The Sopranos and Proust and a hangover

On HBO demand last night, I watched Sunday's episode of the Sopranos. First off, you should know that I am a wimp, changing channels when the hyenas attack the baby wildebeeste. Stuff I saw in movies when I was a kid still haunts me.

Anyway, violence exploded all over the episode except at a dinner party where the shrinks were talking in obfuscating asides, picking on each other, all in a genteel but cruel manner while the wine flowed. So I managed to watch it all without making a run to the kitchen, my usual copout. Then I read Proust for half an hour or so to (I hoped) get the violence out of my head.

It didn't work. Dreams and nightmares all night, yea, unto the morning, and today I sort of have a Sopranos hangover, which I treated to some hair of the dog with the theme song I had downloaded.

As you can imagine, none of my writing depicts really graphic violence, although the occasional off-screen murder and a character or two getting beaten up are described.

On a lighter note, yesterday's break making created two delicious French-type loaves and the new pan was a wonder. This is the link to the recipe, which any fool can make if you follow the instructions. I used a thermometer to test the water for the right temperature. Everything else is measuring and following directions. Very simple.

http://www.recipelink.com/cookbooks/2000/0811816869_1.html

Off to stake up the patio tomato. We finally have some sun.

Onward,

Grapeshot