Des trucs

Well, now I know where all my tension is going these days; hope that won't cost me too much. I've been having pains in several teeth for about a month now. A few days ago, it finally got to the point where I broke down and called my dentist--I think it's the first time in a decade I've seen him outside of our semiannual appointments. He said he could do nothing for me except perhaps adjust my nightguard. On the way ride back home I started feeling my jaw muscles and found a lump as big and hard as a tumour. Time to schedule some bodywork.

I got home early enough that it gave me the chance I've been looking for since New Year's to make a savoury bread pudding with the stale sandwich slices I couldn't bear to throw out. I didn't feel like going through the trouble of setting up a bain-marie or adding as much cheese as called for in Sheraton's Bayrischer Käsepudding recipe, so what I put together was essentially a cross between that and a Semmelauflauf minus the sugar. I used crema mexicana in place of sour cream and a shittonne of poppy seeds, so to keep it from seeming too desserty, I tossed in a teaspoon or two of horseradish. Not bad, but a bit dry; next time I think I'd double the crema and bake it a little less.

Sis circulated Crazy Brother's note, presumably to silence any sceptics who think this was all just an attention-getting manœuvre (Hi, Dad!). I told him I won't read it if he doesn't want me to; he can't even remember what he wrote so he's going to review it, but his meds got so screwed up in that rural shithole hospital that I don't think he has the concentration to read anything right now. Mom's got plans to stay with him through most of the weekend and I'm trying to call often to convince him it's still worth sticking around.