True story: I did not check my work email until after 3 because I had a nagging concern that we didn't really have the day off, and if this was so, I didn't want to know. Yes, I'm a government employee and, yes, today is a federal holiday, but what with being sick Friday it just feels like this weekend has lasted forever. And it has been beautiful. And I never ever wanted it to end. And tomorrow it will. But we will always have the $1.99 skillet.
(Backing up.) Despite a rocky start (literally - wave to the widdle gallstones!), by Saturday night I was a bit more perky, so we went to Sunset Station to get the last of the gifts for at least another month. (We didn't really play in the last 90 days, so we've finally been dropped from the weekly crapathon again. No matter - Mike dumpster-dived someone else's Calendar of Offers and it was all pretty boring. Good timing for a break.)
The gifts were cute little Post-it sets, and after collecting them we did some play. I fared better than Mike, winning what exactly what he lost, and I got a nice fistful of points. Then we went to Denny's on another 2-for-1 burger coupon, Mike substituting Swiss cheese on the double cheeseburger (he will never accept American slices) and me with my mushroom and Swiss Boca with seasoned fries. Yum yum, and yes, I realize the fries don't really speak to Gallbladder Attack Preventive Practices. However, looking back at this past year, I'm not exactly sure what does. Right now I'm just trying to stay moderate (as always) and more careful than before of things that are visibly oily.
So, that was fun, and - oh - I reached level 60 in WoW on Saturday and got my epic mount. I went with the green skeletal warhorse, and it's very comely with my tarty plate mail. (Whenever I whine about my blood elf being covered in armor, Mike tries to come back with, "It's plate mail! You're a paladin! It's supposed to cover you!" Then I sit around the auction house instead of killing things until I manage to land something more Xenariffic, ideally showing plenty of leg or bosom. Mike just sighs. He won't even watch when I run around Orgrimmar wearing nothing but a tabard and dancing with my pet moth. And you probably thought it was only 14-year-old boys pretending to be female characters who did that.)
Then on Sunday evening, full of the power that comes of not having to go to work the next day and of living in Las Vegas, we went out to Sunset Station again to do some deliberate play and get more points. I want to be sure we're on the giftwagon for Christmas so we can build on last year's happy tacky snowman goods.
The car felt weird to me (but I've been saying that for almost a year), so we skipped the freeway and took Sunset there, and I forgot how one of the best views of the Strip is traveling east on Sunset just past LV Blvd. Just when I think I'm beyond being dazzled, there it is all over again.
I won't say which machines we played. I think we've worked out the best way to get most points and the most hours of play without having to risk more than $5, and the fact that the number of machines that are conducive to this keeps getting smaller makes me hold my tongue. (Also, it spares me from everyone who will want to write in and explain how there's a better rate of return when putting $100 into a 25-cent machine, or something like that. Yeah yeah, I know, but this is like going to the movies for us and is budgeted accordingly. We're not serious investors.)
After an hour it was midnight (yes, I'm tired and worthless today, but at least I'm home) and we decided to finally try the Cafe's "moonlight special." $1.99 for a three-egg skillet with hash browns and choice of bread or three mini-pancakes. I had this with a biscuit. Mike got sourdough toast and upgraded to the bacon version for an extra buck.
Not just a great meal for $5, but a great meal overall. The eggs (we both had them scrambled) were the perfect combination of dry and moist. The bread was nice and came with whipped butter in a dish plus jam and jelly packets. I could take or leave the hash browns (a little goes a long way with me), but Mike took them all, including mine.
We planned all last spring to try the Cafe specials during summer, but somehow it never happened (ditto with bowling), so it was good to close the summer season this way after all. The deal actually starts at 11 pm, so if you're at Sunset (or another Station with the same menu) around then and hungry, definitely check it out. All of their prices are reasonable (probably less than the Denny's and IHOP across the road), but the skillet specials are an unbeatable deal.
Phase 2 of the gambling was just as fun as Phase 1. We did many laps around the casino looking for pairs of the "right" machines to be available and not too close to smokers. (Saturday night was smelly, crowded, and warm. Sunday was a cool drink of sparkling lemon water.) That counts as exercise, right? Instead of mall walking, casino walking? (Do you lose points if you stop to gape at someone's big win?)
Once again we came out ahead, so dinner was paid for and now we had a mess of points. (In related news, Station Casinos has finally fixed their online records of points after, hrm, eight months? Nine? This is great; no more guessing how close we are to the next plush toy or As Seen on TV product.)
Came home, conked out with a Stephen Fry novel that I bought used right before moving here then completely forgot about until yesterday. This book! It's such a treat to read! (I just started, so I can't even read the Wikipedia article linked above.) Fry's dexterous composition style quickly reveals a confident author with a humorous mind, and anyone who likes that Certain Modern British Vibe (complete with semi-awkward narrator) in their fiction should check it out. I mean, I'm only on page 30 or so, but he had me at "About the Author."
Now it's Monday and, like I said, most of today has been occupied with not processing my work calendar. Oh, and there was the Quechup incident. (Short version: don't join Quechup. I wasn't a victim of their devious "let's check to see if you have other friends already on the site... by sending an email to everyone in your contact list," and thank goodness, since Gmail considers everyone you've ever emailed to be a contact. Others weren't so lucky, including the tech-savvy person who invited me.)
I've done two loads of laundry and conditioned my hair with the coconut Organix that Mike likes. This is about as close as I'm getting to Donna Reed in this lifetime, especially as I ibuprofen down another wave of cramps and wonder if I should wake Mike up from his nap so I don't have to keep getting my own water. (And people wonder why I'm so relaxed about him not working full time yet. I'm telling you, he's in overtime already.)
You know, I think these last three gallbladder attacks might have coincided with my period? And this is a pretty bad period, so... Hm. Not bad like I went through in my 20s - heaven save us - but still rather ouchy. Back then the doc suspected endometriosis. I wonder if there's a connection? Gallstones/bile and hormone levels? Wayward endometrial lining attaching itself to the gallbladder? Scientists, contact me once you've secured the grant money; I'm ready for my Demerol close-up!
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