Can’t move.  I keep pushing the nurse’s buzzer but all that happens is the channel changes.  I’ve been in and out of a food coma for two days and while I keep waiting for someone to be merciful and pull my plug, the white light is just the little bulb in the back of the fridge.

Sitting here with my coffee and a plate full of left-over mini quiches for breakfast.  Bacon, eggs, cheese and pastry all in handy bite-size morsels.

The holidays are here.  Every nook and crany of the condo smells of fresh-baked pumpkin pies.  I’d share photos, but I’ve been busy working on the leftover brandy from Ms. Glenn’s recipe.  Holiday cooking can be a rough job, but somebody has to do it.  Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Problem: An abundance of halloween chocolate and an aging stash of marshmallows were exerting telepathic influence via my sweet tooth, but no graham crackers were to be found within the confines of Casa.

Possible Solution: We have tortillas (and bagels, foreshadowing a possible sequel).

So what does hungry but pathetic blogger attempt?  Smoritos!  or maybe Smoradillas! depending on trademark research.

Results: The chocolate melted much faster than the marshmallows, leading to uneven distribution of sweetness.  Bites including everything were good, but some bites with disproportionate tortilla were salty.  Maybe if I nuked the marshmallows first to pre-melt the cores…

Not that I would wish this on anyone, but if you ever find yourself in Bakersfield looking for BBQ, Fabious’!  Start with the Elvira Sampler, which Fabious proudly told me Saturday night was named after his beautiful wife, and just keep eating until you can’t move anymore.  And while I can’t make any recommendations about improving the eatings, will somebody please make the man a decent website?

How often do the paths of gluttony and charity intersect?  Well, tomorrow, for starters.  That’s Thursday, April 26, 2007, for those of you not reading along as I type.

Dining Out For Life.  The concept is simple: eat out, pay your bill, and then the restaurant or bar gives 25% of the check to HIV/AIDS programs.  So why not take the opportunity to buy another round and know it’s for a good cause?  As a new resident of San Diego’s northern burbs, I’m a bit disappointed that most of the participating restaurants are downtown (no HIV here in the burbs, dontcha know?), but what are a few more carbon emissions when karma is at stake?

Friday was spent in Farm Country, and the experience sucked the life out of the week and the joy out of living.  If this case ever ends I may post some details about it, but not yet.

 Saturday was spent doing things around the house, burning off some tension at the gym, and going to a concert in North Park in the evening.  The show was great, as always, but in a moment of geekdom, some of the biggest applause of the night was for the announcement that Nichelle Nichols will be narrating the SDMC‘s June concert, Sing for the Cure.

Sunday involved gluttony at a small breakfast place in Carlsbad, a walk on the beach, some photography that’s generally not worth posting, more gluttony, and some contemplation of why I take litigation cases when they always eventually rip apart my attempts to have a personal life.  Quicken answered the question for me.

Tomorrow I’m heading to Farm Country again.  Yippee.

As much as we both like dead pig cooked in a wide variety of manners, I was going to ignore the recent news articles about the possibility of a healthier, bio-engineered pig. Kinda thought the hype about a healthier greasy meat product was a bit pathetic. Kinda like the ads referring to chewing tobacco as a safer nicotine delivery system.

Then I got one of my little e-mail newsletters from the National Prostate Cancer Foundation. Lo and behold, their lead story this week was drawing the link between the added Omega 3-whatevers produced by the newer, shinier pigs, and recent research in those same Omega 3-whatevers in helping “prevent the spread of aggressive prostate cancer to other parts of the body.”

I like bacon and ham. And pork chops and ribs. Lots of pig parts make good eating. To the extent possible, they are all beloved and essential parts of Malnutrition 2006™, the official diet of Howling Point. I certainly would have preferred to go into an all-bacon regimen then do the radiation thing. I would have loved to have BorgHealth filling my weekly prescription for McRibs. I’ll bet it’s even Atkins-friendly. But it still comes across wrong. And while I never thought I’d say this about any pork product, it comes comes across as a bit tasteless.

Had a great turkey dinner with all the fixin’s yesterday with some wonderful friends. Now today I’m just sitting around learning some new software
and trying not to get cookie dough on the keyboard. Multitasking can be hazardous to your toys. Even though I will have to work this weekend, both to make up for a long swim Wednesday afternoon and the fact that my current arrangements don’t get me paid on these “holidays,” I’m having a nice day. The sugar coma is coming along nicely, I’ve got a Samurai Jack marathon running in the living room amd Pongo has turned the laundry pile into a nice little fortress of solitude.

Even though I didn’t post it on the designated day, I am thankful for many people and many things, and very glad to be here. Sometimes I bitch about things a bit too much, especially my day job. I’m certainly not where I thought my career would/could/should have been at five-years post-Bar results, but I am happy and thankful for what I do have and the people I share those things with. And Pongo [now let go of my foot!].

Onions. Peppers. Chicken. Sausage. All just individual ingredients teasing me with their scents as they’ve gently cooked for the last 45 minutes or so, but soon, with a little rice, a little heat and the considerable skills of your blogger….Jambalaya!