Garbled Thoughts

Today had not started out the best, as it usually doesn't. To say it has become better would be an outright lie. It didn't.

Presently, I am sitting with a large ice pack on my lower back in an attempt to try an numb the pain I am feeling. I know it isn't going to work, but I have no options to really aid me in this time of crazed leg twitching, I'm-going-to-scream, kind of pain.

After I woke up this morning my Dad called. Usually I am enthusiastic to hear from him. I miss him. I was so used to seeing him and talking to him daily before we moved. Since, I feel so alone. I left my best friend behind. Yes, I am Daddy's little girl and am not ashamed to admit that at my age (32) that I'm still his <del>little</del> Princess. He caught me at a bad moment this morning. I was half aware I was alive and was trying like hell to not scream and cry because I was in pain. So, when he called and started asking me questions about money, bills I owed, student loans, and what I did over a year ago, I about lost it. Not my finest moment. I felt so guilty afterwards. I don't like getting upset with him, but sometimes he gets this one-track mind and drills into you, ignoring the obvious, and it grates the nerves. I reacted poorly.

My husband came home to find me in the fetal position on the couch, face in the palms of my hands, trying like hell to not cry. Without a word, he came in, kissed my cheek and placed my coffee on the coffee table. He put all the groceries away, and even put some fresh roses in a vase as a surprise for me. In that process, I took the dogs outside to do their potty business. My husband came outside to have a cigarette and talk. Dad called him and checked on me. When that was done, the flood gates burst open. It was time. I've been holding on to these tears for months.

And when I say months, I kind of mean almost a year. Some girls cry all the time. Some cry here and there. I cry never. Let me put this in perspective for you to give you a better understanding of who I am to explain my "no crying" thing.

I view crying as a weakness. I think people who cry often as weak. That's just me. Dad raised me to be tough. I was the first-born. I was supposed to be a son. In essence I was raised as one. Yes, my mother put dresses on me. I love makeup and having my hair done. But in no way am I the kind of girl who thrives to have the latest Gucci bag (honey, it's a fucking purse) or care about the latest fashion craze (if I have clothes to cover my body, I'm good). I played baseball (not that cheap substitute of softball), I was a goalie in hockey, I am an avid sportsman, I played basketball, football, was semi-pro in figure skating (ok, that was kind of girly - my mom had her hand in that), and competed in horseback riding shows and events all over Illinois. I wasn't afraid to get dirty, cut, hurt, kicked, bit, and so on and so forth.

Through the years I've had numerous accidents, concussions, and trips to the hospital. We've lost count. One I want to touch on was more recent (July 4, 2010). My horse was dying from cancer and we were having him put down. Hardest decision I've ever had to make in my life. I loved him so much. He was my everything. He was laying down, being sedated, and I was holding his head in my lap, caressing him, kissing him, and softly talking to him and telling him how special he was to me. It was time for him to be euthanized, and the Vet wanted me to leave (he was afraid I wouldn't take it well), and I gave my horse one last hug and kiss. Apparently sensing something was amiss, my horse thrashed about in an attempt to get up (I don't blame him). My left leg got in the way. His back leg and hoof connected with my shin perfectly. It was like watching a medicine ball crush a cement building. I stood there in disbelief. Pain shot through me, and I just walked away. I didn't want that to be my last memory of him, even though it kind of was. My lower leg was instantly swollen and purple. According to the ER doctor, my tibia was crushed and fractured, though only partially. It never healed.

Through all that I never cried. My parents and husband kept looking at me puzzled. It wasn't till a week later that I properly mourned the loss of my horse. I finally came to the realization he was gone. I was stuck walking in a funky boot thing, and he was gone.

Maybe that doesn't explain why I finally broke down and cried today. To me it does. I hold so much inside. I hide so much frustration, pain, and fear inside because I don't want to burden others with it. It just all came tumbling out. My husband worries so much about me as it is, and I dislike making him fret more over me. I just couldn't hold it all in anymore. The tears fell down my cheeks like a cascading waterfall. There was no end. All I could choke out was, "I just want to be a normal person. I don't want to be in this much pain any more."

In his comforting, he wiped my tears and assured me I was normal. He also told me I was the strongest person he had ever known. It broke his heart to see me cry like I was. Yes, I feel better now. It doesn't take away from the fact that I still wish I was normal. That I wish I didn't feel like I do every day. But, it means so much to me that he is there by my side, even to just wipe those tears away and listen to my garbled attempts to cry for normality.

Weight loss and Fibromyalgia

People have asked me how I dealt with losing weight and dealing with the pain of fibromyalgia. Honestly, the pain of FM wasn't half as bad as the pain I felt in my back where the degenerative disc and bulging discs were. The nerves they were pinching caused me more problems than some of the FM pain I was going through. Though, to be honest, they both equally sucked. It almost felt as if it was a waste of time losing weight in the first place.

Take into consideration with large amounts of weight loss (as this happened to me with the weight loss I went through) that your skeletal structure does go through a shifting of sorts. This does not help with the flare-ups of fibro. I was a hefty 375+ lbs. at my largest, and at my smallest I was down to 135lbs. Because of that dramatic loss my structure shifted in many areas that were unbearable. Knees, for example, were bent inwards (towards each other, and ankle stress was placed on the inside) at my heaviest. Once I lost the weight, my knees straightened out, as did my ankles, and I thought there was no pain like it in the world. My feet even shrunk some (they weren't as wide anymore, and I even went down in shoe size).

I had constant problems as my back and shoulders began to straightened out. I'm sure some of you are well aware of the posture of some obese people. They tend to either lean backwards very far, or (as I did) hunch their shoulders and lean forward, almost like they are trying to hide into themselves. It was more of a security thing for me. I tried to close into myself so that I could close off the world around me. My shoulders were pulled inward and forward, and I was hunched forward and kind of pulled into myself. I was embarrassed of myself. Anyway, because of this, there was a lot of different stresses put on my spine, and skeletal structure. It wasn't a fun ride.

I constantly felt like my decisions to lose weight, and ultimately make a lifestyle change, were wrong (as screwed up as that may seem) because I felt like I was now worse off than I was before the weight loss, even though that wasn't really the case. The pain was almost unbearable, but seriously in the end, I'd rather be healthier and dealing with my body adjusting to the weight loss pain, than the possibility of suffering a heart attack at the size I was at.

It's still an ongoing battle, emotionally, about weight. When I lost health insurance and consequently any medications I was on, my weight suffered some. Actually, since my car accident I've been having some weight issues. My lack of mobility since then has packed on a few pounds. What was a 135lbs went to 147lbs. Then I moved to Arizona and lost my health insurance. With all that depression, stress, and pain, I've eaten myself to about 160lbs. I'm embarrassed by it. I feel like I've let myself go, and look like hell. Yet, I can't really do much about it. I have no "good" days where I am not in pain. If there were, I'd be walking, doing Zumba, or something! I physically can't do it. Today I can barely put my right arm up over shoulder height. Makes stretching a bitch!

I've been going stir crazy. I want to walk the dogs. Not during the day. It's way too hot for them to do that. But, in the evenings when the sidewalks are cooler, I would like to be able to do stuff like that.

I feel useless. And kind of gross. Which makes me feel guilty for wanting a frozen yogurt right now.

Just life..

I could not sleep last night. I don't know what is going on with my muscles and body, but it's not good. I was a mess of spasms and jolting shocks of pain everywhere.

I fell asleep around midnight. My husband was already asleep. He was off work last night, which was nice. We watched hockey and movies. It was a typical night. We went to bed, and I was really tired, so I curled up with my body pillow to help with my back and leg pain, and fell asleep.

Not long after (about 1:30AM), I woke up with my legs kicking rapidly and painfully. This is fairly common for me. I couldn't get comfortable, so I got up and went to another bed to try and stretch my back and legs. I feel awful when this happens. I tend to wake my husband up when I kick violently like this, and that's not fair to him. He doesn't get to sleep in the same bed with me often, and when he does, he gets kicked violently and awakened by my awful leg spasms. It makes me feel bad.

I laid in another bed trying to stretch and relax for hours. I could hear my huge grandfather clock chime the hours several times through the night as I laid there. It was maddening. I watched the sun peek its way through the windows as my eyes finally grew heavy. As soon as they closed, they opened once more to the barking of my dogs who were outside. I gave up. It was 7:30AM.

I came down the stairs and poured myself some coffee that my husband made. He felt awful that I looked so disheveled. He knew I didn't sleep. He hugged me, kissed my forehead. I sipped my coffee and came to rest on the couch to watch crap on the TV and read news on the net.

My entire body feels like it has been beaten with a baseball bat. My joints burn with every movement. My left ankle feels like it is stiff (like it has been broken and left to heal improperly), and incapable of proper movement. My shoulders do not want to move. I keep having twinges of pain shoot through my body, randomly. I keep losing feeling in my left foot. I goes dead. I don't know why. My elbows feel like I've been using them to row a boat for three days, nonstop.

What the hell is wrong with my body? Why am I falling apart at such a young age?

I understand I have Fibro. But seriously, it flared up this bad? This is insane.  I can't take this anymore. And to put the icing on the cake, I have these psychos on my back bitching at me like childish brats because I don't agree with this soap "cure" for RLS. I wish I was joking when I said that, but alas, it's true. I have these twits actually going hog wild batshit crazy because I don't think it is a viable treatment and I called it a "crackpot" treatment. Seriously, they need help. And the help I have for these women is very simple. It's safe, it's simple, and it works.

It comes in various shapes and sizes. Helps every individual relieve stress. Runs on batteries and is referred to as a "personal massager" or "dildo". With it, they can politely go fuck themselves till they're sedate or whatever they want to feel.

My god, I've never met a more uptight group of women who needed a good fucking in my life. And they desperately need it.

I choose to change...

There are things in life I don't understand. The complexity of worm holes in outer space, for example. I don't think I'll ever understand the space-time continuum. Or how the TARDIS never seems to visit ME.

But, there are things I choose to not understand. Why people are so incredibly ignorant to facts about an issue when they are given to them, and choose to go forward with their incredibly stupid and dangerous "health" choices. A person is more interested in their own vanity than the long term (or short term affects that could be impacted on their health by their incredibly dangerous diet choices, especially with their health problems.

The diet is known as The Lemonade Diet (a.k.a. Master Cleanse Diet). It is by far one of the most horrendous diets I've ever heard of. To make it worse, people who suffer from some of the conditions I have want to try this diet (for a period of two weeks).

In a nutshell, you're not eating any solid foods for two weeks. You're drinking this horrid lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper, and water mix. You may also have a "salt water flush" and herbal laxative. That is it. You're not allowed supplements.

Now, the problem with this, is people assume that they're going to "flush" the fat out. Not so. Maybe if you're morbidly obese. But, if you're like me, and generally have only a few pounds to lose (despite your inner battle of you wishing you were a size 0 even though you're a size 6), the only thing you're going to lose is muscle mass and water weight.

To get a better idea of the complete bad idea that this diet is, please read here: http://www.webmd.com/diet/features/the-lemonade-diet-master-cleanse-diet

I think the problem is we, as a society, are fixed on the "ideal" body type. It's sad. I've battled with it my whole life. I've been big, I've been tiny. I've been everything in the middle. I was never happy because I was constantly tormented for how I looked. Society is cruel. It's not right, it's not fair.

I've finally come to terms with choosing to not give a shit with what others think of how I look. It's not an easy battle, but I keep fighting on. I try to find people, randomly, every day, and point out positives about them. If I can, I try to tell them about those positives. They're pretty, I like their hair, or whatever. No, I don't just pick out "ideal" people. I pick out anyone and everyone. I'm on a mission to spread happiness. The kind of happiness that was never offered to me from strangers.

Hate and rudeness was directed towards me. In turn I want to be constructive and give out happiness, courage, and love. No one should have their day ruined as much as I have had just because someone wanted to let me know they thought I was fat, or ugly.

So, what will you do to change the life of someone else for the better? What is your goal to make life positive for a stranger?

And on another note, I've noticed I have a bunch of readers from Russia. Welcome Comrades!

Baking up something new in the kitchen!

It's time to get excited (or scared)! I'm making something new in the kitchen!

One thing I believe in is being creative and trying to make new things. You may find it's been done before somewhere down the line or someone perfected it, but you'll know in your heart you tried it first. That's what counts!

So, I had this idea to try something new. I love Brie. I love baked Brie even more. But the idea of having to make a whole baked brie is a pain in the ass. Let's face facts. Who wants to go out and get a whole brie wheel, and then make the dough, bake that momma, and then eat it all alone just because you wanted some baked brie? Not me! So, I made my own twist on a baked favorite.

Mini Baked Brie Hors d'oeuvres

• 1 can pre-made biscuits
• your favorite selection of Brie
• any extras you may want to fill pastry with (I used green apple for some, and green olives for others)
• any toppings you may like (I used bacon - some prefer raspberry preserves)

Seriously, this can't get any easier. Pop open you can of biscuits. Heat the oven to direction on the can. Take one of the biscuits, roll out on a floured surface. Cut your biscuit into quarters. Place your brie and any fillings into the dough, wrap and place on a (lightly greased) cookie sheet. If you're going to use bacon as a topping, lay bacon over the top of pastry before baking. Bake according to directions on the biscuit can (add about a minute extra if cooking with bacon). Allow to cool slightly before serving.

Honestly, it's silly easy to make this. And it doesn't just have to be made with brie. You can make this with whatever cheese and fillings you want. Too easy!!  Enjoy yourself!

Suck me sideways...

I am banging my head against my glass coffee table. Not literally, but I should be. I weep for the ignorance of society and how gullible they truly can be.

Again, the message board I roam the topic of R.L.S. (restless leg syndrome) comes up. Again, (because apparently I'm talking to a fucking brick wall) I respond, but this time I try to resply in a way that wakens them all to our epidemic of relying on the medications that doctors keep shoving down our throats. I was trying to make a point that we need to stop shoving medications into our systems and look to a more natural way of healing (as I had suggested that generally a lack of potassium and/or iron is the leading cause for RLS). Again, I'm over-looked because apparently I'm using too big of concepts here for people to grasp. And, again, the lady with the soap cure chimes in. Again, someone buys into the soap theory.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, LADY?!

It is soap. It does not fix pain unless you're nutty coo-coo in the head. Soap is soap. You use it with water and wash your stinky ass and crotch. It doesn't do anything else but clean you and possibly mask your horrid body musk if you're naturally heavy with musk. It has no other properties. There is no secret powers behind it. If that were true (that it helped with pain and R.L.S.), then there would be NO NEED for medications that these doctors prescribe. They would tell you to buy a bar of your favorite soap and sleep with it in your bed. But it doesn't work, so quit trying to sell your stupid. It's pissing me off!

I know it doesn't work. I did an experiment in high school on this exact subject. It's all psychological. We want so hard to believe that the soap is going to fix us, that some of us are so gullible enough to believe it has. There is some psychological need in our head that is filled with that bar of soap and we believe we have been cured, when we have not. I proved it by switching the soap with a block of wood (of the same size). The wood filled the same need. The person who believed the soap was fixing them was now being cured by a block of wood. It's all mental. There is nothing magical, medical, or special about the soap. It's just soap. I just don't understand how people can't grasp that concept.

This is like the other night, I was up on Facebook helping a friend with natural ways to get sleep. She uses Tylenol PM, but it doesn't always work for her, and she doesn't like how it makes her feel. So, I made the suggestion for her to try Melatonin. It's a natural supplement / hormone that our body produces. I suggested to her that she try finding a supplement that is just melatonin and not a mix (to prevent any reactions she could have) and to start at a low dose (approximately 3mg. and work from there).

I was bum rushed from a plethora of her friends who not only knew nothing about natural supplements or melatonin, but had no idea about anything else they were talking about either. It was annoying as fuck. One twat suggested that my friend could have problems with dependency / addiction. It's a hormone. A natural supplement. He then also suggested the ease of overdose. If a hand could reach through a computer and bitch slap a person to death, it would have been at that point, by me, to that guy. Just for being stupid. Then some other twatwaffle chimes in and starts going on about how reflexology is a better route and that rubbing the big toes is the way to fall asleep and that taking pills is bad.

You know, if you don't agree with the things I have to say, you don't have to. It's fine. But for the love of all that is holy, try your damn hardest to not be so fucking stupid! It's not only annoying, but insulting. I don't like having to put idiots in their place, especially when they've already done most of their work for me by being so damn stupid. You've wasted my time. See? Insulting!

I have a boo-boo.

Yesterday was quite warm. It was about 100 degrees here in Arizona near where I live. It was slightly humid, but not too bad. While I was outside in the backyard, I decided to water my fruit trees (orange, lime, and lemon). Thankfully, there were ripe fruit that I could use, so I picked them up and brought them in the house.

I had a nice lemon and a nice lime that I could use to make my fruit water with. I washed up my strawberries, the lemon, and the lime and began to slice up everything. While I was slicing up the lemon, I slipped and cut my favorite finger; the middle one. Hurt like hell. It wasn't bad enough that the knife cut me. What made it worse was that there was lemon juice that got into the cut. I was quick to rinse everything off and get pressure on the cut. I bled like crazy.

After that whole mess and stopping the bleeding, I finally finished my fruit water so it could set up over night. Now I can enjoy delicious water today! Yay!

I love veggies!

The dish I'm going to introduce to you today is one that I probably would have never tried had it not been for Disney movies. I'm sure you're scratching your head wondering what kind of crazy I am. I assure you, I'm not.

I'm a product of a Disney childhood. Belle is my Disney Princess. My family took vacations nearly every year through my childhood to Disney World for at the minimum a week. When I was married to my husband in April 2010, we had my dream wedding which was a Disney Wedding. We were married out off the coast of Malta on our Disney Mediterranean cruise where Snow White came and attended our wedding. Fun Fact: I am the only Disney Wedding who has ever, and who will ever, have a Disney Princess in attendance. How cool is that? Belle was supposed to attend, but was ill. That's OK, I love Snow White, too!

Back to how Disney introduced me to food. Have you ever seen the movie Ratatouille? It's a cute and funny movie that shows that even the most unconventional of characters can become what they want to become and do the things they want to do. As the movie states over and over, "Anyone can cook."

 

Well, through various trials and exciting movie points I am not going to write about, Remy (the Rat) creates the dish, Ratatouille. At the time I knew, but didn't know what the dish was. It wasn't until last year, when I moved here to Arizona that I decided to try and make it. Mostly because it is cost effective and my husband and I had very little money to spend on groceries. The other plus was the recipe made enough servings to feed a small family, or my husband, and a little for me (I don't really eat that much - I know I joke that I eat like a pig, but in all honesty it's impossible).

 

So, here is the recipe that I sought out to make thanks in part to Disney! I enjoyed it, my husband loved it. I hope that if you decide to try it, you enjoy it as well.

 

Ratatouille

 

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 teaspoons dried parsley
• 1 eggplant (prepped *please make sure you prep. your eggplant before you add to dish, or you're going to have bitter tasting Ratatouille* and cut into 1/2in. cubes)
• salt
• grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 zucchini sliced (circular) evenly
• 1 lg. onion sliced
• 2 cups sliced mushrooms
• 1 green bell pepper, sliced
• 2 lg. tomatoes, sliced (I prefer Roma - so I used more than 2)

1. Preheat oven to 350º. Coat bottom and sides of a casserole dish (at least 2 quart size) with 1 tablespoon olive oil.
2. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in medium skillet over medium heat. Cook and stir in garlic until lightly browned. Mix in parsley and your prepped eggplant. Cook and stir until eggplant is soft. Approximately 10 minutes. You can season with salt to taste.
3. Spread eggplant mixture evenly in casserole dish. Sprinkle with some Parmesan cheese. Evenly layer with zucchini. Lightly salt (if desired), and then sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Repeat this process with each vegetable, salt, and cheese.
4. Bake for 45 minutes. Serve and enjoy!

 

Honestly, I prefer to season my dishes with pepper over salt. So, my Ratatouille was more on the spicy side of life than salty. I used very little salt in this dish.

Give this dish a try. You might find you enjoy it. I know I do.

The travesty that has become Amy's Baking Company

It is humiliating when a business outright embarrasses themselves. When owners treat customers like trash, can't cook above a basic level, or make correct change.

Unfortunately, I don't think this is what has happened with Amy's Baking Company in Scottsdale, Arizona. Yes, I think there were things that weren't right (like the tips being taken from the waitstaff, and the one young woman being fired for a ridiculous reason), but without going there and seeing them for myself, I can't say the cooking was off, or food tasted like trash and so on. I think what happened to them was a complete and utter travesty.

People hopped on the bandwagon of ridiculousness and attacked a business that more than likely none of them visited because of a show they saw on TV. Let's face it, how do we feel we would act under the same pressure with cameras in our faces? Did they act proper? No, they didn't. I'm sure they are as embarrassed of their own actions as I would be had I acted the same way. Regardless, it doesn't excuse the wave after wave of extreme ignorance that was slung at their business from people all over the Internet (especially from those who have never been to the establishment). In the end, what did these people gain from harassing Amy's Baking Company? Nothing. A high five and a pat on the back? Was it all worth it?

I'm not trying to defend Amy or her husband and their actions. I wasn't impressed by how the acted. I looked at the situation and rationalized how often are cameras in their faces, documenting everything they do. Never. It's stressful. I'd probably be an irritable bitch. Nervous as hell, unable to relax, and totally incapable of being relaxed. It's like people can't rationalize that these are regular people shoved into an irregular situation and it changes people. It would change anyone.

The sick thing about all this is the amount of people attacking them on their Facebook page and on Yelp. It's hard to weed out the facts from the fakes anymore. It's become a real shit storm of mass destruction. It's a shame.

All I know is before this shit slinging festival started, I wanted to find them and try them out. I like cute little boutique places that remind me of Italy or France, and when I found this place, that's what struck me about them. It was unique looking. It offered unique eats, treats, and sweets.

I have friends trying to "poke the bear", so to speak, to get me to go there and find out if the stories are true or not. Not going to lie, my interests are piqued. I am not going to go there looking for things wrong or to fight. I like going to Scottsdale for shopping and enjoying the dining in the area. I've never gone (or not gone) to a place based on reviews by Yelp or other online resources. I prefer to make my own opinions, not follow the herd.

Now, I'm not going to pretend that if I was attacked by my boss that I would not stand up to them. Or, if I was a patron at a restaurant and was mistreated that I would not stand up for myself. Those that know me are fully aware of what a crude, blunt, and honest person I am and know that I will not stand for being mistreated. I've done it before as a worker when customers treated myself and my coworkers like dirt. I've done it when management rudely mistreated me, and I would do it again if the situation presented itself. I do not, however, go into any situation expecting a fight or a confrontation. I may joke about it with friends, but in no way ever expect the sort of circus that people have spewed (falsely or otherwise) about ABC.

I completely respect if you don't agree with my opinions, but be forewarned that I honestly do not care if you do not agree. Your opinion is yours and mine is my own. C'est la vie.

If you don't know what is going on with this whole hot mess, then I have one thing to say to you. It's called Google. Learn to use it.

Good day.

I'm not annoying. I'm a Princess.

I'm a bad person. I broke down and drank about a third of a can of Coke last night. Not because I was thirsty (even though I was, somewhat), but because I was having some soup for my dinner, and Cherry Gatorade really doesn't go well with chicken noodle. Trust me on this, I've made the mistake of combining the two and the end result was my head in a toilet bowl, vomiting profusely.

Well, I have mentioned before that I belong to a board that caters to some of my illnesses. To be quite honest I go there and read, but don't quite feel comfortable there yet. I think part of it stems from the irrational assumptions some of the members make just because we all share the same problems. Personally, I think some are self-diagnosed, which is scary in the first place. And then there is the gang mentality on some issues. Really, to be honest, it's a huge pity party and everyone is invited. I guess I expected more help, but instead I see more pitiful attempts for attention.

I get it. We all hurt. We all have problems. Yes, I enjoy someone who will dote on me from time to time. I don't, however, go seeking out a crowd of people to tell my sob story and hope I get a bunch of hugs and attention thrown my way. I prefer to be left alone. When it comes to my pain and health problems, I want help in solving them. What has helped others in their situations, what hasn't worked, and how I can use that information to try and help me. I just don't get the perpetuation of making the pain and suffering last longer just to maintain a flow of affection.

I have family members and know people like that. It's enough to drive a person insane. They live their lives convincing people they don't know, or anyone who will listen, that they have something wrong with them (for example, cancer or tourettes) but really are fine and have just made up an excuse for why they had to take an exam from a doctor or xanax for helping their panic attacks. Why do they do this? How the hell do I know. They're crazy as fuck!

Maybe they feel better when people fawn over them and their faux illnesses and diseases. Who knows. I don't get it. I never will. I choose to do my best to ignore, even when it is blatantly being waved in my face and I want to call bullshit out on the faker. But, I don't. As much as it would make me feel good, it does nothing in the long run to cripple the already dry husk of a shell that remains of a human being.

Oh well. There are more important things to worry about in life. Like cake. Cookies. And who is going to bring me some?!?

I'm craving something sweet, but I honestly don't know what I want. Maybe I should just make sugar cookies? Or just ignore the cravings and watch some TV. I'm so confused! I want and then I don't want. Stupid brain and stomach. Work together, damn it.

Preferably, I would hope they decide against the sweets and junk food. But, I never get what I want.

I can't get this out of my head...

"Majestic" - Wax Fang

A sight for sore eyes to the blind would be awful majestic
It would be the most beautiful thing that they ever had seen
It would cause such surprise, it would make all of their minds electric
How could anyone tell them that some things are not what they seem
In such disbelief, I thought I was asleep when I met you
My heart liquefied and I sighed, oh this must be a dream”
If I forget to set the alarm and sleep on through the dawn, don't remind me
I'd rather be dreaming of someone than living alone
If you're searching the lines for a point, well you've probably missed it
There was never anything there in the first place

Presents for your puppies.

It's always important to remember your furry friends in your life. I do apologize that I don't cater to those who may have pets other than dogs, horses, hedgehogs, or sugar gliders. Those are what I have. They are what make up my life.

So, today I am offering you a very basic, very simple, dog cookie recipe. These are fun to make and use cookie cutters in different shapes and sizes. Like any other fresh baked product, remember to keep them in a sealed container (you can freeze them), to prevent them from spoiling.

Oatmeal Peanut Butter Dog Cookies

• 2 cups whole wheat flour
• 1 cup rolled oats
• 1/3 cup peanut butter (chunky or creamy)
• 1 1/4 cups hot water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix the flour and oats well. Blend in the peanut butter and hot water. Mix well. If dough appears to be too sticky, adjust by adding small amounts of flour.

Knead dough on a floured surface. Roll dough out and cut with cookie cutters. Place cookies on a lightly greased cookie sheet and bake for 40 minutes. If desired, you can egg wash cookies before baking. Gives a nice sheen / glaze.

It always makes me feel good when I can make things like this for my two dogs. Especially when they seem in a funk or Clara is in heat and is majorly in bitch mode. Come on ladies, you know that feeling. You want to eat everything in sight, cry for no reason, and tear the face off the first person you see for no reason what-so-ever. And then she farts and it makes me gag, and she looks at me with these big, sad brown eyes that say, "My cramps are killing me, so get off your fat ass and get me a cookie before I tear your face off..... Please."

And a little piece of me dies inside. I obey, and the cycle of life continues for a little while longer.

What's "taters", precious?

Tonight, for dinner, my husband is making steak, lobster, and crab legs. He has requested that I make him his favorite side dish: Creamy Horseradish Mashed Potatoes. I'm making a little twist on this one, though. I'm going to make them into fried cakes. I've not had them fried since I was little. My bitch-balls crazy Grandmother used to fry them up for me (before she went bitch-balls crazy), and I would enjoy them for brunch with my Gramps, who was the coolest WWII Navy Veteran a granddaughter could ask for.

Horseradish Potato Pancakes

• 1 cup milk
• 1 oz. cream cheese
• 2 1/2 tablespoons fresh horseradish
• mashed potatoes (from scratch or boxed) - about 4 to 6 servings
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 large egg
• Olive oil or your preference of oil or shortening to fry your pancakes in

So, to start, I made mashed potatoes like anyone else does; like the back of the box of Hungry Jack tells me to. Just Kidding! Because it's just my husband and I, there isn't always a big call for potatoes here in the house, so sometimes I do use boxed. Sometimes, I do have fresh on hand. In this case, I had a few nice sized Golden's (6 medium-ish) on hand. Washed, peeled (you don't necessarily have to peel them - I did just because I could), and cubed. Boiled a pot of water (with some salt added) and allowed to cook for about 13 minutes. Poured out into a colander, rinsed off, and placed into a mixing bowl. To the potatoes I added some milk (I like using whole milk), 1 oz. of cream cheese, 3 tablespoons butter, and 2 1/2 (heaping) tablespoons fresh horseradish (the kind you get from the jar). Mixed well with a hand mixer and allowed to cool for a while. 

While the potatoes are still a little warm, add in your flour and egg, mix well. If the potatoes seem too moist, add more flour till they appear more cake-like. Heat up a skillet to a medium heat and add in your frying oil or shortening. Please be careful, as oil splatter is painful.

You can from here if you like, form patties by hand (lightly flour your hands prior to handling the potatoes) or you can just drop dollops of potatoes by the spoonful into the skillet. Allow to crisp up to your liking, flip and cook the other side. Remove and allow to sit on a paper towel to absorb any excess oil. You can, if you choose, to lightly salt and pepper (or other seasonings you prefer) before serving.

Growing up, my Grandmother would add in bits of bacon, onion, carrots, or whatever she had in the kitchen when she made these. It was a delicious treat to have. One that I craved when I would stay over. She cooked hers in lard, and let's face it, that made everything taste better.

And like I always say, be creative! Maybe try putting in chopped carrot pieces, peas, and some ground hamburger, making it into fried mini Shepherd's Pies! Lord, I'm drooling just thinking about it. Enjoy, and share what you think!

I love you, too, but I'm going to Mace you in the face!

Amongst the many illnesses I have, I have what is called Fibromyalgia. I need a cure. Today is not only Mother's Day, but also Fibro Awareness Day. I don't want to take away from what a special day this is to all the wonderful, dedicated mom's out there, but this is my blog and I want to plunge into part of what consumes my life.

 

I was diagnosed with Fibro several years ago. I was finding myself coming home from work in intense pain, unable to handle water pressure from the shower head hitting my skin. The feeling of pressure on my body when I laid in bed. Being unable to move in the morning after sleepless nights. My muscles would spasm and contract, pulling inward, till I was in a tight fetal position. It would take me hours (yes, I do mean hours) for me to get out of bed. Tears rolling down my cheeks. I thought I was just getting old. Though, at 24, I couldn't grasp how I could feel so worn down.

 

Through miracles of doctors, and science, I was tested and treated. Quite successfully, actually. No, my pain never went away, but it was tolerable. I was able to function just a little better and get help for my other health issues.

 

Sadly now, I can not receive the help I need to function properly. I'm back to square one with being in pain and waking up in the fetal position, and taking a couple hours to just get out of bed. It's a nightmare. It wouldn't be so bad if it were just the Fibro I was just dealing with. In fact, I wish it was only the Fibro. Alas, it is not. I have random instances where I will black-out and faint. This has to do with my bone marrow and blood. Marrow doesn't reproduce blood. Like every body, you shed and lose blood (a cut, bloody nose, etc.). A normal body replaces lost blood. My body does not. My body also does not produce and process iron. I also can not take iron or iron supplements. My white blood cells are unnaturally abundant and go on an attack and destroy mission. The only way I can combat this problem is to have blood transfusions with iron infusions directly into my blood (in an over abundance). Thanks to the UFCW, I can't have these necessary treatments, and just have to deal with the constant and random fainting this past year. I so enjoy the bumps, bruises, and embarrassment I face when it happens in public places, like when I'm grocery shopping. Thanks, assholes!

 

And if that's not the icing on the cake, I suffer from migraines. No, not the ones you get once or twice a month. I have one every day, every hour, every minute, from the time I wake up till I go to bed. I've had migraines since I was about 16. They got worse when I was 18. In October 2011, they started to go every day. No one has been able to help me or explain why. Not that it matters now. No insurance!

 

And then there is the issue of my back. I don't want to bore you, as there is a lot involved. Let's just say I'm a walking fucking medical phenomenon. I have more fractured bones, slipped discs, pinched nerves, and problems wrong in one body than someone who is 32 should have. It makes no fucking sense.

 

There are days I am better than others, even though I have none of my medications. Hell, I've made it a year. Yes, it has been VERY hard. I'm in no way looking for sympathy. Just trying to explain why I am the way I am. If I seem a little odd, maybe this will explain it. I don't function like others do. No one holds my hand. No one helps me. I fight for me.

 

Don't take it that I don't have family, my husband, or friends behind me. I do. They are always there for me. I don't go sobbing "Why me?" to them. I don't hand them my problems and expect them to fix everything. I do it myself. So, when things do not work out, I have myself to blame.

 



For sentimental reasons

Happy Mother's Day to my mom. You are so lucky because you had me. And then you had my brother. How much more Awesome could radiate from one womb? Unless you took some radioactive treatments, not much more. Glitter practically shot out with me when I was born, that's how awesome of a mom you were.

Well, you aren't the Virgin Mary, and I'm not the Jesus, so not much more awesome, but that's OK. I can manage with that kind of pressure. Besides, being that famous got him killed. I don't want to die under those circumstances.

Well, what I'm just trying to say is, I love you and I miss you. Happy Mother's Day. Without you, I'd be another wad in a Kleenex wasted.

I ran all this way in Cha-Cha heels!

As I sit here munching on a cracker with cream cheese, I hear Duff running a marathon of sorts upstairs in the loft, and hallway, and bedrooms. Meanwhile my husband tries to sleep, as he works nights. I wonder to myself, "Should I get off this comfortable couch and stop his happy ass?"

As you can tell, I didn't. Why stop him from enjoying himself? He never wakes up my husband. Yeah, his running sounds loud to me because Duff is, for a lack of better terms, a fat ass. For a Scottish Terrier, he is a beast. He's 46 lbs, and twice the size in height, length, and width that he is supposed to be. He is proportionate, and otherwise, healthy as a horse (and the size of a minerature one). Every veterinarian that has seen him has always been impressed by his health and size. None have ever seen such a big purebred Scottie. I digress.

His running upstairs doesn't sound like the dainty running of a small dog. It, in fact, sounds like the annual running of the bulls in Pamplona. The only difference is that when you get gored here, you don't die. You just get dog hair on your shins.

Clara, my little Westie, is on the other end of the spectrum. She is tiny for her breed. She's 13 pounds. Very petite, but yet very Westie. She's also the alpha and is not afraid to let everyone, be they beast or human, know it. But there is one she bows down to. Me. She knows her place. It's cute, though. She has her moments when she gets all excited and crazy and will play like she's a puppy. Then she will have enough, and turn into this total bitch and snap at Duff, because he's not an alpha. His face gets all sad and pitiful.

They seriously make my heart happy. I totally need that kind of stuff during times like these when everything feels like it is all going so incredibly wrong.

I seriously am craving a Coke. I haven't had one in a month. Trying to stay away from pop as much as possible. Even though I love its sweet nectar and caffeine goodness. I've been drinking more water. What I do to help me drink more, is I make a large pitcher every other night and cut up fresh fruits (like strawberries with lemons, limes, and mint), and let it set up over night before drinking. It gives it flavor and gets me to drink it. Kind of like a mind trick. It works. I do not add sugar or sweeteners. I'm fat and gross enough, thank you.

I seriously can't wait to get health coverage. I can get back on track for better health. I can become more active again, be able to move, and lose weight again. It's something to be hopeful for, right?

I think I'm going to have a soft boiled egg for dinner. Sounds good.

Light and tasty will slap your taste buds!

The court order said I'm not allowed to leave the house. It didn't say I had to give a crap about how it looks.

Sorry, I get caught up in my American Dad. Seth MacFarlane is what my dirty dreams are made of. I'm cooking food, and getting covered in food, and he's singing in the background like a classic crooner. What? Not all dirty dreams are gutter riders. Perverts.

So, who likes risotto? I do! I do! Just thinking about it has me drooling right now. Then again, the fact that I've had fuck all to eat today (that means nothing in Shanna speak), I'm none too surprised that I'm swimming in my own saliva. The Seth talk didn't help. Nor did the previous grilled cheese post I made.

DAMN ME!

Alright, back to the risotto. I love it, fresh and creamy with peas or prosciutto. So simple. So easy to get in my belly!

Here's a light version for risotto using yogurt and peas.

Risotto with Yogurt and Peas

• 2 cups low sodium chicken broth
• 1 two-to-three inch piece Parmesan rind
• 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
• 1/2 cup finely chopped shallots
• 1 cup arborio rice
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 1 cup peas (can use frozen for you lazy folk like me - thaw them first)
• 3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley
• 3 tablespoons minced fresh chives
• 1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh thyme
• 1/2 cup fresh grated Parmesan cheese (plus extra for topping - optional)
• 1/4 cup nonfat plain Greek yogurt

Bring the chicken broth, 3 1/2 cups water, and the cheese rind to a simmer in a sauce pan over medium heat. Cover and reduce the heat to low. Allow to simmer for 20 minutes. Discard the rind. Keep warm.

Heat the olive oil in a large sauce pan over medium heat. Add the shallots and cook, stirring  with a wooden spoon, until soft (about 3 minutes). Add the rice and cook, stirring (two more minutes). Add in the wine, and continue to cook and stir until the wine evaporates (about two minutes). Add 1/2 cup of the broth mixture, stirring, until it absorbs. Repeat this step in 1/2 cup increments with stirring constantly until the liquid is absorbed and the rice is just tender and creamy in appearance. This takes about 20 to 25 minutes.

Now you can add in the peas and stir them in. Allow them to cook about one minute. Remove from heat.

Combine parsley, chives, and thyme in a bowl. Add all but one tablespoon of the mix to the risotto along with the 1/2 cup grated Parmesan and yogurt. Stir very well. Should appear very creamy!

Serve in bowls, and top each with the reserved herbs mix and some Parmesan. Enjoy!

Seriously, this is to die for! So delicious and honestly good for you. It's filling, and just gives you that warm, happy tummy feeling.

What do you like in your risotto?

And for your viewing pleasure (and mine), here is Seth.

It's magic, you know. Never believe it's not so.

This morning went off without a hitch. Well, the cooking breakfast part, anyway. I felt decent enough to fumble out of bed and attempt my first try at making crepes with sweet cheese for my husband. And a special one for each of my dogs. I'll explain that one further on.

 

These are the crepes with sweet cheese I made for my husband. Lightly sprinkled with powdered sugar. Normally my husband can eat a lot of food. These three wafer thin crepes put him out.

 

Crepe Batter

• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 3 eggs
• 2 cups milk (I prefer whole + Vit. D)
• 2 tablespoons butter, melted

 

Combine the eggs, and milk well. Then add in the dry ingredients, along with butter. Mix well. Cook on a hot griddle / skillet pan over medium low heat. The idea is to pour the batter thinly, and to evenly coat the bottom of the skillet pan evenly. You want a nice, even tan color to the crepe before you flip and cook the other side.

 

Once you are done cooking, you can spread your filling of choice and then roll your crepe and serve. Some people don't fill them and fold them into quarters, serving them with fish roe, or pate. It's entirely up to you how you want to serve them. I was serving breakfast, so I made sweet cheese, and here is how I made it.

 

 

Sweet Cheese

• 1 1/2 cups farmers cheese or ricotta cheese
• 1/2 cup cream cheese (softened)
• 4 tablespoons powdered sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

 

It's almost too simple, right? And it's divine! Do enjoy yourself. 

 

And remember, have fun with your food!

 

 

Oh! I almost forgot about my two pups! I made them their own crepes as well. All I did for filling was opened a can of wet dog food and split it between the two crepes and gave each one their own. Sounds silly, I know, but they thought they were in Heaven being served some fancy meal. It got Clara to eat her antihistamine, too, which was a total plus in my book. Little shit likes to find it and pick it out of her peanut butter treat. Westies. They are smart. 

Divine Grilled Cheese

In the spare time I have tonight, between watching The Dead Files on the Travel Channel (seriously, if you've not watched it, you've not lived) and losing feeling in my left hand thanks to pinched nerves in my spine, I've decided to entertain you with a little delight of deliciousness to please your palates.

I do hope you enjoy this recipe. I like it. I don't make it often, but have enjoyed it. It's one of those treats I like to make when the "I don't know what the hell I want" beast rolls into my belly.

Camembert-Apple Grilled Cheese with Salted Caramel Dipping Sauce

• 1/4 cup caramel sauce (jarred sauce is perfectly suitable)
• 3 sprigs thyme
• 1/2 baguette
• 4 ounces Camembert cheese - rind removed, thinly sliced
• 1 Granny Smith apple, thinly sliced (make sure no seeds get in there - ick!)
• butter for grilling
• Sea Salt (optional for topping)

Combine the caramel, thyme sprigs, and 2 tablespoons of water in a small microwaveable safe bowl. Heat in microwave for about 1 minute. Cover to keep warm. Set aside.

Cut the baguette into 4 long, angled slices. Divide half the cheese among two of the slices, top with apple slices, then remaining cheese, followed by remaining bread.

In a skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Add the sandwiches and cook each side of both sandwiches, evenly, until well toasted (to your liking) and cheese is melted. Usually about 4 minutes each side.

Remove thyme from caramel sauce, sprinkle with sea salt, and serve as dipping sauce for your sandwiches. Eat and enjoy!

I hope you enjoy this recipe as much as I have. Please let me know if you liked it or not. Experiment with different bread, cheeses, and fillers!

Come lay your bones on the alabaster stones..

To be honest, I haven't much to really write about today. My mind is a dull mush.

I did not sleep last night. I'm sure you're thinking to yourself that I'm exaggerating because it's a damn near impossibility for people to not sleep. Well, you're going to have to trust me on this. I did not sleep. The sad part was, I was so close to the warm embrace of sleep and then the crushing blow of back pain shooting from my lower back down into my legs which caused violent twitching inhibited me from ever finding my way back to the peacefulness of sleep for the rest of the evening.

To make matters even worse, I had an intense pain in my jaw and teeth from clenching. I've destroyed my teeth because of this, and partially due to acid reflux. I don't smile anymore.

I'm in a loop of a migraine that has intensified to the point that I should be taken to the hospital, but thanks to the UFCW and their insightful genius to drop me from their coverage because we moved from their Chicago local to their Phoenix local, I have no means of being able to get help in times like this. No medications that I used to be on to help me through these times. And no medical assistance to aid me when things have achieved the level of intensity they have reached right now. No, all I have is a big middle finger from the UFCW and the false hope that I might get health insurance coverage after waiting a year and a half after moving here, despite the promises from corporate offices that we would never have lost our coverage in the first place.

Come the end of July we will have been living here in Arizona a year. I will have been without medical help, coverage, medications, and necessary treatments I desperately need, for one year - I still have six months from there to have the possibility to be covered by the UFCW through my husband's work; possibility being key word there. I've been fighting for that entire time to get help, but it has fallen upon deaf ears. I can't get state health coverage because I am married and am not pregnant, and my husband makes too much a week at work (along with my Disability), despite the fact we are at poverty level of income. I am not eligible for Medicare through Disability for two years because that is now how the Government does things. I can't work. I need medical help / assistance, but can't afford it and the Government wont help me for two years. Make sense? No. Didn't think so.

Keep on the sunny side of life, I suppose.

I'm thinking that if tomorrow I'm feeling better, I will make crepes with sweet cheese for my husband. I want to do something nice for him. He always does nice things for me and deals so well with my being sick and me being unable to be a "normal" human. Plus, it gives me a chance to create in the kitchen. It's the one thing I love to do, where I don't feel judged by anyone.

I'll try and create tomorrow for him. And if Clara and Duff are good, maybe they'll get a crepe filled with delicious doggy delicacies (or wet dog food). If all turns out, I'll post the recipe.

Long distance calls home make me feel not so far away.

Today was a great day for me. I've been homesick. I miss my family, my horses, and the familiarity of what was my home. It's not that I don't like living here in this new home, in Arizona. I do love it here. I do not miss the crappy Illinois weather.

Mom called me today to thank me for the roses I sent her for Mother's Day. It was good to hear from her. I was glad to hear she got the roses and that they were beautiful. She said I didn't have to get her roses, and that the cards we sent her were enough, but I felt like I should send her something. So, I joked that Duff saved up the money to buy the roses because he misses her so much.

See, when they come to visit, Duff goes gaga for Mom. I think it's because he gets tired of me bugging the crap out of him all the time. I love to snuggle and he's too cool for that kind of crap. Unless my mom or dad is here, then he magically turns into this snuggle monster who loves to to be loved and gives kisses. Let it be known that Duff rarely gives kisses. It's so rare that the last time he gave a kiss to me, the cure for Polio was discovered.

I had a call from my friend, Marsha, tonight. She lives back in Illinois. We went to school together. Good times.

She had some questions for me about the Disney World trip I booked for her. We talked a good hour about everything under the sun. I swear, we transition topics so quickly and smoothly. I don't know how we tie our topics in together, but they do. One minute we're discussing Disney, and the next we're talking about what a pig Drew Peterson is. Then we're on about psychic mediums, and then back to Disney.

In other news, the Chicago Blackhawks won tonight! Thank Jeebus!

Meet my children...

Well, they aren't conventional children, but they are my fur kids. Because of my health, having children isn't part of my future. I'm not really upset about it, but I'm not really happy about it either. I don't know if I could ever explain myself about that, but I don't really think I have to. So, eat  me if you don't like it.

Anyway, here are a couple pictures of my kids. The West Highland White Terrier is my little girl, Claraugh (a.k.a. Clara Belle, Bitchy Snitchy, Little Bittles, and Littles). The Scottish Terrier (or Terror as the joke goes) is my little boy, Duff (a.k.a. Duffzilla, Duffsquatch, and Duffdozer).

 

As with any child, you come to enjoy making them things. Be it treats, clothes, toys, baths... you get the idea. Well, because I like to bake, I like to make my pups their own cookies. I prefer to make them things that are more natural and don't contain lots of ingredients. Mostly because Clara has a very sensitive stomach.

 

So, I would like to share with you (and your furry friends) a little recipe that I like to make. And it's easy enough to make that if you have little kids that want to help, they can for the most part. When it comes to using the kitchen oven, it's best the adults take over.

 

Banana Bites

 

When you think of foods that make your furry friend flip, bananas probably don't immediately come to mind. While it's true that fruit isn't usually at the top of any dog's list of favorite fare, using bananas in baking is a great way to create delicious and healthy treats. The best part about Banana Bites is that your kids can eat them too!

Start by gathering all the necessary ingredients:

• 3 cups oatmeal
• 1-1/4 cup of flour
• 2 eggs
• 1/4 cup oil
• 1/2 cup honey
• 1/2 cup milk
• 2 mashed bananas

Mix all the wet ingredients together first (oil, honey, milk, and bananas), and then add the flour and oatmeal until you have a smooth batter. Put older kids in charge of measuring and younger ones in charge of mixing. Everyone can help pour the batter onto a lightly greased cookie sheet, and then bake at 325 degrees (160 degrees Celsius) for 25 minutes. Once your banana bites are cool to the touch, use a knife or pizza cutter to slice them into small, bite-sized squares. You can opt to just drop them into small tablespoon full dollops on the sheet as well. It's up to you and your cooking preferences.

Dogs really go bananas for these yummy snacks, but don't let your pet eat too many, as they can be fattening. Particularly if your dog is prone to pudginess, be sure to limit him to just a few treats per day. Banana bites can also be used as incentive to exercise or do tricks. Keep them in the refrigerator until your dog does something treat-worthy.

And now, more puppy love for my kids.

Because I can...

Just a little fine art, America.

It's barely noon, and the stupidity of others has outraged me.

In life we meet people who are, without a doubt, dumber than a brick. We accept this as that they were brought up by two incredibly neglectful and equally stupid parents, who put them into an education system that whole-heartedly supported the "no child left behind" concepts, as teachers swigged whiskey out of their flasks while their students decidedly did 4+4=banana in music class.

What I'm merely stating is, I've met one of the most ignorantly stupid and gullible people (on the net) ever.

I joined a group on the web that was for those who suffer from some of the health conditions I have. I introduced myself, thanked them for the invitation, and began reading through the board messages on some of the topics. If it weren't for my husband being there (and here in the house), I would have gone (Grape) Ape on these imbeciles.

On relevant topic on RLS piqued my interest, so I dove in and almost immediately started banging my head on the glass coffee table. First, people ask pretty basic (and ultimately easily searchable on the Internet) questions about these problems, particularly about RLS. I was able to give relevant information about it (which went ignored because it was apparently too intelligent for the cumulative I.Q. of 10 of all the participants within the thread). I then read some dolt tell the sufferer of RLS to put a "bar of soap" into their bed and "sleep with it under their sheet" because it will "help relieve the RLS overnight". 

Really. I can't make this shit up. A bar of soap.

I felt the rage well up within me because there are people out there that are actually gullible enough to believe in this tripe. Granted, this sort of old wives tale has worked for some people, because they're NEUROTIC. It's a psychological phenomenon. If you are nuts enough to believe a bar of soap will fix your aches and pains, it just might! But, don't be shocked when it wont.

Because, let's be realistic here. Soap wasn't made to go under your sheets while you sleep at night to magically absorb your pains. It was made to wash the stank off your sweaty, dirty ass.

Never thought I'd find an answer at the bottom of a pint glass...

Doesn't mean I will ever stop looking.

Well, I have. Not much for drinking anymore. Not that I don't approve of it. I just don't. It's not part of my lifestyle. It got me into too much trouble. Trouble I am ashamed of, learned from, and hope to never repeat.

Today I am dizzy and nauseous. It has carried over from last night. I had a ferocious migraine that laid me out more so than usual. I'm used to having a migraine on a daily basis, but yesterday evening was worse than usual. It really debilitated me. It caused me to have horrid acid reflux during the night as well. At one point, I was vomiting blood. Scared the hell out of me. That part I'm not so used to (the blood). Needless to say it was a sleepless night.

Sore throat today, so I sipped on warm broth and water. Had a craving for something sweet, so I made some meringue. Yum. cooked the yolks and had those for dinner. Had the meringues for dessert. Couldn't be happier. It's the simple pleasures in life that make me happy.

Watching The Prestige. Can't get enough of this movie.

Snuggling with my two precious pups. Wishing my best friend was here. She's in Las Vegas. It's a 6 hour drive from here / to here. I don't have a license to drive unfortunately. Otherwise, I'd have been there. Alas, such is life.

Just put it out there!

Why is it the normal people gt all the good things in life? And the assholes like me get all the fun and funky disgruntled problems?

Not that I mind. I enjoy being the asshole in the room at parties. For example, when there's a slut, and she's showing too much labia. I like to be the one to go grab some lip and advertise to everyone she has the after party. Women like that will NOT kiss you on the bus. Remember that.

So, here I am sitting at home watching some lame crap, listening to the coffee maker kick on for my husband. I made him his lunch. He works nights. I'm slowly growing tired as the five generic PM pills are making me sedate. You're wondering why five, I'm sure. Because one through four don't cut it. And really five doesn't either, but six cause me to twitch.

I would normally be on normal medications to help me sleep, but thanks to Slaveway being cunts, and fucking me over when I moved, I was dropped from my health insurance coverage a year ago, and thus have to wait for my husband to "earn" his way back into the benefits program. I was, in the meantime, accepted by Disability for my numerous health problems, but I don't get Medicare for two years. Way to go fucked up government health care!

So, I can't get help for any of my health problems. I'm in need of a blood transfusion. And if I faint one more time, I swear to Jeebus, I'm going to break more than my face on the tile floor. People will die.

And then I'll celebrate with baking cookies or some shit. Sounds good.

I think it's time for bed. My dogs are snoring. I'm jealous.