Please Do Not Buy or Eat the Death Cumin (Or Feed it to My Baby)
This week a virus in our household kind of blew up everyone's schedules. So: no poems worked on, a little tiny bit of reading done, some really annoying online "course" requirements tackled because they were the only thing I could do with a houseful of sick kids (i.e. I didn't really have to pay attention very closely nor do anything that would result in an actual product).
AND we had a weird near-miss with Vampire Toddler last night, who is allergic to peanuts and ate some store-bought hummus with peanut-contaminated cumin in it. She had a minor reaction, just hives, but -- it was a reaction! Scary, and a reminder that we really have to go less-processed-food in consideration of Vampire Toddler's very real, very dangerous food allergy. This is going to be difficult for me, as I'm not super into organic-everything and also, sometimes, prepackaged food is a working mother's best friend.
Anyway. We'll work it out. I'm going to put a call into the store where we bought the hummus (Simply Enjoy brand, fyi) and see about reporting it to the FDA, because I'd hate for some child with a really severe allergy to eat this stuff and go into anaphylactic shock.
I'm trying to keep from being super grumpy lately. So many people want so many things. I want them all to shut up and I want to bury myself somewhere, like in a snowdrift. Actually, that's a lie, I hate being cold. I really kinda wanna bury myself in my bed and sleep for days. My blankets and pups are warmy and lovely . . . as is sleep. And not answering work emails.
I actually received two lovely letters via email from S.P. and C.C., both of which arrived at just-the-right time and made me less inclined to seek that snowdrift/pile of blankets. Letters, actual LETTERS, and not stupid fucking texts or brief, cursory, hey-do-you-have-this-I-want/need-this-right-now emails. They made my day. Hey S.P.! Hey C.C.! I'll be writing you back . . . maybe not soonish, but I'll be writing you back.