ugh

Sleep deprivation always puts me in the weirdest mood. While this isn't true sleep deprivation, I'm still getting some of the odd emotional fallout from it. My brain has decided that I'm no longer allowed to sleep past 9 am. Normally, this is fine. When I lay down to sleep sometime between 1:45 and 2, it's a bit annoying. Times like this morning, I try to just stay numb. I've lost most of the rational controls on the wheel'o'feelings, and I don't really want to put those around me through that gauntlet.

Maybe I don't have to be numb. Maybe being weird will work the same. If I indulge my weirdness, then I don't have to worry too much about the serious. It's worth a shot.

Hm, my feet are cold. This wouldn't be surprising if it weren't July. Mother Nature has seen fit to grant us nice, cool, pleasant weather in the middle of what would normally be hot, muggy, icky summer. My feet are cold and there's Boy sleeping in the room right over there....I bet he's warm....

chili powder, garlic, cumin, salt, etc

Cooking is one of the things I do to relax. Unfortunately for my mental stability, I don't like cooking if I'm the only one who will be dining. If I cook for just me, I'd better really, really like whatever it is that I'm making. I tend to cook quite a bit of food for a meal, so I'll be eating it for lunch and dinner for the next couple of days.

My mom taught me how to bake when I was young. Baking is chemistry: measuring is important. My step-father taught me how to cook anything that I don't follow a recipe. When I just start dumping spices and veggies together or slapping pieces of dead animal on the grill, I owe my skill to Bob.

I love making spicy food. The spices make me happy. I'd expound upon this at length, but the charcoal calls to me. Its siren singing draws me to softly cleanse the ash away, pile fresh coals high, soak them in the distilled liquid of fire, and light it to flambe any passing mosquitoes. Yes, it calls me. I must grill.