I’m feeling a lot better today. Sure, part of that is the double-dose of ibuprofen I took around noon to put a cork on the muscle pain, but hey, I’m moving around on my own.

I’m wearing my BOOTS!

So… I’m going to Fuddruckers in a couple of hours. I know it’s super-short notice, but if any of you reading this journal don’t also read the Schlocktroops community, here’s your heads-up: 5:30pm, Dublin Fuddruckers (2mi east of the 580/680 interchange). Details are in the Schlocktroops LJ Community.

The human body really is an amazing thing. Yesterday I was half-sure I was going to die. Today I feel good enough that I can’t believe how bad it was yesterday, and keep questioning my memory. “Was it REALLY that bad, you big faker? Look at you, walking around, and typing, and wearing your boots and stuff.”

Sandra told me that she didn’t feel like she was doing all that much for me, and couldn’t understand why I wanted her to be there with me. Then she read my LJ post with all the TMI in it, and realized “this is probably what it was like for Howard when I was in labor.”

Yeah, right. For my 24-hour flu to compare in magnitude to her passing entire CHILDREN, I’d have to be vomiting through my urethra. But yeah, being with Sandra during labor and delivery, I didn’t feel like I was doing all that much at the time, even though to her it was incredibly important.

Should there be a TMI warning on this post? Eh. Let’s just click the “Update Journal” button…

I just checked, and it would appear that five hundred and two of you Live Journal users have “friended” me. Cool! It seems like just last week I was happy to announce 400.

In other news, the last 10 hours have been awful. I hate, hate, HATE stomach flu.

Click here for Too Much Information

Boy, I hope this stuff turns out alright…

I’m in charge of dinner for the reunion crew tonight, and in the interest of saving money, I decided to go with something that could be made (largely) out of ingredients on hand. There was a six-pound bag of frozen hamburger patties left over from the barbecue on Thursday, and I realized that chili, if done correctly, is one of the most forgiving dishes when it comes to “what kind of meat did you use?”

(note: yes, this is why Wendys makes chili. Yes, Wendys chili comes from burger patties that got cooked, but not used. Or at least it USED to. And yes, it’s still good chili.)

So… I thawed 6 pounds of patties in the nukrowave, and gathered the rest of my ingredients. My sister-in-law insisted on using pinto beans instead of red beans or kidney beans, which kind of ruins the flavor for me, but that’s okay. Pretty much EVERYbody insisted that I not season the chili any spicier than a 2-ounce bottle of “meat paste for babies,” which is also okay… I found the cayenne pepper, and I know how to use it on a bowl-by-bowl basis.

I eyeballed the seasoning: pretty much everything had to be added in amounts of “lots and lots” because there was this six-pound pile of beef to be seasoned. There’s a half-cup or so of chili-powder in there, several dashes of cayenne (they’ll never notice, I swear), and a bunch of onion powder and dried minced garlic. I used three home-bottled bottles of tomatoes, and chopped in one lonely onion that was sitting on the counter saying “I think I was supposed to be used at the barbecue, but nobody cut into me.”

I boiled the whole mess in a really big pot, and then added 1/3 cup of cornmeal as a thickening agent. Somebody (read that “me, but I shouldn’t admit it”) didn’t drain the beans, the meat, the tomatos, or ANYTHING before mixing it all together, and the result needed something to help it, you know… be thick.

The rest of the reunion crew headed off to the local swimming pool, and I started the cornbread… it’s the “Better Homes and Gardens” recipe, multiplied by four. Four cups of cornmeal, four cups of flour, four cups of milk, eight eggs, a cup of sugar… I can’t remember the other ingredients — just that I filled two casserole dishes with batter, and am now waiting impatiently for the timer to tell me that it’s cornbread.

So… I hope this stuff turns out alright. Otherwise 25 people who are tired and hungry from swimming are going to rend me limb from limb.

Thursday night Gleek (my 4-year-old) barfed all over the back of the minivan while we were on our way to Fremont for bed.

Long story short, we got cleaned up at a gas station, and then Sandra and I got not-enough-sleep while taking care of dry-heave girl all night. Finally I took to a couch, and Sandra went it alone.

Friday morning Sandra slept in, while I helped with breakfast for the 9 kids who were NOT sick. Then everybody except Gleek and I went to the beach. She slept until 2:30-ish (I napped in the same room with her), and then woke up feeling great. She bounced off the walls, ate, drank, kept it all down, and finally settled enough to watch a movie with me.

I thought I might get some drawing done on Friday, but I only did a little. My hand has been hurting in a very strange and disturbing way, and I wanted to give it as much rest as possible. When I DID draw, it turned out that whatever is wrong with my hand isn’t wrong enough that it hurts when I draw. This is good news — even if it’s not better by next Thursday when the buffer must be cranked from two days to two weeks as fast as I’m able to crank it.

Anyway, today we’re all thankful that Gleek is better (though doing a lot of sleeping), and nobody else has barfed. Especially ME. Whatever that little girl had, we managed to keep her from giving it away.

–Howard