The book is done.

Thank Frog.

And thank Frog I have about five years to wait until the *next* Gabaldon book, because it'll take me that long to recover. These are not books that you casually put down and then pick back up again.

In student news...

The four students, Weepy, Dopey, Sleepy, and Frizzy, were back with us this week. I steadfastly refused to take any of them, on the premise that none of my patients were very interesting (which was true). I was triply glad I'd done so when Weepy asked me to remind her how to take a blood pressure.

Apparently the Big Discussion with the Idiot Instructor didn't make much of a dent in anybody's skull. Sleepy, Dopey, and Frizzy were still sitting, yakking, and not reading H&Ps well into the afternoon on the day after said meeting.

Only six more weeks. Only six more weeks. As it turns out, *every* unit is having problems with this batch of students--a total of ten. Some units are getting patient complaints about them, even...which makes me wonder why on earth they're allowed to stay.

I Am Ashamed, or What I Cook For Other People On My Day Off

This coming week there'll be a big potluck at work. I work with a number of people who are, shall we say, less than open-minded about their food. I suppose I could treat the folks who like things like spinach enchiladas or hummus or fried rice to some special delicacy, but then I'd have to hear the rest of 'em bitch for hours on end about how I brought some weird hippy dish. These are people who pick the non-iceberg lettuce out of salads, you understand.

So I made something Mom used to be forced to make for church dinners. It's called "Mock Lasagne" and is proof that Methodists can and will casserole anything.

Take a half a pound of pasta and boil it. Fry up a chub of Italian sausage. Drain both. Mix 'em together. Add some peppers and mushrooms you've sauteed, then a bottle of marinara sauce. (I use Newman's Own, just as a little snub to the food idiots.) Dump in about a half a carton of ricotta (the original recipe calls for small-curd cottage cheese, which makes me blanch) and a bag of shredded mozzarella. Stir. Dump into casserole dish, top with Parmesan, and bake.

Once you've heated it through and served it to your coworkers, go have some good stinky cheese and bread to cleanse your soul of the shame.

Ugh.

I am baking a really wonderful chocolate cake, though, with white chocolate mousse filling and bittersweet chocolate shavings on top. That ought to redeem me with the Food Gods, eh?

Oh, by the way

It's "graphite", which is a nice medium metallic grey. And it has a dark grey interior. And power windows which I can't roll down until the tint cures. And a rockin' CD stereo system. And it goes very, very fast if you want it to.