elainegrey

So, It's been well past the advised 5 days of feeding and nurturing a colony. Hans is bubbly and makes "hooch" (as some blogger described a liquid that collects on the top of a colony that could use more feeding). I increased the flour in response to the "hooch." I haven't witnessed it surging in volume, though. Impatient, and not trusting my attention span, i decided to mix up the first dough today.

Well, this recipe i have: it is HUGE. 1.5 kilograms of flour, 3 and a third pounds. I don't know why i didn't think to halve it until i was attempting to mix, split between my largest bowl and another giant cake pan, the instructed half the flour (.75 k), the 1.5 liters of warm water, and Hans. Bubbling commenced as soon as i was mixing. Once blended i could pour it all into the cake pan and there was some room at the top. I've put it in the oven and have periodically turned on the light to keep it warm. The house is above 70°F, but i'm feeling like perhaps a little warmer won't hurt Hans, as they seemed quite happy when the warm water was added.

The scent when i open the oven is fairly strong: yogurty came to mind at first, but it's richer now. The "preferment" has risen to the very top of the pan, but seems stalled at the top. (That's pre-ferment, not prefer-ment, as i misread it for a while.) I have a sheet pan to catch anything that spills over.

I guess it's working?

--== ∞ ==--

For the Singing Revolution in Estonia, the documentary (https://singingrevolution.com/) is available to rent via Amazon's streaming service.


https://singingrevolution.com/about-the-history
http://www.estonica.org/en/The_Singing_Revolution/
https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2015/11/estonia-music-singing-revolution/415464/

I hope to at least sketch out notes for speaking in Meeting, so i will write more.

Yesterday i started on two culinary adventures. One is less dramatic falfel waffles from here.

The other is making a rye sourdough starter from wild yeasts. Some recipes [here] indicate that there are yeasts enough in the flour. I found another recipe that used rhubarb from the garden, which called to mind Pascal Baudar's advice of using foraged plant matter (juniper berries or other berries or grapes) that have a bloom [here].

While the sourdough starter gets underway, i should receive sproutable rye seeds today. I'll sprout those and then dry the grains to make my own malted rye flour. After reading the internet for a bit, i understand the point of diastatic malt in bringing enzymes to the party.

Once i have my malt and starter, i can move on to actually making Estonian black bread. I bought a packet of Must Ronk leib as i was leaving Estonia and ate it as part of my picnic meals for the rest of my trip. Oh i did love that bread, and the black pumpernickel vacuum packed in the international section is a pale semblance.

I'd thought of making my own rye bread before, but life is short. However, if i can pull off the rich tenderness of Estonian bread, well, life is enriched by a good bread.

I also think that the rye bread agrees with me far more than white bread. I'm not sure what it is about wheat breads that is problematic. It's not gluten. Someone suggested it might be yeast, but i'm not confident that's it either. I felt fine with rye during the trip, so i am hoping investing time in lieb, the Estonia black rye bread, will be good for my health, too.

Back to the Estonian recipe: i wonder how important the oat bran is.

Now i want pickled herring and black bread for breakfast. Sigh.

I am so lucky: i have wifi in this cabin! I'm on the 8th deck instead of the 5th, and i think i sense a bit more motion. There's not much. The purr of equipment persists, which seems odd. I thought one of the party lounges was below me.

I started the day tired, uncertain how i would spend the hours free in Tallinn. Despite my sore feet, i walked and walked: 16651 steps as of now.

I left the hotel about 10:30 by taxi to the ferry terminal. Traffic was a mess with construction. There i stashed my over-stuffed back pack in a locker. (Did i actually lock the locker? I was able to get my bag out without paying.) I set out, encountering even more construction. I had thought of returning that way, and i was glad to have dealt with the chaotic path early on. I am a little jealous of visitors in a year or so. The construction i encountered was part of the installation of a beautiful promenade on the coast. I got a little trapped: the path to a monument (built in 1902 in memory of the loss of the Rusalka in 1893), which had no exits back to the other side of the construction for a long way. I did have a sprite at the monument: it tasted very different. I suspect it had an artificial sweetener, but i couldn't see any indication of that. I persisted along the trail, and eventually ended up across from the Tallinn Song Festival Grounds, site of the Singing Revolution in 1988. I find the thought of a nonviolent revolution quite inspiring and heartening.

From there i walked to the art museum via a little residential street Kuristiku which turned into a trail in the Vabakujunduslik ("Free-form Park"). [12:48 pm] I assume "free-form" refers to how it is meadow-like with high grasses. I found it quite lovely. At the art musuem the restaurant was closed, but the cafe was open. Iced coffee, falafel and a rum-chocolate cookie restored my energy. I considered visiting the exhibits, but i was weary and felt staying at the art museum would put some pressure on getting to the ferry on time. I wandered the formal gardens and the park for a while, and then fiddled with the phone. I finally got a response when attempting to get the usage statistics on my Orange Holiday SIM card: i have plenty of data to sustain my drive across Sweden. Relieved, i called Christine and Mom and my sister.

I took a bus from the park to the Rotermanni area: an area of urban renewal with old brick warehouses reused and glossy contemporary buildings built right next to them. It was just a little too hip and polished for me. I decided to spend the last hour in a mall next to the ferry terminal, and visited the Rimi hyper market. I managed to spend most of my last euros on a light dinner for myself (to add to the fine aged Gouda i had picked up a few nights ago) and some Tallinn branded sweets as gifts. No licorice.

[I swear the weather man on the Swedish news channel looks like and has the mannerisms of a young Hugh Laurie -- particularly the wry smile.]

Here on the ship though, there is licorice in large containers. I've bought some, and walked the decks enjoying the sunshine and long golden hours. We should be in the Stockholm archipelago when i wake.

Hopefully the music from the lounge won't keep me up.

My sleep Saturday night is best summed up as too hot, too narrow, too achy, and too much light. Sunday morning as too much anxiety about public speaking.

Sunday's breakfast in the hotel was amazing. Surely a special day buffet i thought as i restrained myself from binging. Being in a state about work, i didn't think to take a photo. I described it to a colleague who advised that, no, this is not unusual, and i'd probably see the same the next day. And lo!


Clockwise, from top: brown bread, cheese, and tomato, a second brown bread, cheese, and tomato, herring in mustard sauce, a green salad with cherry tomatoes, black olives, and generous amounts of lox.

Indeed, it is all here again, except i think there was a sweet, layered pastry (cake!) that isn't here this morning. Oh, and 7 minute eggs, which i think are probably runny in side? Soft boiled? I wont miss them. There's a fine tray of scrambled eggs from which i helped myself yesterday, today i was bold enough for salad for breakfast. The tomatoes are from Spain; i am advised by the fresh market i went to on Saturday. They are delicious. So much beautiful food. I shudder to think of the hotel breakfasts in America where the height of dining is making your own waffle.

Dinner last night was improved heartily by bumping into tow women from the conference who were going to a locals restaurant at the end of the street from my hotel. My random choice of a restaurant was closed: they swept me up and we went to Pööbel, on Google maps as a bar, but with a fine menu on the first page before three packed pages of beers and cocktails. I dined on Estonian sandwiches and a salmon salad.

"Barley bread with egg butter and beef liver pâté, black bread with mushroom salad and spiced sprats" which they adapted for me to leave off the beef, put the sprats over the egg butter and the mushroom salad stood on it's own. I did not notice the mushrooms.

"Salmon alder - smoked in the morning served with green salad" The fresh smoking was a revelation: a glaze of smoky flavor on the rich fish -- how can i describe how fresh smoke tastes?

We ate outside where the long evening light was wonderful, although the sun in the trees at nine pm was disconcerting.

I slept better last night, pushing the beds closer so i wouldn't toss everything to the floor. The feather comforter was already folded in the corner. And i kept the eye mask on more successfully, probably due to less tossing.

Yesterday was filled with crystal clear sunshine. Today it's overcast and i wonder if i will need a sweater today. Probably tonight. It is, of course, this morning that i have to wander a bit before the conference proper begins with the plenary at 11. I'll take the camera and wander more through the old city.

Flight almost as expected but with better food and "landscape cameras"- a video feed of the airscape forward from the plane and the landscape under.

Success switching sim card!

Syncing data on the bus from the airport wasn't quite as successful. I've odd behavior with Evernote on the data signal. I Expect it will be better on wifi.

The transfer from subway to bus to - go to the ferry and Stash my luggage has not gone as well as I would wish. Too many bus shelters. I missed one and then there seems to be a major delay with the next. Not the most lovely place to wait but I have a seat. ( And given my .sleep deficit: Whatever.)

-__ TIME PASSES -- -

Ok, when the arrival time came and was changed the third time I got a cab. Expensive stashing of luggage, but now I have my boarding pass and know when I can go to my room. I have walked 12k steps from the ferry to downtown and need to leave enough foot energy to get to the ferry bypassing the stop with the missing connection.

There are many cyclists, few wearing helmets. Also scooters. Also sort of use your best judgement at intersections- few stoplights. I am going to drive here?! OMG

The afternoon is quite beautiful-- great light.

In today's language adventure news, the survival phrases in Swedish audio book gets "Please" wrong, and repeats "Tak" ("Thank you").

It's a dialectal difference perhaps? Because otherwise i don't even know how one could make that mistake. It undermines my confidence in listening to the rest of the recording.

I note my temptation to rely on Google to be the definitive source for the translation. Oh the subtleties of idiom! "Jag är ledsen" is the translation of "I'm sorry" (from a phrase list, which is confirmed by Google). "Förlåt!" however is Google's translation of "Sorry!" (where i added the exclamation point to be sure that it is the translation of "Ooops, i didn't mean to do that-sorry!" not "You just told me something that makes you sad, I'm sorry."

In writing up my genealogy notes, i translated several paragraphs through google, going from English to Swedish and back to English, changing the source English until it lacked challenging idiomatic phrases.

I realize just how weak my listening skills are as i wonder why anyone would learn numbers as part of survival phrases. "I have fingers!" I think. But most people probably expect to understand the words they hear. I have curious issues with listening to others. It's not i am hard of hearing, but i am hard of parsing, if that makes sense.

This is such a distraction from what i should be doing: preparing for the conference.

I do hope that Mom's appointment is not as painful as my body seems to be making it out. (Although that may be travel and conference and public speaking stress.) ( Read more... )

My mother, grandmother, great grandmother, and infant self (December 1968)

I spent so much of yesterday poking at my genealogy database, generating reports, cleaning up photos, and writing some notes up. I've a 50 page booklet I intend to leave at the family home in Sweden outlining the descendants of my great grandmother who was born there.

It was also wet and dark. Ugh. We've had a perfectly acceptable amount of rain, but other areas seem to have been hit much harder: the river was high and muddy as i drove to my folks' house.

Today we have M coming to clean for us. She seems a bit of a character, keeping horses, has cadaver search dogs and goes off periodically to do cadaver searches, as well as piecing together a group of clients who engage her not just for cleaning but handling all sorts of details. An odd jobs woman. Anyhow, we'll see if we get along. She's a strong personality, and Christine seems a little daunted.

Threw some money at Christine's frets and bought one of those travel purses that have metal cords in the straps and metal mesh in the body and little carabiners on the zips to secure the closure from being eased open. Also bought some of those vitamin, immune system boosting drink tablets. Nuun makes another type of drink tablet with chamomile for "relaxation" which could be pleasant, so i splurged on that, too. This time next week i will be in Stockholm footing it around.

I finally finished listening to the audio book of Swedish phrases. The 400 actions and activities are presented in the style of "I wake up in the morning, I argue with the kids, I get a ticket for the bus, I am stuck in a traffic jam, I call the waiter, I drop my chopsticks." My favorite is in the "hanging out" section: "I clean up my hard drive."

I have to say, the fact that the only dining utensil mentioned is a chopstick is even more peculiar than the narrative phrases.

My sister has pointed out Google Translate to me: that's so cool.

I've picked up a few more language audio books, and have finally consumed the credit i had with Audible. I'm ensuring i've downloaded audiobooks i have had for years: Gormenghast and a history of Greece. The first i can doze to, something like a fever dream, and the narrator of the Greek history has sent me to sleep many times.

Yesterday morning i met up with my sister at my parents to take Mom to Belks (a department store with southern origins). As my sister helped Mom with makeup, i chatted briefly with Dad. He'd had a dream where he and mom had to get to a construction site office at the top of a hill. The sidewalk went up the hill to the office. On both sides the red clay hill had been excavated away. As they went up the hill, the clay sides would crumble and give way.

Dad had been sharing work stories in the past month or so, and had shared a story about a job where he had to bid so high as to not get the client, because they wanted to excavate into a clay hill that sat on top of a granite dome (that would also need excavation). He tried to convince the client (a hospital) to change their plans, because once the clay at the base of the hill was removed, the clay at the top of the hill would want to take the lower vacant place. He asked them how many deaths per month would be acceptable in trying to drive home the risk factors. In the end he had the company he worked for bit outrageously high. Another company took the job, and two young men died weeks into the project as the clay came sliding down on them.

I couldn't tell if he felt guilty about the deaths, whether he feels he could have taken the job and insisting on extra safety precautions, because apparently the excavators weren't taking the necessary care. He's still pained by those deaths today.

So when he told me this dream, i knew it had a visceral impact. And i can see how he sees all the crumbling around him.

--== ∞ ==--

Taking Mom shopping was a good way to spend time with her. There were some good sales: she ended up paying 40% of retail. I admit to thinking dismissive thoughts about the TravelSmith dresses i buy off eBay: they're plastic shifts. But looking at what's for sale, i think i'm doing pretty well. We did find one nice quality dress for Mom, and then a couple more that bridge between the cheap Amazon dresses we've been buying her and the nice dress. We just had a few hours (probably my limit anyhow) so my sister and i could get back to work. (Or "work" for me - i'm still struggling to engage.)

( Processing possibilities, maudlin mutterings about mortality )

--== ∞ ==--

The PET scan for Mom is tomorrow. Then the visit with specialists is on the 28th.

--== ∞ ==--

Meanwhile, i obsess about the coming travel. I've changed the hotel i'm staying at for the conference. The more i read the reviews, the more i became certain i'd reserved at a real dive. I don't need a really nice place, but i shouldn't be worried about the odors of the hall and bathroom. The corporate travel site does not efficiently pull up prices, so i kept clicking to reveal out of range prices or fully booked messages until i finally found a place in the corporate price range. So that was a win.

I don't imagine i'll be going back to the room to hang out all evening, but i don't want to dread going back to the room. Four weeks from now is the last day of the conference, proper.

Fireflies light up the night these days.

Four weeks from now i will be in Stockholm. Eeee. Fear or excitement, it's the top of mind distraction as i seem to be ready to throw money at every worry i have with long bouts of comparison shopping.

That distraction takes me away from Mom's scan results. I wrote the doctor midday yesterday just to share i'd read it but hadn't talked about it. The doctor replied she was talking to a pulmologist, and my sister texted me to let me know she'd read the results too. By the time i was on my way over after work, the doctor had replied to my sister and i again to say she had spoken to my Dad and Dad wanted to talk to us.

Dad hadn't read the report, i think, so i think he was in shock when i arrived a little after 5 pm. If i hadn't read the report i would have been baffled by their communications. L-- texted me and asked if she should come over: Dad said yes, so L-- was present for some of the discussion. Mom's cognitive decline plus remaining aphasia manifests partly in failing to set context leading to a good deal of "Are we talking about...?" questions. Mom had noted how sweet the staff were after the scan so she had clued in that something was wrong. But i don't think Dad's really explained what the concern is to her, the word cancer hasn't been uttered. He did figure out how much the lower nodule has grown since the January scan, so i think he has a good understanding of the potential aggressiveness. (The nodule size change was added to the report yesterday afternoon, presumably by the pulmologist.)

Dad blurted out that he had told the doctor he wanted to be fast in addressing "this" and wanted to fight it. Dad's shock and his problems with unfamiliar multi-syllabic words created a similar barrier for communication, though: i didn't think it was going to be useful to ping him for more details. L-- and i compared notes after we were home. It's clear a PET scan is the next step. Then there is a thoracic "laparoscopic" procedure to get the upper nodes. I thought Dad was saying that's how they would treat the tumors, but it only makes sense as a biopsy (and the lower nodule sits there untouched). I can't recall now if we talked about proton radiation only in the context of the PET scan (which i thought was protons but it's positrons) or as a possible treatment. Mainly i remember a brief puzzlement over how safe proton radiation would be for a scan. Alpha radiation is horrible but blocked by skin, a proton is one fourth of that.... Well, positron emission makes more sense.

Dad also had a long digression about a study on aphasia mom had been invited to participate in. He was concerned about how using a current to measure brain function would release hydrogen and oxygen. I answered (making up stuff) that cell membranes isolate water as water and that release and buildup of hydrogen and oxygen wasn't an issue. I'm not totally right: apparently 1/3 of the water is in the extracellular fluids [here]. I'm going to have to follow up on why water splits with a current because i think Dad's assertion that it always does is wrong.

I suspect Dad hasn't consulted Mom at all about what she wants, and i have a nagging concern about the pulmonary fibrosis reading. Mom had such a terrible cough for years. L-- remembers it as around twenty years. Mom didn't follow the asthma treatments she was prescribed, so i can imagine a practitioner assuming the diagnosis was obvious.

Hrm, "Aggressive Treatment of IPF Patients with Lung Cancer Rarely Best Option, Experts Say" [here]

I've written the doctor to inquire whether the pulmonary fibrosis observation is a concern, and i'll see what she says. Reading the article above, i see that the PET + laparoscopic-like thoracic biopsy planned is the recommended step in diagnosis.

Poor Dad. When Mom had her stroke he found out that her wishes were that he make the decisions. On one hand, that trust says something about their relationship. On the other, it puts the complete responsibility on Dad in negotiating cognitive decline plus cancer treatments.