I'm eating a Krispy Kreme donut Right This Second

That's right. It's a day old, but it's real and it's mine, and life is full of daisies and clover and sugar glazes and saturated fats. They've opened a store in Birmingham, I guess, and the missionaries brought some to my friend Ph.D.'s family, and she wrapped up two of them to give to me. They will be getting a thank-you card for that one, since I am now One Who Gives Thank-You Cards, daltongirl.

It's been a great day foodwise, actually. I made my very first Indian cuisine. Thanks to the good people at Tesco who make jars of tikka masala, it turned out to be pretty easy:

1. Buy chicken for the first time in months. Cook it. Do not cause a grease fire.
2. Pour jar of tikka masala over chicken. Heat. Do not cause a grease fire. Wipe splatters off wall.
3. Cook rice. This will be hard without rice cooker, but you will manage.
4. Put masala stuff on rice, not on self.
5. Eat while watching BBC News.
6. Freeze remaining twelve servings of food.

It worked out pretty well, I think.

And do you all remember my sweet coolmom? She sent me this after I mentioned all the walking I've been doing.

I'm glad things are going well, although all this talk of hoofin' it conjures up images of a homeless person. I envision this poor little creature walking in the rain, with no head covering, carrying a bunch of plastic bags, returning to the lonely hovel to light a small stump of candle and eat some crumbs of bread and cheese before pulling a thin blanket over your tired little frame and sleeping fitfully through the night. But that's just the mother in me.

My favorite is the bit with the candle. It's straight out of Charles Dickens. But she's absolutely right. That is how I'm living, and so probably everyone should send me money. Or gift certificates. I'm not picky. I just want to be warm . . .