February 9th, 2008
|01:36 pm - this is the most strength I've been able to muster in days so I might as well use it|
Day 6. Still not
teh prettiest king.
The week slammed me hard. Cat goes missing, shake-up at work means major internal changes (but no loss of job, thankfully, knock on wood) and the stress created by all this caused my immune system to say "screw this for a game of soldiers" and up and run to Tahiti which in turn causes the viral whatsits to then go "C'MON IN, BOYS, THE COAST IS CLEAR" and knock me flat on my ass.
This, by the way, is an actual diagnosis in actual medical terms and I should know because I saw it once on an episode of House. It was the one where there was this guy, see, and he was sick, and neither House nor his team of filthy assistants knew what to do about it, and House spends most of the episode annoying Cuddy and berating one or all of his filthy assistants (in sequence even) but they don't get anywhere near to saving the guy's life until near the end of the episode when House goes over to pester Wilson, and Wilson says something like "As much as I'd like to continue this amazingly poignant philosophical conversation, House, I've got one of those, you know, whatsits to attend..." which causes House to perk up like a cocker spaniel who just heard a Snausage drop to the floor five rooms away, and he hobbles in to the patient's room and goes "Check for viral whatsits!!" just in time and they check and what do you know, the guy's got viral whatsits all over him, and hooray the day is saved, here, House, have a Vicodin treat. Nom nom nom.
So I've got viral whatsits all over me and I've gotten to the point where Theraflu doesn't actually taste like ass anymore, and that's pretty much because the dextromethorphan in it KILLS YOUR TASTE BUDS DEAD but boy howdy my sinus passages are now amazingly free from blockage and I see all sorts of pretty things when I shut my eyes. Thursday was one of those days where everybody I met at the office said "Good lord, you [look|sound] like hell, go home" so I did. Turns out my voice ran off with the immune system to Tahiti, and neither of those rotten bastards has yet to send a postcard, the ungrateful wretches. After all I've done for them! All those antioxidants! Friday I don't remember much of except that I discovered the oatmeal-in-a-cup that I had purchased on Thursday with the express intent of eating it while at work, only I left too soon to go on break and eat it so I brought it home with me but that meant I could now eat it on Friday, and that pretty much was the Highlight Of The Day. Gold star. Today I haven't done much but I did watch some stop-motion Lego animations set to Eddie Izzard routines, so I can't honestly write the day off as a total loss.
Still no sign of Mr. The Cat, though there have been a lot of people helping the search while I'm stuck face-down in the bed with an arm dangling off and muttering something about goddamned bat country, and I really appreciate the rallying that you all have done 'round the fuzzball flag. Thank you very much. I'm continually telling myself the cat is fine and that he hasn't disappeared off the face of the earth; he's somewhere and now all that remains is to figure out where that where is. It's simple philosophies like these that keep a man going sometimes. ratatosk has taken up coordination of the search-and-recovery efforts so if you want to know the latest plans, he's the guy to go to. I think the next step involves moving the litterbox and maybe using some kind of cat pheromone, I don't know, to get him to go "Oh! Yeah! There's the house I want!" without, well, making the other neighborhood cats go "Oh! Yeah! There's the house we want!" I only want one cat back; I don't need a whole basketball team.
Okay. I think I'm losing it again. Time to toddle back upstairs and make friends with Pillow and the Blankets. I sort of gleaned from the comments in the last entry that the lost cat word files were comin out kinda weird, so ratatosk has created another one in Adobe Acrobat format which may prove easier to print out and distribute. I am grateful for the efforts underway especially in Memphis, Tennessee, for I know that one of Abbie's greatest dreams was to one day visit Graceland and with this newfound exploratory freedom he may have done so, especially if it meant hoppin' freight trains across the Alleghenies and down into Delta country (n.b. Abbie, do not eat any of the Peabody Hotel ducks.)
See you on the other side of a nap.
You may not have the strength to make this, but somebody there does, I'm sure:
Quantities can vary by quite a bit; you can add as many fucking vegetables as you want, but I wouldn't go for less than suggested.
1 can chicken stock + 1 can water (Folks suggest the low-sodium variety)
1-2 cans white meat chicken (1 big can or 2 small cans)
2 carrots, diced
3 stalks celery, diced (This, according to a food writer I knew, is the magic thing that cures you)
2 green onions, chopped
1lb bag pasta shells or bowties
Good pinch of thyme (like a half teaspoon)
Even better pinch of Black pepper (like a teaspoon)
Tabasco (a teaspoon, or more if you like it hot)
Worchestershire (two shakes from the bottle)
NO SALT--everything pulled out of cans and bottles will be loaded with it, there's no reason to even think about adding extra.
Cook everything but the pasta for a half hour on the stove over medium heat until the carrots and celery aren't crunchy. Taste, adjust seasoning. Add pasta and cook for another 10-12 minutes. Add more water during cooking if you haven't covered the shells or bowties enough. Eat. Marvel at your newfound strength.
P.S. As a precaution, I'll check Graceland immediately.
|Date:||February 9th, 2008 08:04 pm (UTC)|| |
my comfort food involves most of this (except the spices), but with evaporated milk and patis (fish sauce). It's called sopas
. Whenever it rains I always feel obligated to make it.
|Date:||February 9th, 2008 10:10 pm (UTC)|| |
For the record, a Pinch is a technical term. (no, really. it is 1/16th of a teaspoon. A Smidge is also a real measurement, at 1/32nd as is a dash at 1/8th teaspoon).
You pinch quite unlike a human-sized cwab.
|Date:||February 10th, 2008 07:03 am (UTC)|| |
My mom has a "just a pinch" measuring spoon that I always want to steal because it's so small and cute.
|Date:||February 9th, 2008 07:51 pm (UTC)|| |
what a shitty week you've had. (a lot of people seem to have had them. i include myself here.)
sending healing and cat-finding thoughts. if cora (see icon) had a brain larger than an unshelled walnut, she would second the second.
You can be prettiest next next week, it's your turn.
I'm sorry I'm not closer to be more help, but I know you've got an army of friends to rally round.
|Date:||February 9th, 2008 08:06 pm (UTC)|| |
oh the poor kitty :(
LOL almost all episodes of House are like that. I haven't seen House in forever though. and enjoy your nap plz.
|Date:||February 9th, 2008 08:45 pm (UTC)|| |
Hey, I think I've seen that episode.
Seriously hope that you don't almost die as many times as one of House's patients.
I posted a link to lost-cat info on my other blog
. I know for sure a few people have clicked on that link, including someone from Seattle and someone from Qatar. So if he's hitched a ride to one of those places, you're covered.
I hope he brings some chicken soup with him when he comes back! Sounds like you need it.
A friend of mine with a very large flist (and no overlap with yours, except mine) has posted links to your Craigslist Abbie post at my request, asking her Boston friends to look for him.
I wish there was more I could do from over here.
|Date:||February 10th, 2008 11:36 am (UTC)|| |
Sorry to read about your about your cat. I found your blog while trying to find any reports of a missing orange cat that's been hanging around outside our apartment building near the South End. Our cat went missing back in June and we found her a week later. We posted about 800 flyers on car windows in the area which turned out to be the key to getting her back. Good luck.
|Date:||February 10th, 2008 12:21 pm (UTC)|| |
Well, I've put in some effort in the search for Mr. T. Cat. I can safely say he's nowhere near Hattiesburg, Mississippi.
I can print out some signs, though, if you wish.
Sorry we didn't find him on Friday, that would have been a much better way to end the week. But I have to say it was fun to track paw prints in the snow. The quest and the news-spreading continues.
In other news, I was showing someone Abbie's blog while passing on the alert to Keep an Eye Out, and I saw a very old post about how food is no good when you can see the bottom of the bowl. I never knew, is that a Maine Coon trait as well? If these two are in cahoots and Siena is hiding him somewhere, she will get a firm scolding, I promise.