(Almost) Picture (-Free) Sunday

Hello, hello my dear friends. I'm finally back at the blogging board, after drying up for a while after it was suggested to me that my blog had become "oppressively negative." No, no, that was purely a joke, I haven't blogged because I was just devoid of ideas.

Luckily, well, normally luckily, a Picture Sunday can work wonders in that department. However, I really need to start taking my camera along with me more often, but more about that later.

First of all, may I just say this has been one of the more interesting weekends I've ever, um, endured. (Let's try to take a positive look at it.)

Yesterday was a beautiful day. I actually got up fairly early, cleaned the kitchen, got showered, and began to pack for B'burg. I was looking forward to doing my normal weekend thing, spending the night at Mr M's, maybe with a movie, and having clarinet quartet practice today. Only with a treat thrown in. MP, our bass clarinet player, was in the All-District band, and we planned to go to their concert and have an afternoon out.

And all that happened. I got all packed up and actually on the road early, zipping down the Betty Bet Bet Inspirational Highway right on the speed limit, and actually arrived at Mr M's a little early. Then about fifteen minutes later, I had a revelation.

I'd left my quartet music back at the Poderosa.

Now, this is a big deal. In a quartet, there are four parts, all different. I couldn't look off someone else, and even though I'm just a lowly third clarinet, my part is as important as everyone else's. So Mr M gave me a choice; if I wanted to head home and get it, that was up to me, or we could email the others and cancel practice. And I really didn't want to cancel practice.

So after the band concert, I took Mr M back home and hit the, yep, you guessed it, BBBIH. Which was a shame really, because MP's parents invited us out to dinner after the concert, and I thought that not only was that very nice of them, it would be kind of fun as well. And I had to weasel out.

So, I was driving along, hit the Poderosa just long enough to grab my folder and pee, and let me state that I did go to the bathroom for that, I didn't just stand there in the kitchen holding my folder and wetting myself, and popped back in the podmobile for the 65 mile trip back to B'burg, where Mr M would have dinner waiting for me.

Then about fifteen minutes into my trip, I started feeling sick.

Now, this has only happened to me once before, and I actually remember blogging about it. I had nothing on my stomach; there was no logical reason I should be sick. But sick I was, and I could feel the fiery drool building up in my mouth. I fumbled around my car for a napkin, and finally found two in my car's armrest. I spat, (and this is where things get ugly), completely drenched two napkins, plus drooled all the way down the front of my shirt.

Luckily there's a rest area in P'ton, which was the next town over, and I held things together till I got there. Then I went in a stall and heaved and retched and generally had a not very good time, especially considering that my puke was 1) basically mucous, and 2) also halfway on my shirt. I leaned against the stall till I thought it was safe to travel again, then got in the podmobile and hit the road.

I made it as far as G'Lyn. Then the whole thing started again. There was no place to stop - I was desperate. I finally found a public landing where people put their boats in the New River, and pulled over. No more got my seatbelt off and the door open and it started again. Only there was actually stuff coming out. I can't tell you what it was, unless it was my protein bar from breakfast 8 hours previously, but it was coming out. And may I just publicly apologize to anyone today who took their boat to put it in the New River.

I limped my way into B'burg, where Mr M did indeed have dinner waiting for me. But my first order of business was to change into my jammies, since, as a rule, I don't like wearing vomit-covered shirts. He was a concerned buddy, and said maybe I needed food on my stomach, and why didn't I try a couple of crackers, which I did, but they made a final repeat performance.

So then I curled up on his comfy couch with my jacket over me. And slept.

That was 9pm. It felt like I'd been asleep about 10 minutes when I was awakened by Mr M putting a blankie on me, and I asked what time it was, and he said midnight. That must have been the hardest sleep I've ever slept.

I was rubbing my eyes and trying to get my wits about me when I heard Mr M yell something at me from back in the computer room. I turned down the TV and asked him to repeat, and he came up to the living room.

"That's it. Clarinet Quartet is over."

Huh??

Now, if you'll recall in last Sunday's blog, I made a small mention about practice "blowing all to hell," but I honestly thought things were over. They were for me. But apparently not for everyone. And it was an exceedingly short announcement for an exceedingly long story that I won't go into here. I guess I should have seen it coming, but I didn't.

I guess I'm over the initial shock of it all, but I'm still bummed out. Quartet playing was becoming so much more fun to me than playing in a larger band setting, but I guess "fun" is the operative word here. If it was going to turn into not fun, no reason for me to continue on anyway.

But like I said, that's another blog for another time and place.

Now, back to the fact that I'm horrendously short on pictures. I think I'm going back to that "People Around Town's Feet" idea I was harboring a while back.

So I thought I'd throw in one picture for you, one I keep on the movie rack in the living room.

See, about a year ago or so, I arrived at Mr M's, and he sheepishly told me he'd done something wild and crazy on an impulse - he'd gotten a tatto. With a mix of horror and disbelief I started grilling him about it, and he finally showed me his arm. Well, of course it was fake, but I was a little disappointed. Everybody should have a real tattoo like this.



I'd be proud to have S on my arm, if I didn't dislike tattoos.

And speaking of dislike, check out this week's recipe du jour - another beauty from the "weight control" file, Chopped Chicken Liver Paté!



Now, it's funny, because when I picked this up I thought, "Well, this is dull, it's just some kind of pie." Then I read what it was. Everyone repeat after me: blecccch!

Breaking tradition with the normal cards, this card has no serving suggestion of accompanying items with it. Now that's the perfect weight control, handing someone a plate of this and nothing else.

I remember reading the book of misheard lyrics a long time ago and one of them for "Live and Let Die" was "Liverman Pie." So I'm retitling this dish "Liverman Pie."

Happy week.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* I'm putting up one more sound file for you to listen to. And I really hope you do, for two reasons. The first I'll tell you now, that I guess it's the last of this quartet you're going to hear. The second reason I'll tell in Acrochallenge tomorrow, after you've listened to it.
Imbroglio
(The only apologetic disclaimer for this one is this is only the 2d time we'd played it.)
* The Super Bowl is on. Ho-hum. I was much more interested in something I saw advertised on the Animal Planet - The Puppy Bowl! Interesting though - I was talking to Mom and Dad in Florida during halftime, and their halftime show (which I could hear in the background) was running about 3 seconds ahead of mine. We decided it was because they were closer, down there in Florida; I was hearing it after it traveled all the way up to Virginia.