No Salt, No Salt On My Margarita! (Or Anything Else.)

25 years ago today, my mother was really crabby. I was chilling in her uterus, well over due (3 weeks at this point). I wouldn't be born for another five days. By then, my skin would be wrinkled, my fingernails would be long, and, apparently, I had some serious neck muscles.

I've decided to schedule my first wedding dress fitting for my birthday, which is Tuesday. This means zero salt for the week, and now all I want is popcorn. And pretzels. And to stick my tongue in the salt shaker.

There are about seven different projects to attend to at the moment, and my brain is fried like an egg in an 80's anti-drug commercial. So I have nothing else to say.

This is my view from the floor of my kitchen, looking into the living room.