Murphy's Lost Extended Weekend

To say that Monday was a bad day would be a gross understatement. It was a No-Good Very-Bad Murphy's Law kind of day, to be exact. No loss of life or other grand terrors, thank goodness. Just one of those days where if it could go wrong, it did. You know; you've had one of those days too, I bet.

My Murphy's Day actually started over the weekend, so I guess it would be more appropriate to call it my Murphy's Lost Extended Weekend. However you look at it, it's not pretty. Editor's note: It gets a little convoluted here, so I'm reverting to highlight mode. Do not hate my grammar!

Friday: Began antibiotics some 12 hours earlier. Wake up to leg cramps the like of which I've never seen.  Crappy weather and three days sitting at a conference lead me to believe it's my old friend, Fibromyalgia. Spend day writhing in pain, finally succumbing to a drug-induced sleep.

Saturday: Cramps continue, accompanied by headache and serious laspe of breeding as I use all seven words you can't say on television in new and creative ways all day long. End day with another drug-induced sleep.

Sunday
8 a.m: Awaken feeling almost human, and decide to work.
Noon: Drive to office.
1 p.m.: Abandon thought an hour later, when cramps return along with a spike in temperature.
3:00: Begin search for thermometer. Battery is dead. Use meat thermometer under arm (yes, scoured before and after) and get reading of 100.6 degrees.
4:45: Call doctor.
5:45: Doctor returns call. Told to cease and desist antibiotic and begin Benadryl and Tylenol regimen. Have Tylenol; search for Benadryl begins. None to be found. Call for help.
6:00: Heroic Friend with Benadryl arrives. I am saved!
8:00: Begin to feel human again. Retire for the evening to sleep. Bear in mind I've had very little to eat all weekend because of pain. Seriously. Like two eggs and coffe in the morning; that's it.

Monday - Murphy's Law Day
7 a.m.: Awake to beginning of this horror story with no coffee. Fasting blood glucose scheduled first thing. Oh, the humanity! Hungry enough to eat an entire roasted pig. Along with the entire food inventory of a Krispy Kreme.
7:30: Head to lab, as chipper as possible under these horrific circumstances.
7:45: Lab staff unable to find the doc's orders they assured me they had when I called on Friday to confirm.
7:50: Return home to retrieve orders.
8:10: Return for said test, by which time every person between the ages of 60 and 100 living within a 500 mile radius of Augusta has descended on the lab to get some sort of bloodwork done.
9:00: Blood sucker -- excuse me, phlebotomist -- says orders aren't specific enough. She is persuaded to proceed and get more information during the two hours remaining in this lovely event.
11:15: Run away! Return home to mainline coffee, consume two eggs and 1/2 avacado. Leave for office to meet a student.
12:50 p.m.: Office. Gossip.
1:45: Student fails to show. Abandon post to provide doc a sample and return for conference call at 3.
2:00: Arrive doc's office, provide sample.
2:15: Realize keys are not in purse. Begin search of entire clinic, much to the consternation of a few clerks and a nurse or two. Will not be deterred in my quest because of other people's hysteria.
2:30: Panic sets in. Keys are not in vehicle and are nowhere to be found. Deduce that another patient must have accidentally picked them up. Frustrated in attempt to get an Amber Alert posted for keys. Realize drastic action is needed. Call aforementioned Heroic Friend with Benadryl who also has vehicle to come and get me. Saved once again! Consider ordering cape for Friend.
3:15: Arrive back on campus, call in to conference call, and no one else is on the call. Much wailing and gnashing of the teeth ensues. Calls to car dealership reveal necessity of towing car to dealership because the key has a chip they have to activate with the car there with them. Lament with Parts Manager that life was much easier when you could just use a clothes hanger. Parts Manager agrees, politely declines offer to bear him children in return for towing services.
3:30: Retrieve spare house key from office drawer and return home using borrowed transportation to search for spare car key, which has been MIA since the move. Realize spare key has somehow escaped and found freedom, is probably sipping tequila on the Island of Spare Keys, very near the Island of Misfit Toys. Retrieve spare key fob, with which I can at least open car doors.
3:45: Return to office, beg Heroic Friend with Benadryl and a Vehicle to give me a lift back to car for one more futile search. Friend agrees, but we must wait until the work day ends.
4:00: Whining ensues.
5:00: Recieve phone message from Kroger Customer Service. Someone has found my car keys! There is great rejoicing! Call this Paragon of Virtue, who says her mom had accidentally picked the keys up in the doc's office and put them in her purse. Just now found them. Agree to meet at doc's office later for return of keys. Leave with Heroic Friend with Benadryl and Vehicle to do errands.
5:45: Abandon Heroic Friend with Benadryl to ride with Student Cheerleader to make rendezvous for keys. Heroic Friend is still Heroic, as she commandeered Cheerleader.
6:15: I am reunited with my keys! Clouds part, angels sing, all is right with the world. Except I've not had enough food post-glucose test and I'm crashing.
6:30: Stop at Target for new antibiotic. Am less then enthusiastic with clerk's chipper greeting.
6:45: Stop at grocery store for sustenance. Become quietly hostile toward store clerk who accidentally voids my purchase and must re-enter everything. She mumbles something about seeking a protective order.
7:15: Arrive home. Consume one large banana, put dinner in the oven, and head upstairs to get cleaned up.
8:00: Eat dinner, spend rest of evening watching last episodes of The Closer and saying good-bye to Brenda Leigh. Glad Murphy does not have a brother. At least not one I've met.

Yet.

Facebook ... thou art a wench!

Turned on my computer a couple of days ago and found that the minions at Facebook had replaced my personal page with the dreaded Timeline format. I do not like the Timeline format. It is cumbersome to navigate, and assures that every banal remark I've ever made is preserved for posterity.

Oh, joy. Really, Facebook minions? I know you're trying to get us all to live our lives virtually, to play your games, to get thousands of friends, and click on all those intrusive ads that are tied to our browser history, which is a clear violation of privacy, in my book. I can no longer go on line and do research on weird topics that I see on television or read about in a book without some stupid add popping up offering to sell me 17th century jousing equipment! I don't want to buy the stupid stuff, people. I just wanted information. Sheesh. Where are encyclopedias when you need them?

But my little issues with Facebook go beyond the lack of privacy and dictatorial Overlord behavior of the minion programmers, all of whom I'm sure sit in tiny cubicles with strange music blaring into their ear buds, growing paler by the minute as they eschew all light and actual human contact. Yes, I have issues with "friends" as they're called. First of all, "friending" is not a verb. Really. The old maid English teacher in me revolts. But it's also these glimpses into other people's lives that I really wish I had not seen.

For instance, I do not care that you had a ham sandwich for lunch. I also do not care that you purchased a new ribbon for your cute doggie, that your child has learned to go potty, or that you've just noticed a new crack in your ceiling. While I'm sure these are all earth-shattering events in your life, they do not interest me nor your 643 other friends. Think "headlines" rather than "footnotes" folks. Lest you think I'm preaching a sermon I don't practice, I'm trying to stop doing those things. Will save them for the blog :-)

There's also this thing which -- while it is definitely low-tech -- has been known to be helpful. It's called CONVERSATION, between two people actually living in a house together. How many times must we be subjected to husband-wife, parent-child, and sibling-sibling dialogue when these people ARE IN THE SAME HOUSE? Open your mouth, dammit! Speak! I do not care that you want your husband to change his shirt. I do not care that your children are not washing the dishes as required, or that your sister is a big old doo-doo head. It is none of my business and I don't care! Stop telling me, please.

With the political season coming on, I'm also seeing numerous posts about the candidates, both pro and con. While an occasional post supporting your candidate is fine, posting 27 in a row is a little on the obnoxious, dare I say obsessive side? Same goes with pictures of kittens and puppies, as well as the play-by-play of you watching some reality television program and commenting on what a loser a contestant is. Hello? You're watching the program, and if that's not enough, you're also writing about it and having a conversation about it!

And, as a Christian, may I just say that God will not consign me to Hell because I fail to "Like" some photograph of unicorns, bunnies, kittens, waterfalls and rainbows with a pithy phrase or even -- dare I say -- a Bible verse on it! Yes, God is good, but God crammed down your throat with "unspoken prayer requests" and diatribes against your own personal "big" sin is not. I don't think it's a stretch to say that the more hateful you are on Facebook the less effective your point, so keep it to yourself, please.

Now, I'm not a complete crumudgeon where Facebook is concerned. Finding friends I haven't seen in many years has been fun, as has being able to re-establish those relationships. It's a great way to share good news when you're and happy and bad news when you need support. And I truly enjoy seeing and hearing what my friends are doing most of the time.

But as more and more of our lives become entwined with the "virtual" world out there, a technological "Cloud" literally descending upon us, it behooves us to take note of what we put out there for all the world to see. I often tell my students that I get down on my knees and thank God every day that all of this did NOT exist when I was in high school and college! Because I know of many, many instances that would have undoubtedly made the YouTube world that would preclude me from ever being gainfully employed, much less gain security clearance, which I had at one time, but thats another story. The current generation will either adopt the philosophy that everyone has a right to be young and stupid for a while or NO ONE will be eligible for employment. Seriously.

Oh, I'll continue playing on Facebook, Timeline aside. But I will also continue to untag pictures of me that I don't want to see and will continue to "hide" people who get on my nerves, "unfriend" those who offend me.

I'll also try to think a little more before I share the results of that search on hedonism in the 1500s.

Oops!

Reflections on my new home...

Okay; it's been some time since I posted but I've been busy. Really. Had some minor surgery, taught another semester of classes, and bought a house.

Yes, I bought a new house. Yea, me! And it's not really new, but it's new to me, so that counts. This is the third house I've bought, and it was definitely a pain in the behind toward the end of the process. But I'm in it -- thanks to the grace and brawn and goodwill of some students and co-workers -- so I'm a happy girl.

The house was built in 1939, which makes it ... oh, about 73 years old. Takes me a minute to do math. Anyway, it's a great old house, two-story with beautiful hardwood floors throughout most of the house. The rooms are a good size, and I bought a beautiful, big-ass, stainless steel French door refrigerator for the  kitchen, which makes me really happy. I swear that thing is kitchen porn; I love it! There's also a huge yard -- it's a .25 acre lot -- which should keep me busy for quite some time.

But as with most older houses, there are storage issues. I have boxes half-opened and sitting around much of the house right now, looking for a place to put their contents. After thinking about it for over a week and spending one very frustrating hour putting together a perfectly lovely bookshelf for my bedroom, I decided to hire someone to do some stuff for me, like put up blinds in the 28 windows of this house!!!

Hiring someone to help is a tough decision for me. As my friends who know me are well aware, I prefer doing things myself. I mean, I am woman, hear me roar! I can re-finish furniture, put in steel edging for my flower beds, hang pictures, all that good stuff. But while I CAN do all that stuff, I just don't want to this time. I want it done! In a few days, not in the few months it would take me to make time to do everything. As I am now firmly in my 50s (ugh!) my new motto is I am woman, I have checkbook, and I will pay someone to do this stuff!

So the guy came out today and looked at everything. I told him what I needed, and I'm just waiting on him to tell me what the damage will be to my savings account. All I know is I want it done! If I can finish getting the kitchen and my closet put away, and get that outdoor storage unit put together, I can breathe again, start hanging some pictures on the wall and having folks over for dinner. And get out in the yard and put in some vegetables and flowers.

Still need to come up with a name for the place. There's a magnolia tree in the front yard, along with an oak tree that may or may not make it. There's a beautiful dogwood on one side, and an enormous and beautiful sweet gum in the back. The house is taupe with  black shutters and a red door, kind of a Federalist look to the front. There are sweet olives along the back of the house, and I plan to put in some gardenias and hydrangeas, more azaleas and of course irises and daylilies and all that good stuff.

Would love a really cool name, something I could put on a sign and hang out to welcome guests, maybe something with a literary or movie reference. I love Jane Austen, Monty Python, and John Wayne equally, so the field is pretty wide. I'm also kind of a nerd, because I also like Star Trek, Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and the Big Bang Theory.

Any suggestions?

The making of a Southern cook...

Where did you learn to cook? For me, it was in Momma's kitchen. I would sit on the counter and watch her cook until I was old enough to help with prep work. At first it was peeling eggs and grating cheese, later I chopped nuts and vegetables.

Two things we didn't use much in that oh-so-Southern kitchen: measuring cups and recipes.

The exception to that is, of course, in baking, which is really just a giant chemistry experiment. I do love to bake, and truly believe that if God had meant for me to be thin he wouldn't have made me such a good baker.

But on a daily basis, this girl needs her protein! Living alone is no excuse for eating poorly, or subsisting on frozen foods and take-out. In the time it takes to go through a drive-through, I can make a nice, nutritious meal at home. It's usually cheaper, and it's a whole lot better for me. Rachel Ray has nothing on me with the 30-minute meal. One of my favorite dinners takes less than 15 minutes to make: pan seared salmon and a spinach salad. Easy peasy.

So being alone at Christmas this year was no excuse for not having a treat. The menu consisted of roasted chicken thighs, roasted asparagus, crescent rolls, and lemon poppy seed cake. Yum! I posted a picture on Facebook, and Donna Lightell requested a blog on how to prepare. So here you go Donna: this one's for you! Oh, there's no recipe, just some general guidelines on how to prepare. It's different every time I make it.

First, use chicken thighs. Chicken breasts dry out so easily, and I'm a dark meat girl myself. Rinse and pat them dry, sprinkle with garlic salt, and put them in glass or casserole dish. Sprinkle some rosemary leaves on top, then a little melted butter and lemon juice. Put it in the oven at about 350 degrees. Right now I'm cooking with a wonky oven that goes crazy and starts making noises and sets off the smoke alarm if I go higher than that, but usually I roast chicken at about 400 degrees. If you have a good oven, go with the higher temp. Leave the chicken in until it just starts to brown (depends on heat, anywhere from 15 to 20 mintes). Take it out and add some halved artichoke hearts, mushrooms (I like sliced portabello, but you can use any kind you like) and a handful or so of drained capers. You can also add sliced onions, if you like. Make sure the veggies are mixed down between and around the thighs, so that most of the skin can get nice and crispy. Then spoon sauce (to follow) over everything and put it back into the oven until it's done. I have no idea how your oven cooks or how thick your chicken thighs are, so you have to figure out how long to cook it on your own.

The sauce, or as I like to call it, Terri's Special Sauce (not to be confused with McDonald's Special Sauce, which we all know is just really Thousand Island dressing). It's very simple, but is just wonderful on just about any kind of meat, fish, seafood, or veggie. Seriously. You can put it on almost anything. You can adjust any of the ingredients to your own taste, and I change it a little depending on what I'm in the "mood" for every time I make it. Start with roughly equal amounts of sour cream and Blue Plate mayonnaise. You have to use Blue Plate. I am very brand loyal here; there's just nothing else like it for cooking. Anyway, then you add some dijon mustard, roughly a third of the amount of sour cream or mayonnaise used. Squeeze some lemon juice in and add a couple of pinches of dried thyme leaves. Use a whisk to mix, and adjust ingredients as needed to taste. Sometimes I add rosemary, sometimes not. I usually start with the juice of half a lemon, and keep adding until the sauce gets to the consistency I want. Oh, and add some garlic salt, too. Again, all to taste. Make some extra sauce, too, and stick it in the refrigerator, covered. It will last at least a week and still taste wonderful.

Roasting asparagus is easy: snap the ends, drizzle with olive oil, garlic salt, and fresh ground black pepper, and cook until it's done; I like mine still a little crisp. How long that takes depends on how much asparagus you're cooking, what kind of pan you're using, and how hot your oven is. When I serve it, I put the asparagus on the plate, drizzle sauce over, and add another pinch of thyme so that it looks pretty :-)

The cresent rolls? Alas, those are from a can. But they're made much better when dipped in herbed butter, or even Terri's Special Sauce :-) If any of you try to make this, let me know. Would love to know how it works out for you.

Happy Eating!

It's all about the socks...

On this Thanksgiving Eve, I find myself -- like so many of you -- taking stock of my world and giving thanks for all those little things we so often take for granted.

First of all, I'm thankful that this cold seems to be abating a little. I hate having a cold, and it seems I always get one right when something I really want to do is looming on the horizon. I should be at my Mom's house right now, eating fried pork chops and peas and sweet potatoes and lemon ice box pie but no, I'm at home nursing a cold. But I'm hopeful it will go away in time for me to make it to a football game this weekend, so I'm thankful for that.

I'm also thankful for all the many friends that have come my way over this incredibly short (ha!) life I've led. Indeed, blessed is too mild a word for it. Overwhelmingly awed by the awesomeness of it all would be more accurate. And family; I have a host of loving family too. Even though we may snip and snarl at each other from time to time, in the end the data bank of shared memories and experiences is still there and cannot be replicated.

But tonight I also find myself thankfor for a sock. Well, a number of socks really, but tonight a lone sock, pulled from the dryer with lots of little friends but no mate. Sad little sock, really, leaving me with one eternal question: where the hell is the other sock?

I posed this question once before, while an undergraduate. One would think that in the almost 30 years since that time I would have found an answer. Apparently not. To this day, lonely little socks will appear from nowhere, mocking me as I try to figure out if they just "appeared" like a Poltergiest in the dryer or whether their mates somehow ran away during the drying cycle.

Tell me: does one count one's socks before washing them? Because I always fail to do that, taking for granted that since I have two feet, and I usually wear socks on both feet, that the number of socks in any given load will be an even number, i.e. divisible by two. It usually works. But not always.

Maybe there's some higher level of math that I need to take to be able to figure this out. Or perhaps a physics class to help me determine the mass and speed of the dryer drum to determine if a small time-space continuum is opening up inside there and the socks are leading a completely different life on someone else's feet in another universe. Maybe a philosophy class would help me understand if the socks actually exist or if they are just part of an exesstential universe wrapped in a conundrum.

Than again, maybe I should just do as I usually do, and hold on to that lone sock until it's mate shows up. Because it usually does. Somehow. Someway. Have no idea how that happens, whether I'm just losing another sock so it looks like one is returning or whether they really do come back to me.

Either way, I'm thankful to have this lonely little sock, and all the other socks in the drawer. They're clean, they keep my feet warm, and they are small part of what makes me happy.

This Thanksgiving Day, I hope that in addition to giving thanks for family and friends and health and all that big stuff, you also find time to give thanks for the small things in life that make you happy each and every day. Like a smile on a random baby's face you see in a store while you're shopping. Or the sunshine. Maybe a comfy blanket that you snuggle under on the couch while you watch your favorite holiday shows.

Thanks, God, for my socks, even the lost ones.

Happy Thanksgiving my friends :-)

Cold, coats, and cities...

Heading out to the big city tomorrow for a conference, and wondering what new and interesting things I'll see there. Going to a meeting in D.C., at the Conference Center. Lots and lots of people, lots and lots of meetings, and lots and lots of walking. Hoping the trip does not include lots and lots of rain or cold, too.

Because it's that time of year: it's turning cold. Since my blood starts congealing when the temps get below 70 degrees, it makes this time of year both wonderful and sad. Wonderful because we can finally say goodbye to 100 degrees or more of heat. Sad because I have to give up my sandals and wear socks and shoes again. And because I have to start carrying a coat around, which I absolutely hate doing.

It's such a little thing, it seems, to carry a coat. Not to me! What the heck do you "do" with it when you're not wearing it? When you're in an office or at someone's home, it's easy. You throw it over a chair or hang it somehwere.

But in the mall, while you're shopping? Or in the grocery store? It's just a large, random pain in the you-know-what. Luckily, we don't have many "coat" days in the South. When we do, I park as close to the door as I can and make a run for it, sans coat.

At this conference, I have to walk five blocks to get to the closest meetings, futher to some others, so the coat will have to go with me. Dang. Oh, I could have gotten a hotel closer to the meeting place, but the hoteliers in D.C. obviously think their establishments are particularly special, because they charge out the wazoo for them! It was a tough decision on how much money I was willing to sacrifice for comfort, and the mid-range on both won. It's a quick walk and I'm saving money, so I guess I have to be happy about that.

On to the packing! Probably no posts while I'm gone, but hoping for adventures in travel to blog about on my return.

Tepid in Germany...

Decided to look at the stats for this blog today, and am amazed to see that three people from Germany have viewed this week, and 20 or so all time! Sort of boggles my mind that there may be someone half-way around the world sipping warm beer, eating sauerkraut, and reading this blog right now!

Wonder how my brand of humor translates in Germany? Because what's funny to one country may not be so funny to another. Heck, it's hard enough for my students to get my sense of humor sometimes. Usually it's either the early morning class or the one right after lunch that has a problem. I just assume they're either not fully awake or that they are so full all they can think of is going to sleep.

Which can sometimes sum up how I feel, especially in the morning. This morning I overslept quite a bit, and didn't get out of bed until 7:35. Wouldn't be so bad, but had to have my behind in the dentist's chair at 8. Needless to say, I wasn't at my "best" when I got there, but then again the visit was for a temporary crown, so it's not like there wasn't going to be some early morning trauma to ruin any bit of primping I'd done anyway.

Anyway, when I looked at the stats for the site, I also saw that I had a few viewers from Great Britain, home of fish and chips and Jane Austen, one of my all-time favorite writers and creator of the amazing Mr. Darcy, brought to life so perfectly by Colin Firth. The white shirt. {sigh} Bridget Jones is a kindred spirit on that one.

Also have had a reader from Latvia, Jamaica, Sweden, Denmark, and a few other countries. I didn't actually memorize the list. And I can't think of food or authors from each of those right off the top of my head, but I'm sure they're all lovely places. Well, there's Italy, too, and I can absolutely think of food from there! But again, how does the humor translate into Italian? Planning a visit there the summer of 2013, so maybe I'll find out!

In the meantime, it's enough to know that for a few Herrs and Fraus overseas, that while I may not actually be "hot" there, maybe I'm tepid in Germany.