Various Forms of Pain

A quick update on the Insanely Spicy Curry (i know you 've been thinking about it): On the first night, after we finished dinner, I drained the liquid off, added more peas, coconut milk, and a couple tbsp of yogurt. Doug ate some the second night and said it was much less spicy. Last night, I spent way too much time thinking about what to do, then pulled it out and served it again for dinner. I added some corn, a little peanut butter, and mixed it with pasta. It is now a different creature than what I started out to make, but it's rather tasty and can be eaten without pain. I won't have to throw it out after all!

On an unrelated note, I fell down our stairs today. Really, it was only about one-third of the way down the stairs, but it sounds better when I'm less specific. I must have cried out in surprise/pain/fear when it happened because both kids came running. Eli looked at me long enough to determine that I wasn't bleeding, then went back to what he was doing. Lila tried to help me up, but I was still in too much pain to move. If I wasn't going to let her minister to me, then she had no further use for me, so she also went back to what she was doing.

Thankfully, I'm fine except for some scrapes and bruises. But, as I was evaluating my injuries a little while ago, I was reminded of a funny story that happened to me when I was pregnant with Eli. As a matter of fact, I was two days away from my c-section, so I was really pregnant with Eli.

I woke up one morning to the sound of a naughty cat scratching the carpet. I sat up, spotted the guilty culprit, and grabbed the nearest squirt bottle. (We keep these handy all over the house.) I jumped out of bed and took off in pursuit of the cat, squirting water at him as I went. We had wood floors in that house... and I was running... and I was squirting water in front of me as I ran... 9 months pregnant... Jump to Doug's point of view--

He is in the kitchen, making his breakfast and doing Morning Things. He hears a strange sound from the direction of our bedroom and looks up, over the bar, in time to see his extremely pregnant wife come running into the living room and then disappear. The next thing he sees is said pregnant wife's feet in the air. He comes around the end of the bar to see me, flat on my back, laughing my ass butt off. He, being concerned for my well-being, was not as amused as I was.

I still can't tell the story without laughing so hard that I cry. [she says, as she wipes tears from her eyes.] I mean, really, what good is a story like that if you can't laugh at yourself?

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