One recipe you shouldn't try.

For the second time in the past year, I made creamy peanut noodles.

I cooked it with my friend Naomi, who was staying over night with me because we had a 20-mile training run the following day. It made for decent carb-loading fare. Nothing I'd want to eat on a weekly or even monthly basis.

I made it again last night because it's so simple and healthy. But I ended up emptying the bowl in the garbage. And even Ben said he didn't need a second helping.

I'm sharing this recipe, but I suggest you skip it.

Tease.

What's for dinner, honey? Oh, just some creamy peanut noodles.

Stay tuned for a full report on this healthy, carbriffic dish.

A forehead-slapping moment.

I'm sitting on the couch, reading various blogs and social networking sites when I realize I'm hungry.

The oven is on, and I wonder, "How much longer before the potatoes are done?"

Then it occurs to me, "Oh yeah, I haven't put the potatoes in the oven yet."

And my stomach growls.

Random.

I am considering applying for an unpaid, very part-time internship in public radio.

I baked blueberry muffins (the kind with the strudel on top) yesterday. They were of the box variety. My husband enjoyed them and said I'm a great homemaker.

We had our first guests this weekend since moving here. We spent a rainy afternoon in downtown Chicago, saw a drag show for free at Northwestern, ate really bad food, drank too many beers in Wrigleyville, strolled the beach, enjoyed steak in a red-wine sauce with shallots at home, and saw a scary movie. We have guests visiting through mid-November. Apparently no one wants to brave the Chicago winter.

In one week, I start my writing class at the Newberry Library. I'm petrified but also very, very excited. I have a notebook next to my bed so I can write down essay ideas as they come to me. I think I may have one or two decent ideas.

I got the dry heaves after a 7.5-mile run with Ben yesterday afternoon. The heaves sucked; the run was excellent. Nothing better than running on a mild October day when the streets are lined with trees with gold leaves. Ben and I have never run more than 3 or 4 miles together because I'm usually too slow for him. That was not the case yesterday. Being unemployed = a lot of time for running. Attending MBA school = few opportunities to run.

Hydrogen Peroxide.

I willfully made my dog vomit today.

Before you call me a lousy dog mom -- a characterization I would agree with -- let me explain.

I was preparing a double batch of potato soup when the unthinkable happened. Indie, who tails me, was lying on the rug while I sliced and diced a dozen cups of vegetables. I was finishing up when I noticed a garlic clove on the rug. I must have dropped it when I carried the cloves over to the crock pot. Though Indie had not eaten it, he had chewed it.

We give him people food like carrots and apples. But some foods -- such as garlic, onions and grapes -- are toxic and can be lethal when dogs consume them.

I sniffed Indie's mouth for the garlic smell. It was faintly apparent. So I went into crisis mode. I went online to read about garlic and dogs, though I knew before my search what I would find: garlic is BAD for dogs. If eaten in large quantities, it can kill.

I called our vet, who had to do some of her own research before rendering advice. She thought Indie would be fine -- the amount was small -- but that if I wanted, I could induce vomit. And if I was still concerned, I could take him in for a blood test to check for anemia.

Off I went to the grocery store for hydrogen peroxide, which until today I didn't know is a must for your doggie medicine cabinet. I also got an oral syringe.

When I returned home, I grabbed Indie and hunkered down for a fight. Dogs do not like hydrogen peroxide. Big surprise.

Although it was hugely traumatic, I pried his teeth apart, inserted the syringe and forced a few teaspoons of the awful stuff down his mouth. He gave chase a few times, and I followed every time. I didn't want to do it, but I had to, you know?

He foamed at the mouth and spit out some clear liquid. Nothing resembling vomit. I thought the hydrogen peroxide trick had been a failure. Until....

I was online -- preparing for a meeting with a co-director of a graduate program -- when I saw that the hydrogen peroxide was working wonders on Indie.

He threw up. All over the couch. The amount was the size of a football. I won't go into detail but I'm fairly certain that the garlic is now in the garbage.

Despite our battle this morning and forcing the most lovable 18-pound puggle in the world to vomit, he still loves me. He's curled up next to me as I type. And I'm so, so thankful.

Returning to the classroom.

I registered today for a six-week-long seminar on the personal essay.

The class will be held at Chicago's Newberry Library, which has a strong adult education program. A writing coach who has her master's in creative writing and has published a book on the subject is teaching the seminar.

I've considered taking this seminar for weeks, but I needed nudging from family and friends. I solicited their encouragement mainly because it's hard to think about spending $155 -- for fun -- when you're unemployed. But with their help, I came up with a number of reasons to sign up:

1. You have to spend money to make money. It's quite possible I could make connections in the class who could help me land a job. At this point, I'm not really picky about what that job might be.

2. Most likely I will finish the seminar a better writer.

3. It gives me something to do -- if only for two hours a week.

4. A publishable essay or two might result from it.

So in two weeks, class begins.

It was during my senior of high school that I last took a creative writing class. I had a full roster of journalism classes during college, but writing an article using the inverted pyramid style isn't the same.

Wish me luck. I think I need it.

Experimentation.

I am not adventurous in the kitchen.

I stick to recipes with few ingredients and simple directions. I seldom stray from the recipe.

But tonight -- after getting home late from a pilates class (more on that later) -- I thought what the heck. Experiment, I shall.

The plan for dinner was four-cheese wheat tortellini in a package. I had some pumpkin and evaporated milk on hand. I mixed about a 1/2 cup of pumpkin and about a 1/3 cup of evaporated milk (I wasn't measuring, so this explanation could be off), together in a sauce pan over slightly high heat. I added in a tablespoon of olive oil, some garlic and shallots.

Does the combination repulse you? I would agree it might sound odd. But many of the ingredients were in a recipe I had looked at yesterday for ravioli with pumpkin sauce.

The tortellini and pumpkin sauce turned out. And the parmesan and red chili pepper flakes I added on top rounded out the sauce nicely.

On to pilates.

Some of you may know that I applied for a retail position. Not a dream job, but a girl's gotta make money to pay the bills. I will not name the store here. I will only say that it's an athletic apparel store.

I interviewed in a group nearly two weeks ago and was asked to come in for a yoga class this week to meet some of the team members. I decided tonight would be the night. The store was hosting yoga for athletes. And as a yoga virgin, I heard this would be a good starter class.

I showed up at 7 -- only to find out that yoga had been canceled. But I could try pilates -- another first -- instead. There was no way I could say "no thanks" and turn around. I had to make a good impression. And really, what was the difference between trying yoga for the first time and pilates for the first time?

So I stayed. I tried it. I hurt.