Boiled the carcass Tuesday, strained and boiled down the broth Wednesday. I reduced the volume by half by simmering it for about six hours; by bedtime Wednesday night the stock was cool enough to go in the fridge, and there it stayed until Friday night, when I had a few minutes to tend to it.
Scraped the fat off the top (a thick layer of it) and then scooped the nearly-gelatinous stock--if I had boiled it for a while longer, it would have ended up being aspic--into freezer bags, which then went into the freezer.
This is going to be used, in the future, in delicious things. Another holiday tradition kept alive!
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Yes, Saturday evening represents the first time I've had any time to sit at the computer since November. Crimony.
The other night Mrs. Fungus decided to watch Sausage Party, and I demurred. Instead I sat in here and engaged in the time-honored tradition of writing: I stared at the blank screen until beads of blood began forming on my forehead. I managed to add a couple of pages to the story, and they were pretty good pages, but it was not much result for a lot of effort.
What I am liking about the story thus far is that I am setting up a whole lot of disaster, which is good, because it's supposed to be a disaster. A whole bunch of crap will go spectacularly wrong, and that'll be the climax of the first part of the book. It's going to be fun.
If I can ever get any of it written down.
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My God, they've gone and done it: you can now literally give a flying fuck. Science!
