Celebrating my Homecoming With Seed Bread and Hieroglyphic Barf Bags

OK, I need to tell you up front that all the truly hilarious photos from Las Vegas are on my laptop, which is in my daughter's room, who is sleeping off a late trip to the Symphony (fer reals, y'all) and I don't want to disturb her. (She's frightening when she's overtired. Picture that chick in The Exorcist.)

 So those pics will have to wait for another day. I will however show you this one: Two grossly overpriced cocktails enjoyed in our hotel casino, clearly made with getting patrons hammered in mind. (Mine tasted like pure alcohol with a splash of juice for colour. A few more of these and I would have been hurling all over the craps table.)

In the meantime, it's early, I'm awake, and I feel like blogging. Allow me first to tell you that the bags under my eyes were like army duffells by the time I finally got home. It took two full days to stop falling asleep in the middle of the morning. And I must tell you the temperature change wasn't pleasant either. To top it all off, we had somehow left a tiny overhead light on in our car, and came home at 10 PM to discover that the battery was dead as a nit. Bob was not amused, and that's all I'm going to say about that.

BUT, the house was clean, the kids were healthy, the cats were still alive, and other than an ongoing dispute about which kid spent the most of the money I left behind on their own selfish pleasures, all was well. Can't wait for the next big adventure.

One thing the trip DID do for me was get me excited to get into the kitchen again. (Five days of far too much pizza, french fries and dinner rolls will do that to a person.) So I decided to indulge one of my daughter's many whims and make her bread. Not just any bread, but bread that appears to have been rolled in birdseed. They sell a similar bread at the supermarket and she dies for it. ME? Not so much. I hate having crunchy bits in my baked goods. Makes me feel like I'm eating cat kibble.

So anyway, I made some really hearty whole wheat dough, studded with all sorts of crunchy bits and rolled in a hell of a lot MORE crunchy bits: Flax seeds, sesame seeds, cornmeal, hemp, and chopped sunflower and pumpkin seeds. I used almond butter and a flax/water combo to hold all that shit on. (Though not as completely as I would have liked...they're fucking seeds and nuts all over our damn kitchen every time she takes a slice. Seeds in my toaster. Seeds in my damn PEANUT BUTTER, seeds between my toes when I walk through the kitchen barefoot.

Oh well. Those seeds certainly are good for the ol' bod, so I suppose I shouldn't complain, (even though that's how I entertain myself on slow days.)

IN OTHER NEWS....on our flight home on American Airlines (on which I scored a free beer!) I absconded with the vomit bag from the back of the seat. My intention, being the hysterical, life-of-the-party gal that I am, was to use it to pack my son's lunch the next day. Hilarity would of course ensue. But when I got said bag home, my son pointed out to me that there were rows of oh-so mysterious symbols written on the back:

BY GOSH, I THINK HE"S RIGHT!!! Some stranger has written me a secret, coded message and relayed it to me via the handily-provided air sickness receptacle! Thank God I didn't have to blow chunks during the flight!

I post this for you all at this time in the hopes that someone amongst you, perhaps a turtleneck-wearing, tweed-blazer-sporting Robert Langdon type will come forward and decipher this cryptic message. I strongly feel that the key to my future is inscribed on this bag, and so I will sit here on my sofa and bide my time until that person steps forward and all is revealed. (You don't mind if I have a beer and watch soft porn while I wait, do you??)

And how was YOUR week?