I'm Thinking About Some Stuff

I'm having the kind of day where I think I should try to be witty and engaging, but the truth is, I'm so tired all I want to do is take a nap. So this what's on my mind today, in short.

Did you know baby seals are dying from bird flu, a sign that the virus has mutated and may reach other mammal populations? I'm fascinated by the science of viruses. I'm not sure why. I think I've read too many books set during the Black Plague, and I'm not unconvinced that a world-wide pandemic will happen during my lifetime. I'm not much of a conspiracy theorist, but that's one that holds on.

And then there's other things, like, the mountain of unfinished projects I've got going. Books I'm writing. Sewing and home improvement projects. Stuff I'm avoiding thinking about, because starting and never finishing projects isn't a trait I like about myself.

And I have several evenings free this week, and it would be a good time to adress them, but really, this whole Kristen Stewart cheating scandal is much more interesting. I don't think much of her acting ability, not because I've seen many of her movies, but because she seems to lack poise in interviews. Pretty, yes, but all that running her fingers through her hair and slouching and biting her lip looks ridiculous. So it's not so much her that holds my interest, it's the rabid fan reactions to the story. Like that girl posting a video of herself crying on camera, and the ones tweeting that their whole life is a lie because of something that happened to two people they don't know, and likely never will. Strangly fascinating.

Also, did you know that half of India was without electricity today? I guess you could say that's another  thing that I'm wondering when it'll happen here. India, of course, has a host of infastructure issues, and has had these problems before, but I can't help but be fascinated by the idea of hundreds of millions of people without power. That and and a world-wide pandemic, and suddenly we're living in the pages of Stephen King's The Stand. And then I woudn't have to go to work, and could actually take a nap.

I'm mean, sure, it would be a sign of the Apocolypse, but whatever.

Some Recipes and Some Excuses

I'm not avoiding-avoiding, just mildly not posting. It sort of comes down to two factors - 1. I've been taking pictures with my cell phone, and 2. I'm not taking enough pictures to walk you through the whole process. Eventually I'll get the hang of it, but for now, well, take Sunday dinner for example.

I know, I love Sunday dinners too, there's just something nice about ending the week with a sit-down meal. Anyhow, this past Sunday, I had friends B & B over for dinner. The menu was as follows:

Chicken Satay skewers
Steak skewers
Sauted veggies (including those mini corn that I've never really liked)
Brown rice

Somewhat healthy, somewhat not. Also, only somewhat home-made.

It's not that bad, but if you must know the secret to my cooking sucess, it's take the short-cuts where they they taste good. Also, I have an unhealthy fixation with Trader Joe's, as if their snack foods are somehow better for me then what I can buy at cheaper stores, because, you know, they wear Hawaiian shirts and hippies tend to shop there.

I know, I know, but if you've ever tasted their Maple Leaf cookies, you'd understand.

So, I was all about the snapping pictures with my cell phone through the first part of the prep. Slicing up the chicken, getting it into the sauce, prepping the skewers....

And then, not so much. I got caught up. I love to make dinner for other people, especially people like B & B, who always compliment my cooking. I'm kind of a praise-whore, so you know, they're good for my ego.  Anyway, the skewers are pretty simple. Here's the recipe I made up on the fly, because it sounded good to me.

Melissa's Somewhat Homemade Satay (With help from Trader Joe's)
3 Chicken breasts, sliced into roughly quarter inch strips, length-wise.
1 jar Trader Joe's Peanut Satay Sauce (YUM)
3 Tablespoons unsalted Peanut Butter
2 Tablespoons Olive oil
1 tsp minced garlic
Dash or two of salt
Bamboo Skewers, soaked in water for at least an hour first

Put the Satay sauce in a bowl with the PB, Olive oil, garlic and salt. Mix up until smooth, and a nice, much thicker texture then it comes straight from the jar.

Put the sliced chicken in a bowl, and cover with 2/3rds of the sauce. Let sit in the fridge for a few hours, then take out a half-an-hour beforehand to come to room temperature.

One by one, take the skewers from the water, and guide them through the raw chicken. Place them on a broiling pan, or, if short such a pan, do what I did, line a sheet pan with a foil, then place a baking rack, the kind used to cool cookies, in the pan. Ta-da, make-shift broiler pan.

Spoon (or smear, whatever works) some of the sauce you leave behind on the chicken.

Put the oven on broil and let it heat up. Place the pan on a low rack in the oven, not too close to the burner.

Cook about 10-15 minutes, turning once mid-way. For the last minute, move up closer to the heat.

Serve with the extra third of sauce left from step 2.

It's like a little visit to Yum City.

Okay, that was lame . Don't judge me, I'm hillarious most of the time but my game's a little off, that's all.

I'm having an epic idea, and I just discovered something maybe sort of awesome. The second part first. Did you know about this site, Fuck Yeah, Boston Terriers? So until my dog goes from imaginary to actuality, I will have a ready source of pictures to grab! Yeah for pretending a little longer.

Now for part the first: I think I figured out to do with my blog! Woo!

I've just used two exclaimation points in a row, so understand when I say this is big news. I try never to over-use punctuation, because it defiles the integrity of grammar, also, how would you know if I were genuinely excited if I ended all of my sentences with !!!!!!! like an eleven-year-old girl? You wouldn't.

Sorry, Age Appropriate Zac Effron, I know I'm stalling. And I'm sorry that I must refer to you as Age Approriate Zac Efron, but you know there are far too many of your Disney years pictures out there, and I sort of feel like an extra-creepy old lady when I accidentally look at them, so....

Okay, here it is: I'm going to blog about things I make, whatever that might be. Recipes I get from the internet. Crafty nonsense I do. Books of vampire porn I may or may not be writing in response to the fact that a girl with my name in one of those fly-over states is writing vampire porn.  Also, I will continue to feature these little conversations, becuase... I want too.

It's like this, there are eons worth of recipe and crafter blogs, but how many of them combined that with imaginary commentary from hot celebrities? None that I know of at present!

Whoops, there I go with the exclaimation points again. I've got to stop that.

Anyhow, I'll get started as soon as I find my camera.

Thank you, Age Appropriate Zac Efron, that means a lot.

So, somewhat faithful readers who are not totally made up versions of hot celebrites, stay tuned. Stuff is coming and it'll be epic-ish.

 My imaginary puppy and I are still sick.

Turns out, the mystery illness of the last few months is more than one illness, and neither one such a mystery, but both are still pretty miserable.  So I have to repair the lining of my stomach and get some physical therapy for my back, which is better than having some unknown cancer or life-long condition like IBS.

So go me, I'm only a little broken.

I'm going to see the Citizen Cane of Stripper Movies (which is not Showgirls, if you can believe it) for girls' night to feel better. Because how could this not make you feel better:



It's all the fun of going to see a strip show, without any of the shame, regret and creepy desperation of that going to a real one would bring.

I'm still having unexplainable symptoms of something, and it's driving me just a touch bat-shit-crazy.

Just a touch.

There is a very rational part of my brain that says things like "Melissa, you are not that sick. You need to eat better, get plenty of rest, and this will all go away. You do not have anything life threatening."

The problem is that the rational part of my brain, let's call her "Doris" because I think that's funny, is sort of a boring, matronly gal. The completely irrational part of my brain, we'll call her "Rita" because I also think that's funny, is a hypochondriac in a short skirt.

Doris and Rita are locked in eternal battle. Doris tells me that I need to get over myself and stop Googling my symptoms. Rita would have me believe I've got several forms of cancer. 

And since I've been going to see the doctor, and neither she or the emergency room staff can as of yet tell me what's wrong with me, I'm way past being freaked out. In other words: Rita is having a field day, imagining that I've got something very tragic and hard to detect.

Especially since I thought I was getting better, and today I am clearly not.

This what seems to be true:

 Sometimes I have a lot of pain, but with a few rare exceptions, it's at most like a six on the scale of 1 to "I want my mommy."

The pain feels like it moves to various places in my abdomen. First it felt like kidney and back pain, then, stomach, then it felt like my intestines were burning up, and now, it's just a sort of vagueish-middleish sore spot.

I haven't had a fever, although I may have one now.

I have a strong suspicion that this is connected to what I'm eating, but I haven't yet found a pattern.

The CT scan showed nothing, except a "pulmonary nodule." Don't Google that, you'll have lung cancer. True story.

Anyhow, I have an appointment to see a specialist on Thursday and I'm going to try to not psych myself out in the two days in between.

Oh Mr. Darcy, I don't even know. It hasn't been a good year, health-wise.

Other Mr. Darcy! Oh my. I was just explaining to the first Mr. Darcy that I just haven't been feeling well. Again. And I'm really tired of feeling icky. 

And the fact is, I'm not even sure what's wrong.

That's all I've got, I'm afraid. I thought it was a kidney stone, but apparently my symptoms are inconsistent. I'm in pain, but, only sometimes. It's weird I know. And I'm just tired and icky and.... I don't even know.

Thank you, Mr. Darcy. That means a lot.

I know Other Mr. Darcy, I know. I'll tell you what, I'll let you have a bitch-face face-off.  Go for it.

Nice.

Mr. Darcy?

Winner.

This week has been rough on me, so I did the sensible thing when things are going badly and read a lot of Jane Austen.

Shut up, Austen does make things better.

For example, sure, health-wise this has been an icky week, but I spent at least half a day reading Pride & Prejudice for the 20th time. And that gave me ample time to prefect my fake British accent by reading aloud, so there's that.

I should add that I have an awesome fake British accent. I mean it's horrible. Like worse than Renee Zellwegger in Bridget Jones bad, but I've been perfecting it's terribleness for several years.

Please don't tell me I need hobbies. That is my hobby. It's weird, sure. I don't deny that. I blame my family. They never really censured the weirdness. I'm not going to say they encouraged it, so much, as they just sort of laughed at me, rolled their eyes, and walked away without comment. I took this as their tacit acknowledgement that being weird was perfectly okay and normal was utterly and completely boring.

So blame them. In the meantime, I'm going to do a terribly practical thing and head to see a doctor. Because, while Austen can cure many things, from a broken heart to the crisis in the Middle East, turns out kidney trouble isn't her specialty.