Complications…

 

I finished out the haunt season with an antibiotic-resistant sinus infection and pneumonia. 

 

Because—and I really do need to get this on a t-shirt—I can complicate the shit out of anything.

 

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Actual Conversations With Great British Bakers

 

I have a bone to pick with whomever recommended The Great British Baking Show as soothing, low-stakes programming.  So basically, the entire internet.

 

It probably didn’t help that I started my binge during a particularly vicious migraine, being—for once—in no mood for the brooding glances of Colin Sodding Firth, or my beloved Audrey Hepburn’s struggle to find herself and maybe a name for the cat.   Turns out when I’ve got a migraine I need gentle, low-stakes, and familiar.

 

Otherwise I end up on the couch—in full noodle mode from a combination of Percocet and migraine meds—talking to the bakers.  Like they can hear me.

 

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One… Two…

 

I had every intention of being all better by now, but instead I keep waking up with fresh symptoms… and friends who work in health care are nodding and saying helpful things like, “Has the vomiting started yet?” so I’d like to make one last plea to all parents: please keep your children home at all times, preferably in plastic bubbles, so that they don’t go around wiping their noses on the rest of the world.  Until that day, I’ll just keep telling myself that whiskey fudge will totally work better than anything my stupid doctor gives me. 

 

Side note; I think I’ve finally sorted my whiskey fudge recipe.

 

Rory Gilmore "you go, girl"

Intoxicatingly delicious.

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