No matter what your religion/non-religion/workout routine comprises, Sundays are sacred for all of us.

A weekday right by my house (that’s the “grande porte” of my university to the far left)

Sunday morning. Same street. 

Q:  What does Megan always end up doing when faced with an obnoxiously pressing tasker?  

A:  Anything else.

You would forgive my lackadaisical state of being. It’s Sunday after all, and as a consequence my brain is operating in a mode that cannot be overridden. Moreover, check out the chore that I am battling to avoid:

 This is intentionally posted sideways because I am of the opinion that it makes just as much sense in a vertical representation. Actually, I think it looks prettier this way.

So yes, if I hope to be marginally prepared for the coming week I have got to buckle down and go through my coursework. School is really busy- but Sunday is the day that I jealously guard in order to balance my sanity before the onslaught of weekly mysteries rush in to my life. 

I love Sundays, and regardless of my geographic location (deployments excluded of course), this is what they usually include:

– Morning run

– Writing about nothing and feeling oddly fulfilled in the process

– Reading (Anthony Bourdain’s new book was finished yesterday, today I begin L’aventure ambiguë)

– A round of online shopping with my twin sister, who is stationed in Japan (thank you, Skype!)

– Working on mastering seemingly-impossible yoga poses (forearm balance is my current project)

– Nap

– Making something from scratch- bread, yogurt, meals for the coming week

So as I sit here NOT studying, I’ll post some pics of today’s bread making endeavor. I recognize that it would be far more entertaining if I posted a video of me trying to kick up into a decidedly unyoga-like inversion before crashing down onto the unforgiving marbley floors here- but I’m not going to do that. Maybe next Sunday.

We start with flour and stuff, mixing it up. If you want the recipe, click here.

 

This dough ain’t no frozen brick Stop and Shop garden variety….

Behold the magic of yeast, in all its glory…

Plop! Getting ready for the second rise in their new homes…

An hour later and they go into my eggplant-splattered oven. 

(I have unwittingly modified a baba ghannouj recipe to read: Put an eggplant in the oven as high as the heat goes and forget about it until you hear it explode. Then take the remnants out and process them with remaining ingredients. Don’t bother cleaning the mess in the oven.)

I spend the cooking time playing with the focus on my camera while the house starts to smell like candy. (What, you think I’d actually use this free time to start studying?! You overestimate me.)

There she be! No ceebujeen aromas will be wafting into my house today.

When people say I cook well I always respond with “Well, I am literate.” Really, that’s the key to successful cooking. And good military members know how to follow steps.  

We are also master procrastinators, and my table still looks like this. If you hadn’t seen my bread photo essay you’d probably think that actual learning was taking place.

So I have done nothing near the sphere of academia today. That’s okay. Like I said, it’s Sunday- my day to do what I want. And there’s always tomorrow morning. 

Mondays were most definitely intended for people to get back into the swing of things by starting off with “Damn, I totally should have gotten that done over the weekend.”