Nov 22

The Completely Unrefined Thanksgiving

I’m going to blame the camera for this. My turkey looked really pretty in real life. Well, okay, not really.

That right there is a picture of the product of my hard work, study, planning, and worry. It’s a damn turkey, and it was delicious.

I had the most awesomely unrefined Thanksgiving. Let me explain.

Thanksgivings are normally just my parents and I. It is easy to not do anything for just three people. Last year, I decided to stop that tradition and made my first Thanksgiving.  This year, I did it again.

The food was wonderful, maybe too wonderful, but nothing was exactly classy. Tinfoil pans are win. I got fancy and opened a can of jelled cranberry sauce and whole berry cranberry sauce and mashed them up to achieve the appropriate cranberry to “sauce” ratio. Green bean casserole is ridiculously simple. Most of it comes from cans. My stuffing was Stove Top, but I did thinly slice some celery to toss in there to class it up some.

We ate it off of paper plates in our living room. We did use utensils, at least. The television was on, but we did actually interact with one another. There was no griping, and everyone was pleasant. (I had threatened to hand out stabbings to anyone who was grumpy. Threats work well, especially if people aren’t sure if you are joking.)

In short, it looked nothing like the way we think Thanksgivings should look.

I’m exhausted. I’m overfull. Mostly, though, I’m really pleased.

It wasn’t a scene from a movie, but my family tried. They knew how important it was, and they worked hard to make the day good. My family will never be a scene from a movie, well not a movie about a normal family anyway, but they always manage to surprise me and do their best to be what I need. It is all I could ever ask for.

So, was it worth the work?

Absolutely… Tinfoil pans, paper plates, and all.

My turkey looks like a monster about to terrorize a small town if you look at it right, or a spooky cave of death.

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Nov 21

The Week of Exhausted

This makes me happy

Yesterday, I went to the super Wal-mart TWICE.

I hadn’t done any of the shopping for my mom’s birthday meals and cake or Thanksgiving. The first trip only took two hours. I decided after I got home that I needed to make green bean casserole Thursday, and I desperately needed couscous. I’ve turned into that person.

Today I made my first ever cake from scratch. I have a talent for baking, and, apparently, not many people bake anymore, so I bake for gifts. I know, I know. It just sounds like I am being cheap as hell, which is sorta true, but I do enjoy making things by hand for people I care about. Plus, I think it is possible to woo people with homemade bread. So, yeah, I made carrot cake, and it was good.

Thursday, for the second year, I’m making Thanksgiving. It is just for my parents and I, but I want to do something special. I always find it a little sad to let a holiday pass because it feels like too much work to do something special. I understand money or time constraints, but I have time. It is exhausting making the food, and people think I’m crazy for doing it, but I like making something special for my family.

I have a special situation. I have the time and energy. I don’t judge people who can’t. I also have this strange ideal of learning how to do and make things with my hands. My stuffing will come from a box, and my cranberries from a can, and I bought all of my other ingredients at the store. I can’t pretend I’m frying onions I grew myself or green beans that came from my garden, but a little stupid hippie part of me wishes I could. I think it is a strange romantic over idealism, but I like the idea of having basic skills to feed myself. I don’t have them, though, and if I ever had to butcher my own animals, I would forgo meat. Guts are gross. I don’t even pretend on that one. I’m a wuss.

It’s 1:15 am, and I’m rambling.

I hope people find a piece of wonderful Thursday, and, well every day. Maybe trying to find things to be happy and grateful for everyday isn’t a bad idea, even if you do fail more than you succeed.

Oh my god, I am such a damn hippie. I’m stopping now.

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Nov 17

All The Best Kinds

weinie dog wrapped up for a bed time story

This is disgustingly cute. This is pretty much how I feel right now: disgustingly cute and happy.

So, I have absolutely nothing profound for you right now. I just thought I would write something since I have been an atrociously bad blogger this month.

I had an awesome redneck date with the Viking today. I always know I’m lucky to have him, but then I think of how well he treats me, and I feel even more lucky.

Having someone finally treat you like you deserve, like you are a wonderful, beautiful, smart, sexy, woman after a lifetime of feeling somehow unworthy can change your world. No matter what happens between me and him, my life is already better because of him because I know what I deserve now and will never take anything less.

He cares that I’m happy. It seems like a small basic thing, but I’ve never had it before, and it is wonderful. I know things won’t always be this rosy and happy. I know there will be hard times, but I don’t fear them with him. He is all the best kinds of man. I’m never ever settling for anything less.

Okay, okay, I know I’m gross, and I’ll stop now.

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Nov 15

It’s part of my charm

“Dood, we have some SICK LARPING sessions.”

Okay, Okay… I am terrible this month. I won’t try to make excuses for myself, I will only beg forgiveness. I haven’t really been writing or anything cool. I’ve just been trying to get my shit together. Sometimes a person just has to get their shit together.

 

I’m one of those people who look at big tasks with huge, fearful eyes and get overwhelmed. I’ve decided to take things in smaller bites.

I get all of my normal stuff done in a day then spend five to ten minutes working on a bigger project like organizing or decluttering. Focusing on working for that short time period keeps me from freaking out and I am always pleasantly surprised about how big of a difference it actually makes.

It’s called coping techniques, bitches.

I also plan and list. You can always tell when I’m either really excited or stress because I become a list monster. Next week is both my mother’s birthday and Thanksgiving. I already have my shopping list (or list of mats for my gamer friends) sitting in front of me. Soon, I will have a break down of what days I need to do what. It is how I handle busy times.

I used to think I was laid back. Turns out I was confusing having a low “give-a-shit” with being low key.

No. They are not the same thing at all.

I don’t care much what other people do, and I’m not picky, but, by gawd, I need to know what I’m doing when and with whom. I need lists to make sure I’m prepared. I need time to think and prepare.

I’m a little bit of a nut job. It’s part of my charm.

With all of that said, I’m really excited to try brining my first turkey this year and making my first carrot cake. I’m a massive dork. It’s also part of my charm.

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Nov 10

A Mess, A Really Big Mess

This is my new theme song:

Or has been for awhile and so it isn’t my “new” theme song.

Whichever

I am so funny in my head. You guys have no idea. The problem is interpreting to you people who aren’t in my head. Also, I’m pretty sure things I find funny, you guys might not, like I’ve recently made a concerted effort to up my water intake. I like water when I am in the habit of drinking it but getting into the habit sucks balls.  “Why, oh why am I drinking this water when I could be drinking my caffeinated, heavily artificially sweetened tea?” The other issue is that it makes me smell weird.

When I don’t drink water, my toxins stay safely tucked in my body. I don’t see them, and I’m not grounded enough in reality to care that they are slowly poisoning my system. It’s a nice homeostasis. Every once in awhile, I would get on a “make better life choices” kick and drink more water. Suddenly, like now, the toxins are pouring out of my body. What the shit. It’s like Mother Nature decided to kick me in the stomach while giggling maniacally and saying “Oh, you think you should make better life choices. Your reward is to smell very strange.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised. This is the same bitch that gives me the menstrual crazies and hell cramps.

I’m trying to be the best version of me bullshit because I’m all stupid in love. I’m not changing who I am, but I am trying to push myself a little to be more of the person I know I can be. It’s like that Helen Hunt Jack Nicholson movie where her loves makes him want to be less of a dick. It is sort of like that, except I’m okay with being a dick. I have a skin care regime for the love of the day-glo baby jesuses (jesi?) I will some day collect.

I was lucky in a strange way because I couldn’t lie or fake a bunch of things when I started dating him because of my blog. He knew I’m batshit insane when he signed on to this. (I wonder what that says about him.) I also have a terrible habit of giggling at farts and, I blame my mommy friends for this, I’m completely comfortable talking about poop. Sometimes, I’m even a little proud of the magnitude. That’s right bitches, not only did I just admit that I look at my poop, but I’m also a little proud when wreck the plumbing.  I never have a chance to pretend I’m a sweet, normal, delicate flower of a woman.

I do want to be better though. I want to be me, but just me who drinks more water and works out. I want to push at my flaws a little and make them a little better, at least my lesser flaws. Some of my flaws and damage will always be there. They are part of me. Some of them are part of what makes me wonderful. I want to try to push myself a little though. I will probably fail. One of my good qualities is my willingness to accept failure and try again.

Let’s see if I can make it through the stinky stage though.

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Nov 08

Oops

Required Monthly Corgi.

I have a good reason for Saturday. I was busy celebrating my birthday with my parents and my epic Viking.

Tuesday, I straight up forgot. In two years of blogging, I have never simply forgotten to blog.  I’ve not felt like blogging. I’ve not realized it was a blog day, not often thought. I’ve waited until the last moment to write one. I have never actively realized it was a Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday and not remembered I had to write something that day.

I forgive me, though, because it had been a very hectic few days.

I remembered to vote, and I think that is far more important.

AND we had the time change.

I’m going to be honest with you cats and kittens. I still don’t feel like writing a blog. I’m trying desperately to detox from the election. We all know politics get my dander all excited. I don’t try to shy away from expressing my political views, but at this point, you guys have heard it all. I’m ready for my country to settle down some and stop fighting with each other so much, and I’m going to do the same.

Aside from politics, I am madly in love. I’m not writing like I should, but I’m trying to make peace with it. Also, I’m pretty sure my body is very not pleased with the take out I had earlier.  Actually, I’m growing more sure of it by the moment.  Damn you cashew chicken.

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Nov 01

Whuck?!?!

So, It’s a distinct possibility I have swirled into a world of strange chaos. The bout of depression is fully gone, and has been for awhile. I’m back to being a goofball happy pants. The Viking and I have my birthday date on Saturday, and I am so excited. I am so excited I painted my toenails.

By painted my toenails, I mean I polished the entire top knuckle of my toes deep sea blue. My toes look like weeping emo children.  Now, I’ve taken pictures of said weeping emo children and made them into ART.

French existentialism at its best.

This, photo, it speaks to me. It says all life is futile, all struggle is futile. All resistance is futile. This picture, it is a pretentious Borg French Existentialist.

Oh, I didn’t stop there.

Perception IS reality

With this photograph I tried to express my contempt for modern beauty standards through blurring of color values and setting askew traditional boundaries put forth by things like magazines, television, movies, and the internet (and, you know, actual toenails.) The orange represents the heat of my passion, like the sun, and the black is the starkness of my message.

You can tell I’m happy when I make bad satire with pictures of my toes.

As a feminist, I’m “supposed” to disregard any need for approval of my physical appearance. This is straight up horse shit.  First up, feminist fight for gender equality and people’s rights to choose their own paths regardless of gender teaching. Second of all, our bodies are part of us. How we feel about how we look does affect us. If we give completely into our need for physical approval or ignore the need all together we head for trouble. I struggle to seek balance and love myself and find myself beautiful. It is a rough road.

Mostly though, I love feeling beautiful. For the first time in my life I feel sexy. It will never be all that I am, but I hope I can keep it part of who I am. I feel confident in myself.

I dress up for the Viking. I put on make-up and carefully pick out clothes for our dates, not because he won’t like me or find me attractive if I don’t, but because I love feeling beautiful for him. I’ve discovered, with him, that a big part of me is that confidence and that sexiness, and it makes me more me. I’m not saying I’m a better person because I am with him, or I have more value because he finds me beautiful. I’m saying that I found a part of me that makes the rest of me shine brighter. He nurtures that in me. He helped me find it, and he helps show me what is wonderful about me whenever I forget.

I love it.

And I love my toe art.

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Oct 30

I Have Your Answer Right Here

MSN asked today when the candidates should start campaigning after hurricane Sandy.

The answer is simple: Don’t.

We are a week away from the elections. People know who both Romney and Obama are. They know what they stand for.  A few more campaign speeches might change a couple of minds. The money and volunteer energy donated to recovery efforts instead of those speeches could affect the lives of millions.

If you want to show us you are committed to making America better, to helping those in need, to leading the country, and strengthening our nation, here is your chance.

Sandy will affect millions for at least the coming weeks, probably months. These are the people you want to hire you. These are the people you want to chose you to guide them.

This is for all candidates at all levels. You know those stupid mailers you send out that people just recycle, if your lucky?  Take the money you would spend sending those out and send cases of water out to the Eastern states. I don’t care if you are running for a local office in East Jesus Nowhere, Oklahoma, and none of your potential constituents are in New York, New Jersey, or any of the other affected areas. These are Americans who are hurting, more importantly, these are humans in need. Do it.

If there is some legal mumbo jumbo about campaign funds being spent purely for campaign purposes, then slap a sticker on those blankets. It might seem tacky to send the cold a blanket with a “Vote for Romney” or “Vote Obama” on it, but that person will be warm.

If your ground force volunteers knock on doors asking for donations for the Red Cross (OH and if they do, that money better make it to the Red Cross) and say “Oh, yeah, by the way, “Vote For Joe Bob for Sheriff” more power to them.

This is go time. It is time to show us what kind of people we are hiring. We are watching you.

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Oct 27

Brain Shutdown Because of Non-Activity

Today, I have been having this weird cycle of extreme brain activity then shutdown. It’s like my brain overheats and has a forced shutdown.

The worst part is that I have spent most of the active brain parts of the the cycle doing stupid shit like playing Guild Wars 2 or looking at DYAC.com instead of doing useful things. I start to write and my brain goes “but I’m *le tired*” and I’m all like “Shut up, pansy ass brain, and do something brilliant” and then my brain laughs and laughs. It knows who holds all the power here. I try caffeine or activity, and it continues to giggle and mock me.

My brain is a douche bag control freak. I need to figure out how to win against it.

“But, I’m *le tired*”

grrr….

You win brain, this time.

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Oct 25

A Blog in which a Recluse Makes a Friend

Think this comes in my size?

Today, I made a friend. No shit, the hermit made another friend.

Okay, technically, I knew her already but not really. We went to high school together and that shit really doesn’t count as knowing each other. I didn’t know me in high school, much less anyone else. We saw each other at my friend Lynsie’s wedding, and there was that weird moment it when unrepentant weirdos meet and recognize each other. It’s a lot like when two immortals come in contact in Highlander, but without the swords and beheading.

It was so weird because I can’t remember having a single conversation with her in high school. I’ve honestly forgotten a lot of high school. I’m not saying I have repressed memories; it’s more like I’m aware I only have so much room on my brain hard drive, and I chose to dump high school social memories as useless files. Let’s be even more honest, they mostly were.

Anyway, Jennifer fell into the clump of girls I thought of as ‘the normal white girls.’ They were socially adept and did their own thing and weren’t weird like me. Seriously, I looked at her today and said, “You used to be a normal white girl.” She laughed.

We’ve somehow became very similar. I don’t know how that shit happened.

She calls her braces her grill.

She sat on her couch, drinking earl grey tea, crocheting in a gramma shawl while listening to Dr. Dre.

Fucking awesome.

I mean, I’m about as not ghetto as one can get, and the only rap I listen to is Steam Punk Victorian rap, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate anyone who does handicrafts, prepares for the zombie apocalypse, reads, and listens to 90s gangsta rap.  Oh, yeah, she might actually swear more than I do. I didn’t think that was possible.

Life is so much better when your give a shit breaks, and you allow you to be you. There are other lessons in there, but I haven’t had my nap today.

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