MissMeliss: Escribition

…with apologies to Lewis Carroll. We noticed that a neighbor had an old grill on their sidewalk last Sunday, and as we passed it, Fuzzy teased, “You know how you keep saying you want a grill…”

I pointed out that since there was no sign saying otherwise that grill was probably out for trash. It looked much more than “gently used.” In fact the words, “natural disaster” sprang to mind.

The thing is, I do want a grill. We have one of those George Foreman counter-top things, but I want an outdoor grill, the kind with the propane tank and the froufrou grill cover, and the ceramic briquettes instead of real charcoal. I want to roast potatoes and grill salmon and steak all summer. I hate cooking inside when I don’t have to, and the Foreman thing’s okay, but there’s just something about actual FIRE that makes meat taste better.

Vegetables too, for that matter.

I woke up this morning to a pounding headache, one that had been threatening to arrive all day yesterday, but didn’t really come on in force until I tried to go to sleep last night, and the sound of Fuzzy grumbling in the bathroom. It seems that L, our new housekeeper, did such a great job of cleaning the bathroom vanities, that he can’t find anything.

(Mind you, he is afflicted with the inability to see any object that requires moving another object. I always thought this was limited to looking for items in the fridge, but it’s universal, apparently.)

Outside, while the temperature is mild, the wind is not, and it’s making a howling sound that the dogs are clearly disgruntled by. Poor sensitive chihuahua ears. Zorro’s been giving me his patented slitty-eyed look all morning. As if I can control the wind.

I found the perfect way to soothe my own grumpiness, however. I made oatmeal, laced it with honey, and mixed in half a container of fresh blueberries.

Mmm. Blueberries.

My head still hurts.
But I’ll survive.

Sometimes, no matter how bad for you it may be, no matter how much it makes you want to counteract it with seven miles of extra running and a handful of diet pills, you have to give in and eat comfort food.

Last night, post root canal, pizza was the most comforting thing I could think of. Fuzzy hadn’t managed to leave the house yesterday, so caught up was he in work, and I was in no condition to cook. At one point, while making the dog’s dinner, I think I spent five whole minutes contemplating the shiny metal of the knife I was using. It was pretty. (Vicodin haze.)

So we ordered pizza. Well, two, because leftovers are crucial, neither of us had eaten all day, and I generally freeze several slices for junk food emergencies. One was a stuffed crust pie. I’m not a fan of those. Too much cheese, and the crusts are never done enough for me.

We also ordered the “Rustico” pizza from Pizza Hut’s new “Naturals” line. Made on a multi-grain crust, with chicken sausage, fire-roasted red peppers, and slices of tomatos under the cheese, this was as close to a homemade pie as I’ve ever had from a commercial pizzeria. I liked it. It tasted like home.

Of course, this morning, I feel like I need to do penance in the form of a juice fast.
But whatever.

We were late getting on the road as both Fuzzy’s work and my work intruded upon our day off (granted, we allowed it to), and then, I was feeling too hormonal and blechy to want to do mini-golf or Dave & Busters, so we went to Dallas to the Purple Cow Diner for junk food, then to the mall where I bought earrings and an oil burner, and Fuzzy did not buy anything at the game store, and then to Fry’s, because how could we not make a pilgrimage to Geek Mecca?

We came home, and I napped for an hour, then spend three putting the web calendar php application on one of my not-often-used sites so that I could make a colleague happier. At least I hope it has that effect. I’m a list person, not a calendar person, and don’t generally have tasks that are around long enough to NEED to be calendared. But, whatever. It’s not very pretty, but seems to do the job.

By the time either of us realized we were hungry, it was after ten, so more junk food (but not a LOT or anything), and I must confess, I have an addiction to baked potatoes now. We watched I Am Legend while eating, which I’m sure will give me nightmares despite the hopeful ending, but it was good. Much less grim than Matheson’s original novel, at least.

I’d already written one of the articles I had due for tomorrow while Fuzzy was out fetching dinner. I just completed and sent the other one. I’ve gotten into the habit lately of writing late at night for the next day, which means I can sleep late with no guilt. Or not much.

Wednesday I go to the dentist. I don’t want to.
But it must be done.

On Sunday, driving through Cedar Hill under ominous clouds, I looked at a line of men in plaid pants and cute hats, their golf equipment arrayed behind them, all along the driving range, and thought, “How peaceful. Wonder what would happen if it rained.”

It did not rain on Sunday, and while it threatened to rain all day yesterday, no real precipitation occurred, but this morning the heavens let flow a deluge and it’s been windy and rainy all day.

It’s the kind of day that makes working from home absolutely wonderful, because in between writing and researching, I could soothe the dogs, who are frightened of thunder, and make soup and a turkey sandwich for lunch, which I ate sitting in my comfy sofa, while watching lightning arc across the sky.

This afternoon, I went through the South Beach quick meals cookbook and found a recipe that would use a bunch of odds and ends I had in the fridge, and we’re about to sit down to an episode of Angel on DVD and piping hot pesto chicken with steamed broccoli on the side.

I love Rainy Days.

It was an odd Saturday, all things considered. I went to bed before one AM for a change, but half-woke when Fuzzy came to bed, enough to realize who he was and why he was stealing the cool part of the bed, and to tell him to set the alarms for 11:00, in preparation for my planned 1:30 repinking appointment.

The phone rang shortly before ten, however, to inform me that Natalie, my stylist, was out sick. After much back-and-forth, I have a new appointment NEXT Saturday at 11:30. So…freshly pink hair for Easter. I can live with that.

I’m still coughing, and my throat is tight, as the five people who heard my practice vocal track for a podcast audio drama I’d really love to be part of heard when I sent them copies. I can speak okay, but in the words of Ms. Eclectic, when I sing it’s the “pack a day” version of my voice. For this reason, I’m not entirely upset that I got to stay home and nurse my voice a bit, so I can make the official recording on Monday (this is just the singing part, the speaking tracks were already sent). To that end, I’ve been alternating water with lemon, and throat coat tea with honey, all day, with the exception of one nonfat latte this evening. As I type this, I’m sipping a hot toddy, made with the same tea, honey, lemon, and a healthy splash of bourbon. There are very few things that a healthy splash of bourbon cannot help.

The bourbon, by the way, marks the first time since we moved here that I’ve had bottles of decent liquor in my house. Oh, we always have beer and wine, despite the fact that Fuzzy doesn’t touch alcohol, but I’m hardly a heavy drinker, and honestly, until we asked Deb, we’d been hitting the grocery store, Cost Plus (World Market), or stores in Dallas for such things. So, thanks to Deb we now know that the closest liquor store worth visiting is Majestic in Kennedale, which is about nine miles from here, but they were very friendly, greeted us at the door, and hooked us up with their rewards card so we saved $9. (We also bought vodka, cointreau, peppermint schnapps, and Godiva dark chocolate liqueur, and I’m making of list for future visits.)

The rest of the evening was low-key: Lone Star Comics (for Serenity: Better Days #1), the Italian place at Highlands of Arlington because I wanted comfort food (I had grilled scallops on a bed of spinach gnocchi, baby spinach, and grilled sweet potatoes; Fuzzy had spinach tortelloni with spinach, cheese, sundried tomatoes and grilled chicken), Tom Thumb for a few forgotten items. (Damn! STILL forgot Mayo.), Starbucks, and CVS (for bubble bath since the grocery store had none I was willing to purchase).

We came home, cuddled the dogs, napped a little, and then watched a couple of episodes of Angel over dessert (pie for me, a Reese’s Klondike bar for Fuzzy). We talked about going to the auto show tomorrow, but honestly? I just want to read the Sunday paper, catch up on correspondence, and not do much else.

We spent much of yesterday rushing around and today I’m so tired that if we had a bottle of energy pills, I’d totally be popping them like candy. We don’t however, so I had a healthy turkey and provolone sandwich with slices of tomato on whole grain bread, and a bunch of red seedless grapes.

The choice of turkey was perhaps not the wisest considering that I’m still feeling drained, but mmm, it was good. It was turkey roasted with sundried tomatoes and herbs. Fuzzy said it smelled like sausage in the bag. He’s wrong. But he often is, and I love him anyway.

After the vet, we went to the pet store, to buy crunchy food for Miss Cleo. Dick Van Patten’s rolled food has been the standard around here since we stopped the BARF diet, and apparently his company makes crunchy stuff, too, so Miss Cleo and Zorro chowed down this weekend on Potato and Duck dog food, loaded with omega three oils and totally grain free.

We also visited Hollywood Video, because the branch in our neighborhood was closing, and everything was on sale. I picked up Waitress and Caffeine for $4 each. Fuzzy got some Zombie movies that I refuse to watch because of my issue with anything where the characters are scared, cold, wet, dirty and short on toilet paper.

We delivered movies to Blockbuster, where there were adorable girl scouts hawking cookies. I don’t KNOW any girl scouts this year, so I was pleased about this - we took home 2 boxes of samoas and 4 of thin mints, but almost everything went into the freezer.

We lunched at Panera, where I bought a loaf of Irish soda bread, it being mid-March and all. I had some this morning with strong tea, while I read the Sunday paper. Mmm. Domestic bliss.

After lunch, we hit Radio Shack for a new RF modulator for the bedroom, because our tv is so old it doesn’t have the right inputs and outputs for cable AND tivo. The old RF modulator was whiting out everything. This one has restored normal color. We bought a second one for the tv currently in my office, which is being moved to the library for two reasons: One, so that I can play exercise videos in there when the weather is crappy, and two, so that when my parents come to visit (or anyone) they can have a place to crash and veg with television without stressing about waking us.

We were about to leave RS when I literally ran into the camera display. I have a very old $1000 at the time it was purchased Sony Cybershot with a telephoto lens permanently attached, infrared and night vision laser focus. It’s very cool, but it’s as bulky as an old-school SLR, and I hate lugging it around. I’ve been lusting after a teeny camera for a while, and now I have one. It’s a Samsung S85 - 8.2 megapixels, 5x zoom, a special portrait mode, and it’s sleek and black and fits in my pocket. Also, for $20 I got a 2 gb flash card for it, so I may never have to empty it unless I want to.

We went grocery shopping, skipped Target, and had sushi for dinner. I could live on sushi. Really. It’s such soothing food.

We stopped at Half Price Books on the way home, and I grabbed some vintage Nero Wolfe novels, a Trek novel I’d read in ebook format and wanted in physical form, and a Zone cookbook ($5).

Is it any wonder I’m exhausted today?