, it was bread, so I could feel what was wrong and knead it in. But I would like to occasionally have a recipe properly copied out so that I can ignore it as it was meant to be ignored and not in some incomplete ignoring fashion. This happened with the Guinness ginger, too. Sigh.