I am not allowed to make the grilled cheese in our house, due to the unfortunate incident that set off the smoke alarm. But I suspect that Tim uses a lot of butter when he makes it, because it is sooooooo good.

Oooh, I love cauliflower with cheese. Yes.

Dad update: he's on his way home. He's doing the driving because the other guys got more sore and banged up riding horses back to the pack station (none of them are habitual riders) and he had an extra day of rest after his helicopter ride. Even though he lost his progressive glasses (by falling off a log while crossing "fairly deep" water - he almost lost his hat and sunglasses but grabbed them, didn't notice the other glasses were gone until he was back in civilization) but his distance vision is pretty good. Anyway, I'm tracking his phone (which was turned off and left in the car while he was hiking, of course).

And then I realized, the adventurous family member who hikes and climbs stuff and goes off into the wild is, um, me. hahaha facepalm

Haha! I am pretty sure you are correct.

Is that like "if you can't spot the sucker at the poker table"?

Or if you can't tell who the drunkest person at a party is.

I had that MRI this morning to confirm that the nodule on my adrenal gland is just a benign interloper. And, see, I have moderately bad claustrophobia, which makes MRIs a literal ring of hell. (I know there are open MRIs, but they're harder to schedule, and I just wanted this out of the way.)

But the imaging center had headphones for Pandora stations, and the Diana Krall station is immeasurably soothing to me. So that, combined with Ativan and the total refusal to open my eyes, kept me pretty calm until about 10 minutes before we were finished...

...because I suddenly couldn't stop thinking of Deadpool. Stop it, Steph's brain! But then I started laughing, because OF COURSE my brain is going to be a jerk, but by god it's going to go to the superhero well to be a jerk. And then I had to explain to the technician why I was laughing. (I told her I was laughing at the noises the MRI machine makes, because they are ridiculous.)

But seriously. DEADPOOL.

(The technician was NOT named Francis.)

Yay for a benign nodule!

I didn't realize how claustrophobic I was until I had an MRI, and I now can literally give myself a panic attack if I think about having to have another. It would be open MRI or nothing, I think.

I do remember, though, watching MASH as a kid and thinking that if I was the patient lying in that helicopter pod, face-up, I would not be okay.

Also, now I want grilled cheese. Or toasted cheese, but that's harder because I no longer have a toaster oven.

Finally had a job interview last Friday. It must have gone well, as the recruiter called me up today to talk about salary.

The recruiter was someone Gud passed my resume to, so the job is in the Kansas City area. (I've been thinking of leaving Chicago for awhile now.) I'm still looking in the Chicago area, and maybe I'll look in Minneapolis and the SF Bay Area.

Thanks again, Gud.

I'm not claustrophobic at all, so MRIs never bug me. When I was a kid I'd crawl into a sleeping bag head-first and try to turn around while inside so I could come out head-first too. I'd usually get stuck for a bit, but that was part of the fun.

Makeup: recommend an appropriate concealer or BB cream for an about to be 14 year old with age-appropriate acne who doesn't wear makeup regularly and whose mother is clueless about this stuff. Bonus points for not spendy.