No, really, there isn't. In fact, you should be redirected to newer and cooler things in less than 6 seconds.
(Still here? If it doesn't move you soon, click yourself to http://overflowingbrain.com)
No, really, there isn't. In fact, you should be redirected to newer and cooler things in less than 6 seconds.
(Ha. You're going to sing that all night.)
So apparently, my newest weekend obsession is building new blogs.
Yes, it finally happened. I decided to move my blog from here, my 2+ year home, to a place that is all mine.
All my archives have made the transition and in a few days I will set it so that when you click here, it'll automatically redirect you there. But for now, I'll give you the choice to go to the new site.
My twitter name is the same and as soon as I figure out the whole feed thing, it'll be up and running for you. For now, go, take a look and see the new digs.
I think you're going to like it there. I sure do.
(p.s. Dude. I've gotten precisely ZERO comments on The Kitchenettes for my first recipe. Come on kids, show me some love. Please?)
I'm not thankful it's Friday. I'm thankful that it's almost not Friday.
You ever have one of those days that's so lousy that you don't even want to start over, you just want it to end?
That would be today.
And no, I won't be elaborating.
(My crappy day and disposition aside, I will be posting a recipe tomorrow on The Kitchenettes and Daisy has already put the first cooking one up, so go check it out. It looks absolutely delicious.)
General life advice for you.
If you know you are allergic to MSG, you should not assume that all Chinese places have removed MSG from their ingredient list. In fact, it should be a significant sign to you that they do NOT have any signs at the store or on their website, indicating a lack of MSG. If you do not check this, you may end up sick for an entire night. Wishing that you could just die instead of live through the rotating nausea and cramping.
If you are up way too late from an allergic reaction, caffeine may not be just enough to stay awake for your 54 mile commute.
If you are having trouble staying awake, you should not drive in the lanes closest to the bushes. Although, accidentally "grazing" a bush was probably better than "grazing" a car.
If you didn't put a diet coke in a fridge, you should NOT take one out. Because a VERY tired person might think you a HUGE douche. Especially if it's the second time it's happened.
If you drive a convertible, you shouldn't pick your nose.
If you spend most of your day touting the wonders of sunscreen to elementary school kids, you should probably apply it to yourself so you don't end up sunburned after lecturing them.
If you can't keep up with work and one blog, the best idea ever is to start another.
If you are going to BlogHer in a week, please join me in a big giant freak out over the fact that it's one. week. away.
If you want to learn to cook and have anything special you're yearning to learn, go to The Kitchenettes and tell us. By tonight if you want your input involved in the first recipes.
If you want to share any life experience, please see your way to the comments.
Last week, my friend Daisy and I made a big decision. A time sucking, life changing (okay, not really) decision.
We decided that with our mutual love of all things cooking and baking and well, basically kitchen-related, we should begin a new blog. You see, Daisy is a fantastic cook (and a great baker, don't get me wrong) and I am a fairly talented baker. And when our powers combine, we are...The Kitchenettes
No really, we are. Go see for yourself.
I spent much of the weekend wading through code and "themes" in wordpress and now have a very early (beta, if you're technologically inclined) version of our new blog ready for you to go visit. Not only that, but we need your help with it.
You see, the whole cooking/baking blog thing doesn't work at all, if a) no one reads and b) no one likes what we're making. And since our major goal is to give you ideas and recipes that you'll use, well, we need to know what you want. So hop on over there and tell us what you're interested in seeing and eating.
And while you're there, go ahead and bookmark or feed us. And hell, you may as well grab our twitter feed too (@thekitchenettes). I mean really, why not?
We are so excited and absolutely cannot wait to see you there. Bon Appetit!
The past two weeks have been Slappy and my first real glimpse of the lives of doctors and their wives.
The first week was, at least for me, pretty uneventful. Slappy was not on call and he had a 3 day weekend (4th of July). Basically he had a 9 to 5 job, er, maybe 7 to 3 and perhaps it was a little more involved than the typical 9 to 5. But still, not anything that would seem outlandish.
And then we began pager call. And I say we because pager call is not an individual event. Frankly, the sound it make is practically a zip code event.
While on pager call, Slappy does not actually go to the hospital, he just calls in and orders treatments or tests or things. Because he's in the newborn nursery, any real emergency matters are handled by the NICU and for the most part, we are in jaundice hell.
His pager shrieks at decibels that make my brain quiver and some nights it goes off once (or that one night, not at all) and some times it goes off like 5 or 6 times. Never close together, always like an hour apart, that way you have time to go back to sleep. And every time he has to get up, read the information and at least call and give orders. At worse, call, get information, do some research, call back and give orders. It's a circus.
But dude, all that aside, pager call is HOT. Because whenever he gets paged he has to call in and deal with the problem. And when he calls, he identifies himself. And everytime I hear him say "Hi, this is Dr. McBigbrain" I get weak in the knees.
I'm not sure why. I mean, I knew it would be his name, but dude, be still my heart. And I'm sure that the novelty of this will wear off in a few years when the pager sings its shrill song at 3 in the morning and all I want to do is sleep, but for now, well, be still my heart.
And the other night? Just as his pager went off, he put a dirty dish in the dishwasher. I swear I don't think I was ever more in love with him than I was in that moment.
The quickest route to a woman's heart is through the dishwasher, and apparently, being in a position of authority.
All I can say is, rawr.
If you follow my twitter stream, you might have found out that camp was interrupted yesterday afternoon by a nearby fire. Not wanting all the kids or counselors to breathe in the smoke, we moved everything indoors and had the parents come pick the kids up early (well, they left earlier, traffic made it so they arrived at almost the normal time). As the afternoon progressed, the fire was more and more in control and by late last night the Los Angeles fire department declared the fire 90% contained.
And last night, while relaxing at home, I hopped on twitter (okay fine, I was already on it because it's practically an extension of my consciousness. Whatever) and joked with my boss about the hectic day. I asked her if she thought camp would be cancelled today because of the smoke and she assured me that things had calmed, the skies had cleared considerably and things should be good to go for Thursday.
So I got up at 6, I got ready, including, because today was slated to be a "special" day at camp, blow drying and straightening my hair, and left the house. I normally leave by 6:30 because my 54 mile commute is in the same direction as 30 billion other drivers and I'd rather get to work 20 minutes early than sleep 10 more minutes and get there late.
But today, I left at 6:45. And of course, almost immediately, got stuck at an accident. The first accident in the morning on this freeway in 3 weeks. I ended up getting off the freeway and taking a surface street route to get around some of the looky-loo traffic. I knew I was running late and I considered calling the office at work to let them know, but thought better of it because I'm known to be kind of an alarmist and most likely wasn't actually going to be late as much as not early.
So I drove on. And on and on. The closer I got the more I worried that camp would be closed, but still didn't call, figuring that parents would be wondering the same questions and the phone lines would be tied up. I was relieved when the entrance gate was open because that meant that people were there (since it's otherwise locked).
But curiously, as I drove through the gate, I saw a co-worker drive out of it. And I got a deep sinking feeling in my gut.
As I pulled up, one of my higher ups signaled for me to roll down the window and when I did, she told me that I might want to consider updating my phone number...because they'd been trying to call me all morning. To tell me not to drive 54 miles that morning. Because camp was closed (due to air quality, no damage to the campus).
I got out of the car because I had to pee, and several higher up staff members were all on campus and they all half-heartedly laughed at my outfit (again, special day) and the fact that I was there. I was somewhere between despair and hilarity and found myself alternately laughing and
wanting to yelling profanity.
At one point, I walked up to a friend, stomping and made some gritted teeth comment that I couldn't believe that I'd forgotten to update my new phone number and kicked my foot in the air in disgust. When I did that, my shoe went flying, and of course, landed on the roof. ON THE ROOF.
I then went in and updated my phone number (while someone retrieved the shoe I was planning on leaving for all posterity) and then walked out to my car only to discover that I didn't have any keys.
And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. If I had locked my keys in my car as I was pretty sure I had, there was nothing I could do. I no longer have evidence of a AAA membership because of the jackass who stole my wallet in December, meaning I'd have to pay to get my damned keys out.
As that scenario passed in my head, I tried to calm down and remember what I might have done after I kicked my shoe on the roof and scarfed down half a donut (why no, I'm not a stress eater. Why?). And then I looked again and discovered that in one of my fits I had set them down on a desk. Oops.
And then I drove the 54 miles home, arriving 3.5 hours after I'd left that morning.
I walked in the door and found my kitten covered from head to toe in a foreign and now dried substance. I initially thought it was vomit (praise the heavens it wasn't) and then discovered the place where the shower had dripped and he'd created a kitty litter mud pit. I cleaned him, the wall, the floor, the kitchen table and the kitchen pantry door off (apparently, while covered in kitty litter mud, it's imperative to touch every surface in the house) and the sheets are in the dryer now.
And then I went shopping. Because, damnit, I deserved it.
Thursday can thuck it.
(p.s. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that today marks 5 years since the day Slappy and I officially began dating. I feels like just yesterday, and also, like I've known him a lifetime. It's been a remarkable and wonderful 5 years.)
(p.p.s. Today is also our cat's 4th birthday. I'm not crazy enough to bake her a cake or actually celebrate, but I'd just like to mention that I'm thrilled that she didn't vomit on the kitten. Though he'd certainly have deserved it.)