I feel like I packed a lot into this week; a few highs, a few lows, and then lots of stuff in the middle. Kind of typical, I suppose.
Despite being on vacation on Monday, I was absolutely not ready to go back to work on Tuesday. The DC Snow Gods must have heard my desperate please, because we were blessed with a whole 6 inches of snow on Tuesday, more than enough to shut the city down and allow me to work form home. Being able to work from the couch, in my pajamas, while having access to an endless supply of hot tea, was a definite high point.
Unfortunately, having that extra time at home, led to my biggest failure of the week. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you – the bread that did not rise.
This is a bread recipe I’ve made at least 20 times. Every other time, prep has gone smoothly, the bread has risen on schedule, and it has baked up perfectly. So what happened? Well, I’m not so good at multi-tasking, and in between trying to get all my work done and make bread that by the time the bread was ready to go into the oven, it was time for us to leave for our 6:30 gym class. Thinking I’d be smart, I popped the bread in the fridge to retard the rising and keep the yeast from growing into a giant blobby monster. We got home from the gym, I immediately went into dinner prep, and tossed the loaf straight from the fridge to the oven. Not exactly my best idea. When it was time to take the bread out of the oven, and I saw this misshapen horror, I was hard pressed to keep from shedding tears. That’s the biggest Kitchen Fail I’ve had in awhile.
I did (barely) manage to salvage the loaf by leaving it out on the counter for a few days and then turning it into breadcrumbs.
But on Wednesday, things turned around. I had a pretty productive day at the office and was able to make it home for the 6:30 gym class being taught by my favorite trainer. The Boo and I joined a nearby Crossfit gym back in November, and for the most part, I’m obsessed. The workouts are fun, incredibly challenging, and are closely supervised by great trainers, so I really feel comfortable pushing myself, knowing that someone is always around to check my form. The only part I wasn’t sold on were the complicated, frustratingly difficult Olympic weight lifts that frequently make an appearance.
Until this week, nothing about cleans, jerks, or snatches made any sense. And forget about compound movements, like the clean and jerk. My coordination just wasn’t up for the challenge.
Then finally, unexpectedly, miraculously, my body got it. It just clicked. The trainer came over to check my form and told me to add weight. This is the first time I’ve done any Olympic lift with any sort of weight on the bar. The seas parted, angels sang, and I felt like this guy:
So that was awesome.
And then yesterday. Yesterday, I got to butcher some geese.
The Boo is a redneck at heart, and he gets antsy if he goes too long without hunting something. I’ve recently come around to the belief that if I’m going to be willing to eat animals (even ones that are humanely raised), I need to be comfortable butchering my own. I need to know where my food comes from, and that includes getting my hands dirty on occassion. So, with the Boo’s guidance, that’s exactly what I did.
In the process, we scattered approximately 9,000 feathers across our apartment, but hey. We got our goose meat.