All Funked Up

So, it appears the mid-winter doldrums have set in.

Helped along by the fact that, since the beginning of the year, I have had bronchitis. (I know for a fact I was coming down with it New Year’s Eve day because I remember having a little cough that I am convinced was triggered by all the cleaning I had been doing that week, specifically by the Lemon Pledge that I sprayed on my coffee table and dresser ... OK, and maybe all the dust I stirred up didn’t help matters ... anyhoo, I remember feeling really tired that day and a little woozy, in fact, and then the cough. Bleh.)

I have come to the conclusion that, for the most part, I can suck it up when it comes to being sick, but when I get really sick: I am a big baby. A mix, actually, between a big baby and a tired old dog that just wants to crawl off somewhere and be left alone, either to heal or to die.

: (

This is one of the ugliest days imaginable, but somehow, I can’t complain. Two days ago, it was 60 degrees here. Last Thursday, even when I was feeling rather rough, I sat out on The Lovely’s porch, soaking up sun rays! And right now, even though it’s ugly outside, and cold, as I sit here, typing away, just to the right of the keyboard, I can look through the window glass and the tattered screen and see the pine tree next door (Mental note: Look up what kind of pine tree it is in new Field Guide to North American Trees given to me by Julie, my Secret Santa at work!), and in-between the window and the branches and green pine needles, I see random flecks of white — snowflakes! — coming down.

I wanna feel normal again. The sooner the better.

: )

During my vacation the last week of last year, mixed-in with a couple of sick days this year, I have managed to get re-hooked on some of my favorite cooking shows on The Food Network.

Not that I have had any desire whatsoever to cook anything, nor have I actually cooked anything — aside from the spapizza I put together on the aforementioned New Year’s Eve. Oh, sure, I’ve heated up countless cans of chicken noodle soup in the microwave, but as for actual cooking: No. Not right now. No thanks.

I wish I had one-eighth the amount of energy of Rachael Ray. If I dated men, I’d want my boyfriend to look like Michael Chiarello. I want to eat a full day’s worth of meals cooked by Paula Deen.

I’ve even started liking Sandra Lee, who hosts this Semi-Homemade Cooking. I really couldn’t bear her before, but then, the other day, she did her entire program on cooking with beer. Which I realize is nothing all that new or unusual, but ... I dunno. Honestly, that show changed my whole perception of ol’ Sandra. Go figure.

(I’m easy.)

: )