Year: 2009

Represent with some tortilla soup

On Monday it was cold and rainy here. The kind of cold and rainy that inspired P and I to go eat breakfast at our favorite little breakfast place after he dropped Caroline off at school. Of course it also may have had something to do with the fact that he opened up the refrigerator and discovered we were out of eggs. I’d used our last egg the night before when I offered to make ham and eggs for Caroline for dinner and then had to inform her that it was just going to be ham and egg. Singular.

He was all fired up for a good breakfast and that’s a hard thing to come by when you’re out of eggs. And bacon. And basically any manner of food items that pass for breakfast food when you consider that I gave up eating frozen pizzas for breakfast shortly after college.

So we went out for breakfast, drank coffee and watched the monsoon outside. All the rain made me lament the fact that I am not the owner of some super cute rainboots. Granted, since I live somewhere that’s experienced record drought conditions for the last two years, buying rainboots fell pretty far down on my to-do list. Right behind getting a pet ferret and painting the trim in the master bath that’s been bare for six years.

I suggested to P that we go to Target after breakfast because I could get rainboots, he could get a raincoat, and we could buy enough groceries to get us through until I could make it to HEB. To my complete and utter shock, he agreed on the trip to Target. We ran through the rain, got in the car, and he looked at me and asked, “Where’s Target?”

It’s like we are two strangers living under the same roof.

Once we made it there, I immediately found an umbrella but, alas, they had no rainboots or rain coats. Oh Target, how you disappoint me on occasion. We headed to the grocery section where, I kid you not, P put three cases of water, six boxes of granola bars, and five things of Degree Antiperspirant for men in our cart. And I vowed then and there to never allow him to see the inside of a Sam’s Club. He is powerless to resist discount pricing.

Anyway, once we got back in from the cold and rain without new rainboots or rain coats, I began to seriously crave some tortillas soup. And, sure, I live in San Antonio and I could get tortilla soup at about twelve different restaurants in a three mile radius, but I wanted to make homemade tortilla soup.

So I did exactly what Caroline Ingalls would have done back in the olden days and twittered (sent out a tweet? tweeted?) asking if anyone had a good recipe for tortilla soup.

And anyone who says technology isn’t useful is wrong because I suddenly found myself with dozens upon dozens of tortilla soup recipes to choose from. Thank you, internet.

(Does anyone claim that technology isn’t useful? Other than maybe the Amish? Who obviously don’t care about eating great tortilla soup?)

My original plan was to eventually make all the various recipes and report the results here because who doesn’t love a tortilla soup taste test? I mean other than the Amish and people who think technology isn’t useful?

But then last night I made the recipe that Antique Mommy emailed to me. It’s a recipe for the tortilla soup the chef makes at The Mansion at Turtle Creek in Dallas. I chose to make it first for two reasons:

1. The Mansion is a really nice restaurant and people in Dallas aren’t going to put up with some slop disguised as tortilla soup.

2. The recipe contains tomato puree which told me that the finished product would be reddish-orange in color which is exactly what I have spent my life, or at least Monday afternoon, hoping to find. I didn’t want just a bowl of chicken broth with a few sad pieces of avocado floating in it.

So I made it last night and, honestly, I don’t know that I’ll ever make another tortilla soup because there is no way that any of them will compare with this one. P ate three bowls of it and y’all know he never does anything to excess except for purchasing cases of bottled water, car wash supplies, Degree deodorant, Kashi granola bars, York Peppermint Patties, and any sort of weaponry and ammunition.

All that to say, I’m sharing the recipe with you because it is delicious and easy and it may have changed my life a little bit. None of which can be said about owning a pet ferret.

Tortilla Soup from The Mansion

3 tablespoons olive oil
4-6 corn tortillas, diced
1 tablespoon of minced garlic
4-5 tablespoons of chopped cilantro (I used a little less because cilantro and I are on sketchy terms)
1 tablespoon of cumin
2 tablespoons of chili powder

Saute all of the above until tortillas begin to crisp.

It will look like this:

Add the following to the above and simmer.

1 cup onion puree (per Antique Mommy, I diced a small onion and pureed it in the food processor)
1 large can (29 oz) of tomato puree
2 quarts of chicken stock
Salt and Pepper to taste
Cayenne Pepper to taste (I went with a fair amount of cayenne because we aren’t a bunch of Nancy boys)

To serve: top with any or all of the following: diced grilled or baked chicken, avocado, shredded cheese, crisp fried strips of corn tortilla.

I knew that I’d need to add chicken to my version because P is of the belief that vegetables are what food eats. He needs meat. So I bought a rotisserie chicken from HEB.

And when I went to check out, Lynette was bagging my groceries for me and held up the rotisserie chicken and said, “GIRL, you got to REPRESENT with the cooked chicken. It’s about workin’ smarter, not harder”.

Amen, Lynette. REPRESENT.

I diced the chicken, threw it in the pot, and served the whole thing with an array of options to customize the soup-eating experience: diced avocado, monterey jack cheese, sour cream and fried strips of corn tortilla.

And in the end, my bowl looked like this.

By the way, I fried those strips of corn tortilla myself.

Because I wanted to REPRESENT.

***Edited to add that you can just dice the onion into really small pieces if you don’t have a food processor or a blender to puree it.

***Also edited to add that to fry the corn tortilla strips, you just need to buy a package of corn tortillas, cut them into long strips. Heat up oil in a skillet and then fry the strips until they are crispy and a little brown.
Gone with the wind or Darth Vader or a pirate

Stop me if you’ve heard this one.

A pirate, Darth Vader and a Southern Belle walk into a bar…

I’m not really going anywhere with that but I kept looking at those three on Saturday afternoon and thinking they seemed like a punchline to a joke. It’s not every day that you see such an odd assortment of characters unless it’s time to visit the DMV and renew your drivers’ license.

One of the many reasons we decided to head to College Station for the weekend, other than to visit Honey and Big and avoid vegetable casseroles, was to attend a Diamond Darling reunion. We decided to skip the Friday night dinner, but thought the kids might enjoy going to the baseball field on Saturday for an alumni baseball game. In theory, we’d love to take them to a football game but the tickets are way too pricey for a crew that may decide they’re ready to bail once the $15.00 bucket of popcorn runs out.

Here are Caroline and Jackson at Olsen Field.

Gulley and I laughed after our road trip this summer because we had all these pictures of Caroline and Jackson together and then pictures of Will by himself. Sometimes it was because he was looking for his shoes or in the bathroom, but mostly it’s because he can’t be bothered to pose for pictures. A pirate needs to be free.

But I caught him this time.

Granted, he’s not looking at the camera but I’m going to consider this a W.

The kids had a great time and even got to play baseball with some of the current Aggie baseball players and that pretty much made their life. Well, except for Will. He was off picking up stray baseballs and warning kids that if you walked all the way to the top of the bleachers “you might die”. He’s a fan of the alarming statement.

Here’s Jackson getting ready for a power hit.

And Caroline going for a bunt.

I don’t think she was actually trying to bunt, but it looks really impressive.

After a few hours we headed home from the game but had to make a quick trip to Sonic because, well, it’s Sonic and Gulley and I were in need of some caffeine to help us gear up for the next activity on our agenda.

When Nena heard we were coming to town, she requested that all the kids bring their Halloween costumes and come trick or treat at her house a week early. And, not only that, she called one of her neighbors and Uncle Johnny and told them they needed to have candy for the kids.

So we got everyone into costume and began to take pictures of the odd little trio, but first we had to find the little pirate.

And we have a winner.

They are full-service trick or treaters and believe in the value of a little performance theater to go along with all the begging for candy. It also helped that they were all jacked up on about eight Tootsie Rolls courtesy of Uncle Johnny.

This pretty much sums up their haul

What she doesn’t know is that I’m going to recycle about half of that on Saturday night.

After all the trick or treat fun, we changed their clothes and went to Wings ‘N More for dinner. Normally I’m not a fan of eating establishments that use a ‘N in their title, but I make an exception for Wings ‘N More because it is just so good. I always forgo the wings in favor of a chicken fried steak because OH MY WORD at the delicious and the kids discovered the culinary wonder that is fried pickles. The sad part is that my sodium intake on Saturday night was so great that I couldn’t get my wedding ring on the next day until I drank two bottles of water. I should be embarrassed to admit that but I’m just going to throw it out there so you can realize the depth of my love for the chicken fried steak.

The next morning every one was sad to pack up and leave but it had to be done. Gulley and I loaded up the car and I made sure my wedding ring was secure in the zipper pocket of my purse before we said our goodbyes. Caroline declared that it was “the saddest day” of her entire life and she was “going to cry myself to sleep all the way home”.

I knew I wouldn’t get that lucky.

Instead she chose to take out her sadness in the form of extended whining over the fact that Will was humming a song quietly to himself and it was annoying her. And then Will, sensing his power, continued to hum quietly to himself while staring directly at her.

It was at this point that I dispensed the first of many pieces of wisdom that would be given throughout the duration of this road trip. “It’s all fun and games until all that whining means we don’t get to stop for a DQ Blizzard in Bastrop”.

That statement caused an instant reconciliation amongst the back seat and Gulley and I got caught up in our own in depth conversation wherein I uttered the profound statement that “people want to think the grass is greener on the other side, but you know what’s over there? MORE GRASS”.

In fact, “It’s Just More Grass” may be the title of the self-help book that I’ll never actually write.

But my personal favorite words of wisdom came from Gulley during the last thirty minutes of the trip when she broke up a back seat scuffle by declaring “When you lick the person sitting next to you, there’s a good chance you’re going to get punched”.

I believe the only reason that gem is missing from the book of Proverbs is because Solomon obviously never traveled with three kids in the back of his chariot.
The real surprise was the casserole

On Friday morning, P walked in to wake Caroline up for school and she literally leapt out of bed, ran into the kitchen and stood there trembling with excitement and firing off words at a rate that would make the speed of light jealous, while I did my best to match her enthusiasm in spite of the fact that it was 7:00 a.m. and I was slaving over frozen waffles as opposed to lying in bed. The reason for all that excitement was due to two reasons: pajama day at school and a road trip to Bryan/College Station with Gulley and the boys for the weekend.

That was the sixth attempt at a photo and the only one that wasn’t blurry due to ALL THE EXCITEMENT. It was the kind of energy that would make Richard Simmons suggest that maybe you should settle down and I’m talking about the Richard Simmons from the height of the golden age of Sweatin’ to the Oldies.

I picked her up after school and we came straight home because Gulley and the boys were on their way to pick us up. We made one quick stop at a convenience store to ensure we had the proper amount of candy for the trip (You know what excited kids need? MORE SUGAR.) and then we made the rest of the almost three hour drive without stopping. Read that sentence again and let the weight settle on you. We DID NOT STOP for the next three hours. It was a road trip miracle.

However, when Will began asking “How much longer ’til we get there? Two thousand hours?” at fifteen second intervals about twenty minutes into the trip, I banned them from asking any version of “How much longer?” until someone saw the Aggie water tower which would signal that we were about ten minutes away from Honey and Big’s house. I guess the Aggie water tower became like a mirage in the desert because it was astounding how many times they saw it over the course of the next two and a half hours.

We finally arrived at Honey’s and she had a pot of shrimp creole on the stove and some of the best dip I’ve ever tasted waiting for us. In all seriousness, I am sad for all of you right now because I don’t know if you’ve ever had this dip and your life won’t be complete without it. I vow to get the recipe before the week is over and post it because no one should have to live without this kind of goodness in your life and on your crackers or Fritos or what have you.

Nena was also there when we arrived and she’d surprised Honey by making a vegetable casserole to go along with the shrimp creole. Ever since a few assorted cooking incidents, including the time she nearly poisoned her Sunday School class, people in the know are a little frightened by what kind of homemade goodness might come from Nena’s kitchen. I knew all I needed to know when everyone went to serve their plates and no one helped themselves to Nena’s casserole. I think we were all scared because when Gulley asked her specifically what kind of vegetables were in her vegetable casserole, she replied, “Vegetables”.

That’s the sort of vague answer that you just know contains a can of Veg-All somewhere in the mix.

After we all finished dinner, Nena cornered me in the kitchen and said, “Melanie! I want you to taste some of my vegetable casserole while it’s still warm!” And it was at that moment that Gulley, my best friend of twenty years, threw me under the Veg-All bus. She couldn’t even look at me, but I saw her holding in the laughter as she fled the scene. In fact, the whole family fled the scene and just left me there. Alone and defenseless.

I picked up a fork, wondering all the while how I could get out of this situation gracefully, especially since I’m finicky about the texture of my food. Water chestnuts have been known to make me dry heave so you can only imagine my fear of canned mixed unidentifiable vegetables.

Just as I knew my casserole fate was sealed, Caroline yelled out, “Mama! I need you to come help me get in the bathtub!” I was saved by the bath.

The next day I told Nena that her casserole was delicious. In all honesty, I didn’t try the casserole but for all I know it could have been delicious and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

And then she gave me the recipe which did, in fact, contain a can of something she referred to as Stockley’s Mixed Vegetables. So while I can’t give you the recipe for one of the best dips I’ve ever tasted, I am completely prepared to give you the recipe for vegetable casserole.

I apologize.

And on a perfectly delightful note, this was the front of the Sports page in the Bryan/College Station Eagle yesterday morning.

Yes, it was a total surprise that the Aggies beat Tech in Lubbock for the first time since 1993 (I was still a student at the time so that means it was approximately FOREVER AGO) but the fact that the headline said “Surprise!” made me so happy. You know your football team isn’t quite the powerhouse of yore when the local sports page leads with “Surprise!” when you win.

I have more stories from the weekend, but I’ll have to fill you in later because there’s a line of storms headed this way and it’s just a matter of minutes before Caroline senses imminent thunder and needs to get in our bed and spend the rest of the night kicking me in the back.
Edition 71: Fashion Friday

Caroline had class pictures at school on Thursday so I felt like we should up our wardrobe game for posterity’s sake. I had mistakenly thought we’d decided on an outfit a few days ago, but she informed me at 7:35 a.m. that she didn’t want to wear that particular outfit. I find that to be a confusing set of circumstances because she pledged her undying love and devotion to the aforementioned outfit when I brought it home from the Gap a month ago and asked her if she liked it. Apparently she is suffering from fashion schizophrenia.

There is nothing quite as enjoyable as a last minute scramble to get ready, so I was understandably totally relaxed and calm as I pulled out the rest of her fall clothing to find something suitable for her to wear in the picture. I laid four pretty outfits on the bed for her to choose from and she responded by wailing “WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY BEAUTIFUL DRESSES TO WEAR?”

“You do. They are right here on your bed.”

“NO. I MEAN BEAUTIFUL DRESSES.”

And by beautiful she means the six sundresses that she refused to wear all summer long in spite of the many bribes I offered in exchange for her agreement to wear just one of them. JUST ONE. FOR MAMA. PLEASE.

But, oh no, she didn’t want to wear them during the summer because she was saving them for school picture day in October on a morning when a pretty significant cold front had blown through the area.

She finally deemed one of the outfits I’d selected as worthy to be worn, but only because I threatened that I was about to make the final decision if she didn’t make a choice. Basically, the morning served as a catalyst for a new rule, if I buy it and you tell me you like it, then you’re wearing it whether you want to or not. Choose carefully because once it’s in your closet, it’s yours for better or worse.

As a bonus, think how well that rule will serve her once she’s married.

Be careful what you put in your closet, ladies. You can’t just cart him off to Goodwill when he begins to show a little wear.

You will probably notice that I’m just listing ten things again this week. I’ve decided that, at least for now, this format works better than trying to answer individual questions. It’s just too hard to pick and choose, plus so many of them are so specific and I get totally stressed out and might as well be trying to make one of Christopher Columbus’s ships out of thin air.

So I’m going with a list of ten things indefinitely. Of course it won’t always be ten things. Some weeks it may just be five or six things. Some weeks it might include some beauty products. There’s just no telling because I am flying by the seat of my pants and making it up as I go along.

1. Denim skirt

I have been on a quest to find the perfect denim skirt for many a year, only to find myself disappointed time and time again. However, I saw this one at Gap yesterday and knew immediately that we were meant to be together forever. It’s the perfect length, the perfect wash, the perfect fit. Plus it had a cute cousin skirt in a darling plaid material, perfect for pairing with a denim jacket, tights and tall boots.

It called out to me from the rack and I said, “Shut up, denim skirt. Just shut up. You had me at hello.”

2. Plaid double weave shirt

I’m a huge fan of the plaid shirt this season. In fact, I have always loved a good plaid shirt even when they weren’t cool anymore. Which is why I bought an old plaid flannel shirt of Gulley’s from a garage sale she had a few years ago. She’d totally forgotten about it until I reminded her the other day and then she was more astonished by the fact that she actually charged me $2.00 for the shirt than at my fashion foresight in knowing that $2.00 was a DEAL for a shirt that I’d be able to pair with skinny jeans and boots three years later.

I think a plaid shirt looks especially cute this season when paired with a tank or tee underneath and with a coordinating scarf wrapped around your neck for a little extra flair.

Unless you don’t like talking about your flair.

3. A thousand tiers dress

I don’t know where I’d wear this dress but I think it is totally and completely adorable. Love the ruffles, love the jersey, love the whole look. Adorable.

4. Maternity pleated ruffle jacket

See? This is how rumors get started and grandparents get excited.

I am not pregnant. I repeat, I am not pregnant. But I saw this jacket at Target the other day and nearly grabbed it to try it on before I realized it was maternity. And then I still thought about trying it on, but that would be a little thing I call tempting fate.

But it is just so cute and would be the perfect piece for any maternity wardrobe because you could dress it up or down depending on the occasion.

5. Patron party coat

How cute is this coat with it’s three quartered sleeves and button detail? It would look adorable paired with some black leggings and boots or even with some jeans.

You could even add a fun scarf for a little pop of color.

I have a thing for jackets. My closet is full of them even though I live in South Texas and I rarely get to wear them. I can’t help myself.

6. Leggings

Okay, I know this is boring because it’s just a pair of leggings. But it’s a pair of leggings for only $10.00. And they are comfortable and well made and not so thin that your legs show through them when you sit down.

What more could you ask for in a pair of leggings? Other than maybe control top and built in Spanx material?

7. Faux leather jacket with ruffle

I realize a faux leather jacket doesn’t sound all that great, but this one is really cute AND it has a ruffle. How can you turn away from a jacket that has a ruffle, yet all the toughness required to be part of a motorcycle gang?

Actually, I feel fairly certain Harley Davidson would turn over in his grave at the thought of a motorcycle jacket with a ruffle, but let’s pretend otherwise because LOOK! A RUFFLE! ON A LEATHER JACKET!

8. Cap sleeve plaid coat

Even P just looked at this and said, “Cool”. And with some jeans and boots, it totally would be.

9. Ruffled open front cardigan

I told Gulley the other day that I cannot escape the ruffled front cardigan. It has stolen my heart because I am a fan of the sweater in any form, but especially when it’s extra comfortable and looks stylish to boot.

10. Kamischel suede lug boots

I’m not sure how I feel about these boots being gray since I haven’t seen them in person. But I love the style and the look. Plus, they’re only $39.99 which is a total steal for a great pair of boots.

And there you have it. Ten things.

I can’t commit to coming up with ten things every week because it’s a lot of work. Not to mention that Thursday is an unusually busy T.V. night and I hate to get behind on my T.V. Although I think I’m about ready to quit Grey’s Anatomy. There was a day that I would stay up until all hours to watch it and now I can hardly be bothered. I’m not sure what went wrong, but I think it all went wrong for me somewhere around the whole Private Practice spin-off nonsense.

I realize that without the concept of the spin-off we never would have had the television greatness that was The Jeffersons, but Addison Montgomery isn’t Weezie Jefferson. Or even Mr. Bentley for that matter.

Here’s an idea. Why don’t I go take some more cold medicine and quit typing?

Y’all have a great Friday.

Here’s to movin’ on up.
The Nina, the Pinta, and the clinically insane

I’ve been so busy over here trying to breathe and watching Youtube video demonstrations on the proper use of a neti pot that I’ve completely neglected to tell you about something that consumed the better part of my week last week.

(By the way, I’m totally lying about watching the neti pot demonstrations. There isn’t enough money in the world for me to watch someone do that.)

(Also, when Andy Warhol came up with the notion that we all have 15 minutes of fame, do you think he could have imagined a world where people would rinse their sinus cavities for all the world to see?)

Caroline had the day off school last Monday for Columbus Day. We celebrated in our usual way, which is to say that we decorated our Columbus Day tree and left cookies by the fireplace in the hopes that the ghost of Christopher Columbus would show up and hide eggs in our yard.

What? Is that not how you celebrate?

I’m glad that we commemorate Columbus Day because I appreciate that he took the time to load up some ships and head off in search of a new world. If not for him, there would be no Starbucks and who would want to endure that kind of existence?

When Caroline got home from school the following Tuesday, I opened her take home folder and discovered a note that said her homework assignment for the week was to create a replica of one of Christopher Columbus’s ships and include five things in the boat that they would have needed to survive the long voyage. The end of the note said that this was something fun to do with your child and to remember “the joy is in the journey, not in the destination”.

I’ll bet five dollars and a raging case of the scurvy that Christopher Columbus would beg to differ with that statement.

The note also suggested that we could use a shoe box or perhaps a can to construct our ship. Because, yeah, you want your kid to be that poor kid that shows up with an empty Spaghetti-O’s can with a paper sail attached to the top of it.

I asked Caroline if she knew what she wanted her ship to look like because I realize now that she is in first grade that I need to involve her in these high-level academic decisions. She looked at me blankly and replied, “I don’t know. How many Twizzlers can I eat before dinner?”

“Well, which ship do you want to make?”

“Maybe the Santita Marita”.

Perfect.

Fortunately, I was scheduled to volunteer at her school last Thursday and was able to do some ship reconnaissance and check out the ones that other classes had already made. If these ships were made by first graders, then Caroline is going to school with some future engineers. There were some sails made of rope material that would make Christopher Columbus weep at the beauty and structural integrity.

I went to Michael’s armed with my limited knowledge of faux ship building and decided that popsicle sticks were the way to go. I’m pretty sure the staff at Michael’s refer to me as “the crazy lady who comes in here once every six months with a desperate look about her and has no idea where anything is located”. However, I found the popsicle sticks, some brown paint and a few other ship-building necessities.

When I picked Caroline up from school that day it was a total score because she informed me that she wanted to make her ship out of popsicle sticks. We were totally simpatico. Unfortunately, about five minutes after I put her to work coloring popsicle sticks with a brown paint pen, she totally lost interest.

But that’s when P happened to come home. He was lured in by the sight of the shoe box and the popsicle sticks and apparently forgot for a moment that these types of projects bring out my particular brand of crazy. I was trying to configure the sticks in just the right way and he said, “I think they’d look better with straight ends. I’ll go get something to cut them with so it will be more symmetrical”.

I don’t know that I’ve ever loved him more.

Sadly, he ultimately decided that it was too difficult to cut every one of the approximately 112 sticks we’d need to complete the project but, for a brief shining moment that was my Camelot, I thought I’d finally brought him around to my level of OCD.

Caroline and I worked tirelessly on her float for the next few days. And by tirelessly, I mean that she watched several episodes of Phineas and Ferb while I tried to figure out how to make a sail out of foam and construct a ship’s wheel from parts from her old train set.

By Sunday afternoon, I knew I needed to reign it in a little bit when I heard P tell Caroline, “Be careful with that. You don’t want to mess up Mama’s ship.”

Is this what I’ve become? A neurotic Thomas Andrews wannabe?

But, you know, without the whole iceberg debacle.

So I handed the paintbrush and the glue to Caroline and she finished the rest of the ship. In fact, she even came up with the five items they would have needed to make the voyage after she rejected my suggestion of wine, toilet paper, and Pepto-Bismol. Our ship contained a barrel of apples, a wooden cow, some hay for the animals, rope and a compass.

Oh, and the piece de resistance was a pink rooster absconded from her old train set and glued to the top of one of the wooden things that holds up the sails. I want to call it the mast but I don’t know if that’s correct and I’m not about to look it up.

In the end, we looked at our replica of the Santita Marita and we were well pleased.

And still reasonably sane.
I blame this on Benadryl and pollen

I never got out of my pajamas yesterday. Actually, I did get out of my pajamas but only to take a shower and then put on new pajamas. Just because a girl is possibly dying from a sinus infection/cold/seasonal allergies doesn’t mean she shouldn’t practice proper hygiene. Plus I was hoping the steam from the shower would help me breathe.

And, also, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror while I was in the bathroom getting a new box of Kleenex and I was frightened.

Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow but in the meantime I’m just sitting here cuddling my box of Sudafed with a side of Bendadryl whispering, “You complete me”.

Also, I know someone is going to tell me that I need to use a neti pot. And I totally would except that every time I’ve tried to use one, I am certain that I am drowning. Am I doing something wrong? Is it supposed to feel like that?

Because, personally, I’ll take the Benadryl hangover over drowning by a plastic teapot.