10 things about me.

Everyone on facebook seems to be getting numbers and posting things we may not know about one another.  I think it is pretty cool but won't 'like' a status to get a number because I don't want to get too many - or admittedly... too few.  Slightly vain perhaps, but I am who I am and will never apologize for being me.  With that said I decided to list 10, a good even not too many, not too few number things about me.  We all judge people (don't lie, you know you do) and perhaps if we would take the time to understand them and see where they are coming from we would judge less.

Here goes:

1.  I cuss like a sailor.  Especially when driving around here.  I believe the word fuck gets your point across a whole lot quicker.  And, as a bonus it is so fuckin' versatile.

2.  One of my favorite things is when I am cooking and someone walks in and says "mmmmm what smells so good."  I beam with pride.  

3.   I am extremely passionate in every way.  I try to put my all into everything and love to please people, almost to a fault.  Cooking and writing are my 2 biggest passions.

4.  I don't think my dad died of a massive heart attack.  I think he was murdered.  There was never an autopsy.

5.   I never wanted to be a mom. Even though I was married, the thought of an abortion came to mind when I found out I was pregnant with Jacob.  As I am watching him cook himself breakfast right now, I am so glad it was a quick, passing thought.  <Que the not judging thing here>

6.  About 6 months after Alan and I were together I started having panic attacks.  I suffered with them daily, sometimes multiple times a day. They were awful.  That was about 7 years worth.  I have not had 1 since the day I left.  Not one.  Wow, right?  Especially with what we are going through.  Says a lot.

7.  In my late teens I was quite an accomplished horseback rider.  I wish I'd never stopped.

8.  My kids are not my world.  They are a beautiful part of it, but I don't center everything around them. I used to think you were supposed to...but have realized you actually do them a disservice if you allow them to rule the day and your life.  There is a good balance you can find.

9.   I never knew any of my grandparents and am watching my kids pretty much go through the same thing.  I wish they would all play a bigger part in their lives.

10.  I won't date a democrat.  When I am ready to date again I want a God fearin', gun totin', truck drivin' conservative.  You'll always know where you stand with them.

Dear Emma...

Dear Emma,

I want you to know the moment I found out I was pregnant, I knew you were a girl and I fell immediately in love with you.  There wasn't a doubt in my mind that you, dear child, were going to be the most special person I had ever met.  The night they placed you in my arms, I couldn't put you down nor could I stop staring at you in complete disbelief that I was chosen to be your mom.  I vowed then and there to become a better person so that you could see how beautiful life is.  Because of you, I became closer to God.  I looked at life in a new light, through your eyes.  Often, I would wonder what you would think of me if I decided to do something a certain way.  Would my decision make you proud to call me mom?  Instantly you brought a joy to my heart that I never knew existed.  Perhaps if one day you are a mom you will understand what I mean.  I saw a future of love.  You rescued me, Emma.

As I watched you grow I couldn't believe how amazing you were.  You are the miracle kid that every parent wants.  Your sweet nature, your kindness, your inner and outer beauty.  You choose to see only the good in people.  I hope that when you are an adult you can look back upon your childhood and smile.  I hope life doesn't break you and shatter your outlook.  And I hope you know how loved you are.  I also hope that you know that what happened to you wasn't your fault and that you did nothing wrong.  You know, as an adult when your own heart breaks it is painful, but as a mom when your heart breaks for your child it is a million times worse.

So the night that you whispered in my ear that your stepbrother had been touching you in uncomfortable places my whole world momentarily stopped.  A part of me died when that sweet little voice said those words.  It became my turn to rescue you.  Without a second thought I left my marriage for you Emma.  I walked away from a beautiful home, security and a husband.  Making you feel safe became my number one priority.  I hope someday you can comprehend the strength and courage it took for you to tell me.  You are a very brave girl, Emma Catherine.  I too have shown strength and courage through this but if the truth be told I get it from you.  Yup, you are why I have been able to handle this as I have.  How can I teach you not to be broken if I let it break me?  How can I teach you to hit fear head on if I cower away from it?  How can I teach you to be a decent person in spite of what life hands you and how people treat you if I show weakness?  I can't.  I can't do any of those things if I fall apart.  So I have no choice.  Within you I find my power to continue.  I also rely on my faith.  We are where we are for a reason and I'll be damned if all this was done in vain.  I will make good come from it for us and we will rise up!


You are a lovely person with a soul and spirit that I can only conclude is straight from God himself.  You have impressed every single person who has met you.  Your life can be even better for what we have gone through.

  As I watch you outside right now, playing with the neighborhood kids my heart smiles.  We are survivors, not victims darlin' and we are going to be better people for having gone through this.

In your backpack I found a piece of paper that said 'Please walk with some confidence like you can really handle it'.  When I asked you what that was from you told me you are writing a song and that was the start of it.  Keep writing doll, the world needs to hear what you have to say.

Peace and Love,
Mom

 

Me, me me...it's never about me...anymore.

It's not a surprise to me that I am missing my dad immensely right now.  I mean, I watch my children starve for attention of a male and I am, of course, in our current situation going through hell and just want my dad to look at me and tell me it's going to be okay.

But, since he's been 'gone' for 20 years he can't.  He likely wouldn't say "it's going to be okay" anyway.  He'd be more like "Have a drink and listen to Frank..."  Sinatra, I of course mean.



I do the best I can, but let's face it...I have boobs.  I am a girl and I think like one.  Really the only thing about me that remotely resembles the male species is the set of balls I have.

Huge.

There really isn't a male 'replacement'.  But, there is a mother's love and I suppose when necessary that can be quite close.  Or can it?  I don't know as I am still struggling with that answer.  Like, on our way to Walmart I told Jake he smelled funny...like outside dirty boy kinda funny.  P- eww.  Well, on the way home I noticed a different scent.  Apparently while I was picking out my toothbrush he indulged in the many scents of the Axe that adorned the shelf.  Oh.My.Gosh.  I think I like the dirt smell better.  And then there is the calendar that was sent to him by a co worker of mine, who after I mentioned it was the first thing Jake noticed when he walked into the 'office'... Oh boy, I just don't get the male version of life...  He sure is glad to have that calendar though.  Yes, it's what you are picturing. Blondes, boobs, the whole 9 yards. And no, I have no idea how to explain an erection to him.

Yay me.

So far single parenting has been okay.  We have had a lot of other ... ummm...distractions to keep my mind flowing in a different way.  I think it sucks, what I've been handed to deal with but I have been convinced from the start that I would be equipped to handle it, like a Mama should.  Thanks to some good friends, a plethora of prayer and wine I have done just that until now.

We have a court date coming up that I am not looking forward to.

Nope.  Not whatsoever.  Not at all.  Not even a tad.  And, to add insult to injury..I haven't heard back from the attorney on exactly what it is we have to look forward  not forward to.  I don't know what the process is.  Unfortunately this whole kerfuffle has been that way.

Wicked fuckin' pissah.  Wicked.

Ironically, Chesapeake doesn't suck as much as I used to think it does.   That is kinda interesting to me.  Even here at my age of 40...well, let's face it mentally I am 26 and totally act it,  I learn more and more...

Head high, chin up...boobs out.

The beauty of being on your third divorce is you know what to expect.

You don't feel like a failure.  In fact, when you tried as hard and much as I did you feel quite accomplished.  But, no lie, going through the motions, whether you want the divorce or not just plain sucks.  With each step however, a sense of relief comes your way and you can feel the burden lightening.  I think that having my kids watch me also helps the positive attitude I have managed to keep and the smile plastered on my face.  Cause honestly, with what happened I could've very easily snapped and rightfully so.  A friend said to me "you need to teach them to be survivors, not victims."  I took that one phrase and made it my motto for this whole process.

The few people who do know what happened are quite impressed with how I've handled everything.

  Frankly, I have impressed myself.

That's where faith and prayer come in.  I turned to God instead of wine.  He doesn't give you a hangover.

I've been a single mom before.  In fact, often in jest I would say that it sucks being married but still a single parent.  Seven years worth of that.  Its funny though, I hold no anger, resentment or hurt.  Perhaps that is because I have learned that you absolutely cannot, can't, cannot carry those negative emotions as you move on because you'll never move on.  You'll be stuck in a swirl of hate.  I choose to take what I have learned from the last seven years and apply it to my future in a positive light.

I am sure all of this has happened the way it has for a reason and I will do amazing things with what I have learned.  My whole life, everything I have been through is starting to make sense.  It's kinda sorta crazy.  What should be the absolute darkest days of my life, thus far, are filled with light and hope.  Why?  Because I choose to make them that way.

I'm not bitter, I still believe in love, marriage and soul mates.  I think there is someone out there for everyone to spend the rest of their lives with.

So fellow divorcee's hold your head high, your chin up with a huge grin on that pretty face and stick the ta-ta's out.  Your next ex just might be watching ;)  

My 'screwed up' adult theory

I was thinking.

Yes, I do that sometimes, though often it would appear not.

But I was thinking about our journey, really since Alan and I got together.  Hitched up.  Married and whatnot.  I am pretty sure most couples, especially blended families like us would not have survived as we have and I have to wonder why we are still together.  Now, if I look back at how I lived I surely would  have bolted by now, but I think I stay because so many children are involved...and there are two in particular that I have to look out for.  I don't want my kids thinking marriages are disposable, because they are not.  But when do you say enough is enough and stop living in a miserable cycle?  What about the kids?  I have talked to mine about it.  I am brutally honest probably to a fault sometimes but I want their opinion.  They know Alan and I struggle. I worry about them though and how they would handle it.  After Alan lost his job and we had to move back, tail between our legs, to Chesapeake I heard about a gazillion times "don't worry kids are resilient."  Really, like everyone said that. I disagree to an extent.  What I mean is this:  if kids are so resilient why are there so many fubar adults walking around...and they tend to blame their childhood?  So, my theory is kids are not resilient.  What they are, what we were, is able to adapt to the situation as an immediate action only to have it come out later in life.

So my question I ask again is this:  If kids are so resilient why are there so many screwed up adults walking around?  Some take meds for it, some act out to their loved ones, some just drink or turn to drugs to mask all the pain from their "resilience" they never faced as a child.

Have I got you thinking?  Does it make sense?  I am always saying "someday when my kids are in their late twenties they'll be in therapy talking about this."  I say it in jest, but there is always truth in jest.

Yup, pretty sure the whole "Kids are resilient" thing is a crock of shit.  But there is hope, in my opinion.  You can teach them to handle these things that come at you a certain way.  You can teach them positivity in the darkest situations.  And you can teach them how to turn sucky crap that is slung at them from outside sources into an opportunity to better themselves and the world.  And it all starts when they are too little to understand any of it. You are teaching even when you don't realize it.  Mind yourself, they are the ones who will choose whether you get an in law suite or a nursing home.

BACON MEET WHOOPIE PIE!

Why have I never thought of this brilliant idea before?

Bacon & Chocolate really can make things better.

  Yessah, wicked good.

After I did the video I even shared the rest of it with the kids.  "AWESOME!" and "mmmmmmmmmmm"  were their reactions.  

"What do you 'do' mom?"

My 10 y/o ADHD son who keeps me well past being on my toes asked me this morning "what do you do for a job, mom?"  He then chimed in with.."besides Arbonne."

That got me thinking...

What do I do?  I don't get paid for my daily duties.  I have no 401K, health insurance or paid vaca's and holidays.  If I am sick, tough crap no time off.  There are no fabulous benefits.

What do I do?

All frigging day every frigging day I pick up after everyone, repeat myself constantly and cook.  That's all I do.  Let me list it like this:

• Feet hit floor at about 5:30 a.m. make coffee, get husband off to work
• Get kids up - do morning routine of breakfast, dressed (argue with 8 y/o daughter about daisy dukes not being appropriate), teeth & face, book bags in check because the 18 times I asked the night before weren't enough  
• Kids on bus.  Feed & water chickens (currently 20 of them) check on gardens
• Return inside to find every friggin' light in the house on, breakfast dishes still on table because the 2 times they were told to put dishes in sink clearly wasn't enough.  Go on search for where I left coffee cup, take to microwave to heat up for the 3rd time.  
• Clean kitchen
• Start laundry...oh, but if only it were that simple.  First you must go through house searching for all the dirty laundry which seems to jump out of hampers and onto floors.  Normally landing right in front of hamper.  Bathroom floors are another place dirty laundry likes to hang out.  
• Check fb and email.  Place any arbonne orders for clients.  
• Vacuum  house which takes at least 20 minutes if not longer.  Especially when you are ADD and as you're vacuuming you notice other stuff that needs to be done.  
• Exercise so you can try to achieve the body of a 25 y/o as you approach 40 then come in and eat oreo's
• ...continuing with laundry...
• Some days this is when you get to go out on a field trip all by yourself!  You go to the grocery store.  How exciting.  You float down the aisles enjoying not having your kids and pitying the moms that do - upon returning home you get angry that you are the only one who has to lug the groceries in but everyone friggin' eats them.  
• Scrub bathrooms, we have 3.  You notice your husband must've cut his hair.  How?  The hair all over the flippin' bathroom is how you know.  I especially like it when it gets all over my skincare bottles.  
• Beds?  Screw that.  We'll just mess them up tonight so why make them?
• Oh yay!  More picking up after everyone and the washing machine is giving you the death signal on it's digital display.  Thank God for google and this happening to others, so now you can add washing machine repair person to your resume
• Work on book I am writing.  Some days it lasts 5 minutes some days 2 hours, really depends on what is going on in my current life - don't want to drag it into the book.
• Cut grass
• Iron (<--- that's a joke I suck at ironing)
• Time for the little darlings to arrive off the bus.  Mental preparation begins
• snack, homework, start dinner
• check on chickens again 
• eat, showers, bedtime

Next morning rise and repeat.  There is a ton I left out but you get the gist.  I didn't see sit on couch, watch soaps and eat bon bons all day.  Damn, I thought that is what stay at home moms did?
I have done all this while working a full time job when the kids were smaller.  It ain't easy, so kudos to the mama's who do.  Actually, looking back I guess it was easier in a way because there was no putting stuff off like I can now.  You are screwed if you don't stick to a schedule.  I was 15 lbs thinner and rarely had a moments peace.  Hmmm...15 lbs thinner....maybe I should switch back to this lifestyle?  Of course, spare time was nil.  My work got the best of me, not my family.  

By the time I get everyone settled and can finally sit down to watch 'Weeds' (my latest obsession) I usually fall asleep in the first 15 minutes and wake up and start it over and repeat this process about 3 times before I make my way upstairs to the bed I find terribly uncomfortable.  Part of that might be simply because it is the bed my husband had with his ex wife.  It's not a priority for him, so we don't get a new one.  That's alright, someday soon.. anyway, I am glad for Netflix.  Fall asleep all you want, just hit rewind.

So, darling Jacob, what do I do?  Oh, not much.  I am just a mom.

Checking in with your mortality.

I suppose if I looked back upon my life I have seen and done more than a lot my age.  I have never been ungrateful for that and yet am often concerned that I am not showing enough gratitude.

So what makes me special?  What makes me think people will want to read my blog...or even the book I am writing?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.  I am just a girl who loves to write and if someone happens to relate or find comfort in my words than kudos to me for making at least one person feel better or smile.

Isn't that what we all want?  To find a purpose?

Bombings in our country make us all think about our mortality and if we are really living happily and why the hell we are even here.  Well, they do that to me.  I hate that I have several in my lifetime to look back upon... and realize my reaction to them.  Especially ones that hit close to home - for me Boston.  Bean town.  I was born right outside of Boston, in Lynn, and Boston happens to be my favorite city in the whole big wide world.  Vegas is a close second, perhaps someday I will even fulfill my desire to be a showgirl there, but Boston takes the cake.  When I say Boston - childhood memories fly through my mind.

Fenway franks.  They taste as good as they are bad for you, I am sure.  They are just part (paht) of the experience though.

I know the feeling of pride too, though.  I have been the wife of a sailor, returning from a deployment on a Nuclear Destroyer.  That just sounds bad ass doesn't it?  Nuclear Destroyer.  It may have carried some planes too.  Jets, I don't know Navy lingo.  Well that's not true, I cuss like a sailor.  Effin A.  CVN 65, the USS Enterprise.  She was huge.  HUGE.  Wait, was it an aircraft carrier?  It had nuclear shit on it though.  Digging myself into a realm of brilliance, aren't I?  The American pride that runs through you is amazing.  I know this to be true because I hated my then husband at the time.  So for me to have that much emotion running through me - it must've been something.  It's that American pride that leaves us all to soon after a tragedy, when we get back to our normal daily lives.  It ... is ... steadfast living, our 'normal' lives.  Pride isn't a part of most until we see people who could be us, just everyday Joe's getting blown up.  Losing limbs.  Forever scarred.  Gone.  And then quickly we get back to our lives.  And forget about theirs.

Now being married to a Paramedic/Fire Fighter I am reminded of it each shift he leaves for work.  I admire him and the work he does.  And since I am being honest, I guess I don't let him know that often enough.  Or maybe I do and he just doesn't care.  I don't know.  Life's a challenge to figure out.  That's likely the problem, I am trying to figure it out.  There's nothing to find, no hidden world of happiness.  Suck it up and just live.

Forever remembering American pride. It ain't easy.

I have been in all 50 states except 5 of them.  I have seen a lot.  I have experienced a lot.  When I was in my early to mid twenties my mom would say "Judas Priest Angela, you've done more than most 45 year olds I know."  Now that I myself am almost 45 I can only hope that she would say "Judas Priest Angela, you've done more than most 70 year olds I know."

 By the way, those would be said with a wicked Maine accent.

 Wicked.

Isn't wicked a fantastic word?  So descriptive...like...wicked descriptive.

Distractions.

Sometimes it's hard for me to write my blog because I have so many thoughts swirling around in my head.  Seriously, I have a bunch of drafts where I have one paragraph written and then decide to go with something else.  Then something else.  Then something else.

Can you relate?

Perhaps not in the form of writing - but let's take housework for example.  The kids are off to school.  You have a little time 'to yourself' so you'll use it to make your house all shiny and pretty.  But here's what happens:  You are walking to the kitchen with a bulls eye target of getting the clean dishes out of the dishwasher and put them away but pass your computer.  You think to yourself 'hmmmm I inboxed so and so on fb so I should check that real quick..'  Forty five minutes later you get back on your dishes mission.  Then your stomach growls, so you grab something to eat and maybe just check your email "real quick" while inhaling your food.  Forty five minutes later you go back to what has now become mission impossible and notice the kids left crumbs on the table so you better wipe that off first. Eventually you make it to the dishwasher and open it and begin to put the dishes away.  Then you go on about your day, returning to kitchen to get some lunch and see that dishwasher open and only half the dishes are put away.  How did that even happen?  Are ya with me, anyone?  Anyone do things like this?  By the time the bus arrives with your little darlings the only thing shiny and pretty is definitely not your bathtub.

Sound somewhat familiar?  Being a self diagnosed ADD girl, not a truly diagnosed one (by doctor) it sure does explain a lot about how I have lived, always getting bored in relationships quickly and mind never idle, always at a constant dizzying state. I mean even the one time Alan and I went to marriage counseling the counselor did say " Oh my Gosh you are all over the place..." He was kind of shaking his head like he couldn't keep up.  Buckle up buddy, my mind is in a constant over drive.

I feel bad for my Jacob, he's got it too.  And he is even worse than me.  And like me, he's a Leo so always needs to be the center of attention.  We'd make an interesting TV show here in this blended family.  "Keeping up with...oh look squirrel"

Oreo cookies. Double stuf

Did not feel like typing today so you are blessed with my angelic voice and face....

Just a bit bored.  And, honestly some days it's just easier to vlog.  Why is there only one f in the stuf part of double stuf on the oreo cookies package?   

OMG Becky, did you see the size of her hangover?

I think the year I turned 26 I decided I would never 'get' any older than that.  Sure my birthday comes around and I acknowledge it but that is the extent.  I do not act my age nor do I have any desire to.  Granted, shit hurts a tad more when I party like it's 1999.
Like, say when you go to your husband's work banquet and you are introduced to moonshine.  Apple pie  flavored to be exact.  And apple is your favorite pie.

Bad news.  Big mistake.

And for some reason, after already drinking too much of it (add a bottle of wine in there too) you feel the need to do 'shots' of it with a bunch of 20 somethings (most of who you could be their mommy dearest) sometime between oh I'd say midnight and 1 a.m. but that's just a guess.

Yes Angela, brilliant idea.  Then the fake mustaches come out.  Oh boy. I slightly recall doing a "mustache bit" but have no idea what it entailed.  Nor do I want to know.  I only hope I didn't bust out with one of my favorite Frank Sinatra songs and do the dance number to go with it.  Shimmying shoulders and all.

Oh God, the dance floor.  There is a reason that on Monday morning when I went upstairs to get the kids up (the par-tay was Sat. night) my thighs almost gave out.  I suspect it has to do with the bump and grind.  Alan asked me who the people videoing the dance floor were.

Fuck.

I have always loved dancing.  My mom is a choreographer and it is in my blood.  Unfortunately for me, when you have alcohol mixed in that blood it can be a lethal combination.  Really though I bet I burned 5,000 calories.  At least.  Silver lining in everything.

Then, yesterday it came time to do the 'walk of shame' into the Crew.  I was bringing Alan his lunch.  Please Lord, let them all be out on calls.  They weren't.

What have I learned?  The next time someone puts a red solo cup in front of me I will take a polite sip only.

Yeah, right.

Oh, and ladies here is a tip you mustn't forget:  Always wear matching (clean) panties and bra.  And shave.  For crying out loud shave.  If the EMS crew has to cut your clothes off they will be much obliged.  I hope you now obsess about this every morning as I do.  Yes, I really, really, really like this Crew.  They are real people.  Most of them started out as volunteers and that says a lot about character to me.  Giving of yourself and expecting nothing in return.  Sure, a pat on the back now and then is welcome.  Stick your left hand on your right shoulder and pat yourself.  You deserve it. Volunteering for EMS and fire often goes unnoticed in the public eye.  That is until you need them.   Then they get the heroic recognition they deserve.  If only for a moment.  But they don't care because that's not why they do it.

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.