A heart full of rock salt.

Oooh! Blogging about my feelings! It's rare these days, I'm too busy ignoring them.

So I was having a minor meltdown tonight (complete and inefficient overload in many areas of life, some of which I thought were reasonably under control.) Hosting, a couple of cocktails and some pleasant chat about butt sex kept me going for awhile, until I came home and started shaking uncontrollably like my neighbor's adorable sweatered Chihuahua. Well, I was having an attack of the feelings (source confidential at this time, thank you), and it was a mighty one. And once I had a couple of traumatic/thereapeutic/crushing conversations, I laid on the sofa, watching my legs cramp and my knees twitch under my heavy opaque tights. Tights removed, i flipped on the TV and fell upon Kill Bill part 2 (one of my top five favorite movies of all time, the others being Caddyshack, All that Jazz and a few others that do not include Indiana Jones). Michael Madsen (hot! in that beat-up way I adore) plugs Uma Thurman (hot!) in the chest with a double barrel's worth of shells filled with rock salt.

So that's how I felt.

I enjoyed the rest of the movie. I especially enjoy the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Trick.

I made 2 psychotic-looking lamb-shaped cakes, a large and fragile cheese paschka, several kulichi (except the little ones were burned), and 4/5 of the recipe of Ambrosia Salad (sour cream withheld until the day of service). Now I will nap, then pack for my trip, go back to my office and get my flash drive, and I'm outta here.

A heart full of rock salt.

Christos Voskres, yo.