This might be over sharing, but my doctor suggested I give skipping the sugar pills in my birth control a try to deal with my migraines. He thought the breaks in hormones might be causing them. I skipped two sugar pill breaks and about five days into my third pack, I decided I needed a break. I could feel myself being more emotional than I ought to be and blamed the obvious culprit: the pill shaped hormones. I basically tried to show my birth control who was boss, and it retaliated by making me even more emotional.
At first I blamed the hormonalness on goat cheese. Because guess what? This girl right here can enjoy goat's dairy. And, oh, she has been.
Let me tell you, going five months without any kind of dairy and the only "cheese" I've consumed is Daiya (it's vegan, has zero nutritional value and must be melted to be enjoyable) and then having goat cheese is glorious. It's blissful. There is no worldly substitute for cheese. I've always liked goat cheese, but been more of a feta girl myself. Goat cheese can be a little... much. Well, right now I say give me goat cheese over cookies. Just right now, though. I already had a piece of cake tonight.
Goat cheese. Goat yogurt. YES, PLEASE.
Why did no one tell me goat yogurt tastes so much like greek yogurt? I made tzatziki the other night AND IT ACTUALLY TASTED LIKE TZATZIKI. FYI, tzatziki made out of coconut yogurt is the worst idea ever, and with almond yogurt it's at least edible but I do not recommend it.
Anyway, I had a couple obscenely bad mornings and I thought it might be the goat cheese. I'm pretty sure it's not and I just tried to play God with my hormones and lost. Thankfully. I just bought more goat cheese at Costco yesterday because, hello, ridiculously good deal and I've had a ROUGH couple of weeks. If that doesn't deserve a nice, soft cheese I don't know what does.
That said, I have to be careful with my goat dairy. It has to be exclusively goat. No other farm animals welcome.
You're probably wondering if I regret taking so long to try the goat dairy. The answer is no. Absence makes the cheese taste that much more heavenly.
Anyway, this blog is not for raging about stupid, hormonal stuff. Anymore. Because with obscenely and embarrassingly long intervals between posts I need to remind you why you love me and not leave you shaking your head and wondering why, like I do after every episode of Grey's Anatomy Karl makes me watch, WHYYYYYY do I even bother with this crap?
And, on that note, I have a four day week and then a four day weekend. Yes, it's Thanksgiving in Canada. Jealous? We also have free health care which you may not think you want but, trust me, you do. My goal is to post again before I go back to work. I have stuff to say but also a strong desire to get some knitting in tonight. So keep me accountable? I know you miss me.
Now, I'm going to leave you with a story of something that happened a couple weeks ago. You may be familiar with it already, but I'm sharing it anyway.
It was Friday night after another long week at my new job. It was raining and my mom was away. That meant that not did I have to walk home from work but also that I had to walk her dog as soon as I got home, too. After a long rainy week, the last thing I wanted was to walk for an hour. Outside. When we had to be at some friends' for dinner in less than an hour. That live twenty minutes away. And I needed to bring desert but didn't have time to make anything. So I had to go to the grocery store and, by golly, I was going to bring a bottle of wine to dinner, too, because that's polite, classy, almost makes up for the grocery store brownies, and yay the week is finally over.
My phone was dead and Karl got home 45 minutes late, so I borrowed his phone while mine charged and then bolted to the grocery store. It was 6:15 and we said we'd be there at 6:30. I was a little stressed.
I made it in and out of the grocery store in record time. The brownies I wanted were even on sale. Finally, things were going smoothly.
I called home on the way to the car, in the rain, but Karl didn't answer. I got in the car, still feeling stressed, and turned the key. The car and the radio turned on. And this was what I heard:
I was so grateful. This song always cheers me up. It is the most fun you'll ever have singing along to a song. And it's the kind of song you want to hear while in the car, on a rainy Friday afternoon, while you're stressed out and brining brownies home. It makes everything better.
You'd better believe I sang along.
I got home, locked the brownies in the car, said a loud, rude word, unlocked the brownies from the car, grabbed Karl's phone, and noticed something.
I was making a phone call. I had been making a phone call for the last 4 1/2 minutes. To a number I didn't recognize.
I got inside and shoved the phone in Karl's face. I told him what I did. I asked him who I'd called.
His dentist. I'd called his dentist.
His dentist's office has an answering machine.
His dentist's office heard me wailing (truly, the only accurate word to describe it) along to I Believe in a Thing Called Love.
Do I know all the words? No. Can I hit the high notes? I don't know, ask your dog.
And, that night, I had a dream. In that dream, Karl's dentist's office called to let me know I was overdue for a cleaning. Oh, and to thank me for my message.