Friday, March 18, 2005
(Time for our favorite disclaimer around here: This is not the wave of the future. This is just a bit of housekeeping. If braindroppings are not your favorite reading, I won't take it amiss if you decide to come back later. Tomorrow I'm going to try the brown sugar cake again, and if I can manage to get the whole damn thing out of the pan, there will be a recipe, honestly.)
Dear friends, each and every one of you, I am sorry for this sudden precipitous degrading of my hostessing-with-the-mostessing skills, particularly after I made such a noise about my newfound, spring-based optimism (admittedly, I made that noise by pilfering other people's song lyrics). I could blame it on the sinusitis, but that would be piking. I blame it on sinusitis, too much exercise, not enough exercise, too much sugar, not enough magnesium, job torpor, bad attitude, reckless disregard for the time/opinions/hearts of others, cruelty to people who wanted nothing more than to be kind to me, not calling my mom enough, not calling my dad enough, spending money at the stationery store and then never writing letters, not working up to my potential, going nowhere fast and just general badness.
To those of you who were nice enough to send me e-mail to which I haven't replied, I'm sorry. To those of you who were nice enough to leave comments here, comments which I haven't acknowledged, I'm sorry. To everyone who has blogrolled me and hasn't received so much as a thank-you from yours truly, I'm sorry. To anyone whose letters have gone unanswered, phone calls have gone unreturned, kindnesses gone unacknowledged, I'm sorry. To those of you who came to me, cap in hand and heart on sleeve, only to receive a big fat nothing sandwich, I'm sorry. To the recipients of my terrible advice and worse attitude, I'm sorry. To anyone who lives with me and has to listen to me cough all night long...well, I'm sure you get the point.
Did I mention that there will be cake tomorrow? Would you like some? 
Ummm. Bake, a little less Robitussin and a little more sleep. That shit’s causing you unjustified paranoia and an unfortunate amount of worry.
Or you could just try my Vodka-OJ-leftover-harcotic painpill cocktail followed by a Nyquil chaser. Hell if you’re going to have paranoid hallucinations, you might as well go whole hog getting ‘em.
Feel better soon. I want to hear about that cake and chase crumbs wherever they happen to fall.
Oh, Risa, your poor family. My husband and I don’t have kids yet, but we anticipate years of winters of sharing the same cold with our wee bairns, to say nothing of stomach viruses. I hope y’all feel better in time to enjoy your trip to NYC. What will you be doing while you’re here?
Now, ‘mouse, you’ve known me long and well enough to know that I don’t need cold medication to make me worried and paranoid. Seriously, I appreciate your concern, but this will blow over as soon as I get better. While I try not to wallow, I also know that denying it won’t make it go away any faster. It just makes me mean and slow.
Michella, thanks for the tip. Sorry you got here on Cranky Day.
Tvindy, you evil, manipulative bastard. I kid, of course. What I meant was oh, you daaaarling! Yesterday was a particularly miserable day, second only to Thursday, when I left work early only to have to dodge green-beer-puking teenagers and businessmen at the St. Patrick’s Day parade. Reading this was one of the two best laughs I’d had all week. (The other came from Lloyd, who greeted me when I called his office with a riff from the David Lynch movie Lost Highway. You would have had to have been there, but trust me, it was funny.)
Collena! Collena, Collena, Collena! (Er, I mean, morning, honey.) I used to love Triaminic. Unfortunately, the older I get, the more batshit crazy I seem to be made by “nighttime” OTC cold formulas. I used to take Drixoral for my sinus headaches, but now when I take them, I become convinced that I am to blame for Everything Going Wrong in the Known World (And Probably An Unknown World or Two). Maybe there is something to a lemon and vodka regime after all…
Why, thank you, dearheart! You know how I feel about your photography, so this is high praise indeed.
This was taken in September, on a certain Labor Day weekend trip I took to a certain town in Colorado to visit a certain very dear friend of ours. The day we drove up into the mountains, the weather was not behaving itself; visibility was bad and it rained just enough for us to have to eat our picnic lunch in the car. Every once in a while, though, the clouds would break and the sky would be this brilliant shade of blue, and the foothills would show themselves.
I have some nice pictures of bluffs, too, and I got at least one shot of a group of elk (what is the collective word for elk?) outside of Famous Resort Town. Those will probably turn up as soon as I run out of readable prose again. 
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Ummm. Bake, a little less Robitussin and a little more sleep. That shit’s causing you unjustified paranoia and an unfortunate amount of worry.
Or you could just try my Vodka-OJ-leftover-harcotic painpill cocktail followed by a Nyquil chaser. Hell if you’re going to have paranoid hallucinations, you might as well go whole hog getting ‘em.
Feel better soon. I want to hear about that cake and chase crumbs wherever they happen to fall.