suck it up, buttercup...
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If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that our house has a hidden humidifier cranking out clouds of mist. How can this place be SO HUMID?! Between that unpleasantness and the stupid global-warming-is-real weather outside, I’m starting to feel like I live in the tropics.
Only without the benefits of living in the tropics, of course.
Where are my fresh bananas?
“Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it’s cracked up to be. That’s why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.”- Erica Jong
(From QoTD)
Stomach = less painful than yesterday and without barfing urges so I’m declaring it a solid 8 out of 10 on the ‘good’ scale.
Today should be one of the final days of renovationizing in our house – until we have kids, that is, and then we’ll start preparing bedroom(s) and repairing the holes they’ll most likely knock through the walls if they’re anything like Coffee was as a child. *ahem*
JubJub, our oversized goldfish, is making the move from the dining room to our office. I suspect he’ll be quite happy there, in the bit of sunshine that comes through the window. That, and the dining room will now actually be set up for, like, DINING.
Books – endless books – are moving downstairs to the office and upstairs to the kid(s) room. I don’t know where I’ll be storing my cookbooks, yet, but that’s a problem for later. They’ve been pared down significantly in the past year, and again yesterday, so at least I won’t need to find three empty shelves for their new residence. Just one!
This table is moving there and that thing is moving over there and the sewing machine is going over there and, in short, Coffee is playing the part of Pack Mule and I’ll be playing the Bossy One. (I like that role, really – I’m good at it.)
I’m looking forward to getting the office fully set up and functional – all my stationery lined up neatly in the drawers and all my various Sharpies and felt-tip pens in the appropriate containers and, wait, I’m drooling on the keyboard. God, I love stationery supplies. Love love.
We had pondered going to the ARE in Toronto today, having been reminded by a friend that it was happening, but figured we might as well stick it out here at home and get this done before our next homestudy visit on Tuesday. Peace of mind and all that, y’know?
The ARE happens twice a year so we can always hit it next time with our fully completed homestudy in hand. Assuming, that is, that we don’t get a match before the next one takes place – and, um, Dear Universe, can we PLEASE get a match before then? Thanks! Love you!
On that note, I need to start clearing off some bookshelves so Coffee can start moving them when he returns from walking the dogs.
Sometimes, when one of our dogs walks by me, I like to reach over and spontaneously scratch the middle of her back – right in that spot that she can’t quite get to on her own.
This unexpected joy usually causes one of her rear legs to spontaneously – and, I suspect, uncontrollably – move into the “scratching” position and it then waves around in mid-air, uselessly flailing.
And, since the dog was not prepared for the back scratching and the sudden standing on three legs instead of four, THAT often leads to them falling over with a resounding thud.
And then I laugh and laugh and laugh.
(As I was typing this, the beag walked into the solarium and gleefully barfed up a pile of goo. Clearly she has her own methods of revenge on us.)
Two weekends ago, Home Depot cooties made me sick. I dripped snot and wheezed and snored all night through clogged nostrils. My sinuses tried to escape through my eyeballs. And then I started to feel better and I was grateful.
This weekend, apparently, it was either the library or Ye’s. Since I am nothing if not devoted to the sushi at the latter, however, I’m going to blame my barfy stomach on the former. There is no way a Red Dragon Roll made me sick.
Yargh.
We came home from the library’s book sale – having picked up some kids’ books for the low, low price of $1 each – and I started feeling reeeeeaally unwell. I figured I could suck it up and keep going – there’s UFC tonight, after all. I chomped a few banana-berry Rolaids – the favoured candy of all ulcer sufferers worldwide.
When we dropped off some boxes of crap at Goodwill, I had a hard time standing (and, indeed, ended up sitting back down in the car) while clutching my stomach in agony. Coffee had to unload everything while I waited for the impending death to strike me down.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to barf or if I was going to crap myself or if something was going to burst out of my gut and eat my face. I was reeeeeeeeally not feeling well.
(There was a lot of whimpering and moaning on the way home from Goodwill, lemme’ tell ya’.)
While Coffee cooked up the meatballs that HAD to be cooked today (lest the meat go bad and my entire meal plan for tomorrow be ruined) I curled up in my jammas and sweatshirt, under my thick duvet, and shivered and shivered and shivered.
And shivered.
And shivered.
There will be no UFC tonight. I emailed everyone to let them know that it is definitely not happening.
There will be no bacon-wrapped jalapeno thingies, either.
But don’t worry – all is not lost! The weekend is still salvageable; I’ll be snuggling up to a big ol’ bottle of Maalox and glasses of water with bendy straws. Seeeeexy.
First Home Depot and now the library??? A girl could seriously become agoraphobic at this rate.
Since Alex asked if anything – at all! anything! – went wrong with my day, here’s one tidbit.
For a recipe that I’m making this weekend (which I will, of course, post if it turns out well) I required some ground pork. There was none to be found in the store’s meat fridges.
Ditto on ground chicken.
Ditto on ground beef.
So I made my way to the meat counter to ask if I could purchase some from there instead of the pre-packaged area. I only needed a pound.
Meat Man, the guy behind the counter, eyed me warily as I approached. At the last moment, as I was about to open my mouth to ask about ground meat, he turned and walked away – leaving me standing there. Didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
I stood there, patiently, waiting for another employee to notice me.
But Meat Man returned a few moments later, without an explanation or apology, and instead of asking if he could help he simply stared. At me. Blankly.
“Hello! I was wondering if you have any ground pork?”, I asked
“No.”
Um. That’s it? Just.. No? No explanation or advice or suggestions? No hint as to when I might be able to return to purchase some? Really?
“Okay, do you have any ground chicken?” I tried.
“No.”
I’m pretty sure I raised an eyebrow at that point. He leaned onto the stainless steel counter in front of him and looked away from me, across the produce area. I’m pretty sure he expected me to walk away at that point.
“Could you, oh, I dunno, give me a HINT as to when I could expect some ground pork, ground chicken or ground beef in the store?”
“We don’t have any.”
“I get that. But when WILL you have some?”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
At this point, I walked away.
It’s a large grocery chain – one with a fairly reasonably-sized meat department. Surely – SURELY – a request for ground meat of ANY SORT is not that unheard of? I mean, people DO still cook with them, right?
And I’m willing to bet that meat arrives on some sort of a schedule – that the delivery company doesn’t just slip into the store randomly to drop off a couple of cows.
Perhaps that schedule changes from time to time, depending on demand, but I’d bet that the guy standing behind the counter would have been able to find that information if he had been remotely motivated.
I felt like I was standing in the butcher shop of yesteryear when meat delivery depended solely on the local farmer’s cows growing – sans steroids and growth incentives – to the appropriate size. “Eh, Bob’s cows may be grown by next Thursday.. try then!”
Seriously.
Trying inexpensive foods from other countries makes me giddy.
Visiting ethnic restaurants is sometimes difficult – ordering up a big ol’ plate of something that I can’t pronounce can often leave me unhappy when I discover that I’m paying $12.99 for something that I am wholeheartedly NOT willing to eat. I feel like I’m wasting food and possibly offending the person who cooked it.
But when I go to the local Thai store (around the corner from our house) I can pick out a small selection of snacks and foods for under $20 and try all sorts of interesting flavours.
I promise myself to eat one bite of anything I buy and if I cannot continue, well, that’s okay.
Thai coconut peanuts and the coffee candies and the assorted fruit candies have all made me very, very happy.
I once purchased a can of coffee-flavoured jello that really didn’t work for my palate (but the empty, washed can was perfect for holding pens in the kitchen!). When I say “really didn’t work” I mean, “one bite was enough to make me gag”.
On my way home from the stationery store this morning I stopped at the Japanese/Korean store that I’ve been itching to visit. I wandered the aisles and, amongst other foods found some very tasty looking kimchi (*drool*) that I was assured will be extremely spicy and hot. Perfect!
There were some boxes of Pocky in green tea flavour and some in coconut.
And I found a can of “punch” labeled “Soo Jeong Gwa” that intrigued me.
As it turns out, Soo Jeong Gwa is cinnamon punch. Made with cinnamon.
And oh, it is some sort of heavenly nectar of cinnamon-ness! I’m pretty sure it took less than 20 seconds for me to finish mine. I also bought one for Coffee that I’m hoping he’ll like – but if not, I’m willing to help him finish it. Yes indeedy.
Mmmmm..
I have a sneaky suspicion that I smell funky today – for no particular reason – even though I can’t smell anything at all other than my own deoderant and the smell of the hand-soap from the kitchen. Does that ever happen to you? The feeling that you smell funky even when the evidence indicates otherwise?
Gah.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): You could be like a thunderstorm that rejuvenates a parched landscape. At the same time, you have the power to express yourself like a thousand-foot waterfall. Why not take advantage of both these potentials? Be both helpful and charismatic, nurturing and alluring. Be of humble service as you flout your magnificence. This is one of those grace periods when you can do good and look good and feel good. I hereby dub thee the Flow Master.
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