Down the illuminated manuscript rabbit hole

Started innocent enough. Was looking up something quick about book binding techniques for a pottery workshop idea Sarah and I were discussing. Just needed to know if certain clay glazes could mimic the look of aged leather. Simple question, right?

Wrong.

Down the illuminated manuscript rabbit hole

Three hours later and here I am, an accidental expert on medieval manuscript illumination, surrounded by library books I apparently checked out in some kind of research fugue state. Did you know they used actual gold leaf mixed with egg whites? And that the blue came from grinding up lapis lazuli that cost more than most people’s houses? Because I sure didn’t this morning.

Jake walked through about an hour ago, took one look at my floor situation, and just shook his head with that fond exasperation he reserves for my deeper academic spirals.

The satisfied stretch of someone who just learned way too much about gold leaf techniques

The man knows better than to interrupt me when I’m in this state. Smart guy. He’ll probably emerge from his office around dinner time asking if I learned anything “useful,” and I’ll have to explain why I now know seventeen different techniques for creating medieval purple dye but still haven’t figured out the pottery glaze thing I started with.

This is exactly how I ended up with a nursing degree, by the way. Started looking into one tiny thing about patient care documentation and emerged four years later with a whole career. My brain doesn’t do “quick research.” It does “total immersion until you could teach a graduate seminar.” At least this time it only cost me an afternoon and not my entire twenties.