Sticky, gooey and mighty tasty...cinnamon rolls.

If you're a fan of cinnamon rolls you won't care how many burpees you have to do to work just one of these babies off.

They are delish. And easy.  I'm normally a blonde and sweet kinda girl w/ my coffee...but w/ these - the wakey juice can be black.  The combo of the two is like a party in your mouth.  Get your mind out of the gutter with the party in mouth thing.

Ingredients for filling:

3/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 tspn salt
Throw some cinnamon in there.
1 tbsp melted butter
*Combine above w/ fork and set aside.
*Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  Right now.  Go do it.
*Butter a round cake pan.  Right now.  Go do it.

Ingredients for dough:

3 cups all purpose flour
3 tbsp sugar
1 tspn baking powder
1/2 tspn baking soda
1/2 tspn salt
1 cup buttermilk  (If you are like me and don't have buttermilk you can just take 1 cup milk and add 1 tspn lemon juice or vinegar - let sit about 10 minutes and stir and voila! buttermilk.)
6 tbsp melted butter

*Mix all the dry then add the wet.  It should be like dough.  If not, you suck at cooking and should stop and have a mimosa.
*Get your rolling pin ready.  Flour a surface to roll the dough - I go a tad overboard w/ the flour but it never sticks.  You are going to want a rectangle shape about the size of a 13x9 pan, if it's bigger that's ok, if it's smaller that's ok.  Once you have a shape that resembles a rectangle grab the filling and dump it on and spread it around all of the dough.  Start rolling it lengthwise - kinda keeping tabs on what the edges are doing, folding them in a smidgen if need be while you are rolling.  When you get to the other side...stop.  Cut into 8 pretty thick 'rolls'  and place them in that buttered pan you have waiting on you.  That oven should be beeping by now to let you know it's preheated.  Stick them in for 20 - 25 min's.  While they are in there you will want to make your icing to spread over them as soon as they come out to make a big, fattening, tasty, gooey pile of "holy crap if they weren't so sweet I'd eat another one" rolls.

*Ingredients for icing
1 cup confectioners sugar
2 tbsp soft butter
2 tspn milk
Start stirring (I use a whisk) I just add water by the tspn until it's the correct consistency.
You can always add pecans or whatever into the filling.  I don't because I don't like nuts in my food.
Enjoy.  These are fabulous and easy.

Greeks.

That's right my sweet Emma, ask Yia Yia.

Ahhhh my mom, Yia Yia to the kids, the teacher of how to make the world's best Baklava.  Alan thanks you.  For some reason I only make it at Christmas time.  I also only make my ginger snaps this time of year.  That's probably a good thing because like Lays, no one can eat just one. My ever expanding ass doesn't need any more help.  The older I get the harder it is to drop (the weight).  Well, things are dropping but that's a different story.  An unflattering one. 

Back to the baklava.  It's time consuming, it's a pain in the ass, but it is so totally worth it.  You can freeze it for months and it'll still taste just as good when it thaws.  It keeps in the fridge for what seems like forever...Alan has eaten it after a questionable amount of time and it was awesome - so he said.     I guess baklava is a tradition for me at Christmas time.  My dad used to take me to all the magnificent Christmas parties the Greeks of the North Shore would throw and wow would I love to go to one as an adult.  They sure can party.  And eat.  And drink.  Hmmm, this may explain some of me.  Seriously, their sha-bangs are the BEST!  Maybe I can find some Greeks in Waynesboro?  

When I think of fond memories from my childhood 9 times out of 10 they involve my dad.  At my cousin's wedding this past April, I overheard my mom say to my Aunt "she's just like her father".  That was music to my ears.  My dad was the coolest person I have ever known.  The sarcasm and wit that is me all came from him.  The need to be the center of attention?  All him.  The cooking skill came from both my parents.  My passion and creativity?  Well I'll blame the Greeks for that one too.  Greeks are the most passionate people ever.  My parent's divorced when I was 6.  My dad died when I was 19.  On his key chain we found his wedding band from their marriage.

How's that for love? Why did I never notice it before?  

Rest in Peace, dad.  I wish you were here to enjoy Jacob, Emma and Ellie.  You could've taught them so much.  Even how to cuss in Greek which, by the way, thanks for teaching me - that tends to come in handy when I want to cuss at someone but can't in English.  You know, when someone you love passes it is so easy to forget their faults, short comings and bad choices and only remember the good that they were.  He had a few articles written in the paper about him after he died.  His wake had to be extended a few hours because of the amount of people that came to see him.  My brother, mom and I stood there for hours and hours accepting people's condolences.  Sometimes I even found myself trying to comfort others. A pillar of strength at 19. 

I wish I'd have waited for you to answer the phone that night, not become impatient and hung up because I would see you the next day.  I never did see you again.  OK.  Stop the tears, there is a silver lining in that.  My kids and people who I love will never not know I love them.  I express it every chance I get because you never know if you'll get another.  So yes, my passion for life definitely comes from my dad, not just because of the way he lived, but also because of the way he died.  No warning. 

 I guess the holidays erupt emotion.

New kid in town.

So, have you ever met someone and thought to yourself “hmmmm this person could be fun to be around, hang with and score they know lots of people and you don’t because you are new to the area”?  They were wicked friendly to you - I am not talking Bff’s but, ya know a friend at least. Someone to introduce you around.

Then the next time you see them they are possessed.  I mean walk right by you with an angry expression – maybe even one of a 2 y/o who didn’t get their way – and don’t even acknowledge your slight existence as the new kid in town.  Seriously, WTF? Won’t even make eye contact.  Then you see them yet again, on a different day and that warm, fuzzy smile you first were drawn to is back and they (drumroll please) talk to you!  Wow.  This pattern continues and you realize it’s not you… it’s them…and you are thinkin’ holy crap med check STAT please.  Personally, I believe everyone has a touch of bi-polar.  But for the love of God don’t not speak to me because your panties are in a bunch about something else, it’s not my fault.  In fact, I might make ya smile. That's gotta be a miserable way to live.

Granted, I have all kinds of crazy going on within, but at least I am consistently a sarcastic, stubborn, immature goofball.  You’ll always know what you are going to get with me.  Trust me, I’ll tell ya.

Enough about people.

The refrigerator in this (naughty word) rental we are in bit the dust sometime Saturday into Sunday so it was coolers with ice for our perishables.  All the meat defrosted so I have to get my ass in the kitchen and pre - cook meals I guess.  Oh well, at least the new (actually used) one the landlord got here this morning works.  Really, I am still in awe of where we are living and just grateful to be here, shitty appliances and all.

 

Which reminds me.  Grateful aside for a moment, I really wish our house in Chesapeake would sell so we can purchase here.  This whole rental in a triplex thing just ain’t our style.  The neighbors are nice enough but seriously, quit smoking – the orchestra of hacking and hocking up lugees while in the shower that happens to be right on the other side of the wall from my desk just isn’t my cup of tea first thing every morning.  Temporary, temporary, temporary.  Wait, wait, wait.  I am grateful to be here.  Yep, gotta remind myself.

Well I am off to hunt for a J-O-B.  <SIGH>  Actually, I’ll get distracted and do something else.    

How to move, Lara Croft style.

Double fist everything and look pretty while doing it?  Nah, not really. But it does look pretty cool, doesn't it?
I am over picking up/cleaning to show the house.  I am over it not being rented or sold.  I am over everything.
When I first started boxing stuff up I would write with care what the contents are and make sure they were doubled up on packing tape, so not to break mid-carry.  Twenty Rolls of tape and a hundred boxes later (and one month) today I found myself throwing our belongings carelessly into the box - even playing my own version of basketball - and as for writing on the box it would go something like this:  Shit we don't use but he won't let me ditch.  Kitchen.  Because the kids and I have been living here still, I waited to pack the kitchen last.  Unfortunately, most of the stuff is fragile and my give a damn is busted. On one box I wrote Misc. shit.  That was about a week ago and I have no idea what's in it.  I had to make my way through all the boxes a few days ago because Jake had no pants.  All the ones that I left out for him...too small.  When did that happen?  Maybe it's the man sized appetite he has.

Silver lining:  I have learned during this whole process.  I didn't know I was capable of painting ceilings, trim and walls in four rooms.  Had no idea I could go to Home Depot, saw my own piece of moulding and install it on the worlds most uneven wall.  All by myself.  Well, with help from YouTube.  Yup, they have a video on how to install moulding on uneven walls.  I took carpet out of three rooms by myself and hauled it down to the road for large trash pick up - one piece of a time. I even dealt with the nasty padding under it.  Blech.   It has been an exhausting month, but I am getting to move to where I want to be and that is the biggest silver lining.  I had my moments of sheer hate spewing out of me but I quickly replaced them with Faith.  That faith is quite amazing when you believe in it.  I never understood it's true meaning until this move.  My ADD is kicking in and there are some ginger snaps hollering for me to eat them.  C-ya.  OOhhhh something shiny.

Horsin' around...

You know how "The song remembers when"?  Well, the smell does too.  Murphy's oil always takes me back to the same place.  As I close my eyes in the now, I imagine I am fifteen and am cleaning tack...saddles, bridles, hackamores.  I can almost feel them in my hands.  I am at Johnson's Riding Farm and I am getting Cricket ready to go gallop into the high fields.  There is no greater pleasure in my life than flying through the woods and jumping everything in site on horse back.

 Jolting myself back to reality, because this house isn't going to clean itself, I am almost sad.  Why, I ask myself why did you ever stop riding?

Myself can't answer that.  I suppose it was a combination of boys, needing to see the world and money.  Horses are expensive.  And I'll be honest, with the anxiety issues I have now I would be petrified to jump even the smallest stick while on a horses back.  I'd sit there and analyze the fifty things that could go wrong and then put myself right into rapid heart beat.  Yup, gotta love anxiety.

I have heard all these things about moving, such as "we didn't know how much crap we had..." or "living out of boxes" or "don't wait until you are moving to paint and replace the carpet, you'll be pissed your doing all this work for someone else to enjoy."  I get ALL of these.  Our rooms look huge without so much 'crap' in them.  And I am currently sleeping on my mattress in the living room and all of our clothes are in bins in there as all the furniture is out of the house. I have pretty much painted three bedrooms, ceiling, walls and trim solely.  I have also had to paint some downstairs.  That being said, I am absolutely thrilled my career choice was not house painter.  Dude, that job sucks.  My back is glad I am not a furniture mover.  It is screaming for Advil right now.

I am far too pretty to have to work this hard.  I am constantly sobbing that in my mind.

So here's my advice about moving.  Marry rich and hire people to do it for you.  Now, since that is not the case with me I am keeping a positive attitude (most of the time) and keeping my "Eye on the prize" (thanks Holly).

After all, if dreams were easy to reach - everyone would be doing it.  Hard work never hurt anyone.  Well, accept maybe the wrist of a painter and the back of a mover.

Life is changing!

In what very little spare time I have had during these stages of moving, I have been doing some blog surfing.  Reading some of these blogs I have come to these two conclusions:  people like blogs about food and my writing skills are way more good (hee hee) than most of these bloggers.

Yet, they are the ones with umpteen million followers.  WTF?  They are the ones getting paid off their blog.  They are the ones borrowing others recipes, taking pic's of them and acting as if they are the cooking hero of the year.  Now, I know, I know... it's a great way to share recipes and I personally google dinner ideas - normally resulting in a recipe from a blog.  My point is I could do that and I could do that better.  So I'll be changing my blog up a bit.

There is another reason I'll be changing it - the move.  My daily life will no longer involve blended family struggles.  And holy shit have we had them.  Nope, now it'll involve starting a fresh chapter and the occasional glare at Alan. My own bio evil spawn will still give me a hard time, I am sure, and the plethora of estrogen related verbiage that spews from my mouth when I think he is speaking to my  kids in a not so correct manor will be a staple in our lives until they are 18 and we say ba-bye.  Although, they don't always leave at 18...

So as we settle in I will continue to blog but it'll be about whatever, partly because I am ADD and partly because some of the shit that occurs in my life is too funny not to share.  My goal will be for people to relate to me and find humor in the craziness of our lives.  And an occasional yummy recipe.  Yes, with the pictures.

I had no idea how much I would grow to hate painting.  I effin' despise it.  Yesterday when my hand was cramping and my wrist could not move when I told it to, I decided to approach it differently.  A lot of life is a mindset.  I told myself to be grateful.  Be grateful that we had the money to buy the paint and I had the ability to paint (he may think different when he sees how sloppy it is) and we are able to move.  That attitude of gratitude got me through finishing about 2 more hours.  Instead of telling myself "you will get this room painted today" I said "what if you get this whole room completed today?"  Your brain won't argue with possibility.  You will however hear several voices arguing when you make a demand.  Some probably hear more voices than others.

Be grateful for life people.  Thank God for the day before you. Decide it will be a good great day and it will be.  

364 days till 40

What a lovely start to the first day of my 39^th year. Alan was leaving early to go to a conference near the B&B so we were the only ones downstairs for breakfast and sat at a table with a candle burning while enjoying our morning coffee – a candlelit breakfast.  He left and I returned to our room, determined to write for two hours.  That is exactly what I did and it felt great.  It’s funny, sometimes when I am writing I get so pulled into the emotion I felt at the time of the trip that I want to punch Alan in the head.  He doesn’t seem to see the humor in that. I have never taken a writing class but would assume that is what you learn, to put your mindset as if you were still there and allow the emotions to erupt and fly through the fingertips onto the keyboard.  Writing and hiking are two of my favorite things and I get to do both today.  I don’t need cake (seriously, looking at my muffin top I don’t), balloons or gifts.  My gift is me time and my gratitude is immense for it.  I feel as though when I do get a break from my darling children I am a better mom for it.  They too enjoy the break from me, I suppose.  It’s easy when you are away from your daily reality to decide how to improve things.  The problem usually is, well for me anyway, that not everyone in the house understands that I rule.  Simple things could make our house so much happier.  If people would just listen to me…maybe it’s not even so much about the listening as it is about respect.   That seems to be missing from our house.

When I turned 30 it was quite difficult for me.  I was one of ‘those’ people who cried and had a very hard time accepting that I would no longer be in my 20’s.  More so than the actual age, I think what upset me the most was where I was at in life.  I expected that by 30 I would have my shit together and be in full swing of the good life.  Not on my 2^nd divorce.  Less financially stable than 10 years earlier and dazed and confused about what to do with life. 

Now that I am 364 days away from 40 I am welcoming it and grateful for each day.  I have gray hair and that’s ok.  That’s what the hair salon is for.  I have wrinkles and that’s ok.  That is what Arbonne is for.  I am comfortable in my own skin and know where I am going.  If just 10 years ago I knew what I do now about life and how to be successful I would be a millionaire already.

  

I am going to make great things happen this year.  All because I decided I will.  Yes folks, it’s that simple.

Now, it is 11:58 a.m. and my birthday.  Where the hell is the wine?!  

Greek Pizza anyone?

Let's cook, shall we?  Here is a 3 part video clip from yours truly on how to make my fabulous Greek pizza.  Please enjoy, oh and you may want to grab a drink to watch.  I couldn't condense it into 7 minutes like I wanted to.

Part 2

Part 3...yes the final one.

So... if you try it let me know!  Don't forget the wine, it's an important part ;)

Are you considering a blended family?

Just a little something I thought of and decided it was most important to get out there.  Like STAT.

This whole blended family thing ain't as easy as I make it look... (ha ha)

If you are considering marrying someone with children, whether or not you have them as well, don't just think short term.  Consider long term - 2, 5 even 7 years down the road. How old will their kids be and can you handle that?  Is the love you have now going to continue to burst out or will it get lost in the daily shuffle of your life?  There are  a lot of emotions you go through that you wouldn't even think would erupt.  Like, for example, am I taking away from my kids because I have to buy for his?  Don't frown on me, he has thoughts like that too.  It's only normal.  That's just one of many.  

A moment of juvenescence.

Yesterday my mom had the pink shag carpet from my childhood bedroom removed.

I admit, that stung. Not in a riled up sort of way but more like a quick pull of a band aid.  Plus, how am I going to make fun of it every visit if it isn't there?

 It is being replaced with some flooring that I missed the details on (sorry, mom) because immediately my mind went to a place of nostalgia and I pictured myself sitting on that pink shag listening to Cindi Lauper on my record player. I can't believe she is getting rid of that carpet.  The woman in me wants to say "good for you Elizabeth! I am so glad you can finally do the things with the house that you have wanted to for so long."  The selfish kid in me however had this to say (while stomping foot loudly and pointing) "NO!  That's my room and you can't do what you want with it."


I asked her if she would please go outside before they took the carpet away and cut pieces of it to make scatter rugs for the new floor... that was kind of said in jest, kind of truth.  Although I do always say that there is always truth in jest.

She's having it painted too.  Okay, sting now more like a band aid being pulled off tiny bits at a time.  I am sixteen, no wait maybe fifteen.  I am arriving home from my dads after my summer vacation down in Massachusetts.  I open my bedroom door expecting to find my room exactly the way I left it.  Instead I open it to blue and tie die.  "WHAT is this?"  "Happy Birthday!  Do you like it?"  I needed a moment to let it sink in.  I liked the tie die sheet that hung over the lite fixture on the ceiling.  But the walls...what is this stripe thing?  Okay had moment, still hasn't sunk in.  I'll pretend I like it for now and decide later if I really do.  Yes, eventually I decided I loved it.  It seems like all that happened just yesterday.  Clocks really should have wings as time does fly.


I really am happy for her.  It took a long time, but she is able to do the house the way she wants now.  When I say long time I mean like my twenty year High School reunion was last summer if that helps put it into perspective.

Because I analyze everything to death I started pulling this apart and thinking about my childhood and how it has affected my adulthood and what am I doing to my kids now and where is this country going to be if the lazy ass young adults who are too busy gaming and texting and having everything handed to them don't realize that life is not in fact handed to you?  That in the real world not everybody gets a trophy just for showing up.  And no, the effin dishes do not put themselves in the dishwasher.  How many times can that be repeated?  Every flippin' day, that's how many.  I just see so many slackers.  Common sense seems to be overruled by ignorance with this generation.  I fear for this country.  Yup, all this from pink shag carpet.  Amazing how the ADD mind works.

Squirrel.

Letting go via vlog.

Lucky you, no reading today...just listening to my angelic voice.  And brilliant words of wisdom...

I hate it when you do a video and the still frame catches you in a reject position/expression - much like the one above.  Oh well, I think I'll just let it go!

Glamping in the mountains...

No meltdowns yet and it's already day four.  What a difference from our previous trips...

I was trying to put this on my Adventures in a Bluebird page on fb but can't figure out how to write a 'note' on it.  Perhaps they no longer have that option?  Anyway I decided to just stick it on my blog because I know people want to know every move I am making.

Stop with the chuckle, I am not that vain...

Departure/Arrival and day two brought us this:

Okay, I’ll admit I felt like a bit of a celebrity and that made me happy.  On our way to the campground we stopped at a Rest area just outside of Richmond.  I am used to people admiring Rare Metal and taking pic’s of her.  If I happen to “accidentally” be in them so be it and yes, it is sheer coincidence that my tummy is in and shoulders back.  AKA boobs out.

 

Today was a little different though and I immediately began to catch a taste of what Hollywood must feel like for real with the paparazzi following.   There seemed to be about two hundred of them and they were all men.  Darker complexions.  They were hopping out of tour buses and were taking pic’s of Rare Metal in complete awe of her.  ‘Wait till they see me’ I thought to myself…  Seriously, we couldn’t even park because they were surrounding her and wouldn’t move as they snapped their shots.  Finally Alan was able to maneuver her into a spot and the kids and I got out.  Sure, I could have used the toilet in her but where is the fun in that?  How would I be able to talk to them?

Not at all is how I could talk to them as they didn’t speak English.  Now, for some reason I, who am loud anyway, feel the need to holler when I am trying to talk to a foreigner.  So I yell (slowly, while using hand gestures) “Do… you… want… me… to… take… a… picture… of… your… group… with… the… Rv?”  For gosh sakes Angela, they are from another country not freakin' deaf.  Blank stares.  I tried again.  Pointing to the camera I made him understand.  He gladly accepted and some of them lined up.  Jake got in the picture with them.   The kids and I proceeded into the Rv and I made sandwiches for lunch.  Deviled Ham…we only eat it when we are on the road and I am pretty sure our bodies thank us for that.  They were still surrounding the bus taking pic’s.  I was trying to figure out if they were Albanian, Italian or something else.  I couldn't help but think to myself that Rare Metal and I better get used to this, as this is what it will be like on my book tour.  Hey, if you don't believe in yourself and have a vision...it'll never happen.

 Though unusual for us, the rest of the trip went smoothly.  Alan’s oldest daughter and her two children are coming to stay for a few days.  They will bring a tent and stay on our site.  Yes, that does make me a …ahem… grandmother, a "Grangie" to be exact.  Her oldest, Brittany, is older than my two.  Weird family we are.  "Jake give that to your sister who is seven years younger than your mom."  If you can't laugh at yourself...

  

Alan and Crystal went to the store while I took all four kids up to the pool.  He came back with no shortage of nitrates.  Lots of kielbasa and sausage cause it was on sale for $1.25.  “Oh, you got the good stuff” I said with a hint of sarcasm.  Blech.  Day one led us to Grottoes, Va.  Where the Grand Caverns are.  Oh my gosh they were cool.  Like, literally 54 degrees but also awesome to look at and experience.  We took a little hike on a trail there.  Started out straight up and didn’t stop.  Holy frig my legs and ass.  Ummm what the hell is this?  Downpour.  Where the hell did it come from?  I'll bet some of you reading this just said to yourself "the sky."  I did when I asked it.    I mean we were soaked immediately and there was no escaping it.  I could’ve gotten pissy but decided to embrace the rain though I was cold!  We reached the top and turned around.  The rain lasted about 10 minutes.  The sun came back through the trees and felt great.  Thank you Lord!  We were dripping from every inch but didn’t want to go back to the campground and we did dry pretty quickly.  Luckily for us gals Crystal had a few extra t-shirts in her car.  Not so good was that our bras got wet too so it looked like we were lactating for a while. 

Next we found a boat landing on the Shenandoah River and I let Alan take Crystal and her kids on a canoe trip.  I use the term let because I suggested they all go because we would have plenty of time and they were leaving the next day and I wanted her kids to have a canoe trip.  The kids and I met them at a landing about six miles up river.  BLT’s for supper.  Yummy.

We love to hike!

Preacher Perry here....

Okay, if you know me you know I am a stumbling trying as best I can Christian.  I have been through so much stuff - some circumstance and some self induced - that when I was 25 my mom would constantly tell me that I had been through more than most 45 y/o's she knew.  I saw that as an advantage.  But really, I didn't display at the time that I was learning lessons.
Today I choose to write about me.  It isn't a post about trials of a blended family.  It is a story that I would like to share.  I felt someone, weather or not I personally know them needs to read it.  God is good like that, so I will give him the glory for this one.
About umpteen years ago I rented a basement apartment in Cleveland, Ga.  Yes, that is the home of the Cabbage Patch Kids.  Anyway, I kind of accidentally happened upon this place and really liked the lady ( Dana) who would be my landlord and lived above me with her lovely family, a husband and 2 young kids.  She was a realtor in town and was always smiling.  I was kind of  definitely drinking alcohol of whatever sort way too much.  I didn't drink to a level that it interfered completely with my bills and responsibilities, but I could have spent happy hour being way more productive than making my presence known at Southside Bar and Grill. Many Saturday nights I would catch a ride home with, oh basically whoever chose to babysit me that night or was threatened by Nancy to get me home safely.  I would do the walk of shame/pride ( pride because I didn't drink and drive) up to Dana's the following morning and knew they would be getting ready to go to their Southern Baptist church in Helen.  "Hey...so my jeep got drunk last night and I was wondering if I could catch a ride to town to retrieve it."  Her answer never changed  "Sure, Angie as long as you sit through service with us."  "Joe (her hubby), Angie's jeep got drunk again."  UGH!   I was always amazed that when I heard her preacher, with that southern drawl spewing the words of Jesus,... it was meant for me. ' God, I am a Catholic for Christ's sakes...oops sorry took your name in vain.'  Let me try again. ' God I am a Catholic. I can't hear this funny accent telling me the devil is leading my life.'  This is what my hungover ass would think at the time.  I left out the eff words, on the blog, not in the actual "praying".  Yeah, some Catholic.

Dana saw something in me that I didn't.  She had a belief in God that I didn't ... well quite understand yet.  See, when I prayed he heard, I just fought him at every step.  At some point I was behind on my rent, drunk most of the time and down.  I went with a friend to La.  No, not Los Angeles but Louisiana.  Baton Rouge to gamble.  I mean who doesn't do that when they have negative ten dollars to their name?  My friend was an older, like grandfather older, gentleman whom I loved dearly.  No, it wasn't whatever you are thinking.  It was a friendship that time nor age could match. And we laughed a lot.
Upon my return and being sober for about 15 hours I knew I had to face things.

 Finally I am getting to the part of the story that is fulfilling.

 He pulled in the drive and let me out of the car.  I knew what I had to do and was so scared and mad at myself.  "Knock, knock, knock"  "Hey Angie!"  With that bright smile.  "C'mon in!"  I couldn't hold the waterfall back.  I had made a mess of my life.  For some reason, I always feel worse when people are nice to me when I feel like crap.  "Don't cry." She said with her perfectly polished red lipstick.  "Please, don't be nice to me."  I begged.  "I don't deserve it."  She just took my hand in a knowing manor and led me to a chair at her dining room table.
After I told her how horrible my life had come to be and how awful I felt about myself she told me a story that she had heard from one of the elders at church but didn't really listen to the whole story so decided to take bits from it that spoke to her.  She has no idea of the magnificence of the effect on me of this simple story.  Basically, it was one day a couple was out driving and there was a red bird.  She actually said more in the story than that, but like her, I chose to hear what I needed to.  She said for her it boiled down to she would symbolize the red bird with Jesus and he would be there with her watching over.  So what I took from her shortened version of the story to make it my own is red bird = Jesus.  She continued to let me live there and I caught up on rent.  To this day my fave apartment is that one.  I even had my own huge deck.  What I didn't tell you is that before I even met her I had driven by the house with a friend, just riding around daydreaming, saw the house and told him boldly..."One day I will live there"  he said "yeah, right."  I didn't know where the feeling came from, but do now.

About 6 years ago I had my first red bird experience.  I had another today.  Sure, I have seen red birds in between these 2 times and thought of the story but none struck me as hard as 6 years ago and today.  I am wicked stressed about stuff I won't go into here, but it's a lot - walking into my dining room thinking to myself - facebook status "Go ahead Devil, keep up your crap.  I got God on my side."  Low and behold I look out the window and there is a beautiful Cardinal staring at me.  Yes God, I know you have my back.

So there it is and when you see a red bird I hope you know who is with you and watching you.

By the way, I now understand what she saw in me and it took me becoming someone better than I used to be to realize it.  She saw herself.

Blended families don't fail, remarriages do.

Alan and I thought we had everything figured out.  I listened to a lot of what he said because he had been in a blended family for most of his adult life.  My 'duh' mistake was that clearly those marriages didn't work so perhaps seeking alternate ways of doing things would have allowed different results.  I also wish there was someone who would've sat down with us and explained all the shit that was about to hit the fan.  The things you don't think of interrupting your marriage.  You are not just marrying the person who says "I do", you are marrying their kids, exes and anyone else in the family who thinks there two cents needs to be heard.  You are also marrying the baggage.  Yup, suitcases full.

In January we went to a counselor for the first time.  This took me two years of asking Alan to go to finally get a "yes".  I choose to share this experience because I know that whether or not they will publicly admit it people are going through something similar, have been through it or are about to enter a blended family, with their eyes wide shut.  STOP!  Let's chat first. Please.

Our session started off with the counselor looking at us after a few minutes with a blank, mouth ajar stare and in complete awe over how we are even together.  I think "shocked" was the word he used that we had not thrown in the towel. One of the problems is there are so many issues with the kids from the last six years that those issues erupt in a current argument and trying to get all this out was quite challenging.  I think we had this guy confused to the core on how we even function.  Before we married I asked Alan how we were going to make it work and his reply: "like a well oiled machine."

Darling, someone threw a wrench in the operation.

I think the counselor saw one thing that is clear.  We love each other and want our marriage to work.  Problem is neither is willing to bend to get to happiness. To be honest I figured I would be a hot mess in there with tears just streaming down my face waahhh waaah waaah coming out of my mouth.  Instead we all kind of chuckled now and then at how dysfunctional we actually are but still together.  He even gave us statistics of blended families as if to say ....  "you are fucked."  I was going off about eight things at once and he was all "my gosh you are ADD."  I am all "I have a lot I am pissed off about and am trying to get it all out in this one session and yes, I am quite ADD."  Alan chimes in "we both are..."  That was one of the chuckling moments.  There was a whole lot of head shaking going on.  A lot was said and he ended the session kind of unsure of the direction in which to point us (besides the eff out of his office).  He left us with this:  he wanted us to go off for a few days with each other and not bring up the kids whatsoever.  To "see if we still have the foundation on which we even got into the relationship." 
I am glad we left it like that.  No, not because we get a weekend away with no kids, though that doesn't hurt, but because that last line really made me think.  It opened up a whole new thought process for me about us.  The foundation that made us want to be us.  I realized that while floating down the aisle at my other two marriages  I was planning my escape route.  Not with Alan though.  At our pig pickin' casual wedding I couldn't wait to become Mrs. Alan Perry.  Shit had not reared it's ugly head yet.

There are so many things that people should know before blending families.  I feel like God is calling me to help others and perhaps within that I can help myself.

By the way, our marriage counseling appointment was on January 17th and we haven't even had a date night never mind time away to work on us and with our (his) schedules I don't see one in the future.  It's amazing how people react when you stop allowing yourself to be every body's doormat.  Our past baggage isn't each others to fix but it is right there in between us. Alan once told me that he would still be with his most recent ex if she hadn't left him.  I don't think that he realizes what that says to me is "I really want to be with someone else, but you'll do as an OK second."

Well, second best I am tired of being.

Somewhere between hell and California...Barstow that is.

I have been writing again!   Though I have plenty to bitch about in my current life I thought I would share a bit from what will one day be on the New York Times Best Seller list.  I have yet to come up with a title but when I do I am sure it will be fabulous.  After all, tales from this Diva just keep getting more and more delish. 
Yum- yum.  Read on.  Oh, but keep in mind this has not been to the editor!

We are finally seeing signs of civilization. 

Campground.  Yay.  I hop out as soon as we stop.  For some reason I was expecting relief and a cool breeze.  Instead it was like jumping from one sauna to another.  I grabbed Jake and Em and went into the store.  As always, we arrived late but this time we got there just in the nick o’ time while the store was still open for five more minutes.   Ice cream.  Heck to the yes.  I picked one out for everyone and brought them back to the Rv.  Me, Jake and Em were the only ones who ate them.  Whatever.  A pool.  Alan shocked me by offering to take the kids swimming. 

I also purchased the coins you need to take a shower here in the bath house.  Glad I got those after all the sweating of the day.  Ahhhhh the water felt so good as it washed over me.  Bedtime.  What a pain in the ass bedtime is turning the table into my kids bed, the couch into our bed and getting everyone to shut their mouths and eyes.  All I wanted was an hour with a tv and the E! or Bravo channel…

Quieting my mind is hard, eventually I drifted off to sleep. 

I awoke to find I wanted another shower.  Off to the bath house at the crack of dawn it was.  I always have a tiny fear that someone will break in and slit my throat.   Those coins I purchased were because there are locks on the stall doors.  I liked that.  God knows nobody would think to crawl underneath in those two feet at the bottom of the door if they really wanted to get to you. 

So I quickly showered, dried off and dressed.  I opened the door.  Oh my God.  Ahhhhh what is this?   There was a woman, I guess to be about in her late 50’s with her boobs flappin’ over the sink as she washed her armpits.  Holy fuck.  Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look I screamed to myself. There she stood with nothing but shorts on.   No!  This isn’t happening!  As I can’t hide anything, the expression on my face was, I am sure, priceless.   I can’t do my makeup with that next to me.  Don’t look, don’t look   <peek>    UGH!  I couldn’t help it.  It’s like when you meet someone and their fly is down and all you can hear is yourself telling you not to look down but you do anyway.  And then they are forever etched in your mind as guy with fly down.  They have no name to you and never will.

Hair and makeup can wait.  Must exit STAT.

Okie dokie that was a taste of it.  Can't give away too much.  Cheers! 

Armed and Fabulous...

Today started out crappy, but hey, at least it started.  At the early hour of 2 a.m.  I realized the stress insomnia is back.  I think I dozed back off around 5-ish, only to have to get up at 6 to get the little darlings started for the morning scream a thon.  Normal people refer to it as morning routine.  Not in this house.  I turn into a Drill Sergeant.  Make a good one, too.  Perhaps I missed my calling.

Tuesday happens to be trash day in our hood.  I happened to be the only one available to take the trash and recycling bins down to the road.  How convenient.  So after I got the kids ready and it was almost bus time I ventured outside to take the recycling down first.  That all went fine until I reached the end of the driveway and was doing the spin it around to face the road as I have at least two hundred times before and it fell over.
The contents landed in the one effin puddle that we had leftover from yesterdays rain.  Yup.  Not a shallow puddle either.
 I lost it. 
I started kicking at it and yelling.  We live on a highway so cars and dump trucks were just a whizzin' by at about 65 mph.  I must've looked like a lunatic.  In my rage I kept telling myself to find something positive about the situation. I guess that's called bi-polar anger moments.  So pissed you can't see straight yet telling yourself to find a positive.  Kind of like on Seinfeld when the dad would have to scream "SERENITY NOW".  I started picking it up and decided on my positive:  at least it wasn't raining. 

So on with my day I went. 

I wish I had been warned that today was going to be one of those days that you wish you had a pie to throw in someones face.  No one in particular (though currently I have plenty of selection) just  do it to make you feel better.
Well, instead I had to borrow Jacob's BB gun for my personal feel good moment.  The neighbors, as we do, have chickens.  The difference is ours are in a coop and theirs are free range.  They have 2 roosters - one is actually hatched from the current rooster and is excluded from the posse.  So the cock (hee hee) has taken to chillin' near our coop.  Clyde, my blue ribbon (in my eyes) rooster isn't taking too kindly to him.  Those hens are his bitches in the coop and he ain't about to share!  Well, while waiting for the kids to hop off the school bus, skip into the house and immediately do their homework without being told...Oh, June Cleaver moment gone...while waiting for the kids to sluggishly roam off the bus complaining about hunger pains and homework I heard my Clyde giving his get the eff away call and I spied that rooster trying to get in.  The scheming in my mind began.

Operation Cockfight to commence at 2:37.  

As soon as the kids were home the plan would be executed.  Kalogeris style.  I, with all my Jedi-sniper training (don't tell anyone) snuck out the back door.  There were my darling chickens.  I gave a nod to Clyde.  He made a funny noise and shit.. it was time.
I had loaded the BB gun and spotted the enemy.  With stealth like moves I began chasing it out of my garden while shooting and hollering at it to stay out of my yard.  Ummm, so yeah, the problem with BB guns is of course, that you have to do that thing in between each shot.  Even with that, I think he learned his lesson and won't be back...until tomorrow.   Wow.  I kinda felt better after my 'everything that could go wrong did' day.  I even hollered " I say I think, I say I think I say I think I defeated you young fella."  This, was of course done in my best FogHorn LegHorn impression.  Yeah, I know, I got issues...
Then I let Jacob finish the BB's off that were in it.  As I watched my 9 y/o boy shoot a memory flashed into my mind about two childhood friends. I believe the back sliding glass door at a home on Emerson Mill Rd. was the casualty of 2 bored, young teens with a bb gun.  The memory made me smile and a little nostalgically sad.  One of them passed away when we were in high school.  I caught my breath and realized that my day wasn't at all one of 'those days'.   That everything seemed multiplied as horrible only because my marriage is crumbling. I don't know what the future holds and I am scared to death to be alone with 2 children.  I bet my mom was as well, but she did it.  I think you get to a point when you understand that living is about smiling not arguing.   You get it.  You know your children have to be in a healthy environment to be raised. 
And all you want to do is throw your hands up in the air and say "I QUIT." 

But you don't.

Instead, you continue.

I want my children to have and see the best of me and right now they don't have that and are not seeing that.  But I guarantee they will. And one day when they understand the sacrifices I made for them they will smile - just as I do now for what my mom did for us. 
Jesus turned water into wine at a marriage for a reason.  Your gonna effin need it to get through it.  Smart guy, I think I'll listen to him more often.  I mean he's already answered several of  my prayers.  And I know he can't wait to see me smile again...