Something about this boy makes me bad at preparing rice

The first meal I ever prepared for my husband (we were acquaintances at the time) was the same meal I made for myself tonight: Ling Ling Potstickers and rice.  My dinner tonight was waaay better than that first attempt.  You'd think this would be the easiest meal ever; it involves boiling the potstickers for 5-6 minutes and cooking rice and water for 20 min or so.

Somehow my roommate and I were way off with the rice vs water proportions and all attempts to rectify the situation were unsuccessful.  The rice was under-cooked and burned all at the same time.  We openly acknowledged our failure because I think the next worse thing to ruining dinner is to have the dinner guests feel obligated to eat and like it anyway. He and his roommate who participated in the meal were very gracious and mostly avoided the rice per our suggestion.  I remember feeling like this was an opportunity to prove myself as a capable cook to two handsome single men that I wanted to take me on a date (not at the same time), and I'd failed miserably.

I promise I'd cooked good rice before, but I don't think I have ever cooked good rice since.  I remember the right proportions now, but something goes wonky every time and it comes out too wet or too dry, overcooked or under-cooked. I still eat it, as punishment for my failure.  He still eats it, because he loves me (or is just not motivated to make a new batch himself... let's be real, it's probably that).

The last batch I made was the best so far, but that isn't much praise.  Its like being optimistic about job growth when the percentage is only back to sorry threshold it started at (zing!  sorry I've been reading politics most of the evening so I can feel like an informed voter).  The batch was still a bit dry, but at least it wasn't wet and congealing.  It makes me feel slightly better to learn that the altitude may have something to do with my failures, but only slightly.  It's still just grain and water.  How can somebody screw it up so many times?

Yesterday he made the rice for our lunch, probably the first or maybe second time since our marriage.  It turned out perfectly.  I don't know how he does it.  I vote him rice master of the family in perpetuity.

A few things

The good news is I'm not allergic to pineapple or anything else I ingested the night before anaphylaxis.  The bad news is I'm not allergic to pineapple or anything else I ingested the night before anaphylaxis, yet I still went into anaphylaxis and I have no idea why.  Its like living with a live wire.  I keep EpiPen nearby.

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My name is officially changed on the records of the Social Security Administration of the United States of America.  I am Sadie Hopkins.  And I'm officially one of those people.  Those people you tell your friends and coworkers and the people you sit by on the train that you know somebody whose name sounds like something ridiculous. 

"I know this girl, after she got married her name was Sadie Hopkins!  Almost like Sadie Hawkins!  Hahahaa! So funny!"

I know this will happen because I do it.  I guess turnabout is fair play.  It's a really good thing I love my husband and embrace his name. No need to leave a comment because it will probably fall into one of the following categories:

1. OMG!  I totally didn't realize that!  That's funny/awesome/amazing/[insert overused adjective]!
2. Awe, I think your name is cute...!  Love you! ;-)
3. Neither of the above, but something trying to be witty or original but sounds forced and lame instead

It may be callous, but I'd rather you didn't comment on it at all.  I've had Sadie Hawkins comments my whole life, and now it's even worse.  Newsflash: I know my name and what it sounds like, so no need to bring it up.  To me it represents my commitment to our family unit and because of that I love it.  Don't ruin it for me.

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I'm watching the presidential debate right now, mostly because it's being held down the street (literally, down the block from my apartment) and so I feel like I should watch it.  It will probably make me angry.  Most of the time I feel like both sides are talking in circles and saying the same thing in different ways.  It's hard to believe anything either side says.  They sound so mean criticizing each other and bending what's said.  It gives me anxiety and makes me want to punch everyone in the face.  I respect the office of the President, but I don't respect the way these people jocky for it.

 

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I posted some wedding and engagement photos on Facebook.  If we aren't facebook friends, or you don't feel like looking through a lot of pictures, I'll save you trouble and give you two of my favorites:

(c) Claire Marika Buys

(c) Lisa Wise Photography

So I guess I have an allergy

Around 5am on the Wednesday of our honeymoon, I woke up and in my half-sleep stupor scratched at an itch on my belly and realized I needed to use the bathroom.  I knew I couldn't go back to sleep if I needed to pee, so I got up.  When I looked in the mirror in the bathroom, I noticed by chin was all red.  Weird, I thought.  Maybe I got sunburned?  Then as I scratched at the itch on my belly I noticed I was actually scratching red spots.  Chicken pox?  I had chicken pox on my 5th birthday so that didn't make sense.  What else could it be?  I was all confused and sleepy and just wanted to go back to bed.

I climbed back into bed, but I couldn't sleep.  I thought about the spots and I continued to itch.  I got on my phone and started Googling chicken pox symptoms (I was definitely not fully awake still).  After 20-30 minutes I got up again and went into the bathroom.  Now my nose was red and swollen, the redness was spreading to my forehead, and I noticed my lips were definitely not normal.  I stopped Googling unhelpful things and started Googling the nearest urgent care or ER.  I naively hoped I could just sleep though whatever was happening until, like, dawn, but then I noticed the spots on my arms.

I finally decided to alert my husband.  I climbed on the bed and gave him a soft shake and said his name. He quickly rolled over. "I think there's something wrong."  I tried to sound calm.  This kid has been my husband less than 4 days.  I didn't want to give him a heart attack. But my resolve all broke down when I pleaded pathetically "Look at my face!"

Since it was still pre-dawn, of course he couldn't see anything.  I pulled his groggily alarmed self to the bathroom and turned on the light.  Ya, something was definitely wrong, even worse than when I checked 10 minutes earlier.  We quickly dressed.  He started to search on his phone and I told him I already found the ER just up the street so we headed out.  

I still didn't want to make him worry too much, but I also didn't want to gloss over anything that might be really serious, so I quietly murmured that I thought the itchy spots were going down my throat.  He drove a little faster.

Thankfully, there isn't much going on in the Yampa Valley Medical Center ER at 6am on a Wednesday in August.  When I reached for the pen to sign the paperwork the admitting lady saw my arm (totally covered in rash by now) and asked if that was normal.  Nope, that is why we're here lady and there's lots more where that came from.  She said it certainly looked like I had a good case of the hives.  If "good" means I'm covered from head to knees, then yes.

I got taken back immediately by the nice night nurse who quizzed by about my most recent behavior and food while a tech hooked me up to an IV.  They loaded me up with Benadryl.  Husband finally joined me after finishing answering questions up front.  The Benadryl started working soon and the itching started to abate.  Then it started coming back so they finally gave me a few other things which combined finally stopped and reversed all my symptoms.  Pretty soon they sent us away with directions for staving off further reaction.  In all we were only there about 2 hours, but I left feeling 100% better than when I arrived.

We were supposed to do an ATV tour that morning, but thankfully they let us reschedule for Friday.  I slept off the Benadryl most of the day while Husband went to the store to fetch medicines.  Bless him. He was so patient and sympathetic and totally not spending his honeymoon how anyone wishes or imagines he'll spend it.  Thankfully I felt well enough to go out later for food, and we were able to participate in all other scheduled activities the rest of the week.  

So there's my first anaphylactic reaction.  I'm probably allergic to something on the pizza I had for dinner the night before. My appointment with an allergist last week wasn't entirely conclusive; we ruled out more than we discovered. The uncertainty makes me paranoid.  I've never had a reaction like that before, and I hope I never have it again.  EpiPen is my new security blanket.

The only conclusive result is I'm with 100% certainty allergic to cats (sorry Mom, I guess I can never take Ms. Kitty) and I'm about 70% certain allergic to dogs.  Possibly allergic to barley.  I'll have a followup appointment in a couple of weeks to bring the pizza ingredient list and do a few more skin tests using fresh foods since they can generate a different reaction than the commercially-produced tests the allergist has in the office.

Please pray it wasn't the pineapple!