Awesome Hotdogs

I've been dreading this week. Not so much for the getting a year older thing. Actually, that part I generally look forward to. Like a fine wine, I think I'm better as I age. No, the reason I've been dreading this week is... Friday. I've already posted about how I'm not going to be able to be able to celebrate the birthday properly (on the day of), and what it comes down to, is that most days I don't mind being alone-ish. But I don't like being alone on my birthday. I don't like having nothing to do, no one to see and nowhere to be. It's not just my birthday, really. Holidays in general. I don't want to be alone on a day that should be celebrated.

This last weekend, I had a royal pity party for myself. All I was missing was the crown. ;) I even started feeling sorry for myself about the winter holidays. The LAST thing I want to do is spend this coming December the same way I did the last-- worrying over/waiting for Pop to recover from surgery and pining away for family all of whom (with the exception of Pop, of course) are in other states, if not another country. And here's me, tied to this house, unable to get away. Honestly, I doubt that any of them will be able to make it this year either. Oh, yes. This last weekend, I put myself in a fine funk.

And you know what? Something good did come out of it. (Whodathunkit?) I realized that thinking like that will only bring on more of the same, so I decided to change my thinking. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to do something to improve my situation.

Well, there's not much I can do about throwing myself a birthday party this year. It's a bit late. And truly, Saturday will be absolutely wonderful, getting to spend time with almost all of my favorite east coast people, so I don't REALLY have room to complain anyway. And as for the winter holidays, I am going to surround myself with as many of my friends as I possibly can. And to give me something to look forward to, I'm going to throw a small, intimate Yule party for my nearest and dearest. I may not be able to see all my family, but it doesn't mean that I can't feel the love.

Also, when I spoke to my sister the other day, I told her it was of the utmost importance that she call me on Friday. And she promised she would.

AND THEN!!! My super genius Daddy and Stepmom sent me an early birfday pressie: an awesome (like a hotdog) bread machine!!!! SQUEEEE!!!! I'm making my very first loaf right now: French bread. It won't be baguette, because it's in the wrong shape, but it should taste the same. OMG! Excited am I. (Have I mentioned excited?)

And today, I did my first stint as a volunteer at the library. Organizing the SciFi/Fantasy books = fun. People are lazy and put stuff in the wrong places, BUT I found a bunch of books I wanna read... when I'm done with what I'm reading right now.

Organizing the children's reference section = not so fun. Besides the fact that small children have NO CONCEPT of filing/putting things in order, I didn't find any books I wanted to read there. Started at the end and worked my way up, so when I left, I was still sifting through American history and forms of terrorism. I kid you not. Even so, it was incredibly fulfilling to see what a mess it started out as, and how tidy I was able to get my one little section. Although, I will say this: I need to start doing Yoga again.

So, oddly enough, I would say this week is off to a far better start than I expected. And as soon as I gets me my Frrrrrench Brrrrread, I'm gonna go have toast and jam!

OMG! My bread machine even has a setting to make jams and preserves! And BAGELS!@!!! (Not at the same time, but I hear that's coming in a later model.)

And now, I leave you with this thought for the day:



Peace.

An Odd Day

I suppose today started out last night (this morning?) around 1am when the Mad Cow started moaning. That in and of itself is nothing new. I've taken to calling it his “pee noise” cuz usually when he makes it, well, you get the idea. This morning, however, when I went to check on him, he said he was hurting, “right here,” and started rubbing over his heart. Ok, that is scary, and when you add to it that he can almost NEVER identify A) that he is IN pain and B) where the pain is, well, I freaked out.

After a quick chat with Daddy, I took him to the local hospital, where they poked and prodded him and after 2 hours, announced that it wasn't a heart attack, he can go home and follow up with his regular doctor, but if he complains again, to bring him back right away. Dammit, it's so hard to tell if he's crying wolf. Or mebbe he had indigestion, which can cause pain in that area. Or mebbe it was something else entirely! Or or or... Bah!

I got him to bed around 4 and we both crashed. Ro came in around 7, fed him and got him ready for the day, and left us both sleeping in the living room (because it's easier for me to sleep/keep an eye on him from the couch while he's in his lift chair). Maybe a half an hour after Ro left, he stood up and announced that he was going to bed. “You can't go to bed, because... um... Hellz, let's BOTH go to bed.”

So we did, and we both slept until 2. With NO interruptions. Usually the only way that happens is if I have to drug him.

I haven't slept so well since... well, since the last time he was in the hospital.

Anyway, when I woke up, I decided I wanted a cinnamon bun. Now, one of the ways that I am controlling my junk-food intake is to make my own. If I want cookies, I've stopped buying them in boxes. I tell myself at the store that the cookies I make taste better than what I can buy (very true), AND I know exactly what's in them. No high fructose corn syrup, no weird partially hydrogenated soy thingees or MSG (now legally shown on most product labels as “natural flavorings” or “spices.”) Just regular old flour, eggs and sugar. And cinnamon. I really like cinnamon. Now there's a natural flavoring and spice.

What this all came down to was that I had a choice: bake my own cinnamon buns or go without. Usually, the lazy side wins, but today, like I said, I wanted them. This meant venturing once more into the wild world of Yeast. This was my second attempt on my own, the first being the ill-fated English Muffin LumpLoaf. I was a bit nervous, but I think I figured out where I went wrong last time, so I was up for the challenge.

I had originally planned for cimamum bun as breakfast-- it even said in the recipe if you wake up early you can do it-- until I read the part about “let it rise for 2 hours.” HA! So after heating up Pop's lunch, I grabbed the first thing I could find for my breakfast, which turned out to be leftovers from last night's supper: a salad from my garden. That's right. I ate SALAD for breakfast. Who's proud of me?

Long story short, today, I learned two things: how to work with yeast to prevent future Lumpsfailures AND that I make killer cimamum rolls.

I also got a bitch of an attack of carpel tunnel. Same areas of the hand that my mom used to get it too. It's one of the reasons she stopped baking, except with a bread maker. As Arcana would say, “Poo.”

Overall, between lots of sleep and cimamum buns (YUM!) it's been a good day, even if it did rain and I didn't get to see any fireworks to celebrate that we're not British. Then again, knowing me, that's not something I celebrate, but yanno. I still like pretty-pretty esplodies. Oh, yeah. And Serenity and I spent about an hour looking at all the hotties in kilts here. Yes, Gerard Butler is in there. Score!

Anyway, yeah. Good times.

Peace.