Letters to Holly

Friday, February 26

Sugar Rush

We had the glucose test this morning. We arrived at 8:30, and she was given a cup of clear, cold liquid. She could pick her choice of flavor, and she chose "flat Sprite." She was concerned about the taste so I had some first. It wasn't bad. The cold overwhelmed the flavor at first, and it quickly took on a lollipop-syrup flavor. I only drank a fourth of what she would have to chug, though. After that, we sat in the waiting room to kill an hour. I had my laptop and worked on my journal comics. This was my first time using the giant laptop outside the house.

They drew her blood, and she weakened. She said giving blood has only been a problem in the last year or so, but there's no suggestion of anemia. After a few minutes, we visited with the doctor. He checked Roo's heartbeat (136) and asked for updates. We didn't have many notes. We made an appointment for March 24, and the doc will do an ultrasound just for My Mom. I took her to Starbucks after, because, really, why shouldn't you follow a packed sugar drink with another? We'll find out Monday if her blood-sugar is OK.

Picture of the Day
The Canadian hockey team took some shit for celebrated by drinking immediately after their gold-medal win. But how happy does these winners look? Gold on home ice? The IOC is lucky they kept their clothes on.

Tuesday, February 23

Cooking With Villainy: Cucumber Raita

Doom's kingdom of Latveria has failed to dominate the Winter Olympics in the soon-to-be-annexed nation of Ca-na-da. Despite the construction of skatebots, skibots, and bilathalonibots, Doom has yet to feel the treasured gold medal in Doom's iron fist. Doom's designs are, of course, impeccable and perfect. Therefore, Doom must conclude a conspiracy is afoot to deprive Latveria of its rightful recognition. As always, the blame lies at the feet of That Accursed Richards.


To salve this shame, Doom repairs to the kitchen, and there shall Doom concoct another success, another testament to Doom's unerring glory. Doom shares this new recipe with you, the unworthy denizens of the planet over which Doom shall soon extend his benevolent reign.

Doom bequeaths to you the Cucumber Raita!

For this exquisite delight, gather you these elements:

  • 1/4 tablespoon sugar
  • 8 ounces plain, low-fat or fat free yogurt
  • 1/2 tablespoon fresh crushed mint
  • 1/4 cup coarsely shredded unpeeled cucumber
  • 1/2 tablespoon minced sweet onion
  • salt and pepper to taste

Doom commands you to combine ingredients and apply to side dishes or preferred protein vehicle. Doom at times entertains the notion of drizzling the raita upon his sirloin and jasmati rice. It soothes the rage inferno ever stoked by the continued existence of That Accursed Richards. Doom indulges upon and is momentarily distracted from his plans of vengeance, but never in his designs of grandeur.

Doom has nothing more to say to the likes of you. Begone!

Monday, February 22

Holding On To Old Stuff

Friday was the lone regular day of school Your Sister had last week, and all is chaos. Meetings with parents, mandatory department sessions, and items to grade and test are piling up. Her week is a junkyard of deadlines. Instead of breezing into the theatre award banquet that night, I took her out to dinner. The banquet was just across the intersection from us, but I had turned down an invite for Valentine's Day (horrible timing) and didn't change the RSVP when the banquet was moved to later in the week. She wanted pizza, she got pizza. She let me have wings, and they were devoured. I joked that my absence would guarantee I would win an award. Ha ha, that's a good one, pass the napkins.

I won an award. I got a call about 9:30 that night from my director liaison who's no longer the liaison, and he informed me I won best supporting actor for the Scrooge play. I credit my translator actor for making the ghost scene work despite the lack of other actors' familiarity with their lines. The sideburns also proved my commitment to the play, and it's possible they threw me a bone to keep me around. The director and I agreed we'll all have dinner together next weekend.

On Saturday, Your Sister taught for five hours while I tried to find a case for a hard drive. I removed my PC's drive (very, very easy) and needed a shell to plug it into and connect to my laptop. Radio Shack, our town's only electronic franchise, closes on weekends. Because no one tinkers on electronics on weekends. That directed me to the shop where I bought this PC four years ago, and he had exactly what I needed. Now I have a 180G back-up drive AND all my files from the PC. I still have my 2000 PC, and I yanked out that drive and drilled through it before throwing it away. It was 3 gigs; I have jump drives bigger than that. I have boxes of needless computer equipment, and I'm offering some of it to the school's newspaper staff. I also was able to finally get my hair cut.

After all that, we drove to the ag center for the annual maternity consignment show. Instead of individual booths and vendors, items were categorized and labeled with prices and scan codes. We bought two Fisher-Price toys we remembered from childhood, although I argued the old phone toy wouldn't work for today's kids as it no longer resembles modern phones. We got a baby sling and a frontways papoose and a sun shade for an outdoor pen. Not much, really. We didn't plan to grab a lot. We just wanted to see what's out there for kids and moms (Dads can go eat bugs.). Maybe in a few years, we'll swoop in and get much more stuff. Oh, the very first item we laid eyes on was a Roo book. We didn't get it; it was a good omen but a weak story.

We attended a teacher party that night, and I indulged in peach moonshine. I woke up Sunday starving and wobbly.

I ran on Sunday, and I am weak. I have to build myself back up. We watched Olympics between bouts of grading or drawing. I might get our medieval comic penciled by the weekend. I am powered by movie DVDs as I toil in the workshop.

Picture of the Day
This is the new bay window on the space station. I don't have to tell you what this resembles.