This was posted earlier in a separate entry.

I am so damn icky right now. Dad has pneumonia, Mom had her foot surgery and is laid up for the next 5 weeks, the S/O has some weird stomach flu-type thing and apparently, Henry has the same thing. And me? Well, I think I have everything except the foot issue because we all KNOW my immune system is for shit. You see, my immune system has no purpose other than sitting there and looking pretty (and even that's debatable). I had to run to the store last night to pick up soy sauce (for fried rice that was supposed to go with the adobo last night and then when I realized I used it all in the adobo, it was supposed to get made tonight but tacos sound easier so we maybe never have it but hey, we have soy sauce. I'm done now) and face soap. Well, Jewel had Ricola (I am NOT linking to their site - I just went and nearly had a stroke when it greeted me with a resounding "RICOLA!". Ugh.) cough drops on sale for 99 cents so I picked up their new cranberry Nature's Protection drops that supposedly boost your immune system. What immune system, I ask. Anyway, they taste quite good, just like cranberry juice but I knew they wouldn't do anything for the bar- I mean cough I seem to have acquired so I also picked up generic honey menthol cough drops and they seem to do the trick... well, actually, I wouldn't know... I sucked on the cough drop for about 5 minutes last night and then guzzled some NyQuil Cold and Flu syrup. The S/O wouldn't let me take any at first because apparently, "we all know how you get when you take things that make you sleepy...".

Hmph.

Just because I'm a little sensitive to medicine and tend to get, well, stoned off Ambien (and Darvocet, NyQuil, Vicodin, Robitussin, and even Predisone if it's in the right amount) doesn't mean anything. I guess stoned is the right word... perhaps loopy? I don't know, you'd have to ask him or my mother. But eh, I only got a little loopy last night (imagine, if you will, me attempting to crawl over the S/O in the bed while he's reading the latest Stephen King novel, I pause, attempt to sit up straight, ask the question "Guess what I took?" and proceed to finish crawling over to my side of the bed (the side that's up against the wall). I attempt to start reading "A Cook's Tour" but can't stop laughing at the paragraph about the family with too many people named "Franciso". I finally roll over and pass out, only to be awakened later by the S/O informing me that I'm snoring and, following an eager push, I should roll over and face the wall.) and then I slept and slept and slept some more. I woke up to bid the S/O farewell before work but then (and this is a rarity - usually once I'm up, I'm up) I crawled back into bed, covered my head with the blanket and outside of the time I woke up to vomit up the Diet Coke With Lime I had before he left work, I slept without any disturbances until I woke up, shocked to find it was almost 12:40 in the afternoon. I still feel like shit and honestly, if I didn't think I'd get a ton of shit for doing nothing all day (well, I ate a piece of pie and a baked potato (not together) and puked the pie which made me REALLY sad because it was a very good piece of Baker's Square French Silk pie. Oh, and I checked the mail, put some clothes together to wash and eh, that's it), I would've just stayed in bed all day. As it is, I'm going to try to pick up the kitchen, start dinner (the aforementioned tacos), pick up the bedroom and then I'm going to lay down as soon as the S/O gets home. I know I'm coughing a lot and gagging (my mother and I are thinking along with the flu thing, my thyroid is acting up - whenever I try to swallow or chew or eat, I feel like I have to gag and sometimes I do and that causes the vomiting, not nausea) but I don't know if he really thinks I'm sick or if this is just some cold or something but eh, all I know is that I feel like total and utter shit. I don't know if it's the flu or the thyroid or even the hormone issue but I feel like I need to sleep all the time and my hands and hips hurt (more so than usual) in addition to the searing back pain I've had since I miscarried. Oh, and my throat hurts and again, we can't figure out if that's the flu/bronchial thing or if that's the thyroid. I feel like an old dog who's past her prime and needs someone to pull a Yeller on her. I feel 61, not 21.

But hey, my adobo was good. Life in general is pretty good, it's just my health that's another story. I made it with chicken breast and diced pork shoulder and then half a cup of soy sauce, a cup (I think, I don't actually measure anything anymore) or so of red wine vinegar (all the recipes I found called for rice or regular vinegar but I think the red wine went quite well), four bay leaves, ground ginger, a pinch of curry powder, a pinch of good cinnamon, fresh ginger, garlic salt, three garlic cloves, ground pepper, two palmfuls of brown sugar, four or five pinches of flour and a splash of cooking wine. I had no clue how long to let it cook for but since the mixture pretty much covered the meat, I figured the longer I let it cook, the more tender the meat would be. Thankfully, I was right and I let it simmer from about 3:30 until 5-ish and then threw some baked potatoes in the microwave and biscuits in the oven and that was dinner. The poor S/O, he's so picky when it comes to food, he asks me "Is it good?" "uh, I think so?" "What's it taste like?". Hm. That was a good question because it's hard to describe exactly what it tasted like... it tasted good. It was tangy and salty and sweet (but not too sweet but you could taste the hints of brown sugar and high grade cinnamon) and the sauce had just the right texture. I greeted him at the door with a piece of pork and eh, considering he had seconds, I guess I can say it went over well. Even better was the fact that the moment you got off the elevator, the smell hit you and my whole floor reeked of it (it smelled divine so that's a good thing) and when I was coming up from getting the mail, one of the women getting off with me asked "What smells so good?" and it took me a moment to realize "Ha, my apartment!". I wish I could do something as good tonight but this illness has gotten the better of me and it's going to be enough just to fry up some ground beef, throw in some taco seasoning, brown some tortillas and make the guacamole. For once, I'm actually grateful the S/O doesn't eat onions or lettuce or tomatoes or any of that with his tacos because that means less work for me.

I want "A Cook's Tour" on audiotape. Bourdain reads it himself and well, the man is a god. Now, sure, you might say I have a thing for chefs in general but eh, he's more than that. He's a hot chef and a manly chef and a SARCASTIC and WELL READ chef. Be still my heart. Dare I say, Nigella Lawson has nothing on my Tony. Well, except maybe cleavage but hell, if I want to look at impressive cleavage, I can just go in the bathroom. Rachel Ray is pretty cute too, if you can stand the perky personality for more than 10 minutes (let alone the 30 it takes for her show). Richard Belzer is attractive in ways I cannot even begin to explain and all I know is if he ever showed up at my door and asked for my hand in marriage, I'd have to bid the S/O farewell. But he knows it so it's okay. Plus he's married to someone else (Richard Belzer... well, and the S/O but I was REFERRING to Belzer, damnit) so it's all good. Contrary to popular (in the minds of certain Alabamian women, at least) belief, I'm not big on going after the married men. Now whether or not they're big on going after me is another story but we'll go there another day.

Have I mentioned I got a job as a CNA? My memory has turned into mush these days so I can't remember. HR is screwing me over when it comes to a start date (I've called three times today, they keep saying they'll get me an answer and the last time I called, they had closed) but eh, I either start Saturday or the 23rd. Either way, I'm thrilled I have a job and I'm happy it's doing what I went to school for. I'll be working on the Alzheimer's unit so that should prove interesting, to say the least. Plus I'm still holding out for the mental hospital position. That's another reason I'm gargling the sea salt and popping the cough drops and trying to catch up on my rest - I really want whatever it is that I have or I'm getting to go the hell away so I can start work refreshed and healthy. But for the time being, I have to drag my exhausted and sickly self into the kitchen to start dinner and pick up a little bit, at the very least.

before & after