It’s frustrating right now, because I need to save money to buy oil. This means NOT spending money on a couch or an entertainment center or a sander to get the floors pretty or art to hang on my walls. I think Nate thinks I’m being lazy because I’m not working around the house.

My arm is still nearly constantly hurting. The neurologist I saw a couple months ago prescribed Elavil, which I did not start taking right away. However, after taking it for a month, I called him and asked him for something else. It didn’t help with the pain at all, but more than that, I’ve been so sleepy all the time, completely unable to concentrate, and just feel fuzzy in my brain. Instead of switching me to something else, like he said was the plan (try it, if I don’t like it, we’ll try another one), he said, “Follow up with your primary care doctor.”

I’m beginning to think that no one wants to help me with this, they’d rather just turf me to someone else.

Just to round out my complaints, I’ve had a headache ever since I stopped the amitriptyline, which a cursory Googling shows to be mainly coincidental, but annoying nonetheless.

More than anything, I want to get better at keeping this up to date. I’ve been lazy about writing. I’ve been lazy about a lot of things. I’ve gained almost all my weight back (I was at a high of 235, then I got down to 186, then back up to 213). Nate bought the Balance Board to go with the Wii, and I’ve lost 3 pounds again … we’ll just cross our fingers I can keep it up. Down. Off. Whatever. But if I keep insisting that I’m going to write, maybe I’ll do some interesting things worth writing about? We’ll see.

I love this man.

Nate and I went to Portland to hang out with his friends this weekend. It was awesome, as usual. Friday was drinks at Novare Res (for everyone else, of course. I might have tried the raspberry mead I hear was on tap a week earlier, but otherwise I don’t care for beer).

Saturday was breakfast at BreaLu, then loaf around the house until it was time to go back to Novare Res. I got myself a black cherry soda, and we played Lunch Money. Right as it was time to leave, there was a torrential downpour, and we got back to Rory’s totally soaked. I’m glad we had more clothes to wear, but I wish that either I hadn’t been wearing my converses or I’d grabbed my sandals out of my backseat when I realized we were taking Nate’s car down to Portland. I had wet shoes for the rest of the day :(

For dinner last night we went to Gauchos, which was incredible. I might be a vegetarian now, though. I seriously was doing okay until the sword-o-chicken-hearts came by, and I realized that one chicken had to die for each of those bite-sized morsels and then I remembered the piles of meat I had just eaten and I lost my appetite. I didn’t want to even see meat anymore, but we had to wait until everyone was done to leave and ughhhh. A combination of feeling sick and overstuffing my gullet led to my going to bed early (or rather, passing out on Rory’s couch while everyone played Wii next door), but at least I felt better afterwards.

This morning we had breakfast at Bayou, then headed back up to Bangor, but not without stopping at Fort Williams Park. We climbed on all the kinds of rocks I was never allowed to climb on as a kid, found pretty snails, and teased the seagulls with empty crab legs. I’m glad my shoes had dried out :P

Anyway, enjoy the pictures. I carried my camera with me all weekend, but got self-conscious about it and didn’t take any pictures until it was just me and Nate, and it was almost all over. Next time I’ll do better.

I’m salivating just remembering it.

I’m wicked full right now. Ohh, honey crisp chicken salad, you tempt me so. Damn you. Also you give me heartburn.

I’m also wicked excited about the possibility of Best Vacation Ever happening in May, but I must cross my fingers that my time off request is approved.

I’m wicked jealous of Nate’s new computer. It’s shiny and new. And fast. And sexy. Basically, all of the things mine is not.

I’m wicked excited about my birthday next week. Seriously. I love birthdays. I always feel awkward when people give me things, but I love having another reason to go out and have fun with people.

And finally, I remembered tonight how wicked spoiled I am. You have no idea.

My lips are so sore. It started out that they were just chapped, but I think I must have been chewing on them in my sleep or nervousness or something, because they’re all raw. And then I ate sour strawberries, which I think had more acid than I really should have been putting on them. Yeah. At least this time I only burned my lips instead of getting a wicked stomachache. I think I ate too much of the white the other day.

I feel unsettled about something, but I don’t know what yet. Something is coming up and it’s not going to be good. Something in the next couple weeks. Ugh. So frustrating.

But that reminds me, I found a really neat woo woo shop online. Some of the pendulums are really pretty.

Now my stomach hurts and I am angry.

As I walked into the grocery store, I got smacked by a wave of delicious strawberry smell, so I ended up buying a package of those. Well, if I have strawberries, I’ll need to get some sour cream. Ooh! Baked potato! So I pick up a potato. Then on the way to the battery aisle, I walked past the Easter candy and there was a bag of raspberry (read: pink) 3 Musketeers. They’re so pretty. And also probably delicious. Then on the way to get the sour cream, there was a bargain bin of baked beans, so I got a can of those. So tonight I am eating baked potato, baked beans, and strawberries. It will be delicious and I really should go get it started so that I can eat it.

While intriguing (especially now that it’s six o’clock and I’m starving), the opportunity for embarrassment far outweighs the opportunity for a free meal. And besides, I don’t think I could keep a straight face.

Rotisserie’d turkey
My grandfather’s Deluxe Rolls
Mashed potatoes
Sweet potatoes
Brussels Sprouts
Snow peas
Key Lime Pie
Boston Cream Pie

I got up early to get the rolls started. I made the dough, put it in a greased bowl and put the bowl in front of the heater. It was supposed to double in 2 hours. Over the next two hours I made both pies and finished cleaning up the living room/bathroom. Well, as much as I could until the vacuum cleaner died.

I started to put the turkey in the rotisserie and found out that I was missing a part. Okay, new plan. I don’t have a turkey-roasting rack, but I do have a cage from the rotisserie that I think you’re supposed to use for kabobs or something. I stuffed the cage full of carrots, put the turkey on the cage, and preheated the oven to 500. I put the turkey in the oven, waited five minutes for the smoke to come billowing out, then put a fan in the window and carried on. After 30 minutes, I was supposed to take the turkey out, put aluminum foil over the breast, and reduce the heat to 350. I got all of that done PLUS got a nice fat 2nd degree burn on my hand right on my mound of Venus (totally SFW — I’m not talking about the one in my crotch). I’m just wicked talented like that.

After all that, I checked on my rolls. Erh … there is no rising happening. So no rolls. I call my parents and ask them to pick some up on their way over. “No problem,” they say. “Everyone has something go wrong, and having the dough not rise is bound to be the worst of your problems.” I figured I’d tell them about the burn on my hand as a lighthearted story over dinner.

On to the potatoes! I peel both sets of potatoes, chop them up, and put them in water. I set them on the stove, ready for cooking in a little while. I worked on dinner’s playlist for a while, trying to meld my father’s taste with whatever wouldn’t drive the rest of us crazy over two hours.

My parents arrive around this time, and I take their arrival as a sign that I can hop in the shower for a couple minutes because I felt pretty skanky. When I came out again, I checked on the turkey. Half an hour of 500 degrees made it beautifully golden brown, but the thermometer barely registered anything at all, plus the oven thermometer I’d stuck in there read about 175. I pulled my mom over (quietly, trying not to get my dad’s attention), and she suggested we bring the heat up to 450 or so. Maybe my thermostat was broken. Then we tried to start the potatoes and none of the burners worked. I was out of propane.

They took me (and the friends I’d invited, who walked in the door just as I was crying about my failed dinner) out to lunch, but I am feeling awful. I wanted so badly to entertain people for a real meal. I do know how to cook, I promise. But shit like this happens and I never want to cook again.

PS, I haven’t tried the key lime pie yet, but the Boston Cream came out pretty good. I mean, it’s Boston Cream. It’s pretty tough to screw that up.