I think I've got a problem

This problem may require a visit to the doctor, so of course I am resisting.   I dislike being turned into a pincushion.  I resent having to give a well-meaning lab tech any amount of my blood, since I seem to have so little of it.  I don't like drugs of any kind, and while I have not been able to totally avoid them, my prescription medication intake is minimized to a manageable level - 2 little pills in the morning. I fear painkillers, and I am fortunate that neither my doctors nor my dentist are pill pushers.  My drug of choice for pain is ibuprofen, except for those rare post-surgical hours when my only choices are taking the damn Darvocet or screaming my head off.  As soon as possible, however, I switch to Advil.

I am not good about taking supplements, and I think that is the source of my current discomfort.  Since my little event up in Panama City Beach this past Labor Day, I have tried to be more diligent about taking my iron, B12, and calcium pills.  Unfortunately, one cannot take the wish for the deed when it comes to supplementing one's diet, and as I commit these thoughts to virtual paper, I realize what I have to do.

Taking a page from my diligent, organized, utterly devoted husband's book ... I have created my very own "pill box."  Yes, it is smaller, sleeker, and prettier than the one my husband faithfully drags out of the pantry every morning and evening.  And hopefully, I shall use it "in good health."  Now I just have to find room for it in the pantry.  Ha ha.

So I have not been up to cooking today, but I have several recipes (a very few with photos) taken during my recent hiatus, and will post them as time permits.  For now, I am going to creep back upstairs, crawl into bed and complain about how these darn vitamins are already upsetting my digestive system.

Happy Belated Birthday, dear Blog

Caught up in a whirl of 23 simultaneous games of Words with Friends, I totally missed the Blog's birthday.  Unlike Mandy, the GPS I refer to as "that electronic bitch", I really do care for the Blog, and would not want to hurt it's silicon-based feelings.  Mea culpa, Blog.

As you may recall, I started Inspiration Nation one year ago, February 19, 2011, my son's 24th birthday.  Now he is 25, and we still haven't celebrated.  I'm starting to see a pattern here ...

There have been several cruises and several road trips, and I am embarrassed to admit I failed to take photos and I also failed to make blog posts.  For all you knew, I had fallen into a vat of chicken fat - delicious but fatal. 

I have been cooking - a lot - but I didn't take pictures of those finished dishes either, except for an exceptional lasagna. 

The Giants won Superbowl.  But you knew that. (You can take the girl out of New York, but she's still going to root for the home team.)

We adopted another Yorkie, named Romeo.  His first human mother was quite ill, and had to find a home for him and his sister.  He is just two years old, exactly one year older than Blog, with all the energy that comes with that age.

Four Dog Night - Indiana Jones, Athene Minerva, Woodrow Wilson Smith, and Romeo Lee

Sometimes it seems I spend all of my time catering to those doggies, as well as their five feline siblings.  For example, today is a big day - the NBA All-Stars Game (in Orlando! Gonna make lots of snacks and root for the Eastern Conference Team), the Oscars (which I don't watch), and best of all, we are going to shave our orange cat, Fuzzybutt Dejah Thoris, and maybe, if Rob and I live through that adventure, we will also shave our feral cat, Zebadiah.  I am not sure why those two are so terribly matted, but in Dejah's case, those matted areas are reaching critical mass.  I should have bought some catnip to get her high to calm her down.  Zebbie can still be brushed out, I think, but it involves chasing him into a closed room and confining one part of him to a pillowcase while the other part is being combed.

I am also doing quite a bit of knitting ... but that's another blog post.