Way to kick my ass, food poisoning. Not that I had a huge weekend planned anyway, but it would've been nice to do something other than lay on the couch and DIE. It started with some cramps Friday evening, that within a matter of an hour was full on hurling my innards out. I couldn't even hold it for the trip home, I ended up puking in the truck. Without getting all TMI on the three of you who read this blog (and already knew), let's just say at one point it was coming out my nose, there was blood coming out of my esophagus, and my system was kicking back water. I called both my parents, utterly convinced I was just DYING. I was up until four the in friggin' morning, and um...So was Bryan. I was bawling, "I'M DYING BRYAN, OH MAI GAWD CAN'T YOU SEEEEE?!" Saturday I pretty much slept the whole day, since I got no sleep the night before. I didn't puke much, but then the cramping started. Holy hell, that was worse than the hurling. I could feel that coming on, and knew it would end in a minute or so. Not cramps! Hoooo no! They'd come, they'd stay for a bit, make themselves comfy (if not wholly unwelcome), and then they'd leave. The cramps felt like when I was in labor, DYING Y'ALL, and the second epidural wore off, and just in case the point wasn't made earlier: DYING. (I may be exxagerating, but I shit you not they really did feel like labor.) At that point, I was advocating going to the hospital, faking labor, and BEGGING for an epidural. (Ask Bryan if I actually asked to do that, because, I was DYING, and also wasn't entirely coherent.) Kiera, our seventy five pound sack of loving dumbness, felt sorry for me and jumped up on the couch to cuddle me. On my stomach. While I was cramping. Doubt she'll be making that mistake again. When I was in the throes of the cramps I briefly considered pushing. (Remember, not coherent.) In a moment of lucidity, it occured to me that when you push, things come out. There's only one thing to push out and I didn't have the strength to get up and shuffle my DYING ass to the bathroom. I didn't push. Bryan is grateful. I'm better now. I'm no longer DYING. I'm back to my bitchy ole self again. Eat like a King while living like a pauper 12/02/2008
Let’s just call this what it is: a recession. There, I’ve said it. No more kidding myself that things aren’t really as bad as they seem. I am very fortunate that Bryan and I still have our jobs and a warm place to live. While gas prices have finally gone down so that we can finally afford to fill our tanks up, ($1.69 a gallon, y’all!), what we do worry about is how to feed our families. Grocery prices, at least in my neck of the woods, still border on usury. But, we have found ways to eat well on the cheap. Here’s a few secrets and recipes. (Disclaimer: keep in mind that you’re taking cooking tips from the woman who made chicken soup so bad the dog wouldn’t eat it.) |
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