I shall eat my words

Today I went into SF with K, and worked in the Borderlands cafe while she worked in her more conventional office. It's not like working in the Lit & Phil (people talk! it's distracting!), but the coffee's better. And I had a thousand words by lunchtime, which meant I could go and meet K and calendula_witch and Mark for lunch with an easy conscience.

Afterwards they all scuttled off for further adventures/officework, while I shopped the Ferry building (cheese! mushrooms! pasta! greens!) and then didn't feel so good so found the way to the train station and came home.

Dinner tonight - bizarrely! - was fusilli with chanterelles and rocket/arugula and parmigiano. Oh, and smoky bacon bits and olive oil and garlic. What I say is, it's got greens in; it's a salad.

But I think my sourdough starter's dead. Or at least, it's half-dead and I don't have time enough left to revive it properly; and if I could, I won't be back for six months so it'd only die again. I think I should probably give up on this one, and start again in the spring. Which makes me sad.

In other news, I have perpetrated a fabulous pun, which you don't get to discover for another year.

 

6682 / 95000 words. 7.0% done!