In which my husband poisoned me...

accidentally, of course... probably.

I used to always say that there was no such thing as a bad pizza.  That all pizza was good simply because it was pizza and in its pizza-y-ness it was therefore inherently good.  I won't say that ever again.

Let me preface the story by saying my husband is an excellent cook.  He makes his spaghetti sauce from scratch.  He makes his pizza from scratch, dough, sauce... everything.  And what he creates is wonderful.  So so good.

He likes cooking pizza on the grill with the special grill pizza stone.  He's used those easy start charcoal bags before and I didn't like how the pizza turned out using it.  It tasted off and I didn't eat it.  Monday night he did the same thing.  Being a considerate husband, he always makes my little pizza first and then his.  I was a hungry girl Monday night and though once a again my pizza tasted and smelled a bit off... I ate it all.  That was around 7.  By 9 I was in the bathroom puking my guts out.  And I'm sorry for this bit of imagery...  aromery?  The whole bathroom smelled of lighter fluid.   It was most foul.

At 9:30 in the depths of my illness I called out to my sweet man, "You poisoned me!!  I'm dying!"  He felt horrible.  His pizza had been fine because of course all the "Quick Start"-ness of the charcoal bag had burned off and the grill was actually, you know, ready to use and not lethal.  I went into bed around 10 and woke up a 4 in the morning yesterday and ran to the bathroom for round 2.   I came back to bed around 5 and I said to him, "I know you didn't do it on purpose and I know I didn't have to eat it, but I kind of hate you right now."  In his mostly unconscious state he mumbled a "Sorry." and rolled over.

Last night, he so wanted to redeem himself.  He wanted so badly to make me a pizza in the toaster oven.  I couldn't stand the thought of it.  So he made me chicken fingers.  Thankfully, vomit producing free chicken fingers.

Today, the day after...  I am so sore.  My chest is sore.  My ribs are sore.  It's so painful to laugh...  luckily, I'm at work.

I'll have to keep an eye on that wily man of mine.  He may have finally realized that my life insurance is worth more than my tender nagging and loving criticism.

Well done, Cleveland Show... well done.

I'm a Family Guy fan.  I'm not ashamed of it and don't go to any lengths to hide it.  The racy humor, the raunchy dialogue, the blatant innuendos, I love it all.   So I was excited about a Family Guy spin-off, though I originally thought it would have been better with a different character, I admit to being a fan of The Cleveland Show.

I love when shows build up to something and I don't see it coming.  Love it.  It's like the 24 minutes have paid off in spades for the last moments.

In the episode I speak of, Cleveland and his wife Donna go to the NBA All-Star game.  While there in the 1st row Cleveland heckles the players.  The players all decide to seek out Cleveland and talk to him about how they have feelings and blah, blah, blah.  They get to his house at the end and they all make up and Cleveland asks if they're all friends.

They all agree and LeBron sniffs and wipes a tear.  One of the other characters says, "Aw, see LeBron James DOES care about Cleveland."  It was classic and I loved it.  Loved loved it.  It was awesome.  Ultimate pay-off.  Well done.

Cracked glass and broken nails

I'm been pretty MIA so this is all going to be disjointed and just a bunch of bits and pieces of stuff that's been up.


First, I've been thinking on this blog a good bit.  Trying to figure out what to do.  If I need to focus on something or if just writing whatever is going alright.  And I don't really know.  So I figure I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and figure it out later.  I have enough to try to figure out without throwing this into the mix.  It seems to be going ok given my stats even on days when I haven't written anything in a week or more.  So, yeah, for now...  this is what it is and I'm ok with that


I had a pretty good health scare this week.  For those who know me... and of course none of you do, but IF you did you would know it takes a LOT for me to break down and go to the doctor.  I'm not a fan of doctors.  I feel they are just big pushers for big bad pharmaceuticals.  Monday was day 2 of my time of the month.  Hence forth it's going to be referred to as being broken.  That's what my time of the month is called in our house.  It started out when my guy said to me once "Are you still broken?"  And it stuck.   When I'm being overly difficult, I hear "Are you going to break soon?" and so it is.  Anyway, I broke Sunday morning.  On Monday I started getting cramps.  Just like everyone, I always get cramps, but for the prior two months they were a bit...  different.  Usually they've been staved off with Tylenol.  But on Monday, they came on and they hit hard.  Tylenol didn't touch them.  I couldn't stand up.  I couldn't sit down, I couldn't do business in the bathroom without crying.  I left work early, called the doctor and made an appointment for March 1st, 5 days before I'm scheduled to break again.  By the time my husband and I got home I walked to the house completely doubled over in pain.  I've never experienced pain like that.  Ever.  It was excruciating and terrifying.  The nurse on the phone said that if a hot bath and a heating pad didn't help the pain to go to the hospital.  I just happened to have some hefty pain pills at home as well, so I took one of those took my bath and went to bed with my heating pad.  When I woke up at 3am, I was still pretty sore, but better.  I've just been mildly sore since then, which I think is from the trauma of so much pain Monday.  So we'll see what happens at the doctor's appointment.  I hope and pray to God that it's nothing serious.  I'm still pretty terrified.


I have discovered, or I guess rediscovered, a passion of my former years.  Reading.  I'm loving it.  You would think that leading an online book club would have reignited  the obsession before now, but nope.  But I found something that did.  My Kindle.  Holy heck do I love that thing.  I have read 7 books since the middle of December.  SEVEN.  I used to read so very much.  But then college and then working and just life took over and the reading stopped.  Now I can't imagine not reading whenever I have the chance.


I found out recently that a girl I went to high school with has a huge brain tumor and has had four surgeries.  It came out of nowhere.  One day she got a headache.   Later that night she was light-headed and dizzy.  Next thing she knew she was undergoing surgeries for a massive tumor.  There is going to be a benefit for her the 27th of this month and I'm making an afghan for the silent auction.  I totally need to get my butt in gear on it, too.  I only have a little over two weeks left to get it done.


Lastly, I have to say something I have a very strong opinion on.  I'm sure it's because of my job that I have this opinion, but I just have to say it.  If you have SafeAuto...  you suck.  For so many reasons that I'll get into at some time or another.  But if all you can afford to carry on your vehicle are minimum limits....  then you can't afford to drive a car.  And everyone should be terrified to drive around you.  You are an irresponsible selfish slug.  Yeah.  That's right.   No offense.


So anyway...  to wrap up...   I'm wishy-washy on the blog, I could possibly be dying, I love to read, am fairly handy with a crochet hook and I hate you if you have SafeAuto.  Yup.  That's it.  In a nutshell.

I'll be back sooner than I have been lately.   Promise.  SMOOCHES!!