Monday, February 23, 2015

Contemplation of Cats, Canines, Cauliflower, Cooking, Baking, Biscuits, and Brownies

Sunday - My back hurts but it was worth it ... the doggies are clean!  They were very well-behaved while being showered, shampoo'ed, and blown dry, but there are four of them and I was on my feet for quite a while.  So I think it fair to say we are all knocked out from the experience.

The good news is that their hair - Yorkies have hair and don't shed - is sweet-smelling and soft to the touch.  The other good news is that I do not need to cook as I have a ridiculous amount of prepared food in the refrigerator.  That doesn't mean I don't have the itch to cook, but there is no need.  Especially as we have plans for sushi tonight, Cory's choice of restaurant for his birthday.  I probably would have chosen a.lure in Savannah.  Ha.  Still dreaming about fois gras on a deep-fried Krispy Kreme.  Sushi it is.

I have been thinking about baking beer cheese biscuits and brownies.  If I don't have to cook, I might as well bake, right?  Also, I have cauliflower mac n cheese and dill pickle soup on the brain.  That may explain the brain fog.  As Captain Picard would order, "make it so."  If only it was that easy - I can control my mental food meanderings a lot easier than I can control the symptoms of CPS.  Jean-Luc, you big faker.

In a whirlwind tour we've so far hit CVS, Petco, and Bed, Bath and Beyond.  Target next, so Rob can pick up his new glasses.  Then to Publix, back to CVS, and home.  And somewhere in there, a stop at hhgregg to look at DVD players.  This was Sunday on speed, and good thing I had my cane.  I've also been asking Rob to push the shopping cart, which is absolutely not the way I normally roll.  Pushing the shopping cart has always been my job, one I emotionally inherited from my grandmother-who-raised-me, and having to ask someone else to do it was a bummer.

Incidentally, what is going on with these businesses that do not capitalize their names?  Who decides these things, e.e.cummings?

While we were at Petco, we could not help but notice it was a cat adoption day.  While Robert set his jaw, I checked out every tabby there.  I had no interest in the females, other than noticing how absolutely sweet their faces were.  Two tabbies were asleep and refused to engage in conversation.  One handsome boy with a white chin, neck and chest was billed as "friendly" but there was no truth in advertising; when I offered him my finger, he sniffed, bit me lightly, and turned his back.  Alrighty then.                                
At Publix, I fought hard with myself to avoid new cooking projects for this week.  I have enough food in the refrigerator to throw my own block party.  With Robert's support, I did not give the meat counter even a passing glance, despite my recent thoughts of Swedish meatballs.  I whooshed through produce without touching even one head of cauliflower.  I did buy a jar of Batampte dill pickles; that chicken soup is almost gone and I have to have soup available.

Monday - Last night was one long adventure in sleep deprivation.  All four boys - Woodie, Anakin, Indiana, and Romeo - were bad to the bone, running and jumping all over our bed (and us) like it was the court at Amway Arena and they were members of the Orlando Magic.  No sleep adds to my stress, and stress adds to my pain.  Yesterday my brain was befogged and I could not recall words I needed.  I am afraid today may not be any better, and I have three trials.

I meditated, as I always do in the morning.  I took my medication, including two Advil.  That Gabapentin is not delivering the relief I had hoped for, something I will share with the doctor on Thursday.  I am approaching the point that I will have to leave the house and head to court.  Part of me feels like I am taking a short walk to my execution.  The other part is enjoying the sounds of birds tweeting up in the big, ancient trees near my house.

The tears are here, in back of my eyes, I can feel them, but I can't shed them.

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