I really thought this little casserole dish was cast iron inside. But it wasn’t. And it blew up on me when I put it in the sink.
Reg came to my rescue. I was so tired and hot, working in a summer kitchen with windows that had to be closed because of wildfire smoke filling our skies. I got really frustrated because dinner was almost ready. I just wanted to sit down but my right pinky would not stop bleeding. I lectured Reg on how to fix me up, knowing I was being ridiculous. He quietly just focused on mending my hand. He even helped finish putting the final touches on dinner. I ate the food, miserable.
I do not write a lot about what is going on in my so-called “real life” because the kitchen is where I get to escape. Lately, that has not been possible. I have been jumping through so many medical hoops and seeing specialists and doing sleep trials and blah blah blah… The truth is, I am sick. I have fibromyalgia and there does not seem to be anything that doctors can do to make it better. Although my pain has improved significantly since moving to the west coast, my fatigue has not. I believe that the move and everything that it took to get here has completely depleted me.
I have been trying to continue as usual but it has been almost impossible with all the medical issues I have had to tend to. I spend a lot of my day in bed when I want to be in my kitchen but I just can not move.
The good news is, I am taking a break from medical appointments. I think they are just as draining as my insomnia and are a big part of the problem. That said, improvement always takes a long time. Please be patient with me. I do not want to explode into pieces like my casserole dish did. Sometimes I forget I am not made of cast iron.