I've been at my desk for the past 2 hours with my to-do list at my side, and I cannot find the motivation to actually do anything on the list. I'm a desk potato. bah.

This past week or so, I've:

~ forgotten to take T to a class I'd signed him up for.

~ forgotten to RSVP to a Halloween party, again for T.
(yes, I am the world's worst mother EVer.)

~ tried to break my melatonin habit by going cold turkey.

~ realized after an entire night without sleep that it might be better to ease myself off it.

~ followed up that sleepless night with a full week of bad, bad, very bad sleep.

~ decided to go ahead and torture myself some more and sign up for Nanowrimo.

~ developed yet another laundry-related compulsion.

On the good side:

~ T is now in his class and is loving it. It's an Inventions class at the Science Center, and he's totally into making robots that move out of paperclips, old CDs, and wires.

~ All of us are relatively healthy (knock on wood, knock on wood).

~ I've discovered podcasts (have I mentioned this already?) and can now listen to PRI's Selected Shorts while I walk around the neighborhood. Which I've done like twice.

~ I've been tweaking a handful of poems and trying to write at least a poem a day. And I likes it.

~ I received word that my poem "Kitchen, circa 1976" will be reprinted in Tar River Poetry's thirtieth anniversary issue.

~ I've been contacted by someone requesting to use my writing in a class. (which has always been a dream of mine.) :)

~ The CVS lady complimented me on my "fabulous" shopping trip yesterday, when I stocked up on Halloween candy (9 bags), two boxes of cough syrup and a jumbo pack of Nyquil for winter, and lots of other stuff for around $3 (if you figure in the "bucks" they give you for future trips).

~ We went to the Science Center for Wicked Works, where T carved a cool pumpkin and we got to see the Queen City Ballet--decked out in dead ballerina attire--perform Thriller. Which was awesome.


And here, for you, in honor of SP's birthday, a poem.

I tend to complain a lot about where I live.

I complain about the lack of certain restaurants (no Indian food, no Korean). I complain about the crazy weather. I complain about how the people can be distant and clique-y. I complain about how no matter how much time and energy I put into researching what type of flowers deer won't eat, no sooner do I put the plants in the ground than a fawn comes along and chomps the thing down to a stub.

But for the most part, I really do love it here. I just need a little reminder once in a while about *why* I love it here.

I got one yesterday.

While running errands, I had the car radio on because this is my new horrible habit: to listen to talk show hosts I completely loathe as I drive around town yelling at the radio. I don't quite understand why I do this. I think I forgot to bring my ipod one day and the only CD I had in my car had Joe Dolce singing "Shaddap You Face" on it. A lot. So the radio went on and here I am.

The commercials on AM radio are ghastly things. And with Election Day drawing near, a good many of them are political. I pretty much tune these things out because another thing I like to complain about regarding where I live is the poor quality of local commercials. Seriously, they're horrible.

Anyways, an ad from Ed Tinsley came on the air. He's running for County Commissioner and I'd decided long ago that I'd vote for him because he's a good guy, always friendly, and his kids are cool. And oh yeah, from a political standpoint, he's my guy too.

I can't recall the exact wording of the ad, but he pretty much said, "If you've been listening to this station, you've probably heard a lot of bad stuff about me." He went on for a bit, and then suggested that if any listener had concerns about any of his policies, they could call him at home. And he gave out his home phone number.

Does this happen anywhere else? 'Cause I'm thinking not. And Helena, you are now forgiven for my deer-resistant-my-ass daffodils.

Over the past month or two, I've developed a habit of signing up for free samples of stuff online. It's part of my whole wereallyneedtosticktothebudgetandthistimeImeanit! frugality hitch. I've also been clipping coupons like a crazy person, and God help me, I've even set up a binder system with little dividers for different categories of coupons. It's very pretty. You should see it.

And the good thing is that we really have trimmed our budget down considerably. If I'm honest, though, I know it's not so much a result of my hour-long scissors-on-Sunday routine with the newspaper ~ it's just the fact that I'm actually paying attention (and a LOT of it) to what we buy and what we eat.

But the sample thing. It has to stop.

I'm convinced all those forms are the reason my computer is sludgy and trudgy these days, and I'm disgusted by the amount of packaging involved in sending out one freaking granola bar or three little tampons.

And when the packaging isn't overdone, as with my sample of Yogi tea that arrived this morning, well, something else usually goes wrong, like I get curious about what Mexican Sweet Chile tea *smells* like and I hold the teabag up to my nose and inhale deeply and experience a burning sensation in my left nostril the likes of which you cannot begin to imagine. And even though my eyes are watering and my sinuses feel as if they'll never recover, I still steep the tea and drink the tea because I have asked the good people of Yogi to share this tea with me and they have held up their end of the deal. And so now I'm sitting here, feeling queasy, feeling as if there is a small country armed with flamethrowers at war in my stomach, and I am telling you I am *done* with sending out for free samples. Remind me of this if I ever start to ramble about free Starkist tuna or Tide detergent, k? thankyou.
~ ~
othernews: I wrote a poem! I wrote a poem! It's dreadful, but I don't care because I wrote a poem! I wrote a poem!

I tried writing yesterday, have tried again today. It's like trying to haul bodies out of a completely empty, well-swept basement.

It feels very different from times in the past when I've been blocked and/or returned to writing after a necessary absence.

I have my suspected culprits, but for now will keep an eye on them with my innocent-until-proven-guilty glasses.

~~
This past Friday, I had a dream that has been lingering with me since then. It's settled itself into my bones.

In the dream, my dream-mother regarded me sadly and told me--calmly, reasonably--"You're not beautiful." And the way she said it, I knew it was true. There was a feeble attempt on my part to argue that maybe I was beautiful on the inside, but that too was denied.

And of course because of my current addiction to Twin Peaks, there was a blood-red curtain behind her while she said all of this and her words came out weird.

Like I said, this has stayed with me. So when I noticed an email in my spam box this morning with a subject line that said, "You are beautiful, because we care," I naturally had to click on it. I may have been rejected by my dream-mother, but someone in the spamaverse still cared about me, dammit.

And did I find it just a little bit delightful that the hollow insides of this email only had links to some spammy place in spamville, but that the fake sender of this email, down at the bottom, the sender I was expected to believe had drafted this uplifting affirmation and targeted it directly to me, was none other than those loving, caring souls at FOX News Network? Well yes, I did find it delightful.

Ah, Mr. O'Reilly, the next time you whip yourself up into a petulant frenzy, I'll know that behind the tantrummy rage and bluster, you care about me. You really care.

My weekend delights: a get-together with good friends and the return of the Fuji Apple to grocery store bins.

I had begun to worry that the Fujis were gone forever, and had even googled "Where are the Fujis?" to determine if there had been some sort of mass contamination/extinction. But now the Fujis are back. And the remaining blah Galas in my kitchen will be (if we're lucky) made into pies. And all is well with my apple world.
~ ~
Late this summer, I rearranged my office in an attempt to a) be better organized; and b) create an environment more conducive to writing. The room has two smallish desks in it and I moved them so that one faced the monster-sized bulletin board on one side of the room, and the other faced a simpler view of three framed Alice in Wonderland prints I bought on etsy.

The plan was to take care of my "busy work" (paying the bills, balancing the checkbook, signing school forms, etc.) at the desk near the bulletin board, and to write write WRITE, dammit! at the desk near the Alice prints.

I like my bulletin board. It's a wicked mess of phone numbers, postcards, the boys' artwork, reminders for events that happened two years ago, a recycling calendar, a slew of old submission records, a Pearls Before Swine comic, business cards, and photographs. . .but I like it. But I also suspected that the reason I wasn't writing had something to do with the jumble of weird, distracting shapes just behind my laptop screen. It made my mind hurt.

I thought that by separating the "business" area from the "creativity" area, and moving my laptop from one desk to the other, I'd be more likely to write. Instead, I've discovered that the bills and school papers never stop coming and I am a very lazy person and the idea of unplugging my laptop and carrying it the three steps to the other desk is off-putting and intimidating.

And so the writing desk always looks lonely and bare. Which right now seems kind of appropriate.

The stating of the obvious: I haven't been here for a while. A long while.

And it's not as if I've been off doing anything interesting. I've just been out of it. Not me-ish. I'm not sure what's going on with me, and the not knowing is starting to feel less okay.

But at the same time, I feel good. It's weird.

What's been happening here:

~ B and I are attempting to teach K to drive and we now have permanent fingernail-shaped crescents embedded on the insides of our car door.

~ I have become a writing mentor once a week to the coolest seventh grade girl in all of Helena.

~ I camped in a tent for the first (and probably the last) time in my adult life.

~ I turned 39 (ouch) and celebrated my 17th anniversary, though not necessarily in that order.

~ I've become a certified political news junkie and have developed a twitch whenever I hear the S-word.

~ I'm convinced I have pre-diabetes and am trying to wean myself away from my former diet of sugar, white bread, and more sugar.

~ I am in the middle of finally watching Twin Peaks. This is causing me to dream of diaries and owls and huckleberry pie with a damn fine cup of coffee (although it's possible my sugar cravings are responsible for that pie).


~ I have read a grand total of ONE book all year (I think) long. And this more than anything might be what has my teeth grinding at night.

Also, I owe many many emails/phone calls/letters to many many people.

I have learned this about myself: if I don't respond to an email right away, there is pretty much zero chance that I will remember that email exists the next day (or, honestly, the next hour). Oh, I take that back. I might remember it late at night, while Laura Palmer's high school portrait has little names flashing across it and it takes all my strength and will to push the little button on the clicker to make it stop. In any case, to those who find me horribly rude for my lack of correspondence: You're right. And I'm sorry.

I *know* that I'm the one who chose to live in Montana. Nobody forced me, nobody twisted my arm. 'Twas I and I alone (well, technically, after many conversations with the husband and all, but whatever).

I *know* that come July, I will be melting and grumbling about the crazy heat and bemoaning our lack of AC.

I *know* that cooler temps and loads of moisture now equals lower risk of BIGFIRE later on.

I *know* that, as we've been told by many longtime Helenans, if you live in Montana long enough, sooner or later you're going to see midsummer snow.

But still. STILL. . .



I mean, come on already.

It wasn't just snowing this morning. It was raining, thundering, hailing, AND snowing. With HOWLING wind thrown in.

And more of the same is expected tomorrow. Two feet of snow in the mountains.

And the boys are home for summer. And we want OUT!!!

Each time I fill up my car, I drive around convinced that *this* time, if I do everything just right and apply just the right amount of pressure to the pedal in just the right place with just the right part of my foot (tippy tippy toe), the little needle measuring how much gas is left won't ever dip lower. Because maintaining a full tank is a state of mind, after all.

As an extra support, I scrape/grind my bottom teeth against my top teeth. Because this helps.

Did I whoop out loud when I came to the second slot? Yes, I did. And I only felt a little stupid.

. . . . . . . . . .

Swiped from Daniela:

Empire Magazine has revealed its list of the "50 Greatest TV Shows" ever. Below is the list and here be the rules.

1. Italicize the shows of which you've watched every episode
2. Bold the shows of which you've seen at least one episode
2a. Star the shows you consider "top 50"
3. Post your answers

.................................

50. Quantum Leap
49. Prison Break
48. Veronica Mars
47. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
46. Sex & The City*

45. Farscape
44. Cracker
43. Star Trek
42. Only Fools and Horses
41. Band of Brothers

40. Life on Mars
39. Monty Python's Flying Circus*
38. Curb Your Enthusiasm*
37. Star Trek: The Next Generation
36. Father Ted

35. Alias
34. Frasier
33. CSI: Las Vegas
32. Babylon 5
31. Deadwood

30. Dexter
29. ER
28. Fawlty Towers
27. Six Feet Under
26. Red Dwarf

25. Futurama
24. Twin Peaks
23. The Office UK*
22. The Shield
21. Angel

20. Blackadder*
19. Scrubs*
18. Arrested Development
17. South Park
16. Doctor Who

15. Heroes
14. Firefly
13. Battlestar Galactica
12. Family Guy
11. Seinfeld*

10. Spaced
09. The X-Files*
08. The Wire
07. Friends
06. 24

05. Lost*
04. The West Wing
03. The Sopranos*
02. Buffy the Vampire Slayer*
01. The Simpsons*

After yesterday's big vent-y RANT, I'm feeling the urge to refocus on the positives. With that in mind. . .

Check out the latest issue of Prick of the Spindle. Loads of yummy poetry (I fell in love with the tiny "It's Because They Like the Same Books" by Kristen Sund), and a familiarish name in the fiction section. But what really has me wayyyyy over the moon: look, ma, a REVIEW, an actual review!! I'm a-basking and a-beaming.

Check out, too: the newest release from Rubicon Press, Small Confessions & Pebbles of Regret, from the marvelous michi and the stellar stolis.

~ ~ other stuff ~ ~

~ The shower re-do is almost a re-done. And despite my earlier anxieties, Tile Guy is probably the nicest tile guy in the universe. I may have to bake him a batch of cookies. I won't talk about my ongoing battle with the bathroom walls, because this is a POSITIVE post, got it? Good.

~ Rusty Barnes is a flash god. If you haven't picked up a copy of Breaking it Down yet, then go, RUN, get thee to sunnyoutside and order one pronto. You will not regret it.

~ K's school had a special visitor earlier this week. K attended, but we didn't get to go because the quarter-mile line and panicky traffic situation around the school acted as a good deterrent. But check it out:

Not often an opportunity like this comes around in Montana.

and that's all she wrote.

There was a part of me that was looking forward to having the bathroom remodeled. I mean, aside from being happy about the fact that yay, we were finally going to have a decently tiled shower, complete with non-cracky, non-permanently-moldy grout, I was also looking forward to the *time* I stupidly thought it would give me.

I had to (mostly) be here, but couldn't really drift around upstairs where all the activity was going on. Couldn't really drift around much, period.

So I saw myself cozied up in the den, next to the fire, laptop a-wobble with the dozens of poems I would write. Next to me: a stack of all those books I've been hoarding in my to-read pile over at GoodReads.

Well that ain't happened, sweetheart.

Seems I'm too anxious about the fact that *somebody else* is in the house at all times. I tried to read and kept looking up every time I heard a BAM or a creak or a loud crack followed by a sploosh (don't ask). I'm jumpy and flittery. And I keep gasping every time the poor guy calls my name or rounds a corner and comes into my view. I mean, I *know* he's here, for God's sake. So what exactly is my deal???

Suffice to say, no writing has been accomplished and very little reading has taken place. [Though, this morning, Joseph Young's God Not Otherwise blew my grubby little socks off ~ thanks, Matt Bell, for linking to it!]

What has mostly taken place this past week has been the daily trotting out of Theresa's Tidy Parade. I tidy the den, I sweep the kitchen, I go through the whole dishwashing cycle, I wipe things down, set them right, I launder until my fingers are bleach-roughened. And I cook. And bake.

Yesterday: I used leftover ham to make three separate dishes ~ bbq pork (bleh), ham and bean soup (hubby likes it, at least), and a mutant shepherd's pie (not bad!). We had a lot of leftover ham.

I also made (and ate most of) two devils food cakes.

I'm bothered by the fact that I'm always visualizing the *perfect* time to write and I think I'm finally coming to the realization (yes, I really am this slow!) that there IS no such thing. And while I keep waiting for it, I'm growing older and losing brain cells to plumber's epoxy, and what the hell is wrong with me anyway? I just need to sit down and do it. I mean, it's not like I'm trying to talk myself into playing with spiders ~ I actually *enjoy* writing. So enough is enough. Hammers and saws, be damned.

One last thought: How can Easter possibly be on Sunday? I'm eggless and peepless.

After the weirdness that was Tuesday (thanks, everyone, for the helpful comments), we're easing back into whatever semblance of normalcy we had before Tuesday hit.

Upstairs, there's banging and shattering noises coming from my bathroom (in the process of being remodeled). Downstairs, there's a treadmill I should probably be on. But am I on it? No. I am sitting here in the den, eating dry Special K cereal and trying realllll hard not to eat the Cadbury Dairy Milk bars stacked atop the fridge.

Good things:
~ I just read tourquoise's phlebotomy poem, which not only wowed me, but made me feel like I needed to stay in the doc's chair and eat a cookie. No small feat!

~ Yesterday's mail brought Shanna Compton's Down Spooky. Yay!

~ An upcoming brunch date this Sunday with my favorite local poetess. In my favorite restaurant, no less!

~ The aforementioned Cadbury Dairy Milk bars atop my fridge!

~ The weather has been warmish lately, in the high forties and low fifties. Which means it's almost time to break out the reggae and Red Stripe, but . . .

Bad things:
~ Snow this morning. Not much, but enough to put the Red Stripe on a back burner for hopefully not too long.

~ Got the estimate to rebuild our deck. Holy crap. We may have to move.

I'm fiddling around this morning (and afternoon). Putting off my list o'chores because right at the top of it is "clean the bathrooms." And can I just say that this is the worst chore in the entire world? Especially when one is living with three males?
~ ~

Last night, instead of the usual chapter-before-bed with Tristan, we decided to pull out one of my old Nortons and read a few poems instead. T pulled his covers up high and I sat on the side of his Frankenbed (it broke last year and was bolted together with ugly metal clasps by B because when we dared to suggest it would have to be replaced, T freaked).

He closed his eyes while I read, so he could "picture the poem in his head." Afterward, there was this:

T: I liked that first one best.

Me: "The Lake Isle of Innisfree"?

T: Yeah. That's a good one.

Me: I like that one too.

T: And I can't believe Bill Gates wrote it.

Me: Yeats. William Butler YEATS.
~ ~

Last night, I noticed that Safeway had 75% off specialty Valentine's chocolates. They were hidden in their floral department and hadn't yet been raided by bargain-seekers. I bought two boxes and have taken bites out of every single kind inside. They are soooo good ~ Stephanie's or something. I have no control over myself when it comes to chocolate. Which may explain my overnight skin eruption.

One kind of chocolate I *hate* though: anything with that weird gooey jelly inside. blech. And I'm not fond of the chocolate-mint combination either. Our house is currently filled with Girl Scout cookies, and those Thin Mints that everyone loves? blech. Hate 'em.

~ ~
And there's some goodish too:
I've a new/old poem in the most recent issue of flashquake and a piece forthcoming in Prick of the Spindle, which has me verrrry excited.

I mailed off a copy of my chap for the Poetry Super Highway Great Poetry Exchange ~ which is such a waycool idea ~ and just received my copy from another poet, Jonathan Penton. wheee.
.

Outside, it's been twitching in between warmish/calmish and snowish. Likewise, I've been beating a rhythm back and forth between energetic and just plain sapped.

Wednesdays are typically good days for me. The boys don't need to be driven anywhere and the only thing on my calendar is "garbage day" and/or "recycling day." I don't have to physically see or speak to anyone outside of the family ~ which means I can get away with no makeup, grungy sweats, and minimal hygiene (I pretty much brush my teeth and call it good). I like Wednesdays.

But today, I seem to be having some lingering effects from the Lunesta I had to take last night. I want to do nothing but sleep and sleep hard. Then, if I try to rest, I pop up five minutes later, feeling antsy and restless and like I *have* to do something.

The good news is that I've tackled a task I've put off since September and sorted through four bins of K's outgrown clothing, looking for items that T might be big enough to wear now. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to no end to arrive home from school and see the mountain of clothes waiting to be tried on.
~
Other stuff: We're finally set to begin a bathroom remodeling project that I've put off for almost two years now. We've hired the contractor, now I have to choose the tiles. The only thing I know for certain is that I want warm colors. When you have 8+ months of winter, warm colors are sort of mandatory. Any little thing to assist in the illusion. . .

This afternoon, I'll help T with his diorama of Animal Farm, his new favorite book. He's suddenly very interested in reading more classics ~ any suggestions that might be appropriate for a fourth-grader? He has Kidnapped and Treasure Island on his to-read list.

Later tonight, it's London Broil and potatoes and spinach, followed by American Idol. After last night's viewing: it's so beyond time that Luke went home, dontcha think?

.

The good news about this past week?? It was the bestest mail week EVER.

I have a terrible habit of putting bunches of books into my cart at Amazon. I mean, BUNCHES. Then I look at my sad little checkbook. Then I leave those books in the cart, where they grow cold and lonely. Loved, but unattainable. But then K turned 16 and pretty much only wanted books for his b-day and since I was there anyway I allowed myself some goodies. And how could I place an order at the Big A without balancing out the scales with visits to some of my favorite small presses??


And for the tiny-print-impaired, that's Breaking it Down by Rusty Barnes, Growling Softly (an anthology of goodness from Blood Pudding Press), The Fear of Being Found by Erin Elizabeth Smith, wing'd by Kyle Simonsen, Buffy the Vampire Slayer ~ The Long Way Home (shut UP!), and the Montana State of the Arts newspaper for March and April (more on that in a sec).

I couldn't start on any of these because my mom was visiting all last week and we unleashed a major painting/redecorating project on our living room. Which means that I pretty much fell into bed every night feeling very much vegetable-ish and kind of achey. But now. . . eeee, I'm very excited about all these words that await me.

And March begins tomorrow. A clean slate, budget-wise. Which means I'll be free to cavort in the fields of Dancing Girl Press, where possibly the coolest project ever is now available for purchase.

And there are other goodnesses to report too. I'm in excellent company over at the latest ish of Blue Fifth Review, where I hear tell that a fellow lj-er will be popping up with the tulips in April. I'll let her divulge that in her own good, though. But I am SO tempted to drop hints. And I suck at keeping secrets.

Also, when I said I hadn't started on *any* of the goodies mentioned above, I sorta lied. I'd been informed that there were some words 'bout me in the current issue of the Montana State of the Arts newsletter and had to, just had to, peek. I was shocked (in a good way!) to find that instead of a line or two of mention, someone on board had actually read the chap and written a mini-review. I'll put the all of it beneath the cut, but will say that I'm still tingling with glee (glee, I say!) and Kristi Niemeyer, wherever you are, I love you. I really do.

( Insurrection in the kitchen . . . )

I need to *poof* for a (hopefully very) short while.

Will still be reading posts, late at nights at least.

And karindira and sharkycharming, I can't believe you didn't feel the Josiah love!!!!

Spent the weekend dosed with Nyquil and twinking around with LJ formats before settling on my wormy pink apple theme. yeehaw.
~ ~
For some reason, all of my little emails that tell me about comments or replies to comments have started settling into my bulk email box. Some of them never even show up there. What gives?
~ ~
I'm envious of all the spring-is-in-the-air posts I've been reading on my friends page. Everything outside is still icy and slushy and cold with more on the way, and around this time every year I start questioning exactly *why* we live in Montana anyways? And maybe I'm questioning it a little more this year because, in our attempt to lower our Monster Power Bill, we've set the thermostat to an admittedly uncozy 61 degrees. We've been using the pellet stove more than ever and so the den is usually fairly toasty, but the rest of the house? It's frickin' freezin' in here, Mr. Bigglesworth.
~ ~
Some good news: T is feeling better and is back at school. No end of hurrahs on this end.
~ ~
And on that note, a tiny list of things I'm grateful for to balance out the grumblings about winter above:
1. T feeling well again. absolutely.
2. thank you Jesus for the Nyquil.
3. chicken enchiladas. yum.
4. all those little packs of Airheads which I originally bought for T to pass out to classmates on Valentines Day and which I will now have to trek to the store and buy again because: yum.
5. package from Amazon is finally on the way with lots of goodies inside.
6. K turning 16 (16!!! how is this possible??) this coming weekend and telling me, "I prefer a small family gathering over any kind of party, thanks."

.

After a tiny, two-day window of wellness, T has been back home again most of this week. Today, he seems a bit perkier, so I'm *cautiously* optimistic ~ but this is one marathon virus he's fighting and we're all eager for him to return to health.

He asked me to make him a CD of "spy music" a few days ago, and so we scrolled through my music library and he picked out which songs he wanted on it. There was the requisite James Bond theme and "Secret Agent Man" but there was also the theme from Brazil, Baba O'Riley, Eleanor Rigby, The Entertainer, and Van Halen's Ice Cream Man. Not quite sure how those fit the spy theme, but he seemed very happy and *this* is a good thing.
~ ~
During that 2-day window, I did manage to do the grocery shopping (oranges! gatorade!) and mail out chaps. If I owed you a copy, it should have either arrived by now or is on its way. If anyone is interested in trading or anythinging, email me: theresa@theresaboyar.com
~ ~
And because I was a good girl and finally got to the P.O., the mail pixies have smiled upon me. This has been an excellent mail week. The only thing that would have made it excellenter would have been to hear back from some journals, but I'll take what I can get. And this week, what I got was absolutely yummy: Some Greek letters came tumbling my way from Ms. Gabriel, along with a delicious envelope of goodies from Ms. Cook, including Planchette and Girl Gang. Can you say ~wheeee~?
~ ~
And just when you thought it wasn't possible for me to be any geekier, I actually starting taking notes during last night's episode of Lost.

Because I *will* figure this all out, dammit!
.

So.

A few months ago, in a fit of renewed yet misguided frugality, I purchased a box of Bisquick that was roughly the size of my car. I did this for two reasons: it was on sale and I had a coupon. (I know, I know)

I have never in my life made anything with Bisquick, but I was convinced that this yellow box of powder would simultaneously nourish my family for weeks and drastically reduce my food bill.

The first night, I tried to make this casserole thing with chicken and veggies and a golden brown Bisquick crust. The family picked off the crust and ate the chicken and veggies. I haven't opened the box since, but am reminded of its hulking presence every time I open my pantry.

Today, I'd had enough. I'm determined to make *some* use of this stuff. There has to be something I can use it for, other than cheeseburger pie (forget it) and pancakes. (We're not exactly a pancake sort of family.) The strawberry shortcakes sound promising, but I was hoping for more main dish options.

I have already vowed never to bring this stuff into my house again, but can't quite bring myself to toss it out because I'm of the mindset that it's just *wrong* to throw food out. I've already visited the company website, but I guess I'm kind of a snob because the sloppy joe supreme and quesadilla pie kinda grossed me out.

Anyone out there have any tasty (or even just plain edible) uses for Bisquick? pretty please.

.

Annnnddd, we're up to two boys home, sick. And one sleep-deprived, semi-sick, increasingly cranky mother whose head will explode if she has to watch one more episode of How It's Made.

It felt *so* good to get out of the house yesterday, even if it was just to run to Safeway for a few things. I didn't care that it was well below zero with the wind chill. I left my gloves in the car and took my time crossing the parking lot. Fresh air = good.

Tonight, I'm craving chicken curry, but will likely make do with the frozen pizza we have in the freezer. Because Easy = good.

And on a MUCH more positive note, I just preordered my copy of A Peculiar Feeling of Restlessness because Kathy Fish = beyond good. (And thanks to Myf for the directions!)

.