Things People Say..and a babble

"You should just be happy you're alive!"
Generally said when I'm grumbling about something normal..like a clogged septic line (ew).
Telling someone who has any kind of medical ANYTHING just to be happy they are alive...is a good way to get kicked.
My appreciation for life doesn't vanish when I'm outside in sleet and howling winds, with 40 feet of septic line snake.  It's just..taking a back burner for the moment.

"Oh, you must feel good...you look fine!"
Because you have a portable CT and can see the blood clot in my lung? Awesome!

I sleep 8 hrs a night, and nap at least 2 hours during the day.
I am weak and shaky and dizzy a lot.
I am cold constantly.
I am grumpy as all hell.

THIS IS NOT ME.
Ok, the grumpy part is.......

"Blood thinners! Well, don't cut yourself!"
*blink*
Well, shit. There goes my plans for the weekend.


---
I know this stuff isn't said to be unkind or dismissive...but after the 53rd time...
I warned you about the grumpy, right?

Ok, moving on!

You see the line of yellow Gorilla Glue on the feeder...and the reason why.
I need cast iron bird feeders!

-------
I went birding a few weeks ago...
I saw two horned grebes (adult, non breeding..so sayeth the bird books)!!!

Canada goose photo bombing

I also saw a black-crowned night heron.  I'll spare you the horrid photo.
Two birds off my life list.
HAPPY!

Glorious cold front! Oh, screw it.

I had plans today.
I intended to toss on a rain coat and slosh through the woods in the wondrous 65 degree temps.
Wind and rain and COOL AIR.
I was making my bastard chicken pot pies, with cornbread on top.
(no one wants to eat that shit when it's 98 degrees)
I intended to snuggle down with Michael after dinner and watch tv
(because for the past 3 months if he tries to cuddle I growl "get OFF me, you heat producing freak)


Michael had to get up at 4:30 am.
So, I hop into bed by 10 like a good little wifey..that way I can get up with him and get him out the door on time.
The man has slept through 80 mph winds and the strongest thunderstorm we've ever experienced.  He's slept through me running a chainsaw 30 feet from THREE open bedroom windows.

It's not too different from my normal schedule.  I channel the angry spirit of an 1800s farm wife.  I believe sleeping past 7 am is wasting half the day.  I blame my grandmother.

I start to doze about 11pm.
11:30- honey, do you know where my socks are? They are not in the drawer.
Look in the @#$% laundry basket of CLEAN SOCKS you haven't put away.
Oh..crap. I'm so sorry, babe. I didn't see the basket.  In front of the dresser.  I'm really sorry.

12:15
*click. click click. click. click click click*
Michael, what the hell are you doing?!
I think my reading light is dying.
So change the @#$% battery.
I should probably go to sleep.  I'll change it tomorrow.

1:20
Michael's arm is flung across my face.
I pinch him. He doesn't move.
I jab him in the ribs and he grunts, tightens his arm around my head and mumbles "love you".
Lies.

1:35
He's flat on his back, snoring.
He never snores, so this is extra salt in my wounds/fuel to my rage.
I believe he's intentionally snoring.

2:00
Dogs bark madly at something/nothing.
I fling myself out of bed, ready to take on invaders.
Michael snuggles into the pillows and makes a noise of contentment.

2:45
Michael's deep, even breathing is just pissing me off.

I gather pillow, blanket and dogs and head to the couch.

3:45
the wind screams up the hill and rain lashes the house. Incredible lightning pulses against my dry, red eyes.
One of the Altheas outside the living room decides to scrape the siding over and over.
And over.

4:00
Weatherbug alerts me to a severe storm
No shit, Weatherbug.

4:10
I give up and make coffee.



Now I'm too damned tired to slosh.
But by God, I'm making pot pie.

Gender roles/arachnids/bad for you/Pig

My two big, burly garbage men complained about the weight of my trash. (!?)
I'm not throwing away concrete block, people.  It's regular old household trash.

I asked if they needed my help lifting it into the truck, since I'm the one that carried it all the way down to the road.
"Oh, we figured your husband did." (!!??)
Sigh...and who says that?
"No, he was washing dishes when I took the trash out.  We have our gender roles confused."
I think I confused them, as both of them glanced at my chest.


We've had a ton of gorgeous spiders this year.
Please note: my spider photography sucks.  Most often, I'm in some crazy position trying to avoid webs!

I know a lot of you are ready to slap me for giant spider shots, but I love me some arachnids.
They kill stinkbugs.  They can do no wrong.
Plus, they scare the shit out of Michael...and it's just plain funny when my 6'2 husband runs.. screaming.

  I made a few dishes to freeze..snacky, side-dishy things.
Of course, I had to taste test.

Mushrooms with bourbon cured bacon and a little brown sugar.
I'm not a huge bacon fan DON'T HURT ME!, but these...I could eat my weight in these.  They didn't make it to the freezer.  After we ate a portion with dinner, well, there was no point in freezing the measly amount left.  Waste of freezer space!  I'll make another batch to freeze.  And I won't devour them like some shroom crazed beast. This time.

Michael is a fan of jalapeno poppers.  I am not.
They are tasteless blobs of deep fried nothing-but-hot.  
Unless...you use seasoned panko and a special blend of cheeses and perfectly ripe peppers from the garden.
I even bake the suckers, so we don't have DEEP FRIED SIN..
I'm all about deep fried goodies.  That part is more for people that worry about their arteries.  Unlike me.  Apparently.  Mmm.  Deep fried swiss cheese.  When the hell is the county fair?! 

They are absolutely delicious, except when I got my peppers confused and made some with Michael's OMGWTF peppers.  I have no idea what type they are, except they are yellowish and contain enough heat to make the sun sweat blood.  After I put out my face-fire, they were quite tasty.
Michael LOVES them and declares all other poppers "a waste of time".  How can I refuse to make giant batches of these stupid things?

___________
PIG UPDATE:
For those that asked, Pig is gone.  Or in witness protection. Or at Fat Camp.
I fear she's gone to the Great Bakery in the Sky.
We had one incident with a Pig-that-maybe-wasn't...and that ghog hasn't been back.

I miss her, kind of.
I do not miss her breaking and entering, harassing me, harassing the dogs, eating my yard, etc.
It was kind of nice not to worry every single time I let the dogs out.
   Wherever she is, I hope she is fat and happy and full of caaaaaaaaaaaarbs.

Potato love

If you get really close to your monitor and squint, it's a heart. 

I am in need of comfort food today, so my bastardized potato gratin was on the menu.

If you don't eat cheese..or heavy cream...or butter..you might want to skip this post.
Wait.
I think you might want to skip this blog.
I believe in eating healthy, but that includes mental health- as in comfort food.

  Occasionally, our blogtalk turns to the sexy world of full fat.
Yeah, Mama.

We'll pretend the cheese is low fat cheese, if it makes you feel better.  We'll also pretend this is the full amount of cheese used, instead of just the topping.

If it makes you feel more comfortable...
 this is skim milk, instead of two cups of heavy cream, simmering with herbs and garlic...

The baking dish was NOT rubbed down with softened butter..it was that fat free/calorie free spray stuff.
Yeah...

I fully intended to post a photo of a fork full of cheesy, creamy, potato joygasm..but..well..
I ate that "test" fork.  And the next.
Quality control, dammit.

I'm not going to post photos of the massive, gorgeous steaks we're going to toss on the grill, lest you think I'm a hedonist.
I am.


So my comfort foods were taken care of (steak and potato, I'm a simple girl), when I get a text from Michael stating he's ready to run away from work and change his identity.

Hmmm...comfort food for Michael.
Got it covered!

Cream cheese/cheddar stuffed peppers..that weird sweet/hot variety that no nursery can ID..with an extremely crunchy panko breading.

If Michael sees this photo and asks where the little crusty piece of cheese (bottom right) went, I'm going to tell him those damned dogs took it.  Because that is what happened.  Got it?

At least they're baked, right?