Word Perv

If only it were that simple. If I could take a Tylenol or aspirin or even something strong and doctor-prescribed. If it were that easy it would be fantastic and I could stop holding my head in my hands while sitting at my desk. But you see, it doesn’t work like that.

I’m 9 days into a headache. Yes, that’s correct, 9 days of a headache. It ebbs and flows and for a few blissful hours every day I (usually) find myself pain free, but for the most part, it’s there, baring down on my temples like a white-hot knife.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened. Eight years ago, when I was 22, I had a headache that lasted 8 months. 8 fucking months. I went to a doctor and then a neurologist. I tried every migraine medicine on the market, only these aren’t migraines so the drugs were ineffective. I cut all the good stuff out of my diet - alcohol, dairy, chocolate, refined sugar. I got a cat-scan or an MRI (I don’t know what the difference is) and when the results came back normal my doctor informed me it wasn’t a tumor or anything of the like. I, of course, replied, “It’s not a tumor!” in my best Arnold impression. My doctor was not amused. I most certainly was.

And then the headaches stopped. Just went away one day and never returned, except when I was under intense stress, but that was usually coupled with lack of eating so the headaches made sense then. Right now, there is nothing to tie them to - I’m not stressed, I’m eating healthy and exercising daily, I’m in a great relationship with a great man and the baby doves somehow survived my dog’s murderous jaws. So why exactly am I battling these intense, daily headaches again? I don’t know, but I’ve got an appointment with a neurologist who is part of a Headache Center so I have high hopes they’ll be able to tell me what’s wrong. Or that they can at least assure me it’s not a tumor and I can once again to my Arnold impression. Really people, it’s the little things that get me through the day.

Now, now, pull your dirty little mind out of the dirty little gutter. This post does not include pictures of yours truly wearing only an apron. Perverts.

Admittedly though, when I googled aprons - yes, I actually did this - I found this one and fell in love with both the full and half styles. I realize what a huge dork this makes me. I’m okay with it.

While I no doubt would look hot in an apron, I actually don’t own one. Given the amount of cooking and baking I do, I really need to get one though. Sometimes however, my culinary endeavors don’t always work out.

Last weekend I tried a new recipe, Hungry Girl’s Peanut Butter Oatmeal Softies. I found and purchased the ingredients, including something called Better ‘n Peanut Butter that I was incredibly leery of until I opened it and tried it. I was surprised at how good it tasted - just like peanut butter only with far less calories and fat. I added the rest of the ingredients and stuck my finger in the batter - it tasted great! With the oven heated to temperature I slid the first batch in, waited the appropriate time and once they were baked and cooled, I took a bite.

It was terrible. Bland, with no peanut butter sweetness and a weird spongy texture.

The next day when David came over before our 12-mile run I told him to try a cookie. “They’re disgusting though,” I warned.

He laughed and asked before taking a bite, “Then why would I want to eat one?” The look on his face said it all: he too thought they were nasty. “I don’t think I can even finish it,” he said apologetically as he tossed it into the trash.

Later Nick would come over and I would subject him to the same thing. “Are you sure you followed the recipe? You didn’t leave anything out?” he asked kindly, not wanting to say what he clearly was thinking: baby, these cookies suck!

I took some to work and subjected a couple of coworkers to them - don’t worry, I warned them fully of the nastiness they were about to undertake. Tabitha took one bite, wrinkled her nose, and tossed it into the garbage. Tyler however took a more refined approach and declared, “While the cookies was indeed a bit bland, sticky and tasted as if it had recently exited a squirrel, it was still a cookie, and by definition, was good. Beauty is plain without ugly, and this cookie has made the last taste that much better!”

While these cookies are clearly on the NEVER TO MAKE AGAIN list, I know other baked treats I’ve made are favorites. My absolute favorite are the delicate Madeline cookies I make - buttery, sugary delicious goodness. I’ve promised some to Kristin and have since forgotten to bring them to her on two occasions. Apparently she’s had enough of this as she sent me an email that simply said: “Give me my damn Madelines!!!”

And Monday  night I had a delicious dinner of Pineapple Salsa Chicken, which is so easy I made it up that morning! Throw chicken breast in a crock pot, dump in some Pineapple Salsa (I got mine at Trader Joe’s and used about a half a jar), throw in a can of cut pineapple, including the juice, and add about 1/4 cup water. Let it cook on low for 8 hours, or on high for 4 hours. Serve with rice or whatever side you prefer. Easy and delicious! (Oh yeah, and healthy too!)

So while one new recipe was a complete and utter failure, the newly concocted chicken recipe was a success. Now I think it’s time to purchase a cute little apron…

Here are the latest and greatest. Enjoy.

Admittedly, Nick is the inspiration of the next two. <insert dopey, swooning girl grin>

This one is obviously referring to my skydiving experience. I still cannot believe I did it!

This first batch of baby doves have been hidden, as Mama and Papa have not left the babies alone for me to snap pictures. Then Saturday I snapped this picture of Rune and Ammon, the dove twins:

Look at how big they are! Gone are the fuzzy down feathers and in their place are real, adult, I’m-gonna-jump-outta-this-nest-soon feathers. After I took this picture I walked away from the window and when I returned a moment later Mama had joined the babies. A second later Papa joined them and I threw open the window as quickly and as gently as I could, eager to capture this rare family portrait. Unfortunately I wasn’t quick or gentle enough for Papa got spooked and flew away, and Mama and the babies froze, not moving or blinking in fear of me and my camera. I sighed and closed the windows, leaving the birds to their usual routine.

I think this is the last picture I’ll snap of these two, as they’re nearly grown. Of course I fully expect Mama and Papa to move to the other window box for their next set of babies, just as they did last summer. I’ll be on the lookout for the newest editions!

***

Note: I took the picture and wrote this post on Saturday. Monday morning the babies are no where to be found, so it would appear they have in fact flown away!

On Thursday I took Daisy to her first day of doggie daycare. Yes, that’s right, doggie daycare. Now before you think I’ve turned into a  complete yuppie, please know she’s only going once a week and I’ve got a very good reason for taking her. I’m doing this on Thursdays because that is the night I head out to run with my hash (my drinking, err… running club). I plan on taking her every Thursday for a day of fun, play and interaction with other dogs.

On Thursdays I usually get home from the office around 5pm. Daisy and I go out for a walk (a mile or two, depending on the weather) and then I feed her. She usually then romps around the backyard, happily smelling the grass and waiting patiently for a baby dove to fall from sky. But I only get about an hour to an hour and a half at home before I’m heading out to hop the metro and catch up with friends for a few miles of running and a few rounds of beers.  Which means my dog spends the entire day and night home alone.

I did have a dog walker coming over Thursday evenings to take Daisy out for a walk but I wasn’t overly impressed with the service I was getting. So I searched and found Woofs!, a doggie daycare and boarding facility conveniently close to my office. After checking out the place last week and getting Daisy through their evaluation process I decided I would give it a whirl and so Thursday morning on the way into the office, I dropped Daisy off for her first day of doggie daycare.

Walking in I took off her leash as she was ushered into the play area. “It’s her first day,” I explained to the young girl behind the desk. “I’ll probably call around noon to see how she’s doing. You know, nervous mom moment.”

She laughed, “That’s fine. We’ll take good care of her.”

Later that day I called the facility and a cheerful man answered the phone. “This is Courtney, Daisy’s mom. It’s her first day, I was just calling to see how she’s doing…”

“Daisy, the cute little beagle?” he asked and when I murmured a “mmm-hmm” in response he said, “One moment, let me check.” A minute later he was back on the phone, “She’s doing great. She spent all morning playing with the smaller dogs and now she’s laying down. She’s not sleeping, she just resting a bit.”

Happy and satisfied my dog was having a good day and was adjusting wonderfully to her new Thursday routine, I hung up the phone and went back to work. I realize she’s spoiled by this treatment, but I don’t care. She is a wonderful companion and she melts my heart. Who wouldn’t do the same for the dog they love?