Sigh....

It's me again, sighing. Another week of good intentions about blogging more, and more seriously, and writing real stuff that I actually thought about beforehand and edited or even proofread before posting has passed. I'm starting to think I suck at this, especially when I read my own archives and realize that I used to actually post with a purpose 90% of the time. I think it's 50-50 now. Not sure where this one falls.

The good - my daughter was accepted into the grad program she wanted, which will give her the coveted Letters After Her Name that will move her into management eventually. God knows she's served her time in the trenches working with the most challenging of the developmentally disabled population, and has the damaged disks in her spine to prove it. She has served her time in the toughest trenches, knows her stuff, is damn good at it, and should be looking at moving on up into managing and/or teaching it.

The better - Miss D returned to Baby School this week. Summer's over here. It'll be hot until November, but summer slacking is over and we all are getting our school and work year plans together.

Miss D adjusted to baby school again fairly quickly, despite her couple of months off. The most amusing/amazing thing to me is that this school, which has been in business with the same owners and much of the same staff for 30+ years, doesn't hold with a lot of the New Fussy Mom baby food rules.

Miss D is eating toddler style lunches at 10 months (this Sunday) and loving it. Grilled cheese and a veggie, and takes great pride in feeding herself. My daughter reports that if you try to give her a bottle she gets bored, but if you fix her a bottle and leave it on the coffee table while she is busy, she'll sit down and drink it all down. She loves drinking from a cup too. She's on her feet all the time, though still holding on for safety, is babbling up a storm, has mastered feeding the dogs anything she's done with, and is leaving babyhood so breathtakingly fast.

She was at Baby School yesterday when her mom and I went to lunch to celebrate the grad school acceptance. We went to our tiny local awesome seafood place, and despite my better judgment I ordered the signature cod fish and chips. Despite my better judgment not because it's bad - oh no, it's great - but because I've become so unused to fried foods and have been so plant based. It was delicious, but I did pay the price. After I ate my fill of fried food I felt sort of dizzy, but not in a good way. I was exhausted for the rest of the afternoon.

I couldn't finish my lunch portion and took a box home, removed the breading and fed the last generous hunk of cod to Higgins. He polished it off enthusiastically and reverently, and has been out of sorts ever since. After that glorious piece of fish, when his hope that this rest home was under new and better management at LAST, his hopes were dashed. I opened a CAN of CAT FOOD. He was pissed. He retaliated at 5 a.m. by screaming about the CRAP I had left in his DISH at bedtime! Seriously, why is the service in this establishment so erratic? Chef prepared gourmet fish at one meal, shit on a shingle at the next?

Sorry cat, I've had my non-plant-based meal for the month. I dragged for the rest of the day and realized yet again that I just feel better when I stay plant based. Tonight I made another batch of the slow cooker vegan mac and cheese, this time with a different and better brand of "chicken" base flavoring that was much less salty. I loved it, and Murphy pestered and screamed for it. I let him have a few individual noodles. I know it's much, much lower in fat than regular macaroni and cheese, but I'm not sure whether the plant based fats will have the same effect on his sensitive system. We shall test these recipes cautiously. I just get a huge kick out of a little canine carnivore throwing a fit for something that has no animal products in it.