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Cook something yummy while I’m gone

There’s big doings afoot here today—maybe—well, it’s complicated, and I hope that tomorrow it will make a good story, but today I have to go do other things for a little bit. Plus I think it’s a D&D day, which means soon my house will be filled with nerdlings and dice and lots of words I don’t understand.

While I’m away, why not make your family a big pot of chili? I’m pretty sure I’ve linked to all of these recipes here before, but now you can go over to Alpha Mom and find all of my favorites in one handy spot, just in case you’re not sure what to have for dinner. We’re having Karen‘s turkey chili tonight, in fact. (Well, the meat-eaters are. Chickadee will have to find some leftover veggie chili in the freezer, or just whine loudly about how I clearly don’t love her. That’s always fun.)

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Sunrise, sunset, and the days in-between

This is where I tell you all of the fascinating things I’ve been doing lately which have kept me from writing here. If only I’d been leaping tall buildings in a single bound or rescuing kittens and babies from flaming buildings, or something.

In truth I find the days have been slipping away from me. Not in a bad way; after months of feeling like time was creeping by while I hated everyone and everything, I’m feeling better. Yay! And when I’m feeling better I cook and bake and volunteer at school and clean things and take the dog for walks. Good for living, not so interesting for writing, necessarily. (“We took the dog for a long sojourn. She seemed to enjoy pooping on the neighbor’s lawn, and then watching me carry a bag of her feces on our route.” POETRY!)

Today I tried a new cookie recipe and the cookies came out seriously ugly. But then my house filled up with teenagers and all of the cookies got eaten, and no one cared that they were ugly. Meanwhile I looked around and realized that some of these teenagers are mine and they’ll be leaving before I know it and then who will eat my ugly cookies? It’s enough to make a person want to write stories about carting around dog poop, instead.

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Making memories, scarring bystanders

So before I forget, allow me to direct you to my latest recipe over at Alpha Mom, the perfect option if you kind of secretly love old-fashioned chicken casserole type things but are 1) gluten-free, 2) a fan of spices other than salt, and 3) religiously opposed to recipes that involve canned soup. This one is our alternative to chicken pot pie, but it’s topped with (gluten-free) cornbread. If you’re not gluten-free, make the cornbread with regular flour; I don’t judge.

Also, have you ever noticed that sometimes you ask me questions, or say “hey, can we see a picture of that?” and I don’t answer or produce? It’s very rare that this is intentional. It’s a lot less “no, you can’t have that” and a lot more “sure, let me just… oh, cookies!” And sometimes it’s more that someone says something like, “Oh, what oil-controlling moisturizer do you use?” and I realize that I hate my oil-controlling moisturizer and don’t want to recommend it to anyone. Stuff like that.

But when I mention Otto taking pictures of something, y’all KNOW there’s photographic evidence. And despite the fact that he’s an awesome photographer, I am not the most photogenic person in the world all the time. (TRY TO CONCEAL YOUR SHOCK.) Most of the time, I don’t share pictures. But sometimes, I guess I must. (more…)

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Various

“DUDE I AM, LIKE, SO DRUNK.” Here we have a sentence that I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually said in 40+ years of life, mostly because I can count the times when I’ve truly been inebriated on one hand with fingers left over. I don’t actually like being drunk. I like occasionally being a degree or two more cheerful than I can manage on my own, but thanks to being a relatively small person and infrequent imbiber, one drink is all that takes. Perfect.

I know no one wants to hear me continue to bitch and moan about The Tragedy Of Stupid Medication, but I have been off the supposed Wonder Drug (why yes, it made me wonder if my doctor was trying to kill me) for about a week and I STILL FEEL DRUNK. Perhaps if I enjoyed this feeling, was a heavier drinker, or was otherwise a little more risky in my proclivities, this wouldn’t be a problem. As it is, it’s a big freaking problem. I hate everyone and everything even more than normal and THAT is a feat in itself, I’m pretty sure. Also I need to drink a pot of coffee anytime I need to drive anywhere.

My doc picked a shiny new Wonder Drug to put me on, and I’m not going to lie—I haven’t even picked it up, yet. I’m afraid to take it. This may have been the worst medication experience I’ve ever had and it’s enough to make a person believe that roots and berries were good enough for our ancestors and so probably just drinking some hippie tea or something will be fine. (more…)

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Nightmare hangovers

I have never actually been an addict of any kind (uhhhh… eating all the chocolate in the house so that there’s not any chocolate in the house to tempt me doesn’t count on that score, right?), so this may be completely off base, but I think the process of going off this stupid medication that never actually worked for me has been a lot like withdrawal. (Maybe. I have no idea, like I said, but hey, I’m a squeaky-clean, middle-aged, middle-class woman who saw Trainspotting once. Or something.)

Basically, you know, I’m fine, and it’s no big deal. Except that while I was taking this med, I was exhausted all the time and had a lot of trouble sleeping. Now that I’ve been weaning down, I’m a lot less tired than I was (though still tired, because hey, WHY NOT), but when I sleep, good lord, I have the most vivid, disturbing dreams. I wake up every morning and from every nap in a cold sweat, trying to discern reality from nightmare, as some horrible scenario gradually fades from my consciousness.

This, of course, means that my doctor said “Go down in dosage this much for one week, then this much for another week, then decrease by half” or somesuch, and after the first few days of heightened technicolor dreamscapes I took the proposed weaning schedule and tossed it in favor of being off the meds in about half the time. (more…)

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Relaxing?

Otto and I have a quaint little Monday morning routine, and it goes like this: My alarm goes off, and I commence slapping my clock in sleepy annoyance, and Otto says, “Why does Monday morning always come so EARLY?” I grunt in response, and thus our love carries us through another week.

Oh, wait. Actually it’s COFFEE that carries us through another week. That charming exchange we have every Monday morning is just that precious little reminder that when you truly love someone, you forgive them for trying to have a conversation with you before you’ve had your coffee. And then you pack a lunch for your beloved and you don’t spit in it or anything. Because TRUE LOVE.

I think the problem is that every week, we have this idea that the weekend is going to be relaxing, and then every weekend we think OOH! AAH! NO WORK! Now we can do OTHER STUFF! And then the “other stuff” ends up being just as tiring as work, and/or we stay up late, forgetting that we are old and require a lot of sleep.

Let me just grab another cup of coffee and tell you all about the weekend. (more…)

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Inconveniences of the dull and boring

“Our life is boring,” I told Otto after dinner last night. “I have nothing to blog about!”

“We should go on more adventures,” he replied. That Otto, he’s a problem solver. Though he seemed a little miffed when I declined his offer to leave the dirty dishes on the table, the children in their rooms, and grab the dog and drive off into the sunset. I’m not saying it wasn’t tempting, just that I was afraid the kids might eventually track us down. (Also, I hadn’t finished my laundry, and you should never run away without a sizable stash of clean undies.)

I just want to make it clear that I know I am
1) boring
2) relatively privileged
and
3) whining.

I KNOW. That’s not going to stop me, though. (more…)

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Things which are ridiculous

My toenails; more specifically, my inability to paint them properly.
I believe in painted toenails. I don’t know why, because I almost never paint my fingernails and rarely wear makeup. I’m not exactly a get-dolled-up-regularly type, is my point. And yet, to me, summer = painted toenails. And given that I am far too cheap/lazy to get professional pedicures—hey, I have polish and passable eye/hand coordination—I do my own feet here at home. I am never either drunk or blind before I set out to prettify my feet, AND YET! What the heck is my problem? I manage to BOTH slop polish all over my toes AND miss entire sections of nails altogether.

I have been painting my nails for something like 30 years. You’d think I would’ve figured it out by now…? And when I paint someone ELSE’s nails—like on the rare occasions when Chickadee will allow me to do hers—I’m fine. This leads me to believe it’s some sort of angle issue, but I’m pretty bendy and not tall, really, so it’s not like my feet are all that far away.

[Somewhat-related digressions: Anyone else keep buying pretty colors in different brands because they're cheap and then getting annoyed when they chip? OPI + MIR = BFF 4EVAH. I am currently sporting Lincoln Park After Dark both to pretend Fall has actually arrived and because the stuff I had on before this was a different brand and was all chipped up by the time I took it off. Also---random recommendation ahoy---am I the last person on earth to learn about Gooey? I appreciate how it keeps the (good) polish on my nails even while I'm scraping it off the surrounding skin.] (more…)

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Cranky

I am cranky. [I am going to spare you a thousand-odd words about said crankiness, because really, the only thing worse than someone cranky is that cranky person trying to justify said crankiness. I HAVE MANY FEELS. Mostly they feel like throwing tantrums. Being a grownup often sucks, it turns out.]

Know what’s good for an advanced case of poormeitis? Baking. Yay! Here, I made you some healthy cookies you can eat for breakfast. You could make some for yourself/your kids and say thank you, if you wanted. Or if you wanted to pretend to be one of my kids, you could just eat them while glowering at me and expounding on the many ways in which I am the most horrible person on the planet. Either way. They’re versatile!

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While I was peeing

(Wouldn’t that be a good name for a sitcom? Or a novel? I think it has a certain ring to it.)

Mostly today I have been busy drinking all of the water in the world and then, you know, flushing it out of my uncooperative bladder. But saying “I spent all day peeing” seems a little crass, even for me.

So here! I made you some delicious gluten-free multigrain pancakes! I did not make them WHILE I was peeing, of course. That would be gross. I made them for you earlier this week, and given how busy I am with my bladder today, it seemed like a good time to share the recipe so that I would stop talking about peeing. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be done with this particular bit of life experience.

Until then: pancakes. Much better than pee. Yay!

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