Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


In case I'm not around tomorrow

Happy New Year, everyone.

This holiday is for the amateur drinkers, which is why I'm hoping that whatever I do end up doing, it doesn't involve tiptoeing around frozen puddles of puke, or watching for nitwits on the road. I'd honestly like to spend a quiet night in, maybe make something fabulous, and do a few things for luck at midnight. Maybe a nice little breakfast tomorrow, and indulge in a day of doing nothing but read, canoodle, and be content.

I am still a firm believer in "whatever you do on New Year's Day is what you'll do the rest of the year". And the past 2 New Years have been awful, so lets hope this one is peachy.

I'm ending this year a lot happier than it started, in fact, a lot happier than a good portion of the year was, what with a psychotic, heat-phobic boss, unemployment, and thinking that I'd never make it out in one piece, turning into sort of stabilizing, finding a good job with decent co-workers and steady paychecks (and heat! Glorious heat!), a tremendously nice fellow, and some new friends that I hope to know better in the coming year. I'm not sad to see 2005 go, and this year, I truly am looking forward to the new year- there's a lot of hope and optimism this time around.

I hope the same holds true for you.



As always happens when it gets closer to the holidays (or just passes them) I ramp up the reading, getting nearly through 2 books on Christmas day alone (granted, one was small, the other was fluffy, but still...). And because I'm nothing, if not giving- I present "Stuff that I've been reading".

The first two books were lent to me by the Incomprable C (who, I will note, did not comment on my blog on her commit to commenting weekend...)Both are by Augusten Burroughs. Dry, the first book I read, tells us all about Augusten going to rehab, falling in (and eventually out of) love with a super-hot crackhead, and the loss of his best friend (but really so much more) Pighead. Combine all this with an incredibly fucked up background, a healthy dose of humor, and an easy storytelling style, and you have quite possibly one of the best books I've read this year.

And yes, I wept like a bastard when I read it. I dare you to keep a dry eye when Pighead dies.

And then there's Magical Thinking, a series of short interludes where we get to peek at Augusten's past and present. Overall a much lighter book, and his trip to Amish country made me giggle (even if he did get his town names mixed up). His ad background gives him the talent to pack so much detail & humor into a short turn of phrase, and it makes the book a total delight. Amazon warns you that Burroughs is mean and x rated- I didn't see that. Maybe it's because I'm a bit mean and x rated too? Who knows. I loved both books.

Next up? Anthony Bourdrain's Typhoid Mary. I will admit that I'm a philistine, as this is my first Bourdrain book. I swear I've rectified it- Kitchen Confidential is on order. This book is a bit of a departure from your standard "oh my Gawd! What an awful, dirty woman!" fare on Typhoid Mary. Going beyond the standard sensationalistic fare, Bourdrain examines things more from Mary's point of view, as a cook. And, all things considered, he does a pretty decent job. He makes the official who spent much of his time pursuing Mary look like the self-important little dillweed that he probably was, and gives you a chance (in his slim volume) to learn a little bit more about the circumstances Mary was in. (Fun fact- only 3 people died.) It's a quick little read. I'd check it out of the library, or pick it up used, but wouldn't pay full price for it.

And while on the subject of cooking, the America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook (which I've referenced previously) is really damned awesome. Just don't make the French Onion soup, as it sucks. I know the Incomprable C has declared a moratorium on "The Book" at work, but really, it's quite good, and I can't stress enough how nicely designed and laid out it is (and is a nice read too, if you're an oddball like me). The only gripe is the thinness of the pages, which will maybe be corrected in a future edition.

And for tonight's final book, John Hodgman's The Areas of My Expertise. Another one I'd probably suggest buying used, or borrowing. Don't get me wrong- Hodgman? Funny guy. You've probably heard him on NPR or seen him on the Daily Show- and in person? Absolutely hysterical. Part of it is totally his deadpan delivery- he's utterly convincing in his lies. On the page? Funny, but not quite as funny as in person. That said, the hobo names, all 700 of them? Brilliant. The werewolf moon tables? A hoot. The fact that the whole book is a damned lie? Awesome. So I endorse it, but wouldn't recommend paying full price if you can help it.

In the hopper: Shirley Corriher's Cookwise
which I've been meaning to buy since it came out and I was still a bookseller. Hugh Laurie's (Yes, THAT Hugh Laurie) The Gun Seller, and the aforementioned Kitchen Confidential. Reviews as I read 'em. Maybe.


In the where, now?

I was barefoot in the kitchen this evening, but mercifully "pregnant" wasn't part of the equation. (Thank you, Kariva!) While there, I whipped up some "Fast Black Bean Soup" (recipe to follow), as opposed to my slow black bean soup, which requires soaking and dried beans, and is so good you'd smack your mama. The fast soup is still pretty darned good, but you'll only mouth off to your mama...

Got a call from Most Perfect Mom Ever tonight, as P's over at her/Graphic Design God's house. He hasn't seen GDG/MPME in a while, and while they pretty much ARE the reason we're together (seven years after their wedding, but who's counting?) they didn't know for sure that we really WERE together. MPME called and the first thing I hear is "So how long has this been going on?" (in a very jovial tone) And apparently? P was glowing. Yes. GLOWING. (And I'm pretty sure he is not knocked up.) And smiling. And borderline giddy. Which is to say he's acting exactly like I am. Ha! Validation.

And sure, I know that he likes me likes me. But it's nice to get that external "daaaaaaamn, does he look happy" confirmation. Heh. Anyway, enough of the schmoopiness, on to the soup.

Fast Black Bean Soup

I didn't time it, but it's probably close to a half-hour kind of thing, less if you chop fast.

You're going to need:
2 cans of black beans (I rinsed mine a little)
1 square container of broth (I did half beef and half chicken, because it's what I had)
1 small onion, small dice
1 green pepper, small dice
a few jalapenos (optional, I left them out for the oldsters)
1 carrot sliced thinly on the bias (wide portion sliced in half)
3 bay leaves
one clove garlic minced, or a pinch of dried garlic (not powder. blech.)
1 rib of celery (if yours isn't so limp you could tie it in a clove hitch) sliced fine
2 really big whonkin' spoonfuls of Recaito
Ham. Diced. As much/little as you want (I'm trying to use up a christmas ham, so lots of ham in mine.)

Toss a dab of butter into your dutch oven and melt it. Toss in your onions, pepper, carrots, ham, celery, and bay leaves and cook them all together till the onions are clear and everything (except the ham) is sort of crisp-tender. Toss in your beans, broth, and minced garlic, recaito, and anything else that strikes your fancy (diced tomatoes, jalapenos, shredded documents) and boil together till the vegetables are not chewy.
If you like your soup a little thinner, you can stop now. If you prefer a bit more body- take your stick blender and whiz up some of the soup. This will thicken up the mouthfeel a bit without the effort of roux, flour/water, or cornstarch. Or you could just not rinse your beans (but I thought the soup was salty enough as it is).

Serve it with a bit of sour cream, scallions, cilantro, rice, or some really good chewy bread. It gets better with age, and yes, I will be taking this for lunch tomorrow.

Coming tomorrow or soon? The return of the book reviews! This time featuring Augusten Burroughs, Anthony Bourdrain's "Typhoid Mary", Hodgson's "The Areas of my Expertise" and more! More! More!


Mmm. Foody.

Potatoes and Cheese. Oh, how I love thee. And how I love my new America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook despite its ridiculously thin pages (what were they thinking?). Seriously? This cookbook rocks it. And to prove it (and entice you to head to your local purveyor of books and buy it) here's their scalloped potato recipe.

Scalloped Potatoes
You'll need:

1 small onion, diced fine
2 cloves of garlic, minced
2 tablespoons butter
1.5 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon fresh or 1 tablespoon dry thyme (I used about a teaspoon and a half of parsley and about 2 teaspoons of chives instead)
5 medium potatoes (they said russets, I had yukon gold on hand), peeled and sliced 1/8 inch thick.
2 bay leaves
1 cup cream
1 cup chicken broth
1 cup shredded cheese of your choice (I did cheddar and parmesan)

Melt the 2 tablespoons of butter in a dutch oven, then cook the onions in the butter until soft- about 5 minutes (medium/high heat). Add in the garlic and herbs and stir around till fragrant- maybe 30 seconds. Then toss in your potatoes, salt, pepper, bay leaves, cream and chicken broth. Stir together and bring to a simmer. Turn down to medium low and cook for about 10 minutes, or until the potatoes are starting to get tender. Rip out the bay leaves. Then, pour the whole shootin' match into a small casserole (I used an oval corningware dish, but you could use an 8 inch square one too) then press the whole thing into one layer, top with the cheese and bake for 20 minutes at 425. Be sure to let it sit for at least 10 minutes before serving.

Quite possibly the only change I'd make is the addition of a little more cheese- stirred into the potato mixture (maybe a 1/2 cup) to carry through the potatoes- otherwise? Perfection.

I also made my favorite lemon bars from their book too- and got to use my microplaner. Love. Love. LOVE the microplaner, even if I was a dumbass, and forgot that I changed off the fine blade for the spice blade when I was showing it to ma- and couldn't figure out why it was so hard to get the lemons zested (and why I was taking off chunks of my thumb...) The world didn't end though (and I strained the chunks of flesh out of the lemon curd).

I also picked up stuff to make french onion soup tomorrow night, and black bean soup later in the week. I'll keep you posted. (And I'm thinking there may be some slivered ham on top of the bread, but beneath the cheese on the soup- as Odie got a ginormous ham for Christmas from work, and I'm trying to cleverly use it up...)


Spoiled Rotten.

Egads, I certainly didn't deserve the Christmas I got, but believe me- I'm appreciating it. (Even if we didn't do stockings, damnit.)

I knew Odie was getting my mom a digital camera... I didn't know I got one too. :) So expect photos of the current projects (animal, vegetable, and knittable) in the near future. I have plenty of new reading material, a portable boom box (my CD player in my stereo hasn't worked since I got back from FL), sweaters, a Denise needle set (which I've contemplated getting for a few years now.),and some body goos (body butter and a bath gel) that smell good enough to eat (Creme Brulee, buttercream icing, peach parfait, and chocolate marshmallow).

And P was quite surprising. He noticed that I lusted after his microplane grater. Ok, Lusted isn't quite strong enough. I damn well adore this thing- have wanted one for eons. And now, thanks to him, I have one. Actually, technically, I have 3- as he got me one with interchangable blades. And yes, I have grated everything in my house. And it is awesome. I also got a copy of House of Leaves. I'll leave my opinion on that till I actually finish it. I'm hovering between "This is going to be really interesting" and "I am going to hurl this at the wall".

I'll let you know what I decide. As for the rest of today, I plan on enjoying some QT with Fat Elvis (who has been glued to me for the majority of our waking hours) and an assortment of dips (The kind you eat, not the ones you're related to...) as I flag recipes in the new Cooks Illustrated cookbook. My Pa and Odie will debate football, the merits of snow tires vs. all wheel drive, and toolboxes, and we'll probably catch a bit of the Claymation Christmas. Sounds pret' near perfect to me.

I hope each of you had a happy, merry day as well.


Annual Family Newsletter

Dearest Friends of the Special Sauce Family,

It hardly seems like a year has gone by since I wrote our last holiday newsletter, but it's true. What with the court-ordered therapy sessions, community service, and constantly trying to devise ways to get around the perimiter set by the monitoring device around Pa's ankle, my calendar has been simply booked solid.

As many of you know, I left my job with the local nonprofit for crippled kids. How was I to know you didn't actually get to cripple anyone? Luckily, I've been employed by the local Giganto-Mega-Hospital, and it's simply wonderful. I've been off my meds for months, and I'm feeling very focused. Focused! And Clear! And like I can do seventeen things at once. And often I do.

Unfortunately Ma had a bit of a run-in with the neighbors. Turns out they were running a little bit of a meth lab in their basement. Ma turned them in, and now eight members of the Pagan Motorcycle Club (and 12 of their amish buddies) are out for Ma. I can't say where she is exactly right now (coughcoughArizonacoughcough)but if the surgery is a success, she'll be back around in no time.

And of course Odie found himself a little woman. Literally. We're thrilled, and he couldn't be happier. He is simply waiting for his fourth divorce to be final, and his parole to be up so they can go to Nevada and get married. Look out for them, Stephee! They'll be on your doorstep before you know it!

And then there's dad... Well. Dad developed a bit of an Oxycontin addiction after falling off a roof back in April (damned snow!) and when he couldn't get the pills legally anymore, he took to beating up little old ladies, hurting them just badly enough to be prescribed painkillers, then making them give him their pills. A pretty smart plot, if you ask me... Well, one of the ol' biddies ratted him out, and that's how he ended up with the monitoring bracelet. We've rigged it so he can still go out and work- we just strapped it onto one of the cats, and it looks like he's roaming the house. All is well.

Well, that's another year come and gone at the Saucehold. Hope you and yours are as happy as we are.

Have a blessed Christmas
Special Sauce




It's time for warm, fuzzy, holiday memories again. Of course, they could just be warm and fuzzy because of the Vodka, but I'll never tell...

This is the week that used to be sheer torture when my brother and I were younger. You'd still have school to go to, but everyone was just totally ramped up because- Dude. Big fat man was coming, and he'd bring Candy. And presents. And STUFF! NEW STUFF. For you to play with! Aaaah! Stuff! So we devised our own ways to get through the final countdown.

My favorite (which just popped into my head a few days ago) was playing "Santa". Odie and I would take turns "Hanging our stockings" and then "going to sleep" on the couch, while the other would gather up a whole bunch of random stuff from our toybox and elsewhere, and put it in the stocking. Then the "sleeper" would get up and discover their new loot. Heh.

Good times.

I was also a master snooper as a kid- knew how to break into almost any box, discern its contents, and cover up my tracks. I knew all the hiding places, and generally speaking, knew exactly what everyone was getting well in advance of the big day. I've actually been very well behaved in recent years (ok, starting last year), and haven't peeked yet. Though I did accidentally see that I'm getting a kitchen scale. (YES!)

The only time I totally got busted was when I was about 6- I snooped and discovered a pair of pink scuff slippers under the tree for me. And of course, on Christmas morning, you have to do the "shake it and guess what it is" thing- well, at the age of 6 I hadn't totally honed my "lie with a straight face" gig, and said "hmmmmm it sounds liiiiike.... Slippers!" And got bitched at. Heh.

Didn't deter me, though.


Well, that rumor's been dispelled...

So for the first time since I was 18 (yeah, I know), the guy I was dating actually came to my house and MET MY PARENTS....

And nobody said anything thoroughly embarassing, my parents were amusing, P was sparkling as always, and we cut off the visiting time pretty early, in favor of eating and snuggling on the couch (far from the eyes of the folks...).

And monkeys didn't fly out of my ass, and oddly enough, the world didn't end. I think they even like him.

Yay me.



So with one week to go before the big day, I'm thrilled to say that not only am I done with my shopping (with the exception of a bottle of wine for my present exchange at work, and some stocking stuffers), but everything that is at my house is wrapped, and I did NOT KILL ANYONE!

That last part? Minor miracle. I got up around oh... 6:30 this morning, watched a neat show on giant squid, and got my ass to Target by 8:00, when it was reasonably empty. Finished there, went to the outlets by 9. Hit my 2 stores there, did Burlington & *shudder* wallyworld (to be fair, I went in to get flannel pants for my dad, because nobody had any that weren't hideous, and t's to go with the PJ pants I got my mom- And yes, I could have gone back to Target, but it wasn't on my way). By 10:30 AM I was pulling into Giant to get stuff to make for supper tomorrow, and cookies today.

And seriously? Giant was the most crowded place of all- full of idiots who couldn't decide between the 1.98 can of tomatoes or the 1.99 can of tomatoes. Here's a penny, Chester, now how 'bout movin' your ass.

The cookie list is relatively small this year- Almond Joy cookies (making their debut, and will most definitely return- recipe to follow) and Grandma's date-nut candy (recipe also to follow), and probably peanut blossoms. If I can cajole/wheedle/plead with my mother, maybe she'll make the shortbread kiss surprise cookies I love (but hate making).

The recipes:

Almond Joy Cookies:

2 bags (5.5 cups) flaked coconut
1 can sweetened condensed milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1.5 teaspoons almond extract
1 bag hershey kisses with almonds

Mix the first 4 together and drop by spoonfulls (or make little balls- just wet your hands and it's easy) onto a cookie sheet that has been lined with foil, greased, and floured (trust me- don't skimp). Flatten the balls slightly, and bake at 325 for about 15-17 minutes. Rip 'em out of the oven and press a hershey's kiss into the top of each one, then remove to a cooling rack. (hint: if things start to stick, wet your spatula)

The recipe says it makes 4 dozen. They lie, it's a lot less.

Date Nut Candy-

1 big whonkin' bag of coconut
1 pound chopped dates
at least a cup or more of walnuts (chopped)
1 can sweetened condensed milk

Mix that whole mess together with your hands (remove your jewelry, or I'm not responsible for you) and press it into a liberally greased baking pan and bake at 300 degrees for about 45 minutes to an hour (you're looking for golden brown) cool in the pan, then cut into small rectangles (like a half inch to an inch wide by 2 inches long) and shake them in a bag of granulated sugar. It will refrigerate or freeze well, and frankly, it's just not Chrimmus in my mind without 'em.


In the what, now?

Weeks like this one make me wish I was back in Florida. Hurricanes, gnats, morons, and all. Truthfully, I am not cut out for 6 degree weather. I'm just not. Nor is my (lovely, wonderful, gets me where I need to go) car cut out for that. It takes me a solid 10 minutes to get the heat working somewhat decently. Meh. I loathe the winter. Sure- it's pretty. When you're inside, sipping hot cocoa, and watching the flakes fall. But outside? Not so much.

Anyway, enough of that. Lets talk about... Taco Bell.

Honestly, we talk about the Bell so much at work, if you didn't know better, you'd swear we were all high. (I swear, we're not. Really.) And today? The Incomprable C (who really needs to update her blog before I link to her. Hint.) had her last final today, and so very generously offered to "run for the border" on her way back. And we discovered a new treat (thanks to my boss)- the Chicken Mexi-Melt. It's the perfect Taco Bell treat. And it has skyrocketed to my All Time Taco Bell Favorites list.

Going to reblock Aunt Judy's scarf this weekend, and harass my brother into taking a picture so y'all can see the gloriousness. And I'll bake cookies. And finish my Christmas shopping. And groom a viable democratic candidate for the 2008 presidency. And solve the issue of world hunger (more taco bells).

Stay warm.


Reason 341,013

Why it's really kind of nice to be dating a massage therapist.

When you get a spontaneous migraine at his house, he will do things to your neck, shoulders, and head that will hurt like nothing you've ever felt before. And while it won't get rid of your migraine, it will make your shoulders and neck feel like a million bucks when he's through. (That's when he plies you with painkillers and lies down with you till you're feeling somewhat human again.)


And it's deep too!

Shit. All my old idols are starting to die. Johnny Cash, Hunter S. Thompson, and now, Richard Pryor. I really hope someone comes up with the anti-aging serum soon, because I don't want to lose Harlan Ellison & George Carlin. *sigh*

I suppose Comedy Central will have to stop airing "I ain't dead yet". Because, well... yeah, he is.

Something tells me I won't be able to play my RP Tapes at P's house today. I have the feeling his mother wouldn't appreciate that as good Christmas Cookie Baking background noise. Heh. (But yes, it would totally fly at my house, where we watch Chris Rock on Chistmas Morning.)(And yes, that probably explains everything you need to know about me.)

Like Lenny Bruce before him, Richard Pryor opened the door for a LOT of comics. Without him, there would most definitely be no Chris Rock, Carlos Mencia, Wayans Brothers (Ok, that wouldn't be alltogether that awful...) Bill Hicks, or well, pretty much ANY modern comic. I'd include Eddie Murphy, but after that Klump crap he's off the artistic roll call. Anyway, without RP, there's no Dane Cook, no Patton Oswalt, none of that. Gone. Poof. And what a boring fucking place this would be. I dare you to watch him in his prime, and not laugh- it's impossible. Even though the comedy is 25 years old- it's still good.


What has 2 thumbs,

hates winter, and is typing this blog right now?

This guy.

Dont get me wrong. Curling up on the couch with someone who smells good, in front of a fire, with some hot cocoa (from scratch, thank you very much) and peppermint schnapps is pretty damned delightful. Getting up at O-Dark-Thirty to get to work because you want to avoid the rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shit-kickers and Methodists (Thank you Hedley Lamar!) who are too stupid to drive on snow without crawling up your ass or speeding around you.

Because despite my bitching, my sappy crappy little Saturn does a half decent job on snowy roads, so long as I don't have to stop suddenly, and start back up again on a hill.

The snow itself isn't the ridiculous part. It's the morons who, when half a flake descends from the sky, have to immediately go into "Ohmigod! We're all going to die!" mode. Milk! Bread! Rock Salt! Must hunker down! Can't leave the house! Must Call In Sick!

Who's not helping things? Local "Storm Team Coverage". Seriously. It's snow, not nuclear holocaust. It happens EVERY FUCKING YEAR. Enough already. Anon. I beseech you. The next time Hoxie or Sue start in with the gloom and doom, bitch slap them. 'K? It'll make my year. Kick J in the teeth. Do SOMETHING. Because they're just making things worse...

If only the snow would keep the idiots INSIDE and away from shopping areas. Bah.


Consider Yourself Branched.

Yes. As we speak, my first Branching Out is drying, peacefully (yet stuck full of pins) on my ironing board. Tomorrow, if she's dry, I'll show her off at work. I think my Aunt will really like it, along with a nifty pin, for Christmas. Tomorrow I'll start another one...

That giddy screeching you heard? That was me.

Mt first lace project. I'm so proud I could puke. If only I had a digital camera to show y'all.


Reason 43,951 why I love my dentist

Or at least his Hygenist, Pam.

Today's visit was not nearly as painful, nor as bleedy as I had anticipated. In fact, I had my teeth carved out in less than an hour, and got an assload (ok, a cheek's worth) of Holiday shopping done. This afternoon? Kicked it hardcore.

Of course now Pam wants me to buy this $140.00 ionized, professional-grade, gold-plated, does-everything-but-my-taxes water pik. And while she was gentle with my teeth, I'm not inclined to snag this high-powered gadget yet. I'll stick to floss picks which are about 3.50 a packet...

And while I was out finding lovely things for my family members I made a trip to the yarn store. The GOOD one. And got 5 more skeins of Zephyr. Gold, Sable, Purple, Dark Green and a cross between mulberry and tomato that will be for me me me me me.
And all that? For under 20.00. Incomprable C, the best thing you've ever done is turn me on to that inexpensive, positively beautiful yarn. (Ok, it's one of the best.)

And on that note, I'm off to knit like the wind, so I can finish at least one Branching Out before much longer...


So. Um. Ok then.

So this has been a very interesting weekend, and it's only Sunday morning, I can't imagine what the rest of the day holds in store, (especially considering we're celebrating the Incomprable C's birthday this evening) it could very well kill me...

So Friday, G. Monkey and I hung out. And... wow. This was not a "Fun drinky night" it was a "Severe emotional distress" drinking kind of night. And if it weren't for the fact that her revolting, child-molesting, asshole of a stepfather has cancer, and will probably die a slow (not nearly painful enough) death, I'd go down there and kill him myself*. I knew a lot of things already, but I had no idea about a lot of others. And just... wow.

And we caught up with Stoltz-a-ma-fus. Who gave me the low-down on the fundraiser that Bosslady had. That noise you heard was probably my evil guffawing. Not only did half the people of the last time show up, but people STOLE auction items. That Bosslady had to pay for. STOLE. I mean, 1. people who steal charity auction items should be beaten severely about the face and shoulders. But 2. That's really damned funny. Most of the money raised was negated by outlays (because she had to do everything expensively- Ha!) and they probably just about broke even. (This is what you get for not doing direct mail, having a shitty committee, and pissing off every person who works for/with you. Heh. Have a nice day.)

Apparently she also posed naked for some sculptor, and now her "perky" butt is the figurehead on some hot-rod. (Yes, I did just throw up a little in my mouth. Again. When I wrote that.)

And then there was yesterday, involving a trip to Reading (which automatically includes multiple opportunities-which we too- to get lost. Repeatedly) to pick up P's mixer, helping his ma with the christmas decorations, and whipping up some chai creme brulee. Yes, it was even better than it sounds.

Oh, and he also mock propsed with his EX FIANCEES RING** (deep breath C, he was kidding- after I "sucked up by doing his mom's dishes" he figured "next I'd ask his mom if I could marry him" so he'd "beat me to the punch." Again. KIDDING.) And it was? Funny. One knee, the whole nine yards. (Followed with "well, I doubt you'd want her ring anyway", "Correct, I'd like my grandmother's ring.") Heh. I think we're making angel food cake today, and then, of course, I'm going out to drink my face off*** with the Incomprable C, Ferret Trimmin' Girl, The Lovely Laura, and a whole host of other GigantoMegaHospital employees... Woot!

*Her mother too, for other assorted reasons, but I think I'd rather see her live, preferably guilt wracked (unlikely), and miserable (likely, but not for the right reasons).

** Yeah, I didn't really know that either, that his flaming bitchbag of an ex was actually an ex-fiancee, something was mentioned in passing, but it didn't register till I saw the ring. Thank Elvis he never got entangled with that one any further than cohabitating... yikes.

*** By "drinking my face off" I mean one nice vodka & cran & buying C drinks. I do, after all, have to go to work tomorrow.


No, really! I'm OK!

I didn't pass out in the bathroom and crack open my skull, just a bit of brain disintegration by way of bayberry potpourri.

One of the fun things about my migraines is that the only thing I know for sure about my triggers is that "yes, they do exist". Sometimes cigarette smoke will drive me over the edge, other times I can sit in a smoky bar for hours and not feel a twinge. Sometimes it's not sleeping right, or eating regularly- but oddly enough, not really foods like oranges, chocolate or nitrite-laden-meat. Sometimes it's smells, but not always the same ones- Liz Clairborne's "Red" does it pretty regularly, but sometimes other smells creep in too. Cooking grease, the inside of an Olive Garden, and now, apparently, Bayberry potpourri.

90% of the time I don't have much of a warning- I start to feel too hot, and I start to notice EVERYONE'S cologne and perfume, even the soap in the bathroom is a lot more noticeable. And by the time I realize that it's happening, I've already got the first stabbity pains in my right temple. And that's when the evaluation process kicks in.

1. Did I have any caffiene today? Maybe this is just a caffiene withdrawal headache. I'll just take some motrin & drink a coke and hope it goes away. or:
2. I've been drinking tea, and is this going to get bad enough to require drugs? Sure, I have insurance now, but 50 bucks for 5 pills is still a bit steep. Maybe I'll take some Excedrin Migraine and see if it'll go away.
3. Who am I kidding, that Excedrin's not going to do anything except make me want to vibrate. Take the prescription- that's what it's there for.

Sometimes I go right to step 3, like I did yesterday. And it was bad. Probably as bad as it's ever been without an aura. And Elvis love the Incomprable C and Ferret Trimmin' Girl for perpetually making sure that I didn't crack open my skull in the ladies room (Which was exceptionally sweet, but at the time, the attention- which mushroomed to include everyone in the office- was the last thing I wanted.) I'm done with Amerge too. Those pills, expensive as they are, suck balls. (and not the fun kind either) They took well over 4 hours to kick in yesterday, and I do NOT have the kind of time to waste on a headache. (A skull splitting, puke inducing, blinding fucker of a headache, but a headache nonetheless.) My old drugs are cheaper vastly more reliable/have predictable side effects, and work in under an hour.

Anyway, welcome to my world. Woo!