A Tale of Two Stories

Redundant title? Maybe.

Story 1 - And a Beer

I tried my hand at making some chili. First time making any, and if I do say so myself it turned out well. One of the ingredients in the chili was beer. Now I am not a drinker, I cannot even stand the smell of alcohol or coffee. Never been tempted to drink but I have cooked with alcohol before. Beer in the Rear Chicken, Chicken Marsala, Sake Marinated Salmon. All very good. So last night I went to the store after going to Special Needs Mutual to get my normal ingredients and a beer. It is impossible to buy a small can of beer. I could have bought a six pack or a big can of beer. I did not want a six pack just hanging around the house, so I opted for the big can of beer. I put the beer in my cart, walk around the corner ... and run into the second counselor in the Bishopric and his lovely wife, who is the Relief Society President. Back story, it is against the teachings of the church I belong to to drink alcohol. And here I am standing in front of two of my local church leaders ... pushing a can of beer in my cart. Did they notice? If so they did not say anything. I did not think I needed to be overly defensive and explain why I had beer in my cart. Though I am sure they are planning an intervention as we speak! It was a really big can of beer.

So I get home and start browning the turkey and onions for this chili. Add my spices, and it is time to add the beer to de-glaze the pan and so the alcohol can cook off. I open the can, it smells awful to me, I start to pour it in the measuring cup (ironically given to me by the same couple I ran into at the grocery store years ago for Christmas) and that crap starts to foam up so much I spill all over me, the counter, the stove ... and I managed to get a little in the pan. (the guys at work inform me today that you have to pour beer at an angle so as to avoid the foam up) So I wait for the foam to die down, get enough measured in, and start to let it cook off. I wash the counter, the stove, and me ... and me ... and me ... I CANNOT GET THE SMELL OFF!! Even now after a full shower and multiple hand washes I still smell a little like beer.

If my friends I ran into at the market had come over to do the aforementioned intervention last night I would have smelled like a distillery confirming their suspicions!

Story the Second - Angry Meds Strike Again

I am sure I have blogged about my struggle with my angry meds. As an asthmatic I sometimes need to be put on prednisone which is a steroid that helps lung function. This steroid, though, has some really bad side effect consequences for me. The first time I was put on it I hit the thermostat in our hallway with my elbow (on accident, not in a fit of rage) and it flew to the other end of the hall. I get these massive headaches, I do not sleep well, and get, what we lovingly call, the roid rage! I get angry for no real reason. Some days I can really control it, and others I cannot. Not at all. The day they put me on the prednisone I had a MASSIVE dose and my head might have actually fallen off temporarily. My Dad was washing a dutch oven and it sounded like someone was crashing drum symbols on either side of my head. All I could do was sit in the recliner with my hands over my head until it was over and cry. Oy.

Yesterday at Special Needs Mutual we had our Halloween Dance. So I have a headache, I have not slept well, and I am at a dance with individuals with special needs. One of the girls in my class has some behavioral issues due to some brain damage caused by a massive stroke when she was younger. I am the one in charge of making sure she acts appropriately. Normally this is not an issue. Last night she did not do anything more than she usually does at a dance which is try to dance with every guy she passes and get his phone number. Well ad the roid rage to the mixture and last night ... was an adventure! I would close my eyes to "rub away the pain" and when I opened them she was gone. I lost her more times last night than I care to say. She is FAST! They pulled out the limbo stick and did the Limbo Rock. Oh she got so excited, that she kept running to the front of the line and actually knocked over one kid that I caught before he fell. So I had to take her out of the dance to have "the talk." We have had this talk many many times before about appropriate etiquette around others. I think I was pretty good at controlling my voice level last night but she got upset at being reprimanded. While we were talking I decided to talk about her grabbing at guys (which makes some uncomfortable) and how to react if they say no. I actually heard myself say "No means NO! If a guy tells you no, walk away." I have become a cliché of a bad after school special starring Kirk Cameron or something. And it is all due to my angry meds.

On the plus side, I can take a full breath.

Thus ends the stories for the day.