Oh, bt, you have so much more smarts than the Lokes. By a trillion. I love this cat dearly and he amuses me to no end, but smart he is not. Accidentally clever at times, but smart? No.

Pumpkin and Devi, otoh, do scare me with their deliberate clever. Wiley. Churning cogs.

I am so far behind on the catching up. Except to say, ita, sorry for your shitty ass experience. sara, sorry your market was grits free.

Jesse, yay! yoga.

Now I should really get cracking on the cooking. I am intrigued by cooking once a month, but sort of do that anyway -- at least, I occasionally make things that go in the freezer, often cook something on the weekend to eat several times during the week, and half-ass the rest of the time.

I half-ass our cooking once a month thing. Today was cooking day in our household and I made: chicken stuffed with pesto butter, beef stew, pork and green chile, which I tossed already and ruined a pan in its creation, cranberry chicken, beef chimichangas, pecan chicken with a honey whiskey cream sauce, sausage and green chile bake, pasta papa for breakfast, buttermilk and herb chicken and two more meals, but I can't remember what they are. It's good for us and less stress than cooking real meals each day.

Kat, I so badly wanted Helen back.

I'm panicking about what next, BTW. Once I get into the ER, I am out of phone range. My first meeting is at 8. I can't reasonably, even now, get in and out by then (I'm trying to gamble for getting a different doctor) and be cogent enough for that meeting.

My manager is out, which means informing my boss. Who is going to pitch an unholy fit, not least of all over today, and some of the decisions I made. I worked 5 or 6 hours today, some of them near midnight. I stopped when it hurt too much, and sometimes I just can't. But no boss wants to hear that of their employees, and no employee wants to tell that to their boss (or, well, I don't).

So I'm having to calm myself down from mild panic attacks to boot.

Oh god, ita. If you can't work, you can't work. Really.

Honey, you will be medically unavailable. Fuck, you should have been all weekend. If you got run down by a bus they would just have to FUCKING DEAL. This is like. I know you don't want it to be, but it is. YOU GOT HIT BY A FUCKING BUS. It might have been driven by fucking stupid docs, but that's what it is. Not your fault. If there is no redundancy at work, well, that's your bosses' faults.

I know how much pride you take in your work. I know you're fighting a battle between your health and your pride. But you got hit by a bus called bad drs and migraine. Heal first.

Wow, they are promoting the shit out of Nashville. Ordinarily, I would think that meant that it was awful, but Connie Britton can't be in something awful!

Oh, lord, football, I can't watch.

Connie Britton can't be in something awful!

Tim Goodman was really pushing it on Twitter yesterday. And the production team looks pretty good, too.

Plus, bonus Eric Close! (I've always liked him.)

We won! We won! 1 and 4, baby!

Whew, breathing again.

That sucks extra hard that you have so much work stress on top of the uncooperative doctors and pain, ita. I'm sorry.