#WednesdayWisdom gauge low


Let me start today by saying I had trouble spelling “Wednesday,” so if you had high expectations for today’s post, you should probably dial them back to avoid disappointment.


I got some sleep last night, which is better than the night before, and I woke early this morning to discover I’d left the lights on and the TV entertaining itself. Still groggy, though, but I don’t want to risk more coffee after having so much trouble sleeping on Monday night.

I do learn my lessons, in case you’re wondering.

So it feels like a trudging sort of day, with a sky full of bumpy clouds casting flat light on everything. Outside looks groggy too.

Some days we trudge, some days we soar, some days we fly a little awkwardly like a goose, who still get where they’re going anyway.

I’m hoping for a goose day, but I’m not holding my breath.

If anything, this is showing me I need to be as regimented with my sleep as I am about exercise. It’s as important. Maybe I should work on that, and add it to my #AcccountaClub reports.

So that’s my Wednesday, short on wisdom as promised. And I misspelled Wednesday again.


Hope you have a fantastic Wednesday.

Check out  my full-length novels: 
Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   
Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 
Her Cousin Much Removed
The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.
And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s quick and weird!
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Today’s post is not as fun, but I’ve got to rant. So rant I will.

Remember how I had that headache the week before last? It went on and on? Well, my migraines are sometimes triggered by food. And one of my triggers is cheddar cheese.

I know. It’s heartbreaking. But that’s the life I live.

In celebration of a friend’s birthday, we went to Uncle Julio’s, a fancy-ish Mexican restaurant. I ordered something that I didn’t think had cheddar. I admit my cheddar guard was down; most traditional Mexican restaurants don’t use it, they use Chihuahua cheese, which is fine.

Well, you know where this is going.

The waiter took away the obviously-covered-in-cheddar dish, and I emphasized I needed an entirely new plate. He said he understood.

And then, minutes later, he returned with the plate and said that the manager said it wasn’t cheddar, it was “yellow velvet cheese.” You know that situation where you’re skeptical but don’t want to make a fuss? Yeah, this was it.

So I try a tiny bit.

Obviously cheddar.

I asked to see this manager who sent this dish back to me assuring it was safe to eat. He still denies it’s cheddar; he claims now it’s “American cheese.” I said to him you and I both know there’s cheddar in that dish.

Finally he says, well I told him there wasn’t any in the sauce. But there is cheddar inside the enchilada.


I asked him who can possibly not eat something when it’s on top of a food, but it’s fine when it’s inside it?

He said “he understood.” Clearly he did not.

I tried to emphasize how dangerous it was to lie to people about ingredients with which they have issues. I told him he could kill someone with an allergy. I could see it went nowhere. He looked at me from his happy place behind his eyes, waiting for me to stop talking.

I will survive a migraine, I’ve done it before. But what galls me is instead of just getting me something else, he tried to “trick” me into eating the food I made clear would make me sick. It was insanely dangerous.

So much for not making a fuss.

A fuss was made. Oh was a fuss made.

Please be careful when you’re eating out if you have issues relating to food. Be your own food police.

Check out  my full-length novels: 

Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   

Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 

 Her Cousin Much Removed

 The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.

And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s free!

Peruse Montraps Publishing.



IMG_7929We all have our things in life, and one of my things is migraines. They descend upon me stealthily, menacingly, and it can take hours of slowed, muddled thinking for me to realize what is going on. For a while, everything just seems…harder.

So it was rather late in the day yesterday when it occurred to me that maybe the reason I had closed the blinds without thinking and tried to get all sounds to stop was because my nemesis had once again come to call.

What can I say? I lose at least 10 IQ points when I have one. 15 when it’s really cooking.

For me, it’s like there’s a rattling in my head, a buzz that is both silent and loud. Light feels uncomfortable, sounds sharper than normal. A soft, quiet dark is the best thing.

It isn’t gone yet, but I’m trying to chase it out with Tylenol and lots of sugar — I’ve found sugar is the best thing for them, so check it out, fellow migrainers. I swear it works wonders.

If you’ve gotten any typo-laden comments from me, please know that it’s the migraine who’s illiterate, not me. Most of the time, anyway.

It will pass, as it always does, leaving me tired and wondering at the trigger. But until then, I will be taking in the quiet.

In or near Chicago? Check out our sketch comedy revue, “Me Inside Me Presents: Neurotrash.” Saturdays at 10 pm, May 7, 14, 21 & 28. Click here for tickets.

Check out  my full-length novels,  Her Cousin Much Removed,  The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management and Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only), and the sequel, Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) which is now available!

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How I Got More Water in My Life, No Bottles Needed


I’ve got kind of a confession to make, and before you judge me, no, I’m not proud. You see, for some time, I was drinking bottled water out of plastic bottles.

I know, I know, and not just a few here and there. Entire flats of them.

The water in my building has taken on a strongly chlorinated odor, and I just couldn’t deal with the smell or the taste. I tried one of those filtered pitchers, but the water would go stale, and I just wasn’t sure that the pitcher itself wasn’t harboring some type of evil microbial life.

And then I got one of those filters that goes right on the faucet. It was my Dad’s suggestion, he’s always full of ideas for useful little gadgets, and was silently and subtly disapproving of my water bottle habit.

It’s fantastic. It’s about the best thing ever. I tried one years ago, and the water squirted up from around the threading, spraying me and filtering nothing. They’ve come a long way since then.

It’s rare you have a problem and find a solution that solves it completely, but that’s what it did.

In Honor of the Humble Frozen Vegetable


You walk past them in the freezer case of the grocery store, bag after bag lumpily stacked. They sit there, quietly, waiting for someone, anyone, to notice them. They don’t even know that they are superstars.

I am, of course, talking about frozen veggies.

They are, frankly, brilliant. With one little bag, you can get a single vegetable, or a range of three, five, even more. They are washed. They are cut. And they’re ready for business.

You can use them in literally anything, and you don’t even have to make an effort to prep them. You just dump them into whatever you’re making, and most of the time, you can do that even when they’re frozen.

You may be familiar with my love of frozen veggies from my earlier post, Easiest Sauce Ever. But the love doesn’t stop there. With a quick pour and a touch of a microwave, you have steamed veggies of any denomination. Throw them on baking sheet with salt, pepper and some oil or cooking spray, still frozen, put them in a hot oven, and you have roasted vegetables. Thunk them into a pan and saute them.

They’re not fussy. They’re only there to help.