“Devil’s Own” Special Sauce- Not for the Squeamish

WARNING: If you thought you were about to read a really great recipe for hot BBQ sauce, STOP NOW! This isn’t THAT!

I hate 5:45 a.m. on my day off. I hate it that it’s still dark. Actually, it’s not the time of day I hate at all. It certainly isn’t the warm, snuggly covers, either. Entirely un-hateful. What’s hateful is day one of my period when it follows night one, light one- of my period.

I used to have this crazy superstition that when you have a late period, you might be pregnant. That was before the tubal ligation/cauterization procedure I had in 1995, and before I approached living- relic age. Now my superstition is that when your period is really late, it’s because you wanted a baby- at some insane, glandular level- so badly that you just keep holding out. Biology disagrees. But one thing is for sure. When my period is late, is can finally come in with a near-hemorrhagic flood that mere “super plus” tampons and pads just can’t handle. Ditto the sheet. Oh, and the mattress pad.

I had been having a lovely dream, in the perfect cool, peace, and quiet of the pre-dawn. Days are already getting shorter. The sun is sleeping in now, too, It’s after six and he’s a no-show.  Perfect for sleeping at five-forty-five in the blessed morning. Ah, the dream. I was on the roof of some structure, and my husband was assuring me that climbing down the rail on the side was easy, just like ‘last time’. I don’t want to tell him that I don’t remember doing this last time, but then I do start to remember. Besides, this isn’t too high, really. Maybe one story. I have no idea why I was up there. Then I dreamed that my mother in law was very, very elderly. She and I and my daughter Kay-tee are sitting in a cafeteria eating. My mother -in-law is talking about ‘tare-a-mel’. And I am puzzled, and say, annoyed, “you mean Caramel?”  

I don’t know why, maybe because I was starting to stick to the sheets, but at that point I woke up and everything felt very wrong. I quickly deduced the  age-old problem and stumbled into the laundry room with the offended bed clothes. As usual, random songs I have heard since I was a small child start streaming through my mind, leftover dreams that are clinging to me. I dream in song quite a bit. Today’s selections included, “Lady in Red”, and “Slip-Slidin’ Away”.   I was not ready to wake up yet today. I want to cry. I feel like I need to have an vitamin with iron, so I do. I also have a spoon of peanut butter and a half-banana. Need to keep my energy up after all… that…blood…loss… The dramatics are getting ridiculous.  The sheets are in the wash, with the mattress cover, and I am up drinking warmed up coffee from yesterday. I am also thinking that it’s not too late to slip back into a nice morning sleep session. It’s still dark outside, at 6:26. It won’t be long until sunrise, though.

None of that matters, now. I was awakened by “The Monthly Torrent,” “The Red Tide”,  the “Devil’s Own Special Sauce”. There’s no going back to sleep now. Or is there?

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