Slap-happy insomniac, at your service.

Okay, this really isn't a shameless plug for Chick-fil-A, but I've always found their slogan so amusing, especially since my mother's side of the family invested so heavily in milking and making beef.

I have not slept well in many, many nights. I'm excited about my new job. I did another 2000 lines last night all told, and tried to sleep but wasn't able. This on top of another night where I tried to sleep and wasn't able, and this on top...

Well, you get the point.

I now type for doctors who send carbon copies of their cancer treatments to Duke University, to let the almighty Duke know how they're handling the cases. Serious transcription kudos. I have always put Duke on an amazingly high pedestal, and for me to be doing this? Well, it's such a good feeling. I like good feelings. Unfortunately, they make me want to find out more, which makes me remember I'm making money for enjoying myself, which makes me not want to sleep, which leaves me with nights of trying to sleep and not being able...

I actually hunted down this pic for the kids. They're into this thing where they substitute the word "chicken" at the weirdest times. Sephiroth is burning inside with violent chickens--Chicken Broth! Or, whaddup, my chickin'? I ask them what they want for dinner...um, take a guess? They're going to get a surprise when I stock up on nothin' but...chicken. There's a lot that can be done with chicken. I have a George Foreman grill and I am not afraid to use it.

I made a sacrilegious kind of choice this week. You see, I've had a hankering for North Carolina pig pickin' for years, well, since 1987. Unfortunately, you just don't get the "pig pickin' hawg" at just any store, and the halved barrel on which to cook it...plus, you need 25+++ guests to help you down said pig. In an effort to at least appease the taste buds, I bought a pork butt roast and put it in the crock pot.

All you pig pickin' aficionados, please don't flinch. I made a sauce of vinegar, red peppers, hot sauce, garlic powder, ground black pepper, ketchup and salt. I agree with the non-mustard Carolina crowd. I think that's all that went in it. It was very, very good, considering it wasn't smoked but crocked for 12 hours. I do what I can. Next time, I'll try a better cut of meat, but if I was going to ruin something, it was going to be on sale! The kids and Mr. Sapphire groaned about the "tangy" flavor (from the vinegar), so I thought I'd never be able to cook something like that again. However, when I put the leftovers on George (Foreman grill) to dry it out and heat it up, it disappeared. Poof. All those whiny little runts ate my (not really) pig pickin' pork! After they complained about it! I thought it tasted absolutely heavenly, and almost took me to North Carolina on a cloud. It was worth the effort. I would still like to have the drum and the actual hog...wait. Aunt Alice. Hey, now. She actually has pigs - and room for my relatives. This is definitely something to consider, but someone has to start the pig at midnight for noon eatin'. Not a bad deal...

And that's my life in a nutshell. Razzing the kids, working, and gourmet dining ideas. Oh, and monitoring gerbil population explosions. And writing. I did some of that, too. All my work comes from the Internet or a tank system, so I don't have to leave the house. I probably should leave the house, but grocery shopping and trips to the pharmacy and Gasmart are my life. Our gasoline bills have dropped dramatically, and the trips to Gasmart are generally for soda!

Hey, I've rambled on about completely nothing of value, and I like it! Welcome to my dementia..

The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades...