What IS this place? What am I doing here?

What is this "blog" of which you speak? It sounds somewhat familiar...

That may have been the longest I have gone without blogging. I kept coming over here and blankly looking at the page, thinking "Yep, that's my blog. There it is."

Then I would go do something other important project, like trying to match my Mystery Socks. The most mysterious of the socks is the brown argyle one I have had since about 1997. I think I might oughta give up finding its mate. But it was such a GOOD pair of socks. Why did that one disappear and leave me pairless? *sob* My life: a never-ending string of micro-tragedies.

I have taken two days off work, so I have a four-day weekend. It was either that or Xanax. You think I'm joking? (bitter laugh).

So far I have slept in, eaten oatmeal and Girl Scout Thin Mints for breakfast, made a quadruple batch of dog food, and washed dishes 3 times (last night's, breakfast, dog food) and spent 4 hours (more or less) Twittering.

I ventured into new culinary territory by making beef-based dog food.

Until now I have only dared to cook that least meaty of meats, boneless chicken breasts. I was inspired to bust out of my rut by the sight of a big slab of pot roast for $1.47/lb. on sale at Vons.

I have never really cooked beef before and I had certainly never encountered something like a 7 bone roast.

The label said something about browning it on both sides and then braising it, which threw me into a panic. I didn't have a pan big enough to fit this monstrous cow side into to brown on both sides, and I didn't want to chop it up because I would then have to *actually touch beef.* Eeew.

I know some people cook meat every day without a problem but one of the main reasons I became a vegetarian 23 years ago is that I am too much of a wimp to handle raw meat.

The sight of a rare roast beef sandwich almost made me faint in a deli when I was about 14. I was standing there with my mom, holding the tray with sandwiches on it, looked down and became transfixed at the sight of a bloody rare pile of meat between two slices of bread.

Suddenly the world took a big swoopy turn and my mom had to grab the tray and sit me down to recover...I'm not making this up - I am truly that annoying of a person.

To attack the beast, I got out my biggest soup pot, kind of scored the roast down the middle with my sharpest knife, folded it like orgami and submerged it in water. I simmered it forever and it came out looking shreddy and burrito-meat-like. Voila.

I'm not disparaging people who eat meat - au contraire. I feel like it is me who is the lily-livered wimp and kind of admire people who can tear into a filet mignon like it is actual food and not a slab of Quivering Horror.

Clearly, I have issues. Let's look at the sunset, shall we?