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It's tradition to make stollen (Christmas bread with candied fruit, yet entirely unlike fruitcake) for the holiday. There are no more holidays at "home", but I decided to do stollen because tradition, and because I'm still upset about the no more holidays at home so I'm clinging to traditions.

I forgot it was an 8-hour process.

So yes, it is 3:30 in the morning, and I'm getting up in 3 hours.

And everything that could possibly go wrong, has. Everything. The latest: the fire alarm just went off because yes, the oven caught fire. The house is full of smoke, and I don't know if the stollen will be salvagable.

Buddha, when I said I wanted to work on renunciation of samsara, I didn't quite mean like this.

*weak grin*

(no subject)

Also, fascinating post here.

(no subject)

Three of the eight loaves are okay, if a little blackened. The other five are burnt, just on the bottom, but badly. I was going to give them as gifts, but apparently I should have stuck with the shortbread idea.

Alex says I should cut off the bottoms and call them "sans-fond" or "sans-croute" or "sans-culottes" and pretend they're French. Hee!