What a kick in the dang kneecap!

I realize it's been a couple days, so I'm going to try and catch you up.

Friday, aka The Ham Loaf Semi-Fiasco:

Have you ever had ham loaf? My guess is that if you're not Chris, Julie, Brian, Sam, or me...you have not. Do you know why you have probably never had this Stucky-specialty?

Because it is ILLEGAL to grind ham in the state of North Carolina.

Yes. You read that right. ILLEGAL.

I had promised C that I would try my best at making one of his favorite foods (or a food that his mom made once...or a food he had heard about once...I'm not even quite sure...) for dinner on Friday.

The recipe was simple enough, very much like regular meat loaf, but instead of beef it used ground ham. So I made my way to the Teeter (WOW. I write about Harris Teeter too much...) to ask "my local butcher" to grind up some delicious ham. He looked at me, with what I would describe as shock on his face and replied, "I can give you ground pork, I can give you ground beef, I can NOT give you ground ham, because it's illegal in the state of North Carolina to grind ham."

Oh, REALLY!?!?

I went on to describe that it's a dear, dear friend's dying wish to have ham loaf TONIGHT and I had to find ground ham somewhere, ANYWHERE. Yes, I know...I am being dramatic, but I did ask him where I could go about getting ground ham because I desperately needed it. He told me that if I promised not to tell anyone, he would grind ham for me. Of course, me (always a thinker!!) believing that this could be the only time I could get ground ham in NC, I handed him 3 pounds of ham to grind so that I could freeze 2 pounds, just in case this was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted in my life.

This blog is my way of thanking that dear butcher...you know...since he told me not to tell anyone. At least I didn't tell you his name, right?

Oh...and PS...

The ham loaf wasn't so bad. So the two pounds of ground ham in my freezer will not go to waste...it shall live to loaf another day (or something like that)...

Saturday, aka Mike's Independence Party:

Recently, the great Mike Grosz (yes, he's one of those "great guys") got a promotion at the ol' B of A. No one deserved this promotion more than him. I mean, seriously, I think he worked 169 hours a week (see...this is funny because there are only 168 hours in a week, so it would be impossible for him to actually work 169 hours...) and still managed to have a smile on his face.

To celebrate this promotion, Mike threw a "Independence Day" party...and I must say...it was better than any Independence Day party I've ever been to.

I'm trying to remember the highlights...I know there were some, but it's best to just throw some pictures (THANKS FOR TAKING PICTURES, THOMAS!!!!) in here and let you add your own captions...

(Good luck with the captions...I look forward to seeing what you come up with...)


After leaving Mike's party, Chris and I met up with Julie and we headed to Ed's Tavern for a lil' UFC goodness and then made our way with Thomas, Kim, Jimmy, Josh, Beth, and uhhh...I know there was someone else, forgive me, to Tavern on the Tracks. All in all...A+ night. Thanks, Mike!!!

Sunday, aka My Most Favorite-est Day of the Week:
I'm not sure why I'm adding Sunday to this list of days. We really didn't do anything out of the ordinary, but it did remind me of why Sunday mornings are my favorite time of the week. C & J came over for breakfast (mmmm....biscuits and gravy....yummo....) and we watched Charlie Bartlett. Mid-movie, Brian, Jim, and Bob came over to take Sam's couch away (*tear*, I'll miss you, couchie couch...) and replace it with a big chair from Jim and Lulu's house (no worries...it's pretty). Good times. The evening came to a lovely end when I downed two sleeping pills and slept from 6:30pm to 6:30am. Jealous? You should be...it was W-O-N-D-E-R-F-U-L.

Monday, aka Don't Talk to Me:

You know those days when EVERY. SINGLE. THING. gets on your nerves?

Yeah. That was me yesterday. I actually snapped at people that I really had no business snapping at (you know...such quality people as the doctor at work). WHY can't people take care of their own crap? I don't know. WHY can people just not talk to me (other than Jackie...she always makes me laugh, so she gets a "thumbs up!" from me)? WHY can people not avoid sitting in the chairs across from my desk and refrain from telling me STUPID stories from their lives? Who knows??

I really blame myself. I have always prided myself on knowing everything (or at least faking that I know everything...as Sam says, "My world kind of falls apart when you say you don't know something."), so really, I have no right to be mad at someone for asking stupid questions. I have always allowed stupid questions in the past, why would I not allow them now?

So. If YOU were one of the people that I snapped at or annoyed with emails while trying to avoid yelling at people in "real life", I'm sorry. It wasn't you, it was me. Oh...who am I kidding? If I snapped at you...you probably deserved it. Never talk to me when I'm giving you the evil eye. It's just not smart.

Tuesday, aka Today, aka Don't Run On the Stairs, Sam:

Today started off pretty good. Then I got the phone call. Yes. I'm being dramatic, but still....

THE. PHONE. CALL.

It was drugged-up Sam. At first I thought she was kidding, then I heard medical sounds in the background and knew that she totally was not kidding.

She told me that a few hours before she had been running down the stairs with a diaper to change Daniel (see picture of adorable baby from Saturday) and fell....and broke BOTH her tibia and fibula (the lower leg bones, people). Now, I'm going to back her mother up on this one when I say that her bones are far to brittle for a 29 year old, but we'll deal with that at another time.

So, as I type this, I am sitting in Brian and Sam's king size bed with a very nauseated Sam (she doesn't handle her pain meds very well) as she tries to get up every 20 minutes or so to TRY and throw up (she doesn't have the bulimia skillz down like yours truly).

She goes to the doctor tomorrow to set up her surgery appointment, but she's thinking it's going to be Friday, which makes me wonder...is she going to make it to Friday Night Dinner???

HA! Don't you just love how I am starting to question how this whole thing is going to affect me???

(I'm only half kidding.)