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Category Archives: Not Food

edited: I don’t care, and thats okay.

I’m editing  I edited (adding bitching bitched more)  this – you should probably come back in a little while to read it, and tell me what food you hate, and we can grumpyface together. Or something.
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It’s cold.

It’s cold, it’s not even snowing lately, but it’s cold.
Yes, I know, I live in Connecticut. We have winter. If I don’t like it I should move. Blah blah blah. I’m allowed to be tired of winter. Winter is like half the year here. Its annoying.

Most of my RSS following is about food. How to mangle it, heat it, combine this with that and make food matter stuff for the eating of.  Or something. 98% of the blogs I follow? Food.

Oh look, Waffles, bacon and muffins. Meats.. a plethora of fantastic meats roasted/stewed/braised and Oh look – Gravies and soups and…… pie and cake…. and …

ImageI love food. But we have a major economical problem that is forcing me to eat entirely way too much pasta. Did you know that I pretty much hate pasta? No? I do. I associate it with desperation, hunger and “I-had-too-many-carbs-without-protein” sickness.

The only time I enjoy pasta is when its coated in ingredients that I can’t really afford at the moment.

So. Pasta hate.

I think I might need to adjust my feed to exclude all the foodie blogs for a while lest I have bouts of ugly crying.

Also – Why is Pandora insistent on telling me I need anti-depressants and why is it forcing me to listen to break up music? (I think its a PLOT)

I blame the pasta. I should just break up with Pasta. Its you, its totally not me. I want to see other foods.

I SAY that I don’t care about the food posts, and then I saw bread pudding with salted caramel over on Smitten Kitchen.. so.. I’m lying. I totally care about food posts. I really, really care. They are just picking fights with me and turning me into a crazy, cynical brat today.

I’m trying to be okay with this. I am learning that it’s okay to forgive someone and totally not want them in your life for a little while. That you don’t have to save all the wounded little birds that come careening into your windows again and again.

Boy am I a magnet for wounded little birds.

Maybe if I start throwing the birds in with the pasta they will stop that.

 
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Posted by on March 7, 2014 in Not Food, Uncategorized

 

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Partially disabling the filters

Yesterday was kinda cool… In fact, yesterday was as cool as the other day was hard.

Part of it is because my friend stopped by, because she needed to talk to someone. Anytime I see her I am reminded of how much we need people, I mean physically need them.

She had heavy things to talk about but somehow after she left I felt lighter and had more of a recharge.

Not because my friend had something hard to go through, but because she is one of my persons. One of THE persons. She needed someone and she thought of me and she came here. I didn’t realize how much I just needed HER. I mean, I missed her terribly, but we just sat in the living room and chatted.

It’s nice to be needed. Just for who you are.

The other thing I tried to do yesterday was stop thinking. Something interesting happened.

Instead of being weird in my own head and keeping a tight reign on how I communicate…. I just.. stopped.

I let myself, instead actually communicate in some way.  It might have been a comment where I normally wouldn’t leave one. It might have been a post. It might have been a note to an artist earlier today – but something really cool happened and it wasn’t being sprayed with mace. I actually had some really neat conversations for the first time in .. years.

We knew social anxiety sucked. It just does.  But sometimes you are so wrapped up in how much it sucks that you forget that the real reason it sucks is that if it goes unchecked for too long? You forget what talking to people is really like when it goes well. You are too focused on all the garbage instead.

In other randomness…. Hospital dramas freak me out.

I have problems going to the doctor right… I have been saying every day that I am going to call the new doctors office and I am GOING TO MAKE AN APPOINTMENT. And then I dont.

I cant tell why exactly. Lots of reasons I think, but none of them will get better if I don’t go.

I half watch Grey’s Anatomy. I cant watch the surgery bits and the “Look at this horrible thing!” parts. But last week they had a lady who was scared of the doctor and she had a horrible wound with bugs in it I think – because she was waiting for it to go away and it never did. So on one hand -that tells me that I need to go to the doctor and stop being afraid.

I don’t have an open wound with bugs in it. But I dont WANT one either.

But then I have to ask myself (yes, I know its TV) – Why are all these people having sex at the hospital? Why are they fighting over their personal problems over a patient in surgery? What is going on with Bailey and other countless surgeons where they pass the hell out with someone on the table?

These things terrify me, because too often random things happen to me.

And maybe this is why wait times are SO long, maybe they are all having way too many not-so-quickees in the broom closet while we are waiting in their offices in our knickers and socks.

 
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Posted by on November 8, 2013 in Not Food, Random Rambling, Uncategorized

 

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Where Sunbeams Slept

Somewhere I lost the words
where maidens were sighing
in trebled breath
and dewdrops slid on their cheekbones in lethargy.

Somewhere I lost the words
and the bravery to whisper them into the aethers
like feathery clouds that mingled with stardust
in the darkest reaches where the constellations glowed brighter

than anything else

a backdrop to towering pines and the hands
of reaching mountains
pitch in the blackness.

 
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Posted by on October 1, 2013 in Not Food, Poetry

 

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Socks, Pie, and Fever Dreams.

These conversations happen when you are someone I talk to often enough for random IMs.

Me: ALSO PIE.
Me: I HAVE A SOCK ON!

Me: On the left foot I have a sock!
Me: It does not hurt to have sock on! \o/

I do not have pie.

I would like some pie, but do not currently have any.

I do however – still have sock. – And Toe is still Toe.

I had also stopped taking any and all painkillers for the foot issue.
And then I wrote this little snippet of a post and let it sit for a week.  *points up* That seems to be a thing I do.

And then we had Operation: Kidlet’s Thirteenth Birthday, which was a complete success. It was a success to the point where I worry that we will never be able to top it, stars were aligned *just so*.

And then Friday happened, and the plague descended.

Kidlet came down with it first, Moaning loudly on Friday morning that he was not going to school under any circumstances and quite articulately done, I might add.

But then I came down with it too, and this is the type of plague that transcends time and space.  Not only do I not understand what happened the last two days? – I don’t feel like it should be Sunday either. I feel like entire lifetimes were lived while I lay in misery. I fully expected that civilizations were built and destroyed in the last 24 hours alone. Surely at least a week went by.

Nope, just 48 hours.

I slept sitting up, and had wacky fever dreams that I was fighting in a war with dragons, and that there was something really wrong with this specific base location because something about where it was on earth caused everyone to wet their pants on a regular basis. There was some kind of explanation for it – but I’m not kidding.  Now-  I realize this was a fever dream, but can you imagine? Trying to work and constantly wetting your pants? Talk about taking a hit to morale.

 

(I also think part of the dream was certainly caused by the series I am reading, The Temeraire Series by Naomi Novik – That explains the war and the dragons but not the peeing. I’m not sure anything can explain that.)

Other than that, it seems that sick trumps Toe. I don’t much feel Toe at all at the moment.  But then – I’ve been in bed for a very long time, so everything ELSE hurts, while Toe behaves. Go figure.

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2013 in Not Food, Random Rambling, Uncategorized

 

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Words In a Torrent

(Lots of rambling ahead. )

Words become addictive.

I find I will often feel as if I cannot share what I am thinking.  That my inner monologue is too messy and scattered, that I have plenty of little unrelated things to say but no way to string them together.

But then I make myself post something – and then all I want to do is keep saying things. Little nonsensical things. I think I want to throw them together with bits of string and duct tape even if they aren’t pretty because I am afraid I will forget them. The words.

And I do.

I forget all of them.

Somewhere along the way – in this journey of internet, I have found that there is an ebb and flow of insecurity – for everyone. I think maybe there has always been this ebb and flow, but that the internet frees us up to make more connections and to find more information, to touch our fingertips to strangers around the world and find that common thread of insecurity so we aren’t on our own little islands of it. Or something. Hopefully I’ll be able to make sense of that statement below somewhere.

I think of the Martha Stewart phenomenon. (I wanted to use the word paradox – or padagrim but apparently those words don’t mean what I think they mean and Padagrim does not exist as a word, so I have no idea what word I really want to use. I am explaining this as an aside here because its going to drive me insane, if you think you know what word I am going for, please let me know. Did I mention that I am trying a new thing where I edit and refine what I say here less so that I actually … say things? yeah.)

Anyway- Martha Stewart Phenomenon: I am not sure if anyone else will remember when she started to really hit the mainstream media, but it was before the internet was a big deal and before we all had computers that could access it in some way. – And honestly, its not just about HER, There are plenty of examples I can give.. and I might.

So here she came with great ideas and all this talent and perfection – I want to say that my first real awareness of her was from Oprah –

(AHA! I think the word I was thinking of is actually paradigm. Though maybe this word doesn’t mean what I think it means either. Meh. )

par·a·digm [par-uh-dahym, -dim]

noun

1.

Grammar .

a. a set of forms all of which contain a particular element, especially the set of all inflected forms based on a single stem or theme.
b. a display in fixed arrangement of such a set, as boy, boy’s, boys, boys’.
2. an example serving as a model; pattern. Synonyms: mold, standard; ideal, paragon, touchstone.
3. a. a framework containing the basic assumptions, ways of thinking, and methodology that are commonly accepted by members of a scientific community.

b. such a cognitive framework shared by members of any discipline or group: the company’s business paradigm.
Right- I was saying – So here she was, and she did everything perfectly. She came up with great ideas. She was a better housekeeper, cook, dishwasher, hostess than anyone else could ever hope to be. It was effortless. It was painted to be effortless. That is what TV does. That is what media does.  Teams of people are paid good money to take perfect pictures and slave away over stoves and food processors and glue guns to make it look perfect.

Pre-Internet, I can remember listening to women  talk about the Martha Stewart phenomenon. How inept they felt because they just couldn’t get the same results.  I often find myself wondering how many women had this sort of issue – Did it start with Good Housekeeping in the 1880’s and just progress to Betty Crocker and then on and on as other forms of technology became the new normal?

We still have this sort of thing going on – one look at Pinterest or all of the perfect Food blogs will show you that we are still bombarded with ‘Perfect’. BUT – I am finding more and more that people are more willing to share their messy bits too.
And I love them for it.  I love them not just for me but for the other women I know who are always trying SO hard and being so hard on themselves.
There is such a sense of comfort when I find a new to me blogger who lays it all out there in their quirky own way.  In the food blogger that shows you the destroyed kitchen behind the mixing bowl that sits to the side of their perfect pile of petit fours. In the baker who sheepishly admits that this is the fourth try at this cake and that for some insane reason their egg whites wouldn’t peak no matter *what* they did.
I promise it is not schadenfreude, but that I am a card carrying member of the messy awry tribe and I love that we are more common than I tend to think, because I am not exactly an island? But I am pretty isolated and I live in my own head entirely too much.

On one hand, I understand swooning over cookbook pictures and magazine photo shoots where everything is always in perfect lighting and neat and clean, where souffles never ever implode, and no one ever ever ever tracks dirt in onto the floor unless (!!!!) it’s an ad for some cleaning gadget or solution. I understand why these sort of things need measured perfection, and I understand the need to strive for that sort of thing. Of course I want to make sugar cookies with perfectly smooth royal icing. Of course I want to make choux pastry, and uncracked pumpkin pie and … Things without flaws or crazy disasters along the way.
The thing is though – that it just isn’t possible in my life sometimes.

I am messy.
My life is messy.
And as you can probably tell – I am not always very graceful. *cough*
(Did I mention that my friends are now referring to Toe as “Toe”? It is no longer “How is YOUR toe?”  It is “How is Toe?” I digress.)
Really what I am saying here – is that I am so GLAD that we are gifted with a way to connect with so many people from other walks of life and backgrounds. I am GLAD that we aren’t confined to the images and life we see on the magazine rack or on Food Network. I am relieved that there are people all over the world willing to show us their unedited side – where they .. you know, break their toes and ugly cry in public.  Where they bravely try to make new things and they don’t always come out right
I am sort of glad for – don’t judge me – reality television.
Because there is an overwhelming sense of relief in figuring out that it isn’t just ME.
(I say this after watching one of the Survivor cast members ramble on and confuse themselves with math. Thats something I would totally do, painkillers or no painkillers.)
I am guessing that it is not only me who finds some sort of comfort in this either.
By the by- Toe is still Toe. Broken and whatnot, but is not currently, to my knowledge, living a life independently of my own and going to wild parties and such. At least I certainly hope not.
 
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Posted by on September 20, 2013 in FAIL, Not Food, Random Rambling, Uncategorized

 

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I’ll probably regret this post – so lets be happy.

Because my painkillers are kicking in.

Anything could happen.

I am very tired of this toe thing and these crutches. Like I keep thinking I am going to wake up and not need them and that my toe will be healed up and back to normal again. I keep having to remind myself that it’s broken, it isn’t a little scrape or something. It makes me feel needy.

Yesterday started out with little dramas, but it turned out pretty awesome and that awesome carried over to today.

So – it was early o’clock, and the kidlet is getting ready for school and I send him out to the bus. Its about 7:15, and I am standing at the window, two feet away while he stands outside the front door. No bus. No bus. No bus. At a quarter of, I call the bus garage and after they put me on hold a while, they tell me that the bus had been here at 7:18 am.This starts a flurry of ..stuff.Because I don’t really believe they were here at 7:18 – he was already outside waiting for them, but in the end it doesn’t matter if I am right or if they are right or if my clock was off.

I had been waiting to take the painkiller – to put it off as long as I could, and intending on taking it and maybe taking a nap or something.
Thats what the meds and my toe want me to do.
They want me to nap.

They want me to take a nap right now, they don’t care what I am doing, or that I am in the middle of a story. We’ll just have to be defiant and keep chatting. So – Nyah, to you toe and meds. Nyah.

Well. So I start trying to contact anyone I know who might not be at work yet. Because – I don’t drive, I think we established this.
Nor do I think I could drive if I did drive, because Toe.

So Toe and I start thinking we are really pathetic and we are really nervous that we wont be able to get the kidlet to school because that day, of all days, the power company was working on infrastructure and were going to be shutting our street off so they could do some kind of work on the lines.  This complicated things because for several hours I would have nothing to do other than read and lay around. I would have to eat my lunch for breakfast before 8am. I would have to make sure I got another cup of coffee made. This would have been okay, this would have been just fine and only slightly horrible – but the thing is, the kidlet missed the bus.

He doesn’t want to read and he doesn’t want to eat lunch before 8am. He wants to stand in front of the fridge with the door open and he wants to play video games or record himself on his computer. He needs and wants to be at school, not laying around in the dark all day in a house with no snacks and no power, with his mom and Mom’s Toe issues.

Oh god. My Toe has a name now and its Toe, and I’ve just started speaking as if it were a separate entity from me.

Can I just blame my painkillers? Can I blame EVERYTHING on them?

You will let it slide right?

Okay, so a friend of mine comes through – she comes down and helps me get the kidlet to school just as his class was going to lunch, and then she makes sure I am fed, medicated and waggles her finger at me for not keeping Toe elevated properly and resting. While this finger waggling is going on – my best friend knocks on my door and gives me Chocolate covered fruits. Because she loves me – and because I am pathetic.
(Did I mention that once kidlet missed the bus – I never got that coffee made and I never managed to eat my lunch for breakfast before the power got turned off?)

I am also someone who has not seen anyone other than Kidlet and Husband and E.R. Staff for weeks, so suddenly being medicated and with finger waggling but sympathetic friends around me bearing gifts was not only surreal,but later made me cry.
You will be relieved – it was not ugly weeping.
I just have a tendency to cry when people are nice to me.
I waited until after they left, they finger waggled when it looked like I’d start sniffling.

Then today – another friend stopped by, bearing coffee and chocolate babka.

It will probably be too long before I see the three of these wonderful ladies again, It is unfortunate but it happens – we just have these long gaps between visits and finger waggling. But their gestures of love and kindness are better medicine than these painkillers any day.

If you need me, Toe and I will be sitting here in a stupor.

 
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Posted by on September 19, 2013 in Not Food, Random Rambling, Uncategorized

 

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Image

Boo, crutches suck.

image

I have large and strange bruises on the underside of my upper arms. My shoulders are ridiculously sore. I feel positively bruised all over. Who knew that a tiny little pinky toe could cause such an avalanche of issues.

Surely other people have done this before – and have managed to be productive somehow. How do you cook with crutches?

I am extremely lucky though, as I’ve had some helpers around me. My husband has been cooking and carrying and delivering things to me.  Being unable to do anything is certainly like getting another shot of humility.  I don’t believe that I will be able to leave the house for quite some time either – if the pain level is any sort of hint, then the waves of brain addling from the meds should be another.

According to fitbit, I have hobbled 93 steps today. Surely it won’t be this bad the entire five weeks?

 

 

 
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Posted by on September 15, 2013 in FAIL, Not Food, Uncategorized

 

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