Eat With Pills

Before driving us back to the City (me in the backseat, curled like a little ball, nauseous), B's mom spoiled us with fancy french toast (brie and pear in between layers of bread).

This, less labor intensive and good for a brunch crowd, is what gets made (the night before) at my house:

French Toast

1 loaf Italian bread (no sesame seeds) cut into 2" slices

butter

6 large eggs

3 cups milk

1/2 cup orange juice (no pulp)

1 TB vanilla

brown sugar

Generously grease a pyrex baking dish. Place bread slices in dish in a single layer.

In a mixing bowl, combine eggs, milk, orange juice and vanilla. Eggs should be beaten. Mixture should be a pale yellow. Pour mixture over bread. Cover with plastic wrap and place in fridge. Best if you do this late at night, before bed.

Early next morning, when you wake up, Flip each bread slice to the other side. Preheat oven to 350°. Dot bread tops with a little butter. Crumble a light layer of brown sugar over the butter. Cover dish with foil. Bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil. Bake for 10 more minutes or until all liquid is absorbed and tops are gooey.

You don't need syrup.

Alt: a few minutes at the end under the broiler makes a crispy sugary top

Note: toasts last pretty well in the fridge when covered with plastic wrap

Looking back I realize I haven't eaten a piece of fish in weeks. Scary. And it's not changing with this dinner:

Duck Confit and Green Salad

2 duck confit legs

1 head green leaf lettuce, rinsed, dried and chopped

1 small red onion, thinly sliced

1 granny smith apple, cored, halved, thinly sliced

walnuts

oil and vinegar, to taste (or a mustardy vinaigrette)

black pepper, to taste

In a hot skillet, sear the duck legs until the fat is crispy and the meat is juicy and warm.

In two large bowls (or plates), combine remaining ingredients, mix well. Top with duck legs.

Alt: beets and/or green beans are great in this salad too

Note: Fresh Direct has good duck confit or try to get D'Artagnan - avail at Amazon! incroyable.

Tears of frustration today - imagine if something was really wrong with me - I am such a crybaby.

Though it may have something to do with the fact that remnants of my stolen identity crisis have returned - Angela D. Smith, if that's your real name, which I doubt, I hate you. Why do you think it's okay to use my social security number to open a credit card. You should start watching Earl, lady, because you can maybe learn something about bad karma. And bad karma is coming to visit you at W. 148th Street just as soon as her back is strong enough.

I can sit for 20-30 minutes now, followed by stretching and standing. I think I need a special butt pillow that keeps my spine off the seat. Otherwise it feels like I'm wedged up against a rock. A woman whose PT schedule is similar to mine also has a similar injury. I think hers may be worse or she complains more (if you can believe that). The scary thing, though, is that she got it from being pregnant. This scenario has made it to my list of nightmares and has even appeared in dreams in the form of babies and cripples. I'm not kidding. I really have to get strong. Eating well and sleeping much is great but I must do more. I do not want to be the slow annoying woman in front of you on the subway steps. I mean, I don't want to be that woman for much longer or forever.

Best News of the Day: A Japanese princess is relinquishing her royal life to marry an employee of Tokyo City Hall (he's an urban planner, a "commoner").

Oh, and A-Rod is the AL MVP for the second time (but first Yankee in a long time). He hit .321, had 48 HR (beating DiMaggio's 68-yr record of 46 by a R-handed Yankee hitter), 130 RBI's, 21 steals. But I still think I hate him.

I am the worst webmaster. I am so slow and dumb. I can't do simple things. I'm a webminor or maybe even webfarm. Actually, duh, I am webDL. My coffee maker seems to want to join me on the DL. Or, maybe I should put in the plastic basket that holds the filter. Genius. I'm off today.

Thanks to my friend Ambien I slept for 10+ hours. I need the drug that knocks me out (this doesn't) but doesn't keep me so totally out. Does that exist? Maybe I did need to take chemistry.

Packing all my laundry into small plastic shopping bags so I can carry them to the laundromat without guilt or pain.

When I was a child we lived on a quiet street with lots of space between houses and no other kids. Our across the street neighbors were very old. One day when I was home from school (damn am I presenting myself as sickly) Mrs. Old Neighbor came over, pounding on the front door, in hysterical need of orange juice.

She was as calmed by my presence as I was freaked out by her uncombed thin white hair. But my freak out in no way matched that of my mother's when she heard what I had done (given OJ to an old lady).

"She could have strangled you," my mom said, always good at making a point that (a) gets her what she wants and (b) gives me nightmares.

The next day (maybe I had one of my poison ivy attacks) Mrs. Old Neighbor was back, hollering and banging for OJ. I couldn't concentrate on "I Love Lucy." I paced the house. Juice/strangling/juice/Strangling. After an eternity, she went away. I hated my mother. Why could I just give her the damn juice? I certainly wouldn't miss a glass, preferring grapefruit. If I was thirsty I would want a drink. Why wasn't there any juice in her house? Why didn't Mr. Old Neighbor just go out and get some for her?

Later my questions were answered in one word: Medication. It seems Mrs. Old Neighbor, who won an academy award back when they only gave out about ten per year, was on some pretty extravagant doses of various pills. Imagine what my diet could have done to pacify her...

The sad reality of my life: I just watched Tyra Banks propose to some girl because the boyfriend was too nervous but wanted to do something big that the girl would always remember. Because you know you're going to forget how you got engaged unless a supermodel is there.

Fish Tacos

8-10 oz cod or other hearty white fish

1/4 cup flour

1/2 a bottle of beer

Rinse and dry the fish. In a small bowl combine the flour and beer. You can add a few shakes of Goya seasoning to the batter, if you want. Coat the fish in the batter.

In a medium skillet, over medium-high heat, add canola oil to cover the bottom 1/2 inch of the pan. When the oil bubbles happily after a drop of water hits it, add the battered fish - let any drips fall into the bowl before going to the pan. This is a light batter but it works.

Fillings:

Best News of the Day: That woman who got shot by her boyfriend before her held her hostage for 6 days in his mother's garage (in 2002) says she still plans to marry him. Also, she thinks they are soul mates. He got this news via letter as he is in prison for 20 years for his deeds. His dad is also in prison for helping him and his mom is on probation for the same.

Cream cheese and jelly with spanish olives of toasted pumpernickel. I think you can figure that one out.

I'm down to one pill (not including the sleeping one) per day. When I next go to PT I'll see how they feel about my inflammability.

B's sister taught me how to wear contacts. And by "taught" I mean, she was incredibly patient while I struggled for 45 minutes to get the left one out. She had to get the right one. And I could never get them in without her help (read: without her doing it). Something new to do/practice while I am home. I am pretty sure I can get them but I'm not so confident about getting them out until I file down my clawlike thumbnail. Looks like I will remain dorky glasses girl. Great pun.