The new line of assault

Well, the worst-migraine-in-months is still with me, and having tried everything -peppermint oil, exercise, hot baths, freezing compresses, Advil, Aleve, Magnesium Citrate, sleep- to no avail, I intend to lob a cocktail or three at it soon. This is for the birds, I'm now mad, and starting in roughly 20 minutes intend to fight back and be the last one standing. We'll see how this goes. It is Mardi Gras season for christ's sakes. I should be enjoying cocktails with more abandon that none, you know? Jeez. It was all I could do to leave the apple bread pudding alone when it emerged, steaming and smelling to the nines, from the oven earlier. If I'd had the whiskey sauce made, I'm not sure I could have resisted but fortunately I didn't, so I did. We're having some friends for dinner tomorrow, and I suspect they'll enjoy their dessert more if I've not already stolen bites from it.

That blizzard shellacking New York and above is serious, and I feel terribly for them and grateful for us. We had a spittle of rain and then just more gray.

Do y'all know what I hope is the Wearing your pajamas all day. Endorse!