June 24, 2012

Eh Nothing Got Stained

The other morning I decided to make myself a diner breakfast. I cooked up sausage, fried up an egg, toasted some rye bread, and threw in some raspberries for color. While I was in the kitchen I turned to grab something from my dish rack but inadvertently knocked off one of my favorite handmade colanders. This colander has been broken three times and put back together three times. I didn't want it to break AGAIN so I tried to keep it from falling. (I know I know. "Buy a new one already." No. This just needs a little.. more glue. Mmkay?) Well it fell and broke again. Sadly I put it aside to finish cooking my breakfast.

I put on the morning weather and was eating my yummo breakfast when I looked into my left palm. It was covered with red. I didn't remember smushing any raspberries in my hand and my hand didn't smell of fruit so it occurred to me it could've been blood. But since I wasn't sure I licked my hand to taste it and discern. It was undoubtedly blood. I immediately jumped up and checked myself for cuts or blood anywhere else on my person. When I didn't see anything I checked the cat. Nothing there either. So I looked more closely on my palm and saw a tiny cut. When I tried to catch the colander I must've pierced myself without noticing. Man, that was a lot of blood for a tiny cut.

So. I washed myself up and ate the raspberries. They weren't even that good. While my hand has healed I still need to fix the colander. Or just suck it up and buy a new one... Nah. Just bought more glue. Why let it go to waste? I love a good fixer-upper project.

June 18, 2012

Count on Aimee

Aimee Mann says it better than I could. Whether or not it's totally accurate who else would write a song about turning 31? No one I'd prefer.

June 16, 2012

Naan Is Perfect

I love food. Like, love food. I wouldn't call myself a foodie because I'm not that gastronomically adventurous. I have a thing about eating meat I can't see, like chicken fingers or restaurant made chicken salad, or meat off of bones, like wings. It's the gristle. Once my mouth detects an unpleasant texture I begin gagging like woah. I just can't do it. Gristle ruins the whole meal for me. My appetite goes down the drain no matter how ravenous I was at the beginning of the meal. That qualification aside, I really do love food.

My favorite cuisine must be Mexican. I somehow ate a lot of Mexican food when I lived in Upper Michigan. (Okay, there's a legit reason- my dad worked with a really nice Mexican-American fellow on the Air Force base who opened a restaurant off the base. That food was some of the freshest, tastiest Mexican food I've ever had. Even when I lived in California.) So, I've been obsessed with it since I was eight years old. Mostly obsessed with tacos, burritos and other "Mexican" food but I've since been branching out at a lot of local Mexican restaurants. A few weeks ago I had a great sausage soup that was super spicy but tasty. And I'm even going for meat dishes!

Indian is my second favorite. I love the variety of safe-for-Katherine vegetarian dishes. There's just so many from which to choose! I didn't have Indian food until after college. My family never tried it and there wasn't much to choose from until a small place opened up in my college town. My friend who lived in New York City (of course) was like, this is great! We have to get you to try it. And now, I get it when I like to treat myself. It is healthier than Mexican but not cheaper than Mexican.

Then there's my obsession with muffins, cookies and cupcakes. There's too much to say about all that. Let's just say I have no idea why I'm not 300 pounds.

With all that pointlessness about me out of the way, I'm off to get my Indian cuisine for dinner. I hope I get at least three meals out of it. Marvelous.

June 11, 2012

Washed Out? Washed In!

The awesome and hilarious teevee show Portlandia has a great theme song. Sometimes I would rewind and rewind the opening so I could listen to the song. One day I realized I could look it up on this thing called the Internet. So I researched and low and behold- my favorite record label SubPop signed the artist called Washed Out. Here's the theme:

It's just so awesomely ethereal. I love it. Here's another good one:

It's nice to have on at work. Washed Out made a great Pandora station. If you like these two songs you should create the station and see what other great stuff pops up.

June 10, 2012

Turns Out I Was the Asshole All Along

Remember when I posted about how Fluffy always pooped everywhere and how horrible it was? Or that she was just a walking puke bag? Or just how generally moody she is? I found out there was a for reals reason for all this.

Back in March that cat's bowel movements and puking were getting to the point that all I was doing was cleaning the floor and lighting candles. It was annoying. But what was making it scary was the fact that Fluffy was constantly eating, like, maniacally eating, but not putting on any weight. In fact, she was losing it and became emaciated. Her fur was matting up so badly I had to cut it off- she started to look mangy. Her mood was worse, she was just so hungry all the time she became a bitch- never sitting with me, never purring. I was really scared. So I sucked it up and took her to the vet.

After a stool sample and blood work, the vet told me ever so calmly that Fluffy had such terrible hyper-thyroidism that her blood levels were off the chart. She has a growth on her thyroid that I noticed but since she didn't wince when I touched it and she seemed ok, until recently that is, that I pushed it out of my head as me being a big baby. Nope. It was real. And it was really not good for Fluffy.

The vet assured me that there are pills that have a great success rate for kitties with this condition. I just have to hog tie her twice a day and shove a pill down her throat. Daunting? Yes. But after a week of doing it there was marked improvement. She was pooping solidly- and in the litter box. She was eating a few times a day and wasn't a manic freak whenever I went into the fridge. She began cuddling with me again. She's the cat I took home with me seven years ago.

I'm just upset that I didn't act sooner. I was afraid of the bill. The only reason I could go this time was because my mother insisted on helping me pay. I hate to admit all of that. She deserved better than that and I couldn't face the music. What's money when a living creature, that is my sole responsibility, needs to be okay? If anything happens like this with her again I'm not waiting. I'm sorry, Fluffy.