A few of us shared baby pictures at work today. So, below is a very old photo of me somewhere near the age of two. The baby is my brother.

I love gadgets. I like things that make my life easier. On Sunday night, my aging Canon BC1000 computer printer died. (Moment of silence.) On Monday night, I went to the local discount supercenter (ya know-- the one where people wear blue vests and there are smiley faces everywhere) to look for a new printer. Since it's "back to school" time (which seems obscene since it's mid-July) the printers were definitely in a range I can afford. It seems strange, though, that the printer cartridges cost more than the printer. While I was looking at the printers, the camera section beckoned. A digital camera has been on my "wish list" for ages, but I always seem to find another use for my money. I'm all about instant gratification so the thought of taking a picture then immediately seeing what it looks like tickles my fancy. I stood in front of the locked case containing the digital cameras and allowed myself to drool over the highly expensive, super-duper high-quality, fancy schmancy cameras for a few moments. Then, I moved a few feet to the left to the "Under $100" cameras. I stood there debating with myself. "You don't need one." "You do need one." "You'll get bored with it." "You'll love seeing your photos as soon as you take them." "You'll miss having to get photos developed." "You can delete the ones you hate." "You will accidentally delete the ones you love." Blah blah blah. After much debate and standing in line for over 20 minutes just to get someone to unlock the case to let me touch an actual camera, I talked myself out of the camera. I bought my printer (and a romance novel) and left the store. I got in my car and headed west towards my home, but the sign for another discount store (ya know, the one with the spuds mckenzie lookalike with the red circle around its eye) called out to me. I pulled in and went to the camera section. I found a camera which was "on sale" and came with a free memory card, carrying case and software for manipulating the photos. It was by a name-brand company, too. I decided to take a leap. I bought the camera. I've been chasing Molly all over the apartment taking pictures of her (evidenced my my post the other night) and I even took it to work and took some photos there. I love my camera. I can't wait to go on vacation and take lots of photos I can come back and immediately upload for all to see. :) Some day, I'll invest in a more expensive digital camera, but for now, I can practice with this one and see how long before I get bored and go back to my old 35mm and one-hour photo developer. Below is a photo of the beautiful blue sky I took tonight from my front door step. The sky reminds me of the movie FERRIS BUELLER'S DAY OFF-- where Ferris looks at the sky and says, "Who can go to school on a day like this?"

Two nights ago, I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep when all of a sudden I started itching. All over. I don't mean a little "Oh, I think something bit me" itch. I mean one huge giant head-to-toe "ohmigosh, I can't stop itching!" kind of thing-- like when you have an allergic reaction to something or have been messing around with poison ivy. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror for a rash or something, but my skin is fine. No blotches. No rash. No bite marks. Nothing. I took a shower, put on a fresh nightgown and crawled back into bed. The itching wouldn't stop. I kept scratching and scratching but nothing would stop the itching. So, I got up again and turned on the lights and looked for anything on my bed that might be causing this reaction. The bed was free of cat hair. There were no bugs or anything that I could see. I even ran the sticky lint roller thingy over everything again to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Nothing. I checked Molly to see if she had fleas. Nothing. She never goes outside and she hasn't been around other cats so I was pretty sure it wasn't fleas but I had to check. I took a benadryl and went back to bed. Yesterday, I woke up feeling ok. I wasn't itching anymore so the Benadryl must have worked. I was, however, very drowsy all day. By the end of the day, the itchies were back. My face, my arms, and my neck are the worst. Everything itches. I've got red marks on my arms and face from scratching so much. I've put on lotion and aloe vera gel. I've sprayed myself with anti-itching spray. I can't figure out what's wrong. This morning, I woke up with a sore throat, congestion and a slight fever. I've had that "run-down" feeling one gets right before they get sick. Plus, I'm still itching like crazy. One of my co-workers joked that I'm coming down with measles, but who hears of that in this immunization-filled world? So, here I sit with a case of the phantom itches and it's driving me crazy. If it's not better by Friday, I'm going to call the doctor. I'm not sure what he can do for me, but maybe he'll at least tell me I'm not losing my mind. :)

In February 2003, a friend called me at work and said, "Do you want a cat?" I had been tinkering with the idea of getting a cat for a few weeks but kept finding excuses to not get one. I couldn't afford the shots, the trips to the vet, the supplies, getting him/her spayed/neutered, etc. I didn't have the time to devote to a pet. I am allergic to cat dander. Blah blah blah. Every excuse I had, he shot down. She had just been to the vet. All of her shots were current. She was spayed and declawed. She was almost 12 years old and healthy. She was quiet, non-clinging and a self-feeder (meaning that I didn't have to remember to feed her every day--- that if I kept the bowl full, she'd eat what she wanted when she wanted.) The owner was giving up her litter box, pet carrier, a 6-month supply of Iams cat food, her cat brush, her medical records, and a month's supply of crystal blend cat litter. So... I said yes. Around 8 pm that same night, my friend and his friend who had to give up the cat showed up at my apartment with all kinds of goodies and a gray and white cat inside a cat carrier. The owner (at that time) gave me all kinds of instructions and information: "She ONLY eats Iams cat food. She ONLY uses crystal blend cat litter. She HAS to have her litter box cleaned every night. She HAS to have her coat brushed every night. She doesn't like soft foods and she doesn't like toys. She's allergic to plastic. She's afraid of the vet. She doesn't get along with other animals. She's never been outside." The list went on and on. Meanwhile, this gray and white furry thing was yowling to be let out of the carrier. Once the previous owner was done listing all of the cat's "maintenance" requirements, he let her out of the carrier. She rushed out and darted under the coffee table. I reached down to pet her and she hissed and growled at me. The previous owner then went on to tell me that she's not affectionate, not a lap cat and doesn't like to be held, cuddled or touched. Hmph. So much for having a pet. I have dust bunnies that are friendlier than that. My friend and his friend left and I tried to get acquainted with Molly, but she wasn't having any of that. She was scared, nervous and p*ssed off. So, I just left her alone. It took her a good two months to warm up to me enough to let me kinda sorta touch her. Now-- two years later, we're the best of buds. She lets me rub her tummy. She has toys and cat treats. She loves a teaspoon of tuna for breakfast. She uses regular hard-clumping cat litter and drinks tap water. I kept the Iams because I switched to cheaper stuff once and she promptly puked it on my carpet. She has a "bed" in my spare bedroom (where the computer is), by my bed in my bedroom and I keep an old blanket at the foot of my bed for her. Recently, she's begun to sleep with her head on the pillow like I do. I can't imagine life without her.... and I remind her regularly that I saved her furry butt but she just looks at me with those big eyes of hers and I am not sure if I saved her or if she saved me. :)

Another Sunday winds down. I'm done with all of my "chores" for the weekend. Woo hoo! There's just enough time to pop a movie in the DVD player and relax a little before starting another work week. This morning, I slept in. It felt great. My bladder woke up around 7 so I got up for it then went back to bed for another couple of hours. My cat, Molly, wanted Mommy to get up so she did this "let's walk up and down mommy's back until she wakes up or hurls me across the room" thing. I didn't hurl her across the room. I chose to get up. After piddling around for a few hours, I decided to go get my groceries for the week while a load of laundry dried. I went out to my car and opened the door and was assaulted by the most foul odor I had smelled in a long time. It smelled like spolied milk, rotten vegetables and vomit all rolled into one. Lovely. I walked around my car looking for evidence that maybe the party-hearty neighbor girls got sick in the parking lot. Nope. I looked under the car for a possible dead animal. Nope. Hmmmm.... I went back inside and got some Febreze and sprayed it into my car. I then started the engine and put down all of the windows. The smell still lingered. I was baffled. I sat there for a few moments trying to decide what to do next when a thought occurred to me. I got out of the car and looked in the trunk and sure enough... there was the bag of trash I had put in there yesterday morning. You see-- I'm all about multi-tasking. So, yesterday morning, I put my trash in the trunk of my car with the intent to drop it off at the dumpster on my way to the gym for my pool workout. Only--- I forgot to do it. I didn't use my car the rest of yesterday and I didn't go out until 2ish today so the garbage had over 24 hours in a hot, closed trunk to ferment and get disgusting. I drove to the dumpster and promptly disposed of the foul object and sprayed some Febreze in the trunk of my car. That still didn't get rid of the odor. I drove back to my apartment and got some "carpet fresh" and sprinkled it on my carpet. It stuck to the wet spots but did very little to extinguish the odor. So, then, I took some water and poured it onto my trunk lining thinking that it would run right through and take the odor with it. It didn't. It pooled in the center of my trunk. Insert big sigh and curse words here. I hopped in the car and drove to the car wash down the street. They have those huge commercial vacuums there. I plunked down $2.50 for 8 minutes of powerful "triple motor strength" suction and vacuumed up all of the water, clumps of carpet fresh and all of the residual "gunk" leftover from the leaking trash bag. To be on the safe side, I poured the rest of my Febreze onto the carpet lining and then vacuumed it up after letting it set for a minute so that the fragrance would be spread all over the trunk but not puddle like the water did. Whew! Oh, and did I mention I was doing all of this in 90 degree heat in the blazing sun? I got back into the car, cranked up the A/C and wiped my hands on the baby wipes I keep in my car. I then went to the grocery store and as I did my shopping, I kept imagining that I smelled that "trunk funk". I figured I had just smelled it so much that it was permanently fixed in my head-- like when you get dog poo on your shoe and even after you've wiped it off, you imagine you can still smell it... even if no one else can. I smelled it on the drive home and thought that maybe I hadn't cleaned the trunk well enough. I stopped at a drugstore and bought some car air frensheners and tossed them into the trunk. When I got home, I unloaded my groceries and went inside my nice cool apartment. As I put away the groceries, I kept smelling the odor. My cat even came up to me and sniffed the air and then backed away from me. At that point, I decided to do a head to toe check.... and sure enough, there was some trunk gunk on the pant leg of my capris. UGH!!! I stripped down right there in the kitchen and tossed the offending clothing into the washing machine, along with everything else I had on-- just in case there was more lingering unseen trunk funk to be found later. I then took a shower and got dressed-- again-- and plopped my butt down in front of the TV. Why do I feel like my life is an episode of the Lucille Ball show sometimes? :)

I saw the movie CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY this afternoon with 11 of my co-workers and a hoard of yapping, giggling, whispering kids. The kids weren't ours. That'll teach us to go to an early afternoon matinee on the opening day of a movie like that. :) I've read the book the movie is based on. (I was young and I don't remember much, but I did read the book.) I've seen WILLIE WONKA AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY hundreds of times and never get tired of it. I was eagerly anticipating the re-make just because I've heard so many good things about originality, creativity and Johnny Depp's performance. That said, I was a little disappointed in the movie. Johnny Depp was excellent. It was a treat to see him doing that kind of role... and he had some great lines. "Everything here is eatable. I'm eatable. But, that, my dear children, is called cannibalism and frowned upon in most societies" really cracked me up. :) I can't quite say what it is that left me wanting. Maybe it was just that I really expected some of the things from the "other" movie to show up. SORT OF SPOILER..... We find out that Willie is "different" because his father wouldn't let him eat chocolate as a child and Willie grew up thinking that his father was disappointed in him. The audience is treated to several flashbacks to Willie's childhood. SPOILER END...... Anyhoo--- it made me laugh. It did not make me cry. It was worth the matinee price I paid for it, but I think I'm going to stick to the Gene Wilder version for my entertainment value. :) If any of you go to see it, you'll have to let me know what you thought of it. On an unrelated note, I bought my airline e-tickets today for my vacation to Virginia Beach in September. I also confirmed my beachfront, oceanview hotel room. I know it's almost 2 months away, but I can't wait to leave town and head to the beach for some sun, sand, saltwater, and stress-free splendor. :)

ABC's new reality show about internet dating had its first episode tonight. I have to say that my feelings about the authenticity of the show are mixed right now. Every single woman is young, attractive and successful. This is not a true snapshot of "everywoman" who is placing and answering personal ads. If it was meant to make "the rest of us" feel better because even "they" can't get dates, it failed. Still, I enjoyed watching the dates and the small talk attempts. One woman had a date with a 43-year old musician who posted a 15 year old photo of himself and called himself a thin Fabio when they spoke on the phone. He even told her he was in his 30s and a part time model in his email. The guy who showed up was very eccentric and not at all what he said he was. She even called him on it and he didn't seem to care. Hmm.... now that's more like it. Anyhoo--- wanted to share my thoughts. I'll probably watch it the rest of the summer just to see if anyone has any success... and to learn some pointers in the event I decide to head back out into the dating world soon. The weekend is almost here. This week has just dragged by. I only work a half-day tomorrow. My team at work is having an "off-site team building meeting"-- which is business-speak for we're taking the afternoon off to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory together. :) Bring on the oompaloompas! I can't wait to see Johnny Depp as a neurotic hermit who doesn't trust anyone and who lives in a world of his own imagination.

I'm running out of internet dating stories. I may have to do what Ed (fellow blogger and LOST forum poster) suggested and "take one for the team" and post another ad to generate some new stories. I don't know if I have the patience and energy to put up with shenanigans right now, though. I might just end up hurting someone... and I don't really don't look good in County Jail Orange. In May 1995, a really nice young man, "R", answered a personal ad I had on Prodigy. He had just turned 30 and HIS biological clock was ticking. He was a genuinely nice guy. Kinda on the geeky side, but sweet. He worked in the technology/computer department of a large hospital. We killed some major hours writing e-mails to one another. The great thing was that he liked me just as much as I liked him and he would do these "endearing" things like email me jokes and riddles, send me packages of "cubicle art" he had collected (you know the things-- those little cartoons and pictures that people hang up that say things like "stress is the overwhelming desire to smack the sh*t out of someone" etc etc etc), send me t-shirts he'd get for eating a lot of ice cream, scan photos to disk that I sent him, etc. "I LIKE YOU" types of stuff. We wrote for months.... MONTHS... without losing interest in one another. We lived about 2 1/2 hours apart, though, so eventhough we'd write about meeting, it would never really work out. He sent me a "coupon" good for one free dinner if I should ever find myself in his town. In early October 1995, I was in his town for a a three-day conference. I debated with myself over whether or not I should tell him and finally collect on the coupon. At the last minute, I sent him an email telling him where I'd be staying and how long I'd be in town. On the second night of the conference, we had a "mixer" in the hotel. The drinks were free and there was great dance music. I met up with some colleagues and had a few drinks and did some dancing. When I got back to my hotel room around midnight, there was a note on my nightstand from the woman I was rooming with saying that "R" had called. I freaked out. I guess I hadn't really thought he'd look me up. I was a little high on life so I went to the pay phone in the lobby (I didn't want to call from the room and wake up my roomie) and called him. I hadn't even looked at the clock. I woke him up. I was so giddy and goofy. It was the first time we had ever talked on the phone. He sounded really nice and he didn't even get mad that I woke him up. He said, "So, are you ready to collect on that free dinner?" I said yes and told him I was only going to be in town one more day, though, and wasn't going to be staying over because I had to work the day after that. He asked what time the conference ended and I said 5 but I could probably cut out early. We agreed to meet the next day at a local mall for dinner. I could not keep my mind on the conference. I had already told most of my colleagues about my "internet boyfriend" and they were teasing me, encouraging me, offering up suggestions and advice. Finally, around 4, I couldn't take it any longer and left the conference. I wanted to get to the mall before him so that I could be watching for him. I wanted to see if I could pick him out of a crowd. We had agreed to meet on the second floor by the escalators. When the meeting time came and went, I started to get nervous. Did I pick the right place? Was I on the wrong floor? Had he shown up, seen me and left? Then, while I was panicking internally, I looked up and saw this tall, cute, dark-haired guy walking towards me with a smile on his face. I did one of those things where you look over your shoulder to make sure there isn't someone standing behind you waiting for that person. Nope. No one there. He came right to me and said my name. Then, we hugged and he said, "How does Max and Erma's sound?" I said that it sounded fine and we walked to the restaurant. We got settled in the restaurant and made nervous small talk. I was looking at the menu trying to figure out what to have. I had never been there before. I was looking over the pasta dishes, salad dishes, etc I finally decided on a salad because it had the less potential to end up on the front of my dress. He chose spaghetti and meatballs. While we were waiting on our food, he said to me, "There's something I've been wanting to tell you." I looked at him waiting for the "I'm gay." or "I'm married." or "I'm changing my name and moving to Timbuktu." Something, anything that would promptly end all hopes of a happily ever after. "You know how I told you in my e-mails that I was sick for awhile and had to have some surgery?" he asked, with this serious look on his face. I nodded, fearful of what he was about to tell me. "Well, the truth is, I had cancer. I'm fine now. The prognosis is good. But, they had to remove one of my testicles and my chances of having kids get lower every day," he said. I just looked at him. What do you say to that? I was shocked. Scared a little, too, because I hadn't really known anyone who had battled cancer and I surely had no clue as to why he had to have a testicle removed. I nodded and made some empathetic comment. I can't even remember what I said, to be honest. I was curious about why he brought it up then... and why face to face? Did he want to see my reaction? Was he going to tell me he wanted me to have his kids? Was he that serious about me that he felt that he needed to tell me? Did he think he was going to get lucky after dinner and thought he should tell me so that I didn't get suspicious when I couldn't find "it" later? We ate our meals, made small talk, then he walked me to the entrance to the parking garage. I tried not to look "down there" to see if I could notice anything. I tried not to see if he walked differently. We hugged, he kissed my cheek and he said he'd be in touch. I got into my car and drove home in a bit of a fog. We got together one more time after that "date" and I even took a friend along to get her opinion of him. He wasn't the same guy that time, though. He wasn't as personable and seemed kind of blah. His emails got fewer and fewer and eventually, by December that year, he had stopped writing altogether. I don't really know what went "wrong." Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. When I moved to "his" town the following year, I sent him an email to let him know I was here in case he ever just wanted a friend or whatever, but I never heard back from him. Not to make light of the whole thing (because it is a serious thing and I'm glad he was a survivor), I have to admit it was hard to watch him eat spaghetti and meatballs after he shared his news. Every time he bit into the meatball, I flinched a little and wondered if there was some symbolism there that I was missing.

I've been trying to think of a way to add height to my bed without having to buy a new bed frame, headboard, etc. I thought about hiring someone from the local HANDYMAN CONNECTION to build me a wooden raised bed platform like those made on those home-improvement shows. I was on the 'net a couple of weeks ago and saw an auction on eBay for "bed risers." UNIVERSAL bed risers. "These will work with just about every bed out there," the description said. They were also adjustable. I could make them anywhere from 3 inches to 6 inches high. Brilliant. I won the auction and received the risers in the mail yesterday. I figured I had to have saved hundreds of dollars since I didn't have to hire a carpenter to build me anything. I ripped open the box and read the instructions. Easy to understand. Easy to use. The hard plastic material seemed durable and the insert said that they can bear weight up to 1200 lbs. First, I thought I could just raise up each corner of the bed and pop one of the risers beneath the caster and be done with it. Well, I do not possess super-human strength. I couldn't even lift the bed an inch. (I also have a bad back so this made it particularly interesting to do.) I yanked the mattress off and propped it against the wall. I tried again to lift a corner of the bed. Still too heavy. So, then, I took off the box spring (why are they called "spring" when they are just boards???) and propped it against the mattress. Aaaah, I could finally lift the bed frame. But... that would be too easy. The "caster" would not fit into the opening in the riser. So much for "universal". I then wrestled with the caster and eventually got it yanked out of the leg. I centered the narrow metal leg of the bed frame in the center of the gaping 2 1/2 inch rectangular opening in the riser and moved on to the next corner. When I lifted this corner, the bed frame came apart in the center. (It's an adjustable bed frame that can fit three mattress sizes. It sounded like a good idea when I bought it.) So, I then fit the pieces of the frame back together, but the movement caused the one corner on a riser to tilt and the leg was balancing precariously on the lip of the riser. I quickly re-centered it and then, stretching one hand out to hold the bed frame together, placed a second corner under a riser. I then proceeded this little dance with the remaining two corners. I stood back to admire my handy work and noticed that there were blood droplets on my carpet. I looked down and sure enough, I had somehow cut my left index finger. Blood was running down my hand. I rushed to the bathroom and cleaned it up and put a band-aid on it. I then put spot remover on the bloody carpet so that my bedroom didn't look like a CSI crime scene. Back to admiring my work. I noticed that during my efforts, I had shifted the bed too far to one side and it was no longer centered with the home-made headboard I made many years ago. I went to try to slide the bed frame to one side and caused the frame to topple from all four risers. So much for sturdy. I had to start the whole danged process of positioning the risers over. By this time, I was sweating like a piggy and cursing like a sailor. Finally, I had the bed frame where I wanted it. I tried to lift the box spring back onto the frame but as soon as I lowered one side of it onto the frame, two of the risers tipped over. I straightened the risers and wrestled with the box spring some more. The other two risers then tipped over. Then, I looked down and noticed more blood. This time, on my box spring. I thought maybe the bandaid had fallen off of my right hand. Nope. A new cut. On the index finger of my left hand this time. Back to the bathroom for first aid. I came in, stared at the half-centered box spring and uneven bed frame and said what most people would in this situation. "What the BLEEP!" I pulled the box spring off of the frame, causing the remaining two risers to fall over. I propped it up against the mattress and retrieved the casters and replaced them. I took the risers and had a temporary thrill as I hurled them down the stairs. They made this satisfying thump thump thump thump smack sound as each one bounced down 14 steps and hit my apartment door. I put the box spring and mattress back on the bed, remade the bed and fell on top of it, frustrated and exhausted from my 2 hour battle with the risers. I emailed the seller of the risers to see if I could return them and he was very polite and said that I had to return them within 3 business days by overnight mail... and then he'd credit my paypal account the product's purchase price, less shipping. After I did the math, I realized I'd in the hole $3.50 just to return them. So, I picked them up, carried them back upstairs and shoved them under my bed. I now have a gift for the next White Elephant gift exchange at work. I also have two cuts and three bruises on various parts of my body. Where is a man with a toolbelt and some wood when you need him? ;)

One of my favorite things to do is tinker in the kitchen. Until I got my first apartment at the ripe old age of 28, I had always lived with other people or in situations where my meals were provided or where I had access to a restaurant or fast food, etc. Once I was on my own, and several pounds heavier than I should have been, I started cooking. I discovered I liked it. I love to go to restaurants and then come home and try to recreate my "favorite" things from that restaurant in my own home. Where most women go to clothing stores to browse, I go to housewares stores, gourmet food stores, health food stores, and try to go to each of the three grocery stores in the area once a week to look for "new" items. I thought I'd share something I've been doing since I have no problem cooking for myself during the weekend, but can't seem to find time on weeknights. My grocery list always contains some "staples" that I can doctor up to make more interesting like poultry and frozen veggies. A few weeks ago, I bought a bag of those frozen boneless skinless chicken breasts and every Sunday, I take out 4 or 5 (depending on how much chicken I want to eat the following week) and put them in a casserole dish with water (you could substitute chicken stock, veggie stock for more flavor) and seasonings (usually Italian or Cajun.) Then, I cover the dish and put it in the microwave for 3-5 minute increments, turning the meat occasionally, until all of the breasts are done. Then, I drain the water and let them cool in the dish. Once they are cooled, I take freezer bags make up my own "portioned" microwaveable meals. I either chop up the chicken or leave it whole and then add things to the bag. One baggie will have diced chicken, some frozen broccoli florets, some frozen cauliflower florets, salt/pepper and some velveeta. Another baggie, I'll put in brussel sprouts, a whole chicken breast and some butter substitute. In another bag, I'll put some carb-smart bbq sauce, frozen corn, some of that Uncle Ben's 90 sec microwaveable brown rice, and chunks of chicken. Etc etc etc. I play around with different combinations of things depending on my mood. Sometimes, I'll be craving "mexican", so I'll put in chicken, taco spices, frozen corn, and some drained pinto beans. Sometimes, I'll add some cream of chicken soup, rice, broccoli and chicken. Another time, I'll add some chicken gravy to chicken and mixed veggies. You are only limited by your imagination, your dietary needs and your available items. :) Anything that is fast is a staple in my pantry. I love those new 90 second rice bags. I will buy them and then instead of cooking and eating the whole bag at one meal, I'll use some of it in 3 or 4 different home-made meals. They come in all kinds of flavors. I control the carbs, the fat, the calories, the flavor. When I come home from work, I put the contents of a baggie on a microwaveable plate and 5 minutes later, a home-cooked meal. I use baggies instead of plastic containers because the baggies lie flat and take up less room than bulky plastic containers. If you buy the "good" freezer baggies with the double-layers, they also help prevent freezer burn. In plastic containers, there's so much "room" left that ice crystals can form on the food and leave you with watery and/or freezer burned food. Hope this helps out some of you who are wondering what to make for dinner tonight. :)