Wednesday, the roommates were gone, so Brandell and I spent the day acting like an Actual Newlywed Couple. I made pan-grilled salmon with toasted polenta for dinner, and it was fantastic. It was the first time in FOREVER that I've felt well enough to stand over a stove willingly, not just because I'd promised someone some sort of food. We had chocolate chip cookies for dessert. YUM. I can't lay claim to those, as they were break-n-bake, but that doesn't make 'em any less delicious.
Of course, when I posted this picture to facebook, my friend Scott had to say some ignorant shit about the "poop on the plate". I informed him that it was olive tapenade and that he would be kicked squarely in the nards if he called anything I cooked/served poop again.
Thursday was crazy-busy. I'd tried to pay the water bill online the night before, but for whatever reason, the payment refused to go through. So, Thursday morning we woke up to no water, so Brandell and I went to the water office and paid the bill and the reconnect fee. Le sigh. Usually that joint is mobbed and the customer service folks are surly, but there was one person ahead of us and the lady at the window was sweet as pie. Thanking god for small favors and whatnot. I didn't want to get in a foul, gonna-choke-a-bitch mood because Thursday was my day to run around and do fun things with Jenny.
Oh, and that we did. Our first stop was Natural Foods, a market with a self-explanatory name. I stocked up on Kind Bars, grabbed a couple new flavors of Clif Bars, and a couple Chai Sodas. YUMMM. On the way there, we'd seen a couple girls on the side of the road by Condemned Tattoo and Piercing that said "$20 tattoos for ladies". I ate a Clif Bar and drank my chai soda and we headed in there. The one hang-up is that you had to pick your tattoo out of this notebook of flash, but I actually found something I liked. A winky kitty face with two stars. WHY NOT, MAN. I got it on my right foot.
Now this--this was an interesting experience. I get bad cramps in my hips, legs, and feet when I have them at a disagreeable angle. I was sitting in a chair with my foot up on another chair when my entire right leg seized up like a mofo. I jumped up, almost tripping over the foot rest on the chair, and flattened my foot out on the floor until the cramping let up. I sat back down, but nope, it fired up again. So, wash, rinse, repeat, and I decided to proceed standing with my foot on the chair, Captain Morgan style. I really wish there was a picture of this silliness. After the outline, I sat my fat ass back down. All the while, Jenny and I were chatting with one of the artists who was hanging out in there with us, and she seemed like a really cool chick. She took pictures of my spoon tattoo and my foot-kitty, and showed us all of her ink. As much as I love Diabolik Ink, I will absolutely go back to Condemned in the future. I really liked how many female artists there were there. Tattooing is definitely a male-dominated industry in this town, and while I really don't give a damn about the gender of my tattoo artist (or doctor or bus driver or gynecologist, etc.), seeing women in typically male-dominated spaces always makes me happy. They're going to be doing another tattoo for me in the next couple weeks--all I'm going to say is that it's a tramp stamp, and you will likely pee yourself laughing when you see it. This is a crappy picture, but I'm sure I'll be able to get a better one once I no longer have to put highly reflective petroleum products on it.
So, Foot Tattoo Pain Report: It's really no worse than anywhere else, except for one little thing. See that star right there at the very edge? The one that's DIRECTLY ON TOP OF MY PINKY TOE KNUCKLE? Yeah, I'm surprised I didn't pee myself. That was murderous. Jenny even said I was making Psycho Murder faces. So, moral of the story...avoid your joints and it's all good. I freaking love this silly little tattoo. Need to know if I'm a crazy cat lady? Just look at my foot. Yes. Yes I am.
After we were done at Condemned, Jenny and I decided we were hungry so we summoned The Husbands and went out to dinner at Passage 2 India. Despite my ingrained hatred of businesses who substitute numbers for actual words in their name, I think this place is my favorite restaurant in Valdosta. I am addicted to their Dabba Ghosht. I order it every. single. time. Brandell orders something new and interesting, then we share. So it works. Because all four of us are such frequent patrons, the waiter kept bringing us little plates and dishes of things to munch. In addition to the usual plate of veggies and raita, he brought us a plate of fruit and each couple got a small bowl of some sort of rice pudding, heavily seasoned with cardamom, for dessert. OMFG YUM. It was far more liquid than any rice pudding I've had before, but I swear to you, I will figure out what it is, find it in the new Indian cookbook Jenny and Jeff gave me for my birthday, and make some asap.
Yesterday was just...bizarre. I woke up at 10am, farted around on the internet, did my usual waking-up thing. I started to get sleepy, so I laid down for a nap before my therapy appointment. Had my appointment, got my meds refilled, came home, got on the internet, fully intending to post here, spent maybe 30 minutes screwing around, and my eyes started to cross, so it was Bad TV Time. A few shows in, I fell asleep. Brandell woke me up and fed me a couple burritos. I didn't even feel hungry, but this fattie doesn't turn down food, so I ate them, and all the sudden, I was AWAKE! More bad TV and crocheting, and sure enough, a few hours later, I fell asleep again. This time, my wonderful husband woke me up with some really tasty baked fish and corn on the cob. (It should be noted that I love corn on the cob more than life itself.) I cleaned my plate, then more bad TV and crocheting, and I was back in bed by 1:30am, which is crazy-early for me. I didn't wake up until noon today.
I have a theory, though. I'm hypoglycemic. I get sleepy, REALLY sleepy, when I'm hungry. However, baclofen, my muscle relaxer, has the side effect of anorexia. And I haven't felt a legitimate hunger pain in days. So my body is no longer telling me when to eat. I just go to sleep. Yes, this sucks, but at least I know what's going on now. When I get sleepy before 3am, I need to just shut up and eat something, lest I nap myself into a hypoglycemic coma and have to be hauled off to the hospital. Sheesh. With fibromyalgia, you learn something new every day.
AND we have a new development with the Dueling Loaves. Peace at the food dish! Behold!
Previously, we fed them in separate rooms because of fighting, but I guess these two are finally forging a peace treaty. Yusss! Also, Scotti has decided that being a neck pillow on my computer chair isn't enough. He must attempt to cushion my back, but as he's not quite as loafy as Fizzgig, this doesn't work out so well.
Silly cat.
Well, I'm getting sleepy so I think this means I need to go put on Real Clothes and go out to lunch with Krystal. Good times!
Bottom line of this is, of the 12 (no shit) things I'm taking on a daily basis right now, SOMETHING IS WORKING. This is amazing. I feel better than I have in a long time. This pleases me.
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