This parenting gig is no joke, y'all. We're just breezing along, enjoying every day with our beautiful daughter, doing the best we can, hoping we're doing enough and doing the right things in the right time. I imagine all parents do that - just do the best they can, with the information available to them. Why, then, are been there/done that parents so quick to criticise those of us who are new to this game? Why are people so willing to tell me I'm doing it wrong?
It started at work a few weeks back - in my afternoon production meeting, my coworkers asked if Geneva is eating cereal yet, and when I told them no, they promptly told me that I'm starving my child, that I should've been giving her solids for months now. That my girl won't know how to eat food because I'm denying her. They brow-beat me, made me question decisions I'd made after lots of research - so I went out and bought her some cereal.
The cereal is still seal in the unopened box in my pantry, though. I've decided, again, not to give it to her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Mom has been sort of on my case since day one about the breastfeeding - "it'll free up a lot of your time if you just give her some formula"; "your aunt breastfed her babies and says she didn't have to feed them constantly"; and (my personal favorite) "you're DENYING me! i want time with her when she's this age, but you always say you don't have enough milk - let me just give her a little formula." I don't know what her deal is - it's almost as if she feels I'm questioning her parenting decisions by making choices that are different from hers, as if I'm somehow implying, by breastfeeding my child, that she did wrong by hers by giving us formula.
Anyhow, so I was talking to Mom last night, and she asked me if we'd started Geneva on the cereal yet. I told her we hadn't, and that I've decided we probably won't. I'm going to breastfeed for her first six months. After that, when I feel she's ready, we'll start her out on real food - specifically, avocados. You'd have thought I'd told my mom we were going to feed that baby poison.
I'll be honest - I'm over it. I'm tired of feeling like I have to be apologetic about the way I'm feeding my baby. ESPECIALLY when I feel like the choices I'm making are best for her. ESPECIALLY when all the research says I'm making the choices that are best for Geneva. I'm not giving my baby formula if breastmilk is an option. I will not feed her empty calories to fill her belly so she sleeps more. My job as a mother is not to make the decisions that are easier for me - i have to do what is best for my baby. And doing what I'm doing is not all that difficult - this is our new normal, so telling me how much better my life will be if i give her formula and cereal is not a selling point. Breastmilk is free, readily available, and not messy; and it's the best thing for her. That last part? Ends the discussion.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sundays are my favorite.
Sometimes I think about some of the things I've written about Mormon women and realize I've got it mostly wrong - they're much more than the box I put them into when I first started learning more than what the missionaries teach. If I've offended you, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be an asshole, but sometimes I am.
I made some amazing vegetable soup last night. Remember the brisket Jimi made for work and then wasn't going to share? He brought some home. It was delicious, and then it became soup, along with the last can of green beans and the last can of corn and some old potatoes that were starting to turn soft and a jar of tomato juice someone gave us back in the summer. There were other things too, of course, but you don't want all the details, do you? I was particularly proud of this batch, because I though I needed to make a trip to the grocery to make it happen, then just pulled together what we had and made it work instead. Very frugal and smart of me, if I do say so myself. Jimi made pretzel bread rolls and they are delicious, but they were finished too late to marry up with the soup - they'll meet tonight! I guess we're on a baking kick, because I also made a pumpkin german chocolate cake, but we've only shared one piece of that.
This morning I got up and started on laundry, only to find we were out of detergent. So I made some more, at 7:30 a.m.. Like a boss. I've said it before, but I'll say it again - that shit feels like making money. Putting together a batch of laundry detergent that is as good or better than something I'd pay nearly $20 for at the store - it feels awesome. I wish I could be more go-get-'em when it comes to other aspects of my life.
For example: Bossman's birthday was yesterday. I decided a week or so ago that part of my gift to him was going to be some awesome fudge. I made the fudge today, because I'm all on the ball and shit. So I start making the fudge, add the evaporated milk and butter and sugar to the pot, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and wait for it to get to soft boil. It nearly boiled over. It was in a 3-quart saucepan, as required per the recipe. Something didn't look right. I thought. I pondered. I calculated in my head. And I realized, FUCK, I have WAY too much evaporated milk in there. I checked the label on the can - sure as shit, my recipe called for (2) 5-oz cans and I'd added (2) 12-oz cans. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. I considered dumping it all out the back door, but then calculated some more and figured there was already too much invested to give up. I hollered for Jimi and set him to task buttering more foil in another 9X13 while I found another two and a half sticks of butter and 5+ cups of sugar. By chance, my habit of over-buying paid off this time - I had exactly enough chocolate on-hand to make this thing work.
I'm really glad I caught my mistake when I did - if not, and chocolate and such had been added, disaster would've ensued. As it stands, the fudge has firmed up beautifully, and the worst sin may be that I failed to add enough nuts. I'll take it.
Other noteworthy items: I purchased 2 lbs. of whole, in-the-shell nuts, along with a cracker and some picks. Do you know what I'm talking about? Part of Christmas memories from my childhood will always include my Papaw, sitting at the dining room table, shelling nuts and shoving them in his mouth as quickly as they could be freed from their hulls. He taught me how to do it. I think Bob and I tried to recreate this tradition once-upon-a-time, but what may have happened to that set of crackers and picks is anyone's guess - I'm glad to have a new set for my new life, to remind me of another time when I was as happy as I am now.
Granny and Papaw were part of the definition of Christmas when I was learning the meaning of the season. Every Christmas Eve was spent at their home, opening presents, feasting gluttonously, singing joyfully. It seemed that the heart of the entire world must have grown three sizes each year simply from the good tidings radiating from their home. I miss them so much. Christmas lost part of its magic when we lost them.
But it's still mostly happy and joyful. The circle of life, and all that. Stacy was over last night - she's got five weeks till her due date. Five weeks! We'll blink and that brand new little girl will be here. I can't wait to meet her. I was able to feel a knee or a foot or something last night as it pressed out the side of Stacy's belly; there's a whole another person inside of her - it's mind-blowing. Stacy was wearing a much-too-big for her ICP t-shirt left over from her college days and a pair of baggy gray sweats. She looked super comfortable, and not even a little pregnant, unless you know she's normally the size of a twig.
We've rearranged more furniture and I've finally repotted the aloe plant and the bromeliad - there's a good chance neither will survive the transfer, but we'll see. Fingers crossed.
I asked my cousins via Facebook if our grandmother, Mamaw (my Daddy's Momma), had a good singing voice - if anyone remembered. No one remembers her singing. I asked Daddy, too - he doesn't remember either. For some reason, that strikes me as tragically sad. Was she sad? Is that why she didn't sing? Or was she shy, or did she just not carry a tune? Her life was hard and fraught with loss, but beyond that, I don't know much. I know she made great fried chicken, according to Daddy, and amazing banana pudding. What did she love, though? What made her happy? My most vivid memory of her involves her tears of frustration as she tried to communicate with me; I was 9 or so, Brother was a new baby, and she had already suffered a stroke or two and her verbal skills were very much affected. I remember at her funeral, Daddy hugged me and told me that my Mamaw had loved me very much - I remember wishing she'd not been such a stranger to me, though it was obviously through no fault of her own.
Christmas cheer, eh?
Sorry.
The weekends go by so quickly - it's already 6 o'clock on Sunday night, which means I'll be awake and starting my workday in 12 hours or so. Fuck.
It's fine, though. Monday through Thursday this week, they can have me. After that, I'm gone - off for 11 days. 11 DAYS!!! OMG, I cannot wait! I don't know how I'll spend the time, but it'll not be answering phone calls in the middle of the night or putting out fires before my first cup of coffee. I fully intend to at least finish reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and these two new-to-me classic anti-Mormon autobiographies (Deborah Laake and Sonia Johnson) drunk-me bought me for Christmas last week.
Happy Week-Before-Christmas! May the Force be with you this week as you navigate the malls and shops. (And remember, Buy Local!)
I made some amazing vegetable soup last night. Remember the brisket Jimi made for work and then wasn't going to share? He brought some home. It was delicious, and then it became soup, along with the last can of green beans and the last can of corn and some old potatoes that were starting to turn soft and a jar of tomato juice someone gave us back in the summer. There were other things too, of course, but you don't want all the details, do you? I was particularly proud of this batch, because I though I needed to make a trip to the grocery to make it happen, then just pulled together what we had and made it work instead. Very frugal and smart of me, if I do say so myself. Jimi made pretzel bread rolls and they are delicious, but they were finished too late to marry up with the soup - they'll meet tonight! I guess we're on a baking kick, because I also made a pumpkin german chocolate cake, but we've only shared one piece of that.
This morning I got up and started on laundry, only to find we were out of detergent. So I made some more, at 7:30 a.m.. Like a boss. I've said it before, but I'll say it again - that shit feels like making money. Putting together a batch of laundry detergent that is as good or better than something I'd pay nearly $20 for at the store - it feels awesome. I wish I could be more go-get-'em when it comes to other aspects of my life.
For example: Bossman's birthday was yesterday. I decided a week or so ago that part of my gift to him was going to be some awesome fudge. I made the fudge today, because I'm all on the ball and shit. So I start making the fudge, add the evaporated milk and butter and sugar to the pot, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and wait for it to get to soft boil. It nearly boiled over. It was in a 3-quart saucepan, as required per the recipe. Something didn't look right. I thought. I pondered. I calculated in my head. And I realized, FUCK, I have WAY too much evaporated milk in there. I checked the label on the can - sure as shit, my recipe called for (2) 5-oz cans and I'd added (2) 12-oz cans. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. I considered dumping it all out the back door, but then calculated some more and figured there was already too much invested to give up. I hollered for Jimi and set him to task buttering more foil in another 9X13 while I found another two and a half sticks of butter and 5+ cups of sugar. By chance, my habit of over-buying paid off this time - I had exactly enough chocolate on-hand to make this thing work.
I'm really glad I caught my mistake when I did - if not, and chocolate and such had been added, disaster would've ensued. As it stands, the fudge has firmed up beautifully, and the worst sin may be that I failed to add enough nuts. I'll take it.
Other noteworthy items: I purchased 2 lbs. of whole, in-the-shell nuts, along with a cracker and some picks. Do you know what I'm talking about? Part of Christmas memories from my childhood will always include my Papaw, sitting at the dining room table, shelling nuts and shoving them in his mouth as quickly as they could be freed from their hulls. He taught me how to do it. I think Bob and I tried to recreate this tradition once-upon-a-time, but what may have happened to that set of crackers and picks is anyone's guess - I'm glad to have a new set for my new life, to remind me of another time when I was as happy as I am now.
Granny and Papaw were part of the definition of Christmas when I was learning the meaning of the season. Every Christmas Eve was spent at their home, opening presents, feasting gluttonously, singing joyfully. It seemed that the heart of the entire world must have grown three sizes each year simply from the good tidings radiating from their home. I miss them so much. Christmas lost part of its magic when we lost them.
But it's still mostly happy and joyful. The circle of life, and all that. Stacy was over last night - she's got five weeks till her due date. Five weeks! We'll blink and that brand new little girl will be here. I can't wait to meet her. I was able to feel a knee or a foot or something last night as it pressed out the side of Stacy's belly; there's a whole another person inside of her - it's mind-blowing. Stacy was wearing a much-too-big for her ICP t-shirt left over from her college days and a pair of baggy gray sweats. She looked super comfortable, and not even a little pregnant, unless you know she's normally the size of a twig.
We've rearranged more furniture and I've finally repotted the aloe plant and the bromeliad - there's a good chance neither will survive the transfer, but we'll see. Fingers crossed.
I asked my cousins via Facebook if our grandmother, Mamaw (my Daddy's Momma), had a good singing voice - if anyone remembered. No one remembers her singing. I asked Daddy, too - he doesn't remember either. For some reason, that strikes me as tragically sad. Was she sad? Is that why she didn't sing? Or was she shy, or did she just not carry a tune? Her life was hard and fraught with loss, but beyond that, I don't know much. I know she made great fried chicken, according to Daddy, and amazing banana pudding. What did she love, though? What made her happy? My most vivid memory of her involves her tears of frustration as she tried to communicate with me; I was 9 or so, Brother was a new baby, and she had already suffered a stroke or two and her verbal skills were very much affected. I remember at her funeral, Daddy hugged me and told me that my Mamaw had loved me very much - I remember wishing she'd not been such a stranger to me, though it was obviously through no fault of her own.
Christmas cheer, eh?
Sorry.
The weekends go by so quickly - it's already 6 o'clock on Sunday night, which means I'll be awake and starting my workday in 12 hours or so. Fuck.
It's fine, though. Monday through Thursday this week, they can have me. After that, I'm gone - off for 11 days. 11 DAYS!!! OMG, I cannot wait! I don't know how I'll spend the time, but it'll not be answering phone calls in the middle of the night or putting out fires before my first cup of coffee. I fully intend to at least finish reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and these two new-to-me classic anti-Mormon autobiographies (Deborah Laake and Sonia Johnson) drunk-me bought me for Christmas last week.
Happy Week-Before-Christmas! May the Force be with you this week as you navigate the malls and shops. (And remember, Buy Local!)
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
In other news...2
It hit over 60 degrees today.
In case you've forgotten, it's December 14th.
I'm not complaining, just stating facts...in a sarcastic tone and with a confused look on my face.
I'd really like a white Christmas, but that ain't lookin' likely.
Maybe I filled my white Christmas quota when I was living in Michigan.
Jimi slow-roasted a brisket last night. At 3:30 a.m., his phone started making gadowful noises, and you'll never believe this, but he made it do that on purpose! So at three thirty, his alarm goes off and I'm all "OMGWTFKITTENS?!" and he's all "Gotta check the meat" and so I went to go pee. Have you ever been awake at 3:30 in the morning when there's a brisket roasting in your oven? My house smells fucking delicious, yo. (Of course, it's not 3:30 now, but it does still smell delicious in here. I hope he brings some home - see, it was for work, and so I did not get to taste not one little morsel of the delicious-smelling meat. Sad face.) Anyhow, he checked his meat and came back to bed and gave me a big hug and kiss and for a second I thought he was gonna try to get some sexy time started and I was thinking "oh hell, it's 3:30 in the morning, but what the hell, okay. but man, I'm so sleepy" but it didn't matter, because he just wanted to kiss me and cuddle a little. His hair smelled like meat. I was really hungry when I woke up this morning.
I'm hungry now. I'm thinking something easy, like tomato soup and grilled cheese. Or leftover pizza from lunch. Like I said, easy is the name of the game.
I've done a little Christmas shopping, but I'm not nearly finished. It'll be a busy weekend, or a busy week next week, or a busy Christmas Eve...
We're reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and it's awesome. Have I ever mentioned how much I love that Jimi's a reader? I love it. I love that we read the same books, each of us choosing a different marker, and have a "i'll get to the end faster than you!" thing going on.
I love everything about him. He's dreamy.
Oh, and Finn chewed the face off of one of the reindeer under the Christmas tree. I'm pretty sure it's the Jimi-reindeer, not the Natalie-reindeer. Poor Jimi-reindeer.
In case you've forgotten, it's December 14th.
I'm not complaining, just stating facts...in a sarcastic tone and with a confused look on my face.
I'd really like a white Christmas, but that ain't lookin' likely.
Maybe I filled my white Christmas quota when I was living in Michigan.
Jimi slow-roasted a brisket last night. At 3:30 a.m., his phone started making gadowful noises, and you'll never believe this, but he made it do that on purpose! So at three thirty, his alarm goes off and I'm all "OMGWTFKITTENS?!" and he's all "Gotta check the meat" and so I went to go pee. Have you ever been awake at 3:30 in the morning when there's a brisket roasting in your oven? My house smells fucking delicious, yo. (Of course, it's not 3:30 now, but it does still smell delicious in here. I hope he brings some home - see, it was for work, and so I did not get to taste not one little morsel of the delicious-smelling meat. Sad face.) Anyhow, he checked his meat and came back to bed and gave me a big hug and kiss and for a second I thought he was gonna try to get some sexy time started and I was thinking "oh hell, it's 3:30 in the morning, but what the hell, okay. but man, I'm so sleepy" but it didn't matter, because he just wanted to kiss me and cuddle a little. His hair smelled like meat. I was really hungry when I woke up this morning.
I'm hungry now. I'm thinking something easy, like tomato soup and grilled cheese. Or leftover pizza from lunch. Like I said, easy is the name of the game.
I've done a little Christmas shopping, but I'm not nearly finished. It'll be a busy weekend, or a busy week next week, or a busy Christmas Eve...
We're reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and it's awesome. Have I ever mentioned how much I love that Jimi's a reader? I love it. I love that we read the same books, each of us choosing a different marker, and have a "i'll get to the end faster than you!" thing going on.
I love everything about him. He's dreamy.
Oh, and Finn chewed the face off of one of the reindeer under the Christmas tree. I'm pretty sure it's the Jimi-reindeer, not the Natalie-reindeer. Poor Jimi-reindeer.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Today, happiness is...
Yesterday, Rick called and said, "Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?"
Um. ...
Oh yeeeaaaahhh...I sorta remember,
something about delicious brunch somewhere and I was all "Let's go this Sunday"
and then promptly forgot all about it.
I hadn't even said anything to Jimi, and was going to tell Rick that we couldn't,
but Jimi said we could.
And so we did.
We got all dolled up this morning.
I was a vision in browns,
chocolate skirt and tights,
oatmeal wool sweater over a red tank,
camel suede knee-high boots.
You'll have to take my word for it, though.
I went to take a picture of us, and Jimi was all, "Let me do it, I'm better"
and I was all, "okay",
and maybe he was better (we'll never know because I didn't get a turn),
but he wasn't that great.
This is the only evidence of our pretty:
I'd never been, but I'll be back.
OMG.
A made-to-order pasta station,
made-to-order omelets,
waffles,
fresh fruit,
any kind of bread your little heart could desire,
BACON.
Mussels, asparagus, seared chicken with a lemon caper sauce.
Antipasto, grits, granola, salmon.
And a selection of five desserts.
We three each chose the strawberry shortcake and the chocolate mousse.
The mousse, SURPRISE!, was chocolate-peppermint.
The cream and strawberries on the shortcake were the stars of the show, though.
I wish I had more right now.
Hope your Sunday was semi-spontaneous and delicious, too!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Baby Shower Success
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| I love that there's a bottle of scotch and some moisturizer in this picture, next to the baby shit. |
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| We gave the extra baby stuff to her in that little bag. When she opened it, there was no card, a couple of unwrapped blankets and socks, and one diaper. |
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| Trader Joe's finds, and beans for the chili. |
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| We bought a new game. And Anjay came over! |
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| Jimi roasted fresh pepper, then seeded them and pureed them with garlic and onion and tomato. He says his fingers still burn a little. |
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| Baby got a new Paula Deen stock pot. |
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| The view from my rear-view window on my way to the shower. |
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| Chili, with cheese and crackers and sour cream, because that's how I roll. |
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| Part of Stacy's haul... |
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| Grandma, Mommy, and Baby |
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Owning my fat.
I signed up with MyFitnessPal and MapMyWalk, mainly because two of you told me to. Also, their blackberry apps are free. I'm excited to have a way to keep track of the things I eat, the exercises I do, the water I drink, the calories I burn.
I'm excited to be holding myself accountable, to be aiming for a goal. And you know what? This goal is something I have absolute control over, which feels very empowering after a year of feeling sorta powerless when it comes to my body.
Now, I'm not hard core (yet), but I walked 3/4 of a mile with dogface this morning, and I've done 20 jumping jacks and 40 crunches. I'm consciously thinking about the repercussions of my food choices (even if you couldn't tell by the way I picked bacon over ham for my breakfast this morning - gotta live a little, you know?).
I've got a question - if my goal calories are 1200, and I burn 300, do I have to eat 1500 for the day? Is that how that's supposed to work?
I'm gonna do this. I'm going to lose ____ inches/pounds, and I'm going to look fan-fucking-tastic in that bridesmaid's dress come October. It's going to happen.
(I'm >-< this close to doing the Zumba. Will narrow down facility search/details today - unless Jimi springs for that YMCA membership, in which case, fuck some Zumba, I'm going swimming and to WATER Zumba! Why is the YMCA a million dollars? Okay, it's not a million dollars, but I'm broke and that joining fee makes my face sad.)
Happy Tuesday!
I'm excited to be holding myself accountable, to be aiming for a goal. And you know what? This goal is something I have absolute control over, which feels very empowering after a year of feeling sorta powerless when it comes to my body.
Now, I'm not hard core (yet), but I walked 3/4 of a mile with dogface this morning, and I've done 20 jumping jacks and 40 crunches. I'm consciously thinking about the repercussions of my food choices (even if you couldn't tell by the way I picked bacon over ham for my breakfast this morning - gotta live a little, you know?).
I've got a question - if my goal calories are 1200, and I burn 300, do I have to eat 1500 for the day? Is that how that's supposed to work?
I'm gonna do this. I'm going to lose ____ inches/pounds, and I'm going to look fan-fucking-tastic in that bridesmaid's dress come October. It's going to happen.
(I'm >-< this close to doing the Zumba. Will narrow down facility search/details today - unless Jimi springs for that YMCA membership, in which case, fuck some Zumba, I'm going swimming and to WATER Zumba! Why is the YMCA a million dollars? Okay, it's not a million dollars, but I'm broke and that joining fee makes my face sad.)
Happy Tuesday!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Rock on.
Okay, so I guess there were a few things I could've talked about in the last week:
Like how Momma and I drove to Cincinnati on Saturday and spent a few hours with dear, sweet Maggie, lounging in her pool and eating a yummy meal she managed to sneak and pay for before we knew what was going on. THAT won't happen again - the her paying for it part.
And then I almost got murdered by the super freak storm that popped up suddenly when I was on my way home Saturday. I literally had to stop my car in the middle of the road and just hope beyond hope that no one plowed into me - the water was coming down in a sheet and I couldn't see anything beyond my wipers. Nothing. When the worst was over and I could move again - at 5 mph, with my flashers on - there were three trees lying across both lanes on my side of the street. Thank goodness none of them landed on my car - that would've sucked.
Or I could've told you about how I sorta started a fight with Jimi because I got all worked up over the fact that we're not married and there are no wedding bells on the horizon. Here's what it came down to, though: I could put my foot down and insist on matrimony, and he'd do it. But I don't want him to marry me because I made him; I want him to marry me because he wants me to be his wife. I already know he wants to spend forever with me - I just can't make him see why the married part matters. I could threaten to leave, but if I did that, I'd be playing a game - I'm not willing to leave. When it comes right down to it, we're together and we're happy, and for now, that's just going to have to be enough. (But I've got a "If we ever got married..." category on Pinterest. Just in case.)
Finn escaped from the back yard yesterday - that was something exciting I could've written about. One of the boards in our fence came down, apparently, allowing Finn to squeeze through into the neighbor's yard, which has lots of escape hatches to the outside world. I'm sure he greatly enjoyed terrorizing the neighborhood squirrels for a bit - but then he spotted some neighbors and darted over to them. When I came tearing ass around the corner, leash in one hand, other hand holding up my jeans that were threatening to fall to my knees, my pup was sitting there between his two new friends, tail wagging, tongue hanging out, as if to say, "Hi Mom! I met some new people!" The neighbor has his finger hooked through Finn's collar - "He just ran right up to us," he said. I was so glad he wasn't squished in the middle of the road.
Jimi shaved off all of his face hairs; in five years, I've never seen his face naked. It's sorta like making out with and waking up next to a stranger.
Oh, and I'm at that point where I'm feeling myself up constantly - are my boobs sore, or am I squeezing them too hard? I almost write a "I think I might be pregnant" post every month, but I stop myself because I don't want to be that girl. I guess I just am, though. I am that girl. The crazy - I has it, and it is strong.
The dress I ordered too small? It came in, and my Momma picked it up for me yesterday. I don't even want to go get it or try it on for fear (knowing) that it won't fit. Fuck. Why do I do dumb things? Why does food have to taste so good?
Is it Friday yet?
Oh, and can I just say how good it makes me feel that you guys even noticed I wasn't around for a few days? I mean, if you didn't that's okay, but if you did, you rock my socks. This blogging community thing is really something special.
Like how Momma and I drove to Cincinnati on Saturday and spent a few hours with dear, sweet Maggie, lounging in her pool and eating a yummy meal she managed to sneak and pay for before we knew what was going on. THAT won't happen again - the her paying for it part.
And then I almost got murdered by the super freak storm that popped up suddenly when I was on my way home Saturday. I literally had to stop my car in the middle of the road and just hope beyond hope that no one plowed into me - the water was coming down in a sheet and I couldn't see anything beyond my wipers. Nothing. When the worst was over and I could move again - at 5 mph, with my flashers on - there were three trees lying across both lanes on my side of the street. Thank goodness none of them landed on my car - that would've sucked.
Or I could've told you about how I sorta started a fight with Jimi because I got all worked up over the fact that we're not married and there are no wedding bells on the horizon. Here's what it came down to, though: I could put my foot down and insist on matrimony, and he'd do it. But I don't want him to marry me because I made him; I want him to marry me because he wants me to be his wife. I already know he wants to spend forever with me - I just can't make him see why the married part matters. I could threaten to leave, but if I did that, I'd be playing a game - I'm not willing to leave. When it comes right down to it, we're together and we're happy, and for now, that's just going to have to be enough. (But I've got a "If we ever got married..." category on Pinterest. Just in case.)
Finn escaped from the back yard yesterday - that was something exciting I could've written about. One of the boards in our fence came down, apparently, allowing Finn to squeeze through into the neighbor's yard, which has lots of escape hatches to the outside world. I'm sure he greatly enjoyed terrorizing the neighborhood squirrels for a bit - but then he spotted some neighbors and darted over to them. When I came tearing ass around the corner, leash in one hand, other hand holding up my jeans that were threatening to fall to my knees, my pup was sitting there between his two new friends, tail wagging, tongue hanging out, as if to say, "Hi Mom! I met some new people!" The neighbor has his finger hooked through Finn's collar - "He just ran right up to us," he said. I was so glad he wasn't squished in the middle of the road.
Jimi shaved off all of his face hairs; in five years, I've never seen his face naked. It's sorta like making out with and waking up next to a stranger.
Oh, and I'm at that point where I'm feeling myself up constantly - are my boobs sore, or am I squeezing them too hard? I almost write a "I think I might be pregnant" post every month, but I stop myself because I don't want to be that girl. I guess I just am, though. I am that girl. The crazy - I has it, and it is strong.
The dress I ordered too small? It came in, and my Momma picked it up for me yesterday. I don't even want to go get it or try it on for fear (knowing) that it won't fit. Fuck. Why do I do dumb things? Why does food have to taste so good?
Is it Friday yet?
Oh, and can I just say how good it makes me feel that you guys even noticed I wasn't around for a few days? I mean, if you didn't that's okay, but if you did, you rock my socks. This blogging community thing is really something special.
Monday, August 8, 2011
I wish I could get paid to bake.
I made this last night:
Except I changed it up a little to add:
Brown Sugar
A few Oats
Cinnamon
Nutmeg
Ginger
Vanilla
Twice as many Peaches
Blueberries
And when it was done baking, it looked like this:
And it tasted like this:
plus this:
And for the first time in my life, I put down my unfinished dessert and declared it too sweet to finish.
Of course, I went back to it 20 minutes later to finish it off, but whatever.
It was rich.
That's all I'm sayin'.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
My dinner is awesomer than yours.
Kebabs.
Steak, Onion, Green Pepper, Baby Portabella Mushrooms.
And Beer.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Ain't got nothin' to say...
But I'm gonna type, type, type away.
That is what I do,
when I can't think of anything good to share with you.
Whoa. I'm not a poet and I totally know it.
Instinct tells me to move to something else, distract myself and maybe later something will come to me. Nope. I'm staying right here!!! Aren't you glad you're still reading?
Twitter me this...
I don't know how to do Twitter. I figured out how to get my blog posts to automatically update my twitter feed, but that's about all I do on there. Last friday, no fewer than three awesome women linked me in #FF - i think that means Follow Friday? Like you're supposed to recommend your favorite blogs? I don't know how to do it though, so I couldn't even properly reciprocate. I'm so ignorant about this technology stuff.
Jimi got his hairs cut today. He just told me I should talk about that: "What are you typing?" "A bunch of bullshit." "You should talk about my hairs. It's the most important news of the day." I must say, he looks very handsome with his new hairs:
But all I can see is the crap on the table behind him.
Have I mentioned I'm a lousy housekeeper? That's totally my beer bottle.
But yes, he's very pretty.
I like wine. Cheap wine. 3/$10 Arbor Mist cheap "wine". Can't you tell?
Wait. I just re-read that. That's totally not what I meant. Stop giggling.
Nevermind.
I need some pie. I baked a pie on July 4th, in honor of Independence Day because that's the American thing to do, right? Eat apple pie? It was all the justification I needed, okay? And I'm going to eat some more of that pie tonight and pretend it's me being patri-fucking-otic.
Did I mention I'm going to be in a wedding in October? And that I ordered my bridesmaid's dress the other day? In a size smaller than the one I tried on at the store, which fit me to a T? Um, in case you're having what I'm having - that means I need to lose no less than one dress size in the next 4.5 months.
How long can I put it off before I have to start the starvation/laxative diet?
No. Wait. I'm going to do this the right way. I'm going to exercise, eat right, and lose so much that I have to have the size-smaller dress taken in so it'll stay up on me by the time the big day arrives.
Right? Right?!
Right.
I'm starting tomorrow, obviously. There's pie in there that can't go to waist. Waste. Whatever.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wah wah wat wha wah
The world ended last night. And I'm pretty sure I made out with some scrawny pirate-looking dude, but it's okay, because later I killed him.
We were at a party, and the world shifted. We didn't know what had happened, or how, only that all of a sudden, everything was different and we were no longer enjoying the party, we were trying to decide who we could trust so we could make our escape and try to get to safety. From the second-floor veranda, we could see smoke from fires in the distance. The roads were choked, traffic lights out, but not as many people were wandering the streets as you'd expect - we guessed the ones we didn't see were probably dead.
Pirate man was some sort of boss, and he'd been making eyes at me all night. After the shit hit the fan, I had to employ whatever tactics necessary to get us out of there safely, so I did what any reasonably creative chick would do - I made him think I was going to have sex with him and then I killed him instead. I didn't get any weapons from him, but his death made our escape possible, and before we knew it, we were on our way home. I haven't told Jimi yet, but I'm confident he'll understand.
I can't remember where we got the plane or what we did with the car, but none of that really matters now as they're both useless - the car was out of gas, and the plane...well, we ditched the plane into the river to get a closer look at this factory. There were hills and shit all around us anyhow - we were going to find ourselves with empty tanks before we found a flat place to land. I must say, when my ex-husband was teaching me how to fly his dad's plane, I thought it was just a novelty - I never realized it would one day help save my life. And water landings aren't nearly as scary as they look if you're expecting it. The hardest part was accepting that I'd probably killed a few innocents, but dammit, if one of us has to die, I'd rather it be them than me. What are all these people doing in the water, anyhow? It's like a lazy river up in here, people floating by in giant tubes and rafts and on doors and shit. Where are the boats and canoes and kayaks? How did people manage to get their floats blown up? All the electricity is out.
The hole in the foundation of the building told us it probably had been abandoned for a while, and we were right - it had been claimed as shelter by few guys and a gal who had an awesome stock of emergency and survival equipment. I'm not sure why they took a liking to us and let us stay, but when that flotilla of strapped-together rowboats crept by, the didn't slit our throats when we took defensive positions and readied our weapons to fight along side them. A chunky girl who was probably 35 but looked 20, with short brown curls that clung close to her long, rectangular head, appeared in the hole where a window used to be - she was out of the boats and on the ledge. She wore a yellow dress covered with small pink flowers, and her double chin hung down so low it rested on her chest. She disappeared from the window, acting as if she'd not seen us, but I knew she had, and I crept along the wall, just on the opposite side from her, and when she turned to enter the doorway, i drove that battery-powered drill bit up through that double chin, through the roof of her mouth, and into her brain. She was not going to ruin my day. The floating caravan continued upriver, uncaring that they'd lost one of their own, or unwilling to risk their own hides to check on her. We continued organizing the well-stocked supplies our new-found friends were generously offering to share.
And then I woke up.
Pretty sure I can blame this on the fact that I'm currently reading "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies". Almost certain.
Jimi's reading it too; I hope he got enough sleep last night to have dreams. (I doubt it, though - his shoulder has been hurting him something awful, and he woke me up screaming at 3 a.m. because he'd gone to roll over and had somehow tweaked it the wrong way. Poor guy. It's not bad enough for surgery, but PT and cortisone haven't helped. Boo.)
My week's been pretty fantastic so far. No plans for that to change any time soon. It's almost the weekend - and a long weekend at that. YAY! Looks like we're camping. I love that, except for the getting-ready, packing-up, loading-up, assembling, taking-down, packing-up, unpacking, washing-everything-again parts. The part in the middle, where we're camping and doing nothing, that part is awesome and fantastic and ALMOST worth the trouble of all the rest.
I ate an avocado for the first time yesterday. Well, it wasn't the first time I've ever had avocado, but it was the first time I've cut one in half, removed the pit, and sat down with a spoon to eat one. I loved it! I want more! I went to Valu Market last night and was going to buy some more...but they were, I shit you not, $2.69 each. Holy shit, $2.69 for an avocado?! I read a blog post just the other day wherein one of my bloggy friends bemoaned the fact that her man eats a $2 avocado every day. I can't remember what I paid for the one I bought, but I promise it wasn't $2.69. I hate Valu Market. Highway robbery. It's some bullshit. Know what makes me maddest? The neighborhood served by that market is mostly made up of recent immigrants - I feel like they're being taken advantage of. $0.69 bananas, $3.50 gallons of milk, $3.69 taco kits. I hate that store, and I just decided I'll never shop there again. (Unless I just need beer or water chestnuts or baby corns - their prices on beer and canned Asian vegetables are pretty reasonable.)
Do you dream? Do you remember details of your dreams? Do your dreams have recurring themes? What did you dream about last night? Talk to me, people!
Oh, and Happy Hump Day!
We were at a party, and the world shifted. We didn't know what had happened, or how, only that all of a sudden, everything was different and we were no longer enjoying the party, we were trying to decide who we could trust so we could make our escape and try to get to safety. From the second-floor veranda, we could see smoke from fires in the distance. The roads were choked, traffic lights out, but not as many people were wandering the streets as you'd expect - we guessed the ones we didn't see were probably dead.
Pirate man was some sort of boss, and he'd been making eyes at me all night. After the shit hit the fan, I had to employ whatever tactics necessary to get us out of there safely, so I did what any reasonably creative chick would do - I made him think I was going to have sex with him and then I killed him instead. I didn't get any weapons from him, but his death made our escape possible, and before we knew it, we were on our way home. I haven't told Jimi yet, but I'm confident he'll understand.
I can't remember where we got the plane or what we did with the car, but none of that really matters now as they're both useless - the car was out of gas, and the plane...well, we ditched the plane into the river to get a closer look at this factory. There were hills and shit all around us anyhow - we were going to find ourselves with empty tanks before we found a flat place to land. I must say, when my ex-husband was teaching me how to fly his dad's plane, I thought it was just a novelty - I never realized it would one day help save my life. And water landings aren't nearly as scary as they look if you're expecting it. The hardest part was accepting that I'd probably killed a few innocents, but dammit, if one of us has to die, I'd rather it be them than me. What are all these people doing in the water, anyhow? It's like a lazy river up in here, people floating by in giant tubes and rafts and on doors and shit. Where are the boats and canoes and kayaks? How did people manage to get their floats blown up? All the electricity is out.
The hole in the foundation of the building told us it probably had been abandoned for a while, and we were right - it had been claimed as shelter by few guys and a gal who had an awesome stock of emergency and survival equipment. I'm not sure why they took a liking to us and let us stay, but when that flotilla of strapped-together rowboats crept by, the didn't slit our throats when we took defensive positions and readied our weapons to fight along side them. A chunky girl who was probably 35 but looked 20, with short brown curls that clung close to her long, rectangular head, appeared in the hole where a window used to be - she was out of the boats and on the ledge. She wore a yellow dress covered with small pink flowers, and her double chin hung down so low it rested on her chest. She disappeared from the window, acting as if she'd not seen us, but I knew she had, and I crept along the wall, just on the opposite side from her, and when she turned to enter the doorway, i drove that battery-powered drill bit up through that double chin, through the roof of her mouth, and into her brain. She was not going to ruin my day. The floating caravan continued upriver, uncaring that they'd lost one of their own, or unwilling to risk their own hides to check on her. We continued organizing the well-stocked supplies our new-found friends were generously offering to share.
And then I woke up.
Pretty sure I can blame this on the fact that I'm currently reading "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies". Almost certain.
Jimi's reading it too; I hope he got enough sleep last night to have dreams. (I doubt it, though - his shoulder has been hurting him something awful, and he woke me up screaming at 3 a.m. because he'd gone to roll over and had somehow tweaked it the wrong way. Poor guy. It's not bad enough for surgery, but PT and cortisone haven't helped. Boo.)
My week's been pretty fantastic so far. No plans for that to change any time soon. It's almost the weekend - and a long weekend at that. YAY! Looks like we're camping. I love that, except for the getting-ready, packing-up, loading-up, assembling, taking-down, packing-up, unpacking, washing-everything-again parts. The part in the middle, where we're camping and doing nothing, that part is awesome and fantastic and ALMOST worth the trouble of all the rest.
I ate an avocado for the first time yesterday. Well, it wasn't the first time I've ever had avocado, but it was the first time I've cut one in half, removed the pit, and sat down with a spoon to eat one. I loved it! I want more! I went to Valu Market last night and was going to buy some more...but they were, I shit you not, $2.69 each. Holy shit, $2.69 for an avocado?! I read a blog post just the other day wherein one of my bloggy friends bemoaned the fact that her man eats a $2 avocado every day. I can't remember what I paid for the one I bought, but I promise it wasn't $2.69. I hate Valu Market. Highway robbery. It's some bullshit. Know what makes me maddest? The neighborhood served by that market is mostly made up of recent immigrants - I feel like they're being taken advantage of. $0.69 bananas, $3.50 gallons of milk, $3.69 taco kits. I hate that store, and I just decided I'll never shop there again. (Unless I just need beer or water chestnuts or baby corns - their prices on beer and canned Asian vegetables are pretty reasonable.)
Do you dream? Do you remember details of your dreams? Do your dreams have recurring themes? What did you dream about last night? Talk to me, people!
Oh, and Happy Hump Day!
Monday, May 30, 2011
After-dinner conversation
"Meatloaf, peas, and mashed potatoes - there ain't a meal more American than that. You eat that for dinner and Uncle Sam shows up on your doorstep, turns into a hot chick, and gives you a blowjob."
Um.
Okay.
I'll add that to the list of reasons I don't eat meatloaf. Or peas.
Um.
Okay.
I'll add that to the list of reasons I don't eat meatloaf. Or peas.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Okay, now that I've found 100 things...
Today, a week and a day after my 31st birthday, I'm finally getting my cake and ice cream. I've requested my favorite, strawberry cake with fun-fetti icing and vanilla ice cream. (Very grown up, Momma says.) For my 13th birthday, my Momma made me a strawberry cake and decorated it to look like a pink boom box. My friend James made me a strawberry cake and decorated it with tiaras and princess castles last year. Strawberry cake really is my favorite.
Momma asked me if I had any input on what I'd like for dinner. The only thing I could come up with was grilled asparagus.
31 feels like a turning point, a crossroads. Like I'm going through some sort of awkward phase, a growth spurt. Maybe I am. Maybe I'll come out on the other side, 32 and a full-fledged adult. One who does a load of laundry every night instead of letting it pile up for two and a half weeks and then only breaking down and sorting and washing because clean panties are nowhere to be found. One who immediately does the dinner dishes when the meal is finished. One who vacuums and dusts every Sunday.
I'm not saying it's likely, just that it COULD happen. You know, miracles happen every day.
31 does feel weird, though. Not old, I'd never dare use that word in relation to that number. Wiser? More aware? More appreciative? Something.
So far, though, aside from feeling a little odd, 31 is pretty cool. I'm happy, healthy, loved. I've got a job and a home and a car that just rolled over 70K miles Friday night.
That's pretty cool, actually. My little Honda Civic, the one I bought all by myself with my very own credit in September of 2004, the one I didn't need my (ex)husband's income to qualify for, the one I drove from Nebraska to El Paso and then back home to good ol' Kentucky, has just rolled over 70,000 miles. I can probably get 70,000 miles out of this car three more times before it shits the bed and has to be replaced. Of all the decisions I've made in my life, buying that car was probably the most sound financial one. (Well, as long as you don't take into consideration the fact that my OLD Civic was paid off and in good shape and had only 145,000 miles on it and probably could've been driven (for free) for another 150,000 without much more than basic preventative maintenance. But whatever.)
I'm so glad the sun is out today - the weekend's been kind of a bust and the sun makes everything seem happier, doesn't it? Yesterday was Thunder Over Louisville - a huge air show and fireworks display that kicks off the official Kentucky Derby Festival festivities. Every year, my boss gets us tickets to the Bats (local AAA baseball team) game, and we hang out together all day and watch the game, watch the air show, watch the rednecks, watch the fireworks. And drink beer and booze we smuggled in and eat fried foods and complain about the heat or the cold or the sun or the clouds. Yesterday, though, the weather sucked. It was cold and windy and drizzling and gray. Everyone backed out, and then I did too. I think the only tickets that were used belonged to C and her family - so 5 out of 20? That sucks. I'm going to have to offer to reimburse the company for the four I requested and didn't use. Suck.
Did you know Haagen Dazs makes Sweet Chai Latte ice cream? Holy shit, it's to die for. Go get some now. I'll wait. Delicious, right? I told you. Haagen Dazs just has it like that, though. They make everything delicious. I'll never forget the night Kat and I got that banana split from their store in the Crystal City Mall in D.C. - cherry vanilla ice cream, a banana, strawberry sauce, whipped cream, nuts. God, my mouth is watering just remembering it. We drove around the Ft. Belvoir area for much longer than we should've, running in and out of Targets and Food Lions, darting to their frozen foods sections in search of that never-before-heard-of-but-now-must-have-it flavor - Cherry Vanilla. No one carried it. No one had it. We gave up and hung our heads and stopped at the gas station to fill up her car and get some snacks. Guess who had Haagen Dazs Cherry Vanilla ice cream? That's right, the gas station did. Grocery stores didn't, but the gas station did. For years after that, I felt as if I had to buy 2 pints every time I found the flavor in stores - it was like a rare gem! I'm kinda over it now, though. Maybe it's guilt by association. But this sweet chai latte is delish.
Jimi's going to take me to "breakfast" (it's noon already), and then we'll go find some fun until it's time to head to Momma & Daddy's for my birthday dinner. It's kinda like "Natalie's 31st Birthday, take 2". That's what I'm doing today. What are your plans? May I make some suggestions? First, go enter my giveaway. I'll mail you some shit from my house. Fun, right? Then, go join in on the Comment Love Day over at FTLOB. Everyone loves comments.
Momma asked me if I had any input on what I'd like for dinner. The only thing I could come up with was grilled asparagus.
31 feels like a turning point, a crossroads. Like I'm going through some sort of awkward phase, a growth spurt. Maybe I am. Maybe I'll come out on the other side, 32 and a full-fledged adult. One who does a load of laundry every night instead of letting it pile up for two and a half weeks and then only breaking down and sorting and washing because clean panties are nowhere to be found. One who immediately does the dinner dishes when the meal is finished. One who vacuums and dusts every Sunday.
I'm not saying it's likely, just that it COULD happen. You know, miracles happen every day.
31 does feel weird, though. Not old, I'd never dare use that word in relation to that number. Wiser? More aware? More appreciative? Something.
So far, though, aside from feeling a little odd, 31 is pretty cool. I'm happy, healthy, loved. I've got a job and a home and a car that just rolled over 70K miles Friday night.
That's pretty cool, actually. My little Honda Civic, the one I bought all by myself with my very own credit in September of 2004, the one I didn't need my (ex)husband's income to qualify for, the one I drove from Nebraska to El Paso and then back home to good ol' Kentucky, has just rolled over 70,000 miles. I can probably get 70,000 miles out of this car three more times before it shits the bed and has to be replaced. Of all the decisions I've made in my life, buying that car was probably the most sound financial one. (Well, as long as you don't take into consideration the fact that my OLD Civic was paid off and in good shape and had only 145,000 miles on it and probably could've been driven (for free) for another 150,000 without much more than basic preventative maintenance. But whatever.)
I'm so glad the sun is out today - the weekend's been kind of a bust and the sun makes everything seem happier, doesn't it? Yesterday was Thunder Over Louisville - a huge air show and fireworks display that kicks off the official Kentucky Derby Festival festivities. Every year, my boss gets us tickets to the Bats (local AAA baseball team) game, and we hang out together all day and watch the game, watch the air show, watch the rednecks, watch the fireworks. And drink beer and booze we smuggled in and eat fried foods and complain about the heat or the cold or the sun or the clouds. Yesterday, though, the weather sucked. It was cold and windy and drizzling and gray. Everyone backed out, and then I did too. I think the only tickets that were used belonged to C and her family - so 5 out of 20? That sucks. I'm going to have to offer to reimburse the company for the four I requested and didn't use. Suck.
Did you know Haagen Dazs makes Sweet Chai Latte ice cream? Holy shit, it's to die for. Go get some now. I'll wait. Delicious, right? I told you. Haagen Dazs just has it like that, though. They make everything delicious. I'll never forget the night Kat and I got that banana split from their store in the Crystal City Mall in D.C. - cherry vanilla ice cream, a banana, strawberry sauce, whipped cream, nuts. God, my mouth is watering just remembering it. We drove around the Ft. Belvoir area for much longer than we should've, running in and out of Targets and Food Lions, darting to their frozen foods sections in search of that never-before-heard-of-but-now-must-have-it flavor - Cherry Vanilla. No one carried it. No one had it. We gave up and hung our heads and stopped at the gas station to fill up her car and get some snacks. Guess who had Haagen Dazs Cherry Vanilla ice cream? That's right, the gas station did. Grocery stores didn't, but the gas station did. For years after that, I felt as if I had to buy 2 pints every time I found the flavor in stores - it was like a rare gem! I'm kinda over it now, though. Maybe it's guilt by association. But this sweet chai latte is delish.
Jimi's going to take me to "breakfast" (it's noon already), and then we'll go find some fun until it's time to head to Momma & Daddy's for my birthday dinner. It's kinda like "Natalie's 31st Birthday, take 2". That's what I'm doing today. What are your plans? May I make some suggestions? First, go enter my giveaway. I'll mail you some shit from my house. Fun, right? Then, go join in on the Comment Love Day over at FTLOB. Everyone loves comments.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Lunch with Friends
97?!
Ha! That reminded me of Clerks. (You know what scene I'm talking about, don't you? Of course you do.)
I'm creeping up on 100 friends/readers/followers/awesome people. That's pretty freakin' special, folks. To me, it is. You guys are so cool. As soon as I hit a hundred, I'm totally going to do a giveaway of some sort. But I'm not crafty or anything, so likely the "prizes" will be shit that I found around my house and stuck in a box to mail to you. Cool, huh? I know, you're hardly able to contain your excitement.
Until then, though, let's talk about lunch. Food is one of my favorite things. Eating makes me happy. But I'm a picky eater, oh yes I am. I'm very finicky and difficult, and one of the reasons I love Jimi so much is that he's managed to somehow memorize my very long list of dislikes and I'm-not-a-fan-of's and uses that information to (accurately, most of the time) help find new food and flavor combinations I'd never consider without him standing over me and saying "Try it Natalie. I think you'll really like it. Come on, just a bite. Please? For me?" Who does that? Well, Moms do that, but boyfriends typically don't.
I can turn any topic around to talk about how awesome Jimi is. Have you noticed that? I'm sorry - I'm sure it's annoying as hell.
Anyhow, back to the foods.
Since I was a small child, my favorite lunch in the whole entire world is this:
Cookies or yogurt or carrots or some other sort of sweet something can be added, but the meal is complete with just those four main ingredients.
This is the lunch I'd come home to in the summertime, after spending my morning and afternoon swimming, swimming, swimming until my fingers and toes were all pruny and my freckles had turned dark brown and multiplied several times over, feeling that deep physical hunger that makes it feel like even your arms are hungry - the sort of hunger that comes after completely exhausting yourself. Peanut Butter & Jelly is forever in my mind merged with pickles and milk and swimming and happy childhood thoughts.
And it's so freakin' easy. It's the epitome of a perfect "I'm hungry and I'm lazy and what can I fix that isn't hard?" meal.
Kimmie says it's weird. She says that peanut butter and pickles don't go together unless you're weird or pregnant. I'm not pregnant, and I wasn't pregnant when I was 9 and decided this was the best lunch evar, better even than Chef Boyardee Mini Ravioli with a side of buttered bread. Weird? Maybe. But not because this is my favorite lunch.
I swear I can smell the chlorine by the time I'm halfway through my sandwich.
Peanut butter & jelly with a pickle on the side. Not so weird, right?
What's your favorite lunch? Has it always be the same, or did you like something as a kid that now you're all like "EWW!!! Gross! I can't believe I ate that!!!"? (Mini ravioli and buttered bread, anyone?)
UR THOTS?
Edit to add: I just, for the first time that I can remember in my whole life, coughed while taking a drink and the milk came out my nose. You know that feeling when you're swimming and you get dunked without warning and you suck the water up your nose and it makes you feel like you're going to die? Yeah, my visceral memory is now complete.
Edit #2: And now my jeans are covered in pickle juice. No, that's not a euphemism.
Ha! That reminded me of Clerks. (You know what scene I'm talking about, don't you? Of course you do.)
I'm creeping up on 100 friends/readers/followers/awesome people. That's pretty freakin' special, folks. To me, it is. You guys are so cool. As soon as I hit a hundred, I'm totally going to do a giveaway of some sort. But I'm not crafty or anything, so likely the "prizes" will be shit that I found around my house and stuck in a box to mail to you. Cool, huh? I know, you're hardly able to contain your excitement.
Until then, though, let's talk about lunch. Food is one of my favorite things. Eating makes me happy. But I'm a picky eater, oh yes I am. I'm very finicky and difficult, and one of the reasons I love Jimi so much is that he's managed to somehow memorize my very long list of dislikes and I'm-not-a-fan-of's and uses that information to (accurately, most of the time) help find new food and flavor combinations I'd never consider without him standing over me and saying "Try it Natalie. I think you'll really like it. Come on, just a bite. Please? For me?" Who does that? Well, Moms do that, but boyfriends typically don't.
I can turn any topic around to talk about how awesome Jimi is. Have you noticed that? I'm sorry - I'm sure it's annoying as hell.
Anyhow, back to the foods.
Since I was a small child, my favorite lunch in the whole entire world is this:
Peanut Butter & Jelly Sandwich (these days its made on low sugar, low carb, whole grain whole wheat bread. That, I assure you, was not the case back in the day.)
Kosher Dill Pickle (or three)
Chips (any variety will do, but good ol' regular potato chips or corn chips are really the best. Today I'm having Veggie Straws - they're "eh")
A big glass of cold milk
Cookies or yogurt or carrots or some other sort of sweet something can be added, but the meal is complete with just those four main ingredients.
This is the lunch I'd come home to in the summertime, after spending my morning and afternoon swimming, swimming, swimming until my fingers and toes were all pruny and my freckles had turned dark brown and multiplied several times over, feeling that deep physical hunger that makes it feel like even your arms are hungry - the sort of hunger that comes after completely exhausting yourself. Peanut Butter & Jelly is forever in my mind merged with pickles and milk and swimming and happy childhood thoughts.
And it's so freakin' easy. It's the epitome of a perfect "I'm hungry and I'm lazy and what can I fix that isn't hard?" meal.
Kimmie says it's weird. She says that peanut butter and pickles don't go together unless you're weird or pregnant. I'm not pregnant, and I wasn't pregnant when I was 9 and decided this was the best lunch evar, better even than Chef Boyardee Mini Ravioli with a side of buttered bread. Weird? Maybe. But not because this is my favorite lunch.
I swear I can smell the chlorine by the time I'm halfway through my sandwich.
Peanut butter & jelly with a pickle on the side. Not so weird, right?
What's your favorite lunch? Has it always be the same, or did you like something as a kid that now you're all like "EWW!!! Gross! I can't believe I ate that!!!"? (Mini ravioli and buttered bread, anyone?)
UR THOTS?
Edit to add: I just, for the first time that I can remember in my whole life, coughed while taking a drink and the milk came out my nose. You know that feeling when you're swimming and you get dunked without warning and you suck the water up your nose and it makes you feel like you're going to die? Yeah, my visceral memory is now complete.
Edit #2: And now my jeans are covered in pickle juice. No, that's not a euphemism.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Monday, Monday...
What a happy little weekend this was. We spent our day Saturday in Cincinnati with Sweet Maggie, shopping, as usual, but not buying anything, which is not usual. I've got money burning a hole in my pocket, but I can't bring myself to spend it - there's nothing I want badly enough to justify laying down the cold hard cash. More than likely, an unexpected expense will present itself and I'll have to use my mad money for that and I'll be mad that I didn't get to buy anything fun but I'll be glad I had the money on hand. Such is life. La di da.
We'd talked about getting a hotel room and staying overnight in Cincy, but in the end, I couldn't justify the expense or the extra trouble it would cause for Stacy and Jessie to have to keep the dog for an extra night. And I didn't want to wake up and have to drive home - I really like my house and waking up here each morning is one of my favorite things. So we drove home, picked up the pup, and we were home well before midnight.
Yesterday we went to Whole Foods to buy some bulk quinoa. Do you know about quinoa? Apparently, it's the new pomegranate, one of the new "super foods". It's a vegetable that is eaten/tastes like a cereal grain, and it has like 14 grams of protein in a 3.5 ounce serving. That's what they say, at least...I've not tried it yet. Jimi swears it's going to be our new favorite breakfast food. Anyhow. So we went to the Whole Foods, and can I take a minute here to tell you how much I love that place? I know everything they sell is marked up by at least a dollar compared to stuff at the Kroger, but it's like a hippie grocery-shopping-lover's wet dream. (I love grocery shopping. Hate all other forms of shopping. Go figure.) I love the beautiful, varied, unusual flowers that smell so good when you walk in the front door. I love that their grocery carts have a built-in vase to hold your fresh flowers. I love that they have every variety of everything, in organic and why-do-you-hate-the-Earth?! (regular, I mean). And Oh My Gosh the Bulk Grains Aisle?! Holy smokes, I want to live there. I was so in awe of the place that I bought 2.5 lbs of split peas. WTF? I don't even like peas. (I do like split pea soup though, which is why I bought the peas, I guess, but still - I've never actually made split pea soup, so who knows how this will turn out. I just had to buy something from that aisle other than the quinoa.)
And then Jimi rushed me through the rest of the store because he knew I was well on my way to wandering aimlessly up and down every single aisle, spending minutes ogling the teas and tomato sauces and different-shaped noodles. But the cheese! He couldn't divert me from the cheeses, mainly because they live next to the food bars where we were planning to pick out our individual selections for lunch. The cheese makes me happy. I decided to splurge on a selection - I raided the $3 and under sample bin and came away with 8 cheeses of all colors and smells and tastes (one has cranberries in it, another has black olives; be still my heart!) for under $30. (I don't actually know how much I paid - Whole Foods is one of those places where I can't look too closely at individual price tags - I just try to keep my total under a pre-set dollar amount. I managed to keep my budget on this trip, so it's a win!)
While I perused the cheeses, Jimi made a discovery of his own - they sell beer! Not just any beer, either; good beer. Gumballhead beer. Jimi loves the Gumballheads. You can get a pint, 32 oz., or a 64 oz. growler. The time it took to fill his growler allowed me the time I needed to pick my cheeses. We were both happy.
And then it was time for lunch. They had eight (8!) soup selections. I'm such a sucker for a good soup. They also had sushi and bbq pork and fresh green beans and salads and all sorts of delicious-looking things. I wanted to eat it all, but I only have so much room, you know? I decided on tomato bisque and crackers and a piece of my cheese...and a California roll. Of course, I only ate the soup and such - I had two pieces of my roll, but I liked the soup better, so Jimi finished the sushi for me. (He'd counted on this - it's pretty common - so he'd only selected a veggie sushi-style roll. He's so smart, that man of mine.) The Whole Foods has a little dining area there in the front of the store - making it officially my favorite place ever. The cashier said they could arrange to have a cot set up in the back if I was really serious about wanting to live there; if Jimi ever kicks me out, I'll take the guy up on the offer.
After lunch, we went to the Guitar Center across the way. I thought we were going to look at guitars; turns out, Jimi was serious when he said Saturday that he thinks I should spend my mad money to buy a full-size keyboard, and we were there to see what they had to offer in the way of portable electric pianos. I'm not prepared to drop $300 on a keyboard. It would mean I'd have to sign up for lessons; I've forgotten nearly everything I learned from the four years of lessons I barely tolerated as a tween. And while I'd love to have a piano sitting around to plunk away on when the urge strikes, a keyboard is not a piano, and there is not room in the house for a piano right now and I don't know that I want to spend money on an electric one when I sort of feel like electric would be cheating or disappointing to my expectation and history with the traditional upright. But Jimi's suggestion was so sweet, so sincere, and his line of "I thought then we could sit around and make music together" was just too heart-wrenching to not seriously sway my opinions. But still, it's a lot of money...
So I walked away from the Guitar Center without a new instrument for me...but Jimi bought himself a ukulele. He strummed all the way to Rick's house, who fed me homemade chocolate peanut butter cheesecake and shared a Gumballhead with Jimi. He strummed all the way home, and then he hijacked the computer to look up chords and songs and sat here strumming until I lured him away with the offer of...
*ehhem* So anyhow, he took over the computer last night, and that's why I'm regaling you with this awesome story now instead of then. That, and I don't have anything else to talk about. Except that when Jimi got home tonight, he took his ukulele to the bathroom with him, saying he was going to play while he pooped. He said it's called "dookulele".
Gosh, I'm sorry I had to create that image for you, but it's funny, right? Dookulele. I'm still giggling.
Our friend and former roommate, Jen, called last night. She's going to have her baby girl any day now, and I'm glad to find that I'm genuinely, without hesitation, happy and excited for her. I'm not feeling those jealous pangs I felt when she first learned she was expecting, and I didn't have a single "why can't that be me?" thought. This is progress, people. And now I need to go find her registry and send that woman some baby towels - she said she's gotten dozens of little washcloths, but not a single bath towel for her little peapod.
Happy Monday, Friends. I hope you have a lovely week.
We'd talked about getting a hotel room and staying overnight in Cincy, but in the end, I couldn't justify the expense or the extra trouble it would cause for Stacy and Jessie to have to keep the dog for an extra night. And I didn't want to wake up and have to drive home - I really like my house and waking up here each morning is one of my favorite things. So we drove home, picked up the pup, and we were home well before midnight.
Yesterday we went to Whole Foods to buy some bulk quinoa. Do you know about quinoa? Apparently, it's the new pomegranate, one of the new "super foods". It's a vegetable that is eaten/tastes like a cereal grain, and it has like 14 grams of protein in a 3.5 ounce serving. That's what they say, at least...I've not tried it yet. Jimi swears it's going to be our new favorite breakfast food. Anyhow. So we went to the Whole Foods, and can I take a minute here to tell you how much I love that place? I know everything they sell is marked up by at least a dollar compared to stuff at the Kroger, but it's like a hippie grocery-shopping-lover's wet dream. (I love grocery shopping. Hate all other forms of shopping. Go figure.) I love the beautiful, varied, unusual flowers that smell so good when you walk in the front door. I love that their grocery carts have a built-in vase to hold your fresh flowers. I love that they have every variety of everything, in organic and why-do-you-hate-the-Earth?! (regular, I mean). And Oh My Gosh the Bulk Grains Aisle?! Holy smokes, I want to live there. I was so in awe of the place that I bought 2.5 lbs of split peas. WTF? I don't even like peas. (I do like split pea soup though, which is why I bought the peas, I guess, but still - I've never actually made split pea soup, so who knows how this will turn out. I just had to buy something from that aisle other than the quinoa.)
And then Jimi rushed me through the rest of the store because he knew I was well on my way to wandering aimlessly up and down every single aisle, spending minutes ogling the teas and tomato sauces and different-shaped noodles. But the cheese! He couldn't divert me from the cheeses, mainly because they live next to the food bars where we were planning to pick out our individual selections for lunch. The cheese makes me happy. I decided to splurge on a selection - I raided the $3 and under sample bin and came away with 8 cheeses of all colors and smells and tastes (one has cranberries in it, another has black olives; be still my heart!) for under $30. (I don't actually know how much I paid - Whole Foods is one of those places where I can't look too closely at individual price tags - I just try to keep my total under a pre-set dollar amount. I managed to keep my budget on this trip, so it's a win!)
While I perused the cheeses, Jimi made a discovery of his own - they sell beer! Not just any beer, either; good beer. Gumballhead beer. Jimi loves the Gumballheads. You can get a pint, 32 oz., or a 64 oz. growler. The time it took to fill his growler allowed me the time I needed to pick my cheeses. We were both happy.
And then it was time for lunch. They had eight (8!) soup selections. I'm such a sucker for a good soup. They also had sushi and bbq pork and fresh green beans and salads and all sorts of delicious-looking things. I wanted to eat it all, but I only have so much room, you know? I decided on tomato bisque and crackers and a piece of my cheese...and a California roll. Of course, I only ate the soup and such - I had two pieces of my roll, but I liked the soup better, so Jimi finished the sushi for me. (He'd counted on this - it's pretty common - so he'd only selected a veggie sushi-style roll. He's so smart, that man of mine.) The Whole Foods has a little dining area there in the front of the store - making it officially my favorite place ever. The cashier said they could arrange to have a cot set up in the back if I was really serious about wanting to live there; if Jimi ever kicks me out, I'll take the guy up on the offer.
After lunch, we went to the Guitar Center across the way. I thought we were going to look at guitars; turns out, Jimi was serious when he said Saturday that he thinks I should spend my mad money to buy a full-size keyboard, and we were there to see what they had to offer in the way of portable electric pianos. I'm not prepared to drop $300 on a keyboard. It would mean I'd have to sign up for lessons; I've forgotten nearly everything I learned from the four years of lessons I barely tolerated as a tween. And while I'd love to have a piano sitting around to plunk away on when the urge strikes, a keyboard is not a piano, and there is not room in the house for a piano right now and I don't know that I want to spend money on an electric one when I sort of feel like electric would be cheating or disappointing to my expectation and history with the traditional upright. But Jimi's suggestion was so sweet, so sincere, and his line of "I thought then we could sit around and make music together" was just too heart-wrenching to not seriously sway my opinions. But still, it's a lot of money...
So I walked away from the Guitar Center without a new instrument for me...but Jimi bought himself a ukulele. He strummed all the way to Rick's house, who fed me homemade chocolate peanut butter cheesecake and shared a Gumballhead with Jimi. He strummed all the way home, and then he hijacked the computer to look up chords and songs and sat here strumming until I lured him away with the offer of...
*ehhem* So anyhow, he took over the computer last night, and that's why I'm regaling you with this awesome story now instead of then. That, and I don't have anything else to talk about. Except that when Jimi got home tonight, he took his ukulele to the bathroom with him, saying he was going to play while he pooped. He said it's called "dookulele".
Gosh, I'm sorry I had to create that image for you, but it's funny, right? Dookulele. I'm still giggling.
Our friend and former roommate, Jen, called last night. She's going to have her baby girl any day now, and I'm glad to find that I'm genuinely, without hesitation, happy and excited for her. I'm not feeling those jealous pangs I felt when she first learned she was expecting, and I didn't have a single "why can't that be me?" thought. This is progress, people. And now I need to go find her registry and send that woman some baby towels - she said she's gotten dozens of little washcloths, but not a single bath towel for her little peapod.
Happy Monday, Friends. I hope you have a lovely week.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
So. Many. Words.
I logged onto my retirement account last night and learned that I've made $1600 in the last 3 months. Woot! For the entire first year I'd been contributing to my 401k, my funds were stagnant in the general trust account - the plan administrator had never allocated the money into the stocks and funds I'd selected upon enrollment. It wasn't until I received my 4th quarterly statement with no real change that I realized my money was not working for me. I did some digging, learned of the error, and immediately got online to move some shit around. Looks like I've done good - I wish I'd paid more attention sooner.
We've had a good weekend, full of happy and love and relaxation. Friday night we split tacos and chicken nachos at the Mexican joint up the road, then, in an unusual burst of trying-to-be-a-good-girlfriend-ness, we spent an hour walking around Big Lots. (Jimi loves to shop. I love to sit on my ass - which is why this counts as a random act of kindness.) Baby bought me a Wahl personal trimmer. I'm the one that picked it up and said I'd like to have it, but I still feel like his insistence that he pay for it means he thinks I need it. And I do, but still - I don't want him to imply it. You know what I mean, don't you? This is why men say we're crazy.
Last night we had dinner and a ridiculous amount of dessert at Stacy & Jessie's. Stacy made an amazing dinner of filets with an onion/garlic/cream/wine pan sauce, and then followed it up with chocolate and white chocolate dipped strawberries, bananas, oranges, apples...it was out of this world. Jimi and I had taken the fixings for marshmallow treats made with Chocolate Cheerios...which we topped with the chocolate left over after all the fruit had been dipped. We didn't head for home until after 1 a.m. - and considering all the chocolate we ate, it's no wonder we didn't make it to bed until after 3.
It's been a weekend of good breakfasts. I made biscuits, bacon, and fried apples with butter and cinnamon this morning. Yesterday, Jimi broke in our new waffle iron with a from-scratch recipe that required beating egg whites into stiff peaks before they were folded into the batter - I guess to make the waffles fluffy and light. Jimi, it seems, had never before beaten egg whites into stiff peaks, and thus did not understand that using a mixing bowl and a fork was not the preferred method - but not until he'd been beating the egg whites with a fork for seven or so minutes. And thought his shoulder was maybe going to fall off. My first reaction to his request that I take over was "Baby what are you doing? That's why God made immersion blenders!" and then I took over the mixing bowl and fork until I thought maybe my shoulder was going to fall off and we said "good enough" and folded the nearly-stiff peaks into the batter. The results were delicious:
We've had a good weekend, full of happy and love and relaxation. Friday night we split tacos and chicken nachos at the Mexican joint up the road, then, in an unusual burst of trying-to-be-a-good-girlfriend-ness, we spent an hour walking around Big Lots. (Jimi loves to shop. I love to sit on my ass - which is why this counts as a random act of kindness.) Baby bought me a Wahl personal trimmer. I'm the one that picked it up and said I'd like to have it, but I still feel like his insistence that he pay for it means he thinks I need it. And I do, but still - I don't want him to imply it. You know what I mean, don't you? This is why men say we're crazy.
Last night we had dinner and a ridiculous amount of dessert at Stacy & Jessie's. Stacy made an amazing dinner of filets with an onion/garlic/cream/wine pan sauce, and then followed it up with chocolate and white chocolate dipped strawberries, bananas, oranges, apples...it was out of this world. Jimi and I had taken the fixings for marshmallow treats made with Chocolate Cheerios...which we topped with the chocolate left over after all the fruit had been dipped. We didn't head for home until after 1 a.m. - and considering all the chocolate we ate, it's no wonder we didn't make it to bed until after 3.
It's been a weekend of good breakfasts. I made biscuits, bacon, and fried apples with butter and cinnamon this morning. Yesterday, Jimi broke in our new waffle iron with a from-scratch recipe that required beating egg whites into stiff peaks before they were folded into the batter - I guess to make the waffles fluffy and light. Jimi, it seems, had never before beaten egg whites into stiff peaks, and thus did not understand that using a mixing bowl and a fork was not the preferred method - but not until he'd been beating the egg whites with a fork for seven or so minutes. And thought his shoulder was maybe going to fall off. My first reaction to his request that I take over was "Baby what are you doing? That's why God made immersion blenders!" and then I took over the mixing bowl and fork until I thought maybe my shoulder was going to fall off and we said "good enough" and folded the nearly-stiff peaks into the batter. The results were delicious:
Now Jimi's in there making some sort of awesome stew/pot roast thing with onions and garlic and butter and tomatoes and a rump roast his sister gave us - it'll be delicious. Oh! And somehow I'd forgotten, but we made cherry-rum-vanilla ice cream yesterday. That will be a nice follow-up to the meat.
I sure do talk about food a lot.
Something I think about almost as often as I think about food is babies, and what fate has in store for me, and my desire to have one. And I've also been thinking a lot about things that I wasn't thinking about so much a month ago - things like money, and how much babies cost, and how much I don't have. I admit, I lost site of that fact there for a minute or month or so. And I'm still the most selfish person I know. And I'm not completely sure I want to give that up 100%. I'm such a flake.
I want a baby, I do. I want an amazing, beautiful, perfect little miracle made with love that has Jimi's kindness and spirit and my optimism and lightheartedness. I want to grow and nurture that baby into a curious, imaginative child full of questions and a new view of the world. I want to teach and watch our child grow to be a good person, a responsible person. But, honestly, I don't want to try. I don't want to chart my ovulation or temperature every month. I don't want to take the spontaneity and fun out of sex - I don't want to feel like our romantic gestures need to center around a certain date on the calendar. I don't want to feel anxious if we're too tired or guilty if we both feel sexiest a few days too early or too late to hit that little target. I don't want to set myself up for failure - I said it before and I'll say it again - I'm not emotionally strong enough to try for months and months and months and have no success and then to follow that road to a point where I'd have a new adjective to add to my blog title and labels. I can't face infertility right now, and if it is in fact my reality, I'd rather ignore it and just not know.
And I keep reminding myself that one miscarriage does not mean I'm infertile. Hell, if nothing else, it should assure me that I can, at the very least, get knocked up. But I fear the worst, and so my mind goes to the worst place immediately, and living with that fear in my heart, day after day, is something I just can't do. It's too hard, it's too scary, it's too sad.
So here's what we're going to do: We, Jimi and I, are going to live our lives the way we lived our lives before September 2010; before the positive pregnancy test, before the miscarriage, before my hormones sent me into a biological clock tailspin. We're going to fuck when we're feeling frisky, calendars and ovulation calculators and luteal phases be damned. And yeah, maybe I'll pay a little more attention in the middle of my cycle to try to make sure my legs are smooth and my personal trimmer has been put to good use and that I'm extra nice to my man, and that I remind him of how sexy I think he is. And if a baby is something we're meant to have, eventually, we will. And if we don't, I'll stay focused on all the things I love about my life, without a baby, and remind myself every now and again that I already have so much happy in my life.
And I'm sorry I lured you in with talk of food and then threw that on ya. My bad.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Chick-fil-A, I have to break up with you.
We had such a good thing going - you supplied me with delicious morsels of bite-sized white meat chicken and awesome waffle fries, and I gave you my hard-earned money. Jimi and I would come into your restaurant on Saturdays and sit at the table under the "LOVE" cutout and eat our Jesus chicken and watch the toddlers have the time of their lives playing in your playground. I've sung your praises to my friends and family not only because of your awesome food, but also because of your amazing customer service and the fact that your counter people say things like "May I refresh that for you?" when I present them with my empty drink cup. It was a beautiful relationship we had, you and I.
But then you had to go and be a bigot. You had to put your money and your name behind organizations and events that propagate hate and the belief that not all men are created equal. If you can't get behind equal rights for all, you tasty-chicken-hawker you, we can't be friends anymore.
I always understood that your organization was based on Christian beliefs and a fan of family values and such, what with my desire for your yummy chicken peaking every Sunday, when you're oh-so-conveniently closed so your employees can be with Jesus and their families. That's completely fine. But I thought you were one of those GOOD Christians - you know, the ones who believe all people should be treated with loving kindness. You know, like Jesus said.
You tricksy trickster. You're not one of those Christians. You're one of those "Pro-Family" Christians that thinks it's perfectly fine to discriminate against people based SOLELY on a biological fact they can't change or control. I got news for ya: Families don't come in only one variety. They come in all shapes and sizes and colors. They involve moms and dads and children and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and boyfriends and girlfriends and best friends. When I'm dining at your facility, traditional, nuclear families are not what I find at the tables. Your customers, the people who pay you the money you in turn are turning over to hate groups, do not fit the image of "family" that you say is the only right one. I'm only telling you this because you obviously have no idea who's paying your bills.
I found a blog called Momastery last week, and that link will send you to an article posted there called "A Mountain I'm Willing To Die On", wherein the author wrote to her young child lines that resonate within me, because the words are so deeply true:
But then you had to go and be a bigot. You had to put your money and your name behind organizations and events that propagate hate and the belief that not all men are created equal. If you can't get behind equal rights for all, you tasty-chicken-hawker you, we can't be friends anymore.
I always understood that your organization was based on Christian beliefs and a fan of family values and such, what with my desire for your yummy chicken peaking every Sunday, when you're oh-so-conveniently closed so your employees can be with Jesus and their families. That's completely fine. But I thought you were one of those GOOD Christians - you know, the ones who believe all people should be treated with loving kindness. You know, like Jesus said.
You tricksy trickster. You're not one of those Christians. You're one of those "Pro-Family" Christians that thinks it's perfectly fine to discriminate against people based SOLELY on a biological fact they can't change or control. I got news for ya: Families don't come in only one variety. They come in all shapes and sizes and colors. They involve moms and dads and children and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and boyfriends and girlfriends and best friends. When I'm dining at your facility, traditional, nuclear families are not what I find at the tables. Your customers, the people who pay you the money you in turn are turning over to hate groups, do not fit the image of "family" that you say is the only right one. I'm only telling you this because you obviously have no idea who's paying your bills.
I found a blog called Momastery last week, and that link will send you to an article posted there called "A Mountain I'm Willing To Die On", wherein the author wrote to her young child lines that resonate within me, because the words are so deeply true:
And if spiritual teachers are encouraging you to fear anyone, watch them closely, honey. Raise your eyebrow and then your hand. Because the phrase repeated most often in that Bible they are quoting is Do Not Be Afraid. So when they tell you that gay people are a threat to marriage, honey,think hard.
You know what else bothers me about this "Pro-Family" crap? It's Anti-American. This is 2011 - and we're still fighting for equal rights for all citizens in the Land of the Free? What the fuck? Seriously? We're still dealing with people who think it should be perfectly acceptable to discriminate against Born-Here-Raised-Here-Consenting-Adults who engage in practices that are absolutely, by their very definition, none of your fucking business? Move your company to another country, yo, because the shit you're preaching, it goes against the very FABRIC of what makes this nation great.
It's personal. It's private. It doesn't have anything to do with you. You don't get a say. Back the fuck off.
Stick to chicken, Chick-fil-A; politics ain't your place. I'm incredibly pissed off that you've taken your delicious nuggets from my world forever, but I'd rather eat shit than support a hatemonger.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Just another day in paradise.
Have you heard of Cuddl Duds? I'm sure you have, because I'm always late to the party and hear about things long after they've gone way mainstream. Anyhow, my Momma got me leggings and a camisole for Christmas, and OMG I could live in these things. I am today; I'm living in them. Complete with my old-lady gray cardigan and my pink slippers with the fuzzy little pompoms.
I modeled my outfit for Jimi, striking a pose in the dining room and teasing him, "This isn't exactly what you signed up for when you decided to spend your life with me, is it?"
"Thirty-year-old gran-ny," he sang at me from the kitchen.
This is what I love about vacation; wearing underwear as clothes and laughing with the man I love while we fix breakfast at noon.
We (Jimi) had plans to paint the hallway while we're off, but we've not done anything to work toward that goal yet and he has to work tomorrow. Maybe Friday? More likely it will be put off until our next 3-day weekend. I don't enjoy painting, probably because I'm not any good at it. I think it's going to be all professional and awesome and in reality my paint always gets on the baseboards or seeps under the tape or I drop a brush in the middle of the floor and splatter little droplets everywhere. That's just how I roll.
I did manage to clear off the dresser in our bedroom, and I sorted laundry and have started the Last Great Clothes Cleaning of 2010. I'd really like to start the New Year with my house clean and organized and make a goal of keeping it that way. Then again, I'm on vacation, so I really can't commit to anything too big at this time.
There's a Toddlers & Tiaras marathon on TLC today. For once, I wish we had two working TVs in our home. Jimi watched long enough to see a man cheering for his little girl who was dressed in fishnets and pancake makeup, muttered "You're a bad dad", then flipped the channel. I love a good trainwreck; he just doesn't appreciate the genre as an art form.
Jimi's first batch of beef jerky was declared a success - it was really very tasty. Today we're going to go with fruit - a tray of fruit leather (also known as "fruit roll-ups") and then three trays of sliced kiwi and apples. We've got mangoes and bananas and pineapple on the schedule, too, but they're not quite ripe yet.
OH! And I made some amazing vanilla ice cream last night. Three cups of cream, a cup of sugar...Vacation is going to make me so fat.
I modeled my outfit for Jimi, striking a pose in the dining room and teasing him, "This isn't exactly what you signed up for when you decided to spend your life with me, is it?"
"Thirty-year-old gran-ny," he sang at me from the kitchen.
This is what I love about vacation; wearing underwear as clothes and laughing with the man I love while we fix breakfast at noon.
We (Jimi) had plans to paint the hallway while we're off, but we've not done anything to work toward that goal yet and he has to work tomorrow. Maybe Friday? More likely it will be put off until our next 3-day weekend. I don't enjoy painting, probably because I'm not any good at it. I think it's going to be all professional and awesome and in reality my paint always gets on the baseboards or seeps under the tape or I drop a brush in the middle of the floor and splatter little droplets everywhere. That's just how I roll.
I did manage to clear off the dresser in our bedroom, and I sorted laundry and have started the Last Great Clothes Cleaning of 2010. I'd really like to start the New Year with my house clean and organized and make a goal of keeping it that way. Then again, I'm on vacation, so I really can't commit to anything too big at this time.
There's a Toddlers & Tiaras marathon on TLC today. For once, I wish we had two working TVs in our home. Jimi watched long enough to see a man cheering for his little girl who was dressed in fishnets and pancake makeup, muttered "You're a bad dad", then flipped the channel. I love a good trainwreck; he just doesn't appreciate the genre as an art form.
Jimi's first batch of beef jerky was declared a success - it was really very tasty. Today we're going to go with fruit - a tray of fruit leather (also known as "fruit roll-ups") and then three trays of sliced kiwi and apples. We've got mangoes and bananas and pineapple on the schedule, too, but they're not quite ripe yet.
OH! And I made some amazing vanilla ice cream last night. Three cups of cream, a cup of sugar...Vacation is going to make me so fat.
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