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On Thursday, I decided to try a recipe that combined pre-packaged frozen crawfish tails with a locally produced pre-packaged frozen gumbo, with the idea of having a little soup.
I knew going in that the gumbo was extremely salty, so in addition to basically adding an equal amount of water (which in theory reduces the salt concentration by half), I threw in about a half-dozen sacrificial potatoes (which ought to have reduced the saliniaty further, as potatoes are pretty good at leaching salt out of water).
The result is inedible because not only is it too salty for my taste (which, one may argue, has simply become overly sensitive to salt), but it is apparently salty enough to elevate my blood pressure to a level I am not happy with.
Can't win 'em all.
* * * No surprise, but I managed to finish the behemoth due in the morning on Tuesday and spell-check it.
That's good news, of course, but there are still a number of things I have to do to despeckle the text, which weighs in at just over 30,000 words. (Yikes!) I suspect that most of my waking hours tomorrow will be spent on finishing this job.
In anticipation of that, I uncharacteristically attacked the last 800 words of a job due COB on Tuesday and finished it, which made me feel positively accomplished for the day.
What I found particularly curious, however, was the ease with which those 800 words fell to my keystrokes, whereas I spent a lot of time researching and second-guessing myself with the behemoth, whose subject I used to be quite familiar with, back when I did NASA work.
Part of this undoubtedly has to do with the "rusty" synapse paths between my ears, because not all that much has changed, in terms of terminology, over the past roughly two decades.
But I think the greater part of this is due to the fact that the 800 words were in an article that had been edited and proofread before publication, while the behemoth's text had likely only had the benefit of a spell-check, leaving a number of places where I would find myself scratching my head and wondering "What does that mean?"
And unfortunately, some things do not change: the deadline for the document, while certainly not murderous, is IMO not long enough to resolve all those "funny" places.
That said, I shall endeavor to get as much done tomorrow as possible.
Hey! It's only a quarter past nine or so. Maybe I'll go do some exercise!
Cheers...
I knew going in that the gumbo was extremely salty, so in addition to basically adding an equal amount of water (which in theory reduces the salt concentration by half), I threw in about a half-dozen sacrificial potatoes (which ought to have reduced the saliniaty further, as potatoes are pretty good at leaching salt out of water).
The result is inedible because not only is it too salty for my taste (which, one may argue, has simply become overly sensitive to salt), but it is apparently salty enough to elevate my blood pressure to a level I am not happy with.
Can't win 'em all.
That's good news, of course, but there are still a number of things I have to do to despeckle the text, which weighs in at just over 30,000 words. (Yikes!) I suspect that most of my waking hours tomorrow will be spent on finishing this job.
In anticipation of that, I uncharacteristically attacked the last 800 words of a job due COB on Tuesday and finished it, which made me feel positively accomplished for the day.
What I found particularly curious, however, was the ease with which those 800 words fell to my keystrokes, whereas I spent a lot of time researching and second-guessing myself with the behemoth, whose subject I used to be quite familiar with, back when I did NASA work.
Part of this undoubtedly has to do with the "rusty" synapse paths between my ears, because not all that much has changed, in terms of terminology, over the past roughly two decades.
But I think the greater part of this is due to the fact that the 800 words were in an article that had been edited and proofread before publication, while the behemoth's text had likely only had the benefit of a spell-check, leaving a number of places where I would find myself scratching my head and wondering "What does that mean?"
And unfortunately, some things do not change: the deadline for the document, while certainly not murderous, is IMO not long enough to resolve all those "funny" places.
That said, I shall endeavor to get as much done tomorrow as possible.
Hey! It's only a quarter past nine or so. Maybe I'll go do some exercise!
Cheers...
