Thursday, December 29, 2011

Moving Day


I know I haven't been around lately.

I have been busy. Working. Planning. Holidays. Staying alive (Oh, oh, oh, oh, stayin' aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive).

Today, though, I am moving. Moving in. To my new apartment.

I am going to take some after photos, I'm hoping to get them done before I move stuff in, but the sink and shower may not be finished before I start hauling boxes over and cluttering the place up.

I did do a really good job on the remodel, I gotta hand it to myself. And by "good job" I mean my ideas, not really the work, since all I did with my hands was paint. But still. I bought all the shit, I made every decision, I designed shelving, I coordinated colors. I DID IT, YO.

And today, all of my stuff-- my clothes, the kitchen stuff, the bathroom stuff, my books, my photos, my NEW COUCH AND CHAIR OMG, and my bed-- all of it will be moved over. If I am super-productive and maybe have a little bit of luck.

So send a good wish or two my way, think of me, etc., and I will be back, here, very soon.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Daily Om: The Message of Pain

So one of my dear friends (whom I will attribute/link if she so wishes) posted this recently, and it was something I needed to hear. Via the Daily Om.

Both emotional and physical pain are messages that we need to stop and pay attention.

When we feel pain, our first impulse is often to eradicate it with medication. This is an understandable response, but sometimes in our hurry to get rid of pain, we forget that it is the body's way of letting us know that it needs our attention. A headache can inform us that we're hungry or stressed just as a sore throat might be telling us that we need to rest our voice. If we override these messages instead of respond to them, we risk worsening our condition. In addition, we create a feeling of disconnectedness between our minds and our bodies.

Physical pain is not the only kind of pain that lets us know our attention is needed. Emotional pain provides us with valuable information about the state of our psyche, letting us know that we have been affected by something and that we would do well to focus our awareness inward. Just as we tend to a cut on our arm by cleaning and bandaging it, we treat a broken heart by surrounding ourselves with love and support. In both cases, if we listen to our pain we will know what to do to heal ourselves. It's natural to want to resist pain, but once we understand that it is here to give us valuable information, we can relax a bit more, and take a moment to listen before we reach for medication. Sometimes this is enough to noticeably reduce the pain, because its message has been heard. Perhaps we seek to medicate pain because we fear that if we don't, it will never go away. It can be empowering to realize that, at least some of the time, it is just a matter of listening and responding.

The next time you feel pain, either physical or emotional, you might want to try listening to your own intuition about how to relieve your pain. Maybe taking a few deep breaths will put an end to that headache. Perhaps writing in your journal about hurt feelings will ease your heart. Ultimately, the message of pain is all about healing.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Shitshow Kitchen: Mincemeat Handpies, Half-Assed Edition

So I know that I haven't posted a SK post FOREVER, and I miss it. But I haven't had the... whatever it is you need to do that lately. However! I make a mincemeat pie for my friend Tony every year on his birthday. And this year, I made handpies (little portable pies) instead.

3 peeled Granny Smith apples, chopped into 1/4" dice
3 peeled McIntosh apples, chopped into 1/4" dice
1 C golden raisins
1 C currants
3/4 C packed dark brown sugar (5 1/4 ounces)
8 T unsalted butter (1 stick)
1/4 C diced candied orange peel , (optional)
Grated zest and juice from 1 orange
Grated zest and juice from 1 lemon
1 t ground cinnamon
1/2 t ground allspice
1/2 t ground ginger
1/4 t ground cloves
1/4 t salt
1 1/2 C apple cider, plus more as needed
1/3 C rum or brandy

1 1/2 C flour
1 t salt
2 t sugar
12 T (1 1/2 sticks) frozen butter, shaved into small pieces
1/4 cup ice water

I will put in instructions later.

I took ZERO photos of the mincemeat making, which would have been glorious, and ZERO photos of the crust-making. And then I was all, FUCK I DON'T CARE, and took pictures on my PHONE, and DAYUM, Gina! LOOK AT THIS:

Stuffing the pillows
I KNOW. Well, two things: One, they look awesome, two, the filling looks a little like poo. BUT IT IS GOOD. Just a sprinkle of sugar...
Sugar fixes everything
And then they came out of the oven. Oh Lord.
Nommy nommy
They looked PERFECT. Well, except for... that one that got away.
A pastry only a mother could love
 But hey, it wouldn't be a Shitshow without that little guy.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Things I Am Wondering

How much does the guy on Yo Gabba Gabba make? Because you would have to pay me a sizable sum to do the shit he does on that show. And wear that costume.

Why do we feel like alcohol will take our problems away? I mean, they do, temporarily. So I guess there's that. But hangovers are like punishment for making the wrong choice.

Why is it that little boys are so fascinated with trucks and dinosaurs? It is like ABSOLUTELY universal. I mean, some little girls are, too. But dude. My kid LOVES dinosaurs.

How can stress and anxiety in your life actually make you sick? Your MIND can make you sick. That is powerful stuff. I guess it works both ways. I need to write a list of affirmations or some shit.

Why are Chicken McNuggets so TASTY?

When is too much enough?

Where have I been all my life?

Where do all of the socks go?

Friday, December 9, 2011

Doing All the Things

So I should be moved over to the apartment in... well, I'm going to say by December 20th. Right in time for Christmas... yay? The floors will be done on Wednesday, the appliances in late next week, and... then I just have to move my bed and clothes and stuff. So it will be... almost two months exactly since the bomb dropped.

Even though I'm so close, though, for some inexplicable reason, little things are starting to turn into IMPOSSIBLE SITUATIONS. Like, my friend who is a plumber cannot come plumb the line for the gas to the stove until late next week. BUT I WANT TO MOVE NOW. And now that I asked him to do it, and he came to check it out, I feel like I would rather just hire someone to do it and not have to wait. It is worth whatever I have to spend to get out of here. But I also feel bad because he has legit reasons for not doing it IMMEDIATELY TODAY, and that also made me feel guilty, like I am taking advantage of him or something UGH.

I just want it DONE. I don't want to be in limbo. And I know, I have zero furniture. Zero idea of what I am doing. Zero ability to envision the future. But I just want it DONE. So I can start trying to put myself together. Because every time I try to do that now, something happens to tear everything apart again. To make me feel like an interloper in my own life. Like I shouldn't have any hope. Like nothing will ever be OK again.


Maybe I am just being overdramatic because I was sick today and feel like complaining and BLAH. And I read some of my therapy book and OF COURSE I feel like throwing puppies to sharks now. *sigh*

This cheerful note brought to you today by GLOOM AND DOOM.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Monday, December 5, 2011

Sorry, Charlie

Yeah, I deleted that post. The one that showed up in all of your readers and you can't access. Well, I "unpublished" it. Almost the same thing. Anyway, I did it because I was overtired/overemotional/over...drunk? maybe. But it was just a pathetic rant, the kind that you need to let out but you don't really need to let out in the open.

Things are still shitty. But I am going to be OK. Right? I mean, I am, she said, with finality and conviction.

One of my friends is a contractor, and he's charging me only an arm to put in all the flooring, not an arm and a leg. They started today. I got most of the painting done already. The appliances are going to be delivered Sunday.

Except I forgot to get a shower. Whoops. And I keep putting it off, every day I think of it. For no apparent reason. I am sure Guinny understands the whole not-understanding-this-ness of that.

I had to come back early because the wood for the floors came in to the store, and I had to get it into the apartment ASAP for it to "season" or acclimate or some shit. Anyway, it cut my weekend of me time short. I might end up doing it again next weekend; it kind of depends on how this week goes.

I am thankful for all of my friends. Without you, I would not be getting through this. With you, I am surviving.

P.S. Thinking about getting this couch. What say you, friends? I thought I'd ask you since I'm basically picking out a bed for you.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Day One, Part One

Look at me! I took a shower, I am wearing real pants (not pajamas), and I am in a coffeeshop, AKA the Real World. I'm not bawling like a baby in a dark corner somewhere! Also, I am eating the fattiest scone ever conceived by the mind of man and drinking a Monkeytail, which is a 4-shot Mexican mocha.


This is the place I used to go all the time when I was alone in Boise with Charlie, back when he was a tiny little infant. Six months of solitude, that was. Hard.

Anyway. Coming back to Boise is strange. Like I said, I thought that the time I was here without Dust was more like two months until we talked about it a few weeks ago. It was a hazy time. Coming back did give me that familiar feeling of "Me Against the World," though. Which... well, I mean I guess it's better than "Everyone Against Me." Or "Overwhelmed and Unable to Cope."


Anyway, I am going to finish this shit, or at least try to eat some of it, and then go walk around stores for a little bit, until I can be alone with my thoughts again.

Runaway Train

 Tonight, at about 8:00PM, I ran away from home.

I just couldn't do it anymore. I needed a break. I need a break. I can't deal with all of this, all at once, relentlessly. I needed to breath. And I have seen that my emotional fragility is catching my kid's attention, and it is not good for him. He does not need to be breathing the sorrow in through his tiny little lungs.

So I knew I had to be gone. I have had to be gone for a long time now. But I didn't know where to go. I don't have family I can trust, no friends nearby, no options. I finally broke down and called a long-distance friend, who talked me out of going to my mother (out of the frying pan and into the fire, as it were). Then I called a friend who lives in Boise (which is a few hours away), to ask him if he had any ideas. He was all, "What about your condo?"

I totally forgot about that. We have a condo in Boise that is currently unoccupied. This would mean I could have alone time, rest time, no-thinking time, and I could see my friend when I started thinking and worrying and freaking out and needed someone to talk me down from the ledge.

So I called hubby, told him I was leaving, packed a bag and waited for him to come home so I could take him to his mom's car (she's out of town so he can use it), said goodbye to the best kid in the world, and left. The whole thing took about 30 minutes from inspiration to execution.

My return date is supposed to be before Monday at 10:00AM. Because I have to work then.

I didn't take the kid because I love him too much to subject him to myself right now. I can barely take care of myself. I feel like an infant who needs a mother. I love him too much to not choose what is right for him-- which, in this case, is staying with his functional parent for the weekend while the broken one tries to tape herself together with wine and solitude.

Things I packed:

Shampoo and conditioner
Four bottles of wine
Wine key
Fuzzy sweater
Four pairs of pajama pants
Two pairs of jeans
Toilet Paper
Two coconut waters
Two Red Bulls
Air mattress
Two pillows
One blanket

Things I wish I packed:
A cup
An ipod
A utensil for eating
The case of coconut water I set out to take and forgot

Things I probably didn't need to pack but did anyway:
Four clubbing shirts
Clay Matthews jersey
Transformers t-shirt
Two fizzy bath tablets
One bottle of Rombauer Chard
One bottle of La Crema Pinot Noir
Cambozola cheese

And for the record, I was totally fine until I got about three blocks from downtown, at which point I saw all the Christmas decorations and started bawling so hard I couldn't see and became a hazard to myself and others with the blurring of the vision and the driving being mixed.

P.S. Thank you all for your comments and support. The situation is more complicated than my wildly truncated version, but I gave you the salient points from my side. Hubby does not need his balls run over by a train. We have both been unhappy and resentful about a number of things in our marriage, and some sort of crisis was bound to occur. He does need to be happy, and so do I, but I would prefer for him to be happy with me rather than some common whore.

Crap. I did it again. *sigh* It is hard for me to see around her. And not just because her ass is the size of Asia.


You know what? Fuck it. DAMN HER TO HELL.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

There may be a slight delay...

TWELVE DAYS????!?!???!?

I mean, I knew it had been a while, but... well, I'm not gonna lie to you, I thought it was longer than twelve days ago. It feels like aeons, although I don't remember those last two posts, so that should say something.

Bottom line, I have been in the death throes of relationship woes for the last...well, more than a month. And I'm trying to remodel the shithole of an apartment we have over our garage in double time for the last... two weeks? Maybe slightly less? More? Time has no meaning.

Anyway, I am moving out. And thus begins a new chapter. ? I feel like all of my statements should be followed by question marks. Nothing seems certain and everything seems like some mix of nightmare and inevitability.

I guess it was high time I disclosed it. Since all of my friends know. But none of my family. Should I keep it under wraps, this possible dissolution (which hubby insists is just a need for space and time while he sees someone else) of my 12-year relationship (initally I put "marriage", but we weren't married the WHOLE time), or should I just milk it for all it is worth before Christmas and ask for TJ Maxx gift cards to furnish the place?

I am completely lost and hidden in the darkness right now. I was going to wait until my triumphant move into a gorgeous new apartment, but doing all of the gruntwork myself is not only disheartening, in the same way that constructing one's own coffin holds the promise of very outweighed rewards, but also time-consuming and KILLING ME. I know there is improper agreement somewhere there, but I do not care. I do not care about GRAMMAR. This is serious.

Fuck me.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Shitshow Kitchen: Apple Crisp Tart

So today's Shitshow Kitchen is even shittier than usual, in that I wrote down the recipe as I made it and then lost the half-torn envelope I used to make my notes. So the ingredients are done ENTIRELY FROM MY FLAWED AND GOLDFISH-LIKE MEMORY.
APPLES! The fruit that says "Winter is coming, bitches."
Anyway, this was pretty awesome. You can skip the crust part entirely, or you can make the crust and scatter it on top with the crisp part, or you can just do the recipe like I did, and good luck to you. No, seriously, this is super easy. And very autumnal. That kind of makes it sound regal somehow. I LIKE IT! AUTUMNAL APPLE CRISP TART!!

one package graham crackers + three more crackers
4 T melted butter
2 T sugar

6 apples
1/2 C brown sugar
1 T cinnamon

1/2 C oatmeal
1/2 C flour
1/2 C brown sugar
1 t nutmeg
1/2 t cloves
1 t cinnamon
4 T butter

That's about 4 T of melted butter, right? It might be more. I think 4 T is probably right.
Throw the graham crackers and sugar into your food processor.
Where is my point of focus? This photo looks weird.
Whirl it up until it is fine sand, then add the butter and whirl it again.
Mmmm. Refrain from eating all the crumbs! REFRAIN!!
Pat the crumbs into a tart pan with a removable bottom. I start around the edges, then do the bottom, otherwise you end up with nothing left for the sides. I ended up with not really enough, so I revised the ingredients for you to include another few crackers.
Attractive Crust Achievement Unlocked
Put the crust in the fridge (remember the bottom on your pan is removable, so you can't set it ON anything but a completely flat surface, or the bottom will pop out and you will end up with crumbs ALL OVER your fridge, including in ALL of the crevices, and no this totally did not happen to me...). Let it chill while you prepare the rest of the recipe.
This picture is solely to show you that I can take an apple's skin off in ONE long strip, which I think makes me a rock star.
Turn the oven on to 375 degrees. Peel, core, and slice your apples.
Apples in various stages of readiness
I find it easiest to slice them in half, then quarters, then just slice off the core at an angle. I am not sure if that explanation makes sense. See picture for details? Maybe? Anyway, slice them up, then throw them in a bowl.
Spice-dusted, sugar-crusted
Add a tablespoon of cinnamon and the brown sugar to the apples, then mix it just a little by hand to kind of coat them. While you make the crisp, the apples will meld with the sugar and start getting syrupy and delicious. Set them aside and throw all of the crisp ingredients into a bowl.
This is the best part
Cut the butter into the other ingredients using a pastry cutter, a couple of knives, or even just "rubbing" it in with your fingers until there are some largeish clumps but it is fairly well mixed.
I might have added a little more butter. I can't remember. DAMMIT.
 Take the crust out of the fridge and scatter the apples in it evenly.
We are so scattered.
Do the same thing with the crisp topping.
I know, you're probably shocked at the level of difficulty here.
Put it in the oven at 375 degrees for 30-45 minutes. Check it at 30 minutes by stabbing through the crisp near the center. If the apples are mushy, it is good to go. If they are still hard, it needs more time. If the topping gets too dark, throw some foil over it to keep it from further browning.
Let it cool for about ten minutes before you try to take the outer ring of the pan off, or it will fall apart. The crust just needs to set a bit.
I can feel the weight of flavor!!!
If taking it out of the pan does not go well for you, just serve it from the bowls and don't let anyone see the mess. They won't care. You MUST eat this with ice cream, and you MUST eat it warmed.
So effing delicious.
Once again, ladies and gents, you're welcome.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

This is How He Describes "Emo", Bitches

Why do you do it, I say.

Sometimes, he says,
I am opening vents in my skin
Skin too swollen
With the pressure of agony
With the inner points of nails and knives
Skin that needs release
Exposure and purgation
Digging out the offending intangibles
Scraping them off,

Sometimes, he says,
I cannot do
Cannot be
But feeling that pain, I can handle.
Cleaning with alcohol, I can do.
It is easier
To transfer the pain to my body
Where I am strong,
Where I can deal with pain,
No problem.

Sometimes, he says,
I need to validate my heart
Visible signs of an invisible hurt
That I know is truth
That I cannot say with words
Because words are insufficient
And impermanent
And I need to draw it
In red lines
That say a thousand words
Eloquently malingering
I need to say my hurt.

Sometimes, he says,
I deserve it.

He stops, and I let it fall like snow.

But all of these reasons only exist
In that single moment, he says.
All of the other moments are spent
Trying to cover up the shame
Feeling stupid and weak
Hiding under turtlenecks and jeans
Terrified that someone will see
Will question
Will suspect

That I am not strong enough to cope
That there is something wrong
That they will want to help
That they will feel I need help
That they will pass judgment
That I will be lacking
That I will see pity in their eyes
When they look at me.

And I know it is wrong, he says.
I know I shouldn't do it
I know it is the wrong choice,
The wrong way,
The wrong thing to do.
I know it better after I do it.

But in that moment
In every one of the that moments:
It is the only thing.
I do not know anything else.
It is what I do.
It is how I survive.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

More Reasons Not to Sleep Ever Again

Lana Charli, mere moments after birth
So we flew in Friday night, after about 2 weeks of no more than 4 hours sleep a night. We were up until Saturday morning around 6AM, which was 25 hours for me and 27 for Dust. After four hours of sleep, back to the hospital. It was the weekend of even less sleep than I thought possible.

Lana was born Saturday morning via C-section, and was in the NICU for the first 36 hours or so of her life for observation, since her mom is a Type 1 Diabetic and the baby's blood sugars were slightly wonky. If it had been my kid, I would not have settled for anything less than having my baby in my arms immediately, since there was no reason for the ICU except vague and dismissive mentions of "observation."

But it wasn't my kid, and you can't tell someone else how to do it. I just felt so bad for that tiny little baby, hooked up to IVs, no comforting arms in sight. She was all alone on that little table for almost two days. Then they were all, "OK, looks like everything's fine, guess you can take her." So... thanks for nothing, stupidheads. I am glad you covered your ass with the malpractice shit, and made that baby sit in there alone for the first days of her life.

Anyway. It was quite the whirlwind weekend. We're back now, and I'm back to work, and I JUST PICKED UP MY COMPUTER FROM THE SHOP OMG FLAIL and once I install some updates on it I should have it to hold and pet and love forever.

I made Dust pose for this in the airport. His eyes are crazed but I couldn't take another one because the security guard got all pissy about us being inside the ropes or something. The crazed eyes add authenticity.
So today is going to be all about catching up at work, cleaning the house, reading chapter two already (I am not TRYING to put it off, I have just been too tired to read), and then looking for appliances and flooring online.

Me: Gettin' shit done since 1981.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Nurture Sounds Like a Dirty Word

So like I said, I am doing a 12-Step recovery program, and the first step is to learn how to NURTURE yourself and ACCEPT NURTURING from others. Number one, I do not like the way the word "nurture" sounds. Something about it skeeves me. So I am using "TREAT". TREAT YOURSELF! ACCEPT TREATS FROM OTHERS! It is roughly the same.

Anyway, what I was trying to say is that it is difficult. I have lived most of my life caring for everyone but myself. I am literally a victim of self-neglect. I mean, I take showers and dress weather-appropriately, but that is about all of the care I give myself. Apparently this is neither normal nor healthy, and partially as a result of this, I have developed some severe relationship problems in my life.

So I am trying my DAMNDEST to show myself a little love and accept love from others. It is surprisingly difficult. This has attuned me to the fact that I flinch away from touching (even a pat on the back), that I don't accept ANY compliments without qualifying them, that I don't give myself a break EVER... it is strange. It is like suddenly waking up and not knowing who you are. Also, even though I know that this is what I am supposed to be doing, that I am supposed to be focusing on myself and doing things for me and letting other people do things for me, I have literally lived my entire life doing the opposite, and changing it up like this? Not easy.

That said, I did say "I love you, too," the other day, instead of "I love you," which is how I usually respond to someone telling me they love me. Because it is a way of saying I love you without acknowledging that they love me. HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT. WHAT THE HELL. Also, I took a hot shower instead of sweeping the patio, which didn't really need to be swept, but which I was going to do instead of taking a shower, even though I was freezing and just needed to relax. So I consider these two things to be SUPERVICTORIES, and I am treating them as such. Teehee. Treat.

Anyway, here's hoping that this is the beginning of a BOLD A BEAUTIFUL new chapter in my life. As bold as THIS!

Why did I use ugly colors?
But maybe more beautiful. Maybe more like this.
View from my roof.


*Not strangers, though.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Semi-Automatic Bullet List

  • I have had roughly four hours of sleep on average per night for the last week
  • I have lost ten pounds in the same week, even though I stopped exercising because my muscles weren't healing due to lack of sleep
  • Both of these things are stress related, although I am not sad about losing weight
  • This ice cream looks delicious
  • I am supposed to get my computer back today YAAAAAY
  • I got these in the mail (Birthday/Christmas present for hubby) literally 20 minutes ago; I think he will have them before dinnertime even though his birthday is December 1 and Christmas is almost two months away
  • I am impatient, generally
  • I need to buy myself a cup of coffee. FOR REAL
  • I need to get a hair cut
  • Change is scary.
  • Tired.
  • So.
  • Tired.
  • If I get my computer back, I will give you a WHAMBANG post, with no annoying bullets
  • I started a twelve-step recovery program a few days ago. 
  • I am still on step one. 
  • I like to think that I already accomplished step zero, which was acknowledging a problem and starting to fix it, as that means I have ONE DOWN!!
  • Thank the Lord Jesus that it is not for alcohol, because I am not ready for that at all
  • Life is hard

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Halloween Hell-Raisin'

So are any of you dressing up for Halloween this year? There was some talk over on BBP about costumes and parties, and it made me think of last year's Halloween party.

I am not sure if I am willing to put myself through that again.

Apparently we all thought Halloween bringing out the kid in all of us would mean that we'd rebound like highschoolers. No such luck. The aftermath of last year's party included two people in the hospital with alcohol poisoning, one ride home in a police car, two concussions, one broken foot, two people that could not move from bed for three days each, and a hangover that lasted almost a week.

Moral of the story: We are not as young as we used to be. But that won't make us act our age.

This year's party is supposed to be Saturday night. As of right now? I am thinking that a box of wine and a movie sounds like a better idea. Because I like to be classy on Halloween.

If we do end up going, my fallback costume is going to be slicking my hair with gel, putting on my jersey, and going as Clay Matthews. At least that way I won't be falling out of four-inch heels like I was last year. If I can scrounge up some pads and a helmet I'd be even better prepared for the party...

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

No Computer.

I still don't have a computer. It is "in the shop," but might as well be on the moon or nonexistent. There is a Frenchman fixing it (or should I say "fixing" it?) and trying to recover the pictures I took and foolishly saved to my computer instead of leaving on my camera card, which is NEVER full, and does not NEED to be dumped onto my computer all the time.

Hmph. I am not feeling the love today. Maybe because I am trying to eke love out of technology.

Stupid machines. MAKE US DEPEND ON YOU, THEN DESERT US IN OUR HOUR OF NEED. I see how it is.

Anyway, I don't wanna get Carpal Tunnel (is that supposed to be capitalized? Spelled that way?) so I am not posting from my phone. I already have to do ALL THE INTERNET THINGS with it, and my hands are angry.

I hope to see you soon. On my computer. Not my phone.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Shitshow Kitchen: This Bread is Bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!

OK, folks. Please tell me I am not the only one whose bananas seem to turn brown before they are eaten, and then OH DARN, I have to make banana bread with them?
Nasty Banana Tower
I mean, it's possible that I push every other kind of fruit in the house like a dealer in order for the bananas to have time to darken into this mess. Just because I love banana bread THAT much. And when you add bourbon? And chocolate chips? Um... yes please. I will totally eat fruit that way.

Recipe via smittenkitchen

4 large ripe bananas
1/3 C melted butter
3/4 C brown sugar
1 beaten egg
1 t vanilla
1 T bourbon
1 T cinnamon, 1/2 t nutmeg, 1/4 t cloves, 1 t baking soda, pinch of salt
1 1/2 C flour
1 T milk
Optional: 1 C mini chocolate chips, 1 C pecans or walnuts

Turn the oven on to 350°. Grease and flour baking pans OR! use that Baker's Magic spray, which I think is one of the best inventions of the 20th century. Put your bananas in a plastic bag and moosh the shit out of them.
Once again, not really all that hard to do
Put the banana moosh, melted butter, brown sugar, egg, vanilla, and bourbon in a largeish bowl.
Dump and stir, ladies and gents. Dump and stir.
Stir it up with a wooden spoon. I mean, you could probably do this with a mixer on low, but stirring by hand takes about 30 seconds. I am all for shortcuts, but... this helps me to feel as though I could have survived in pioneer days. You'll still have some banana lumps. That is fine.
Mmm, banana soup.
I always just put all the spices, the baking soda, and the salt in a little cup and give them a little stir before I add them so they're uniform.
The secret ingredients!
If you're not HUGE on spices, you could just use the cinnamon, but the other ones really put this over the top. Just sprinkle the spice mix on top of the banana soup and stir 'em in.
It's like ART! Edible ART.
When you've gotten it pretty incorporated, add the vanilla and bourbon. I did not have bourbon, of course, because when have I ever been prepared for ANYTHING? So I used rum, which is a perfectly acceptable substitution. Vodka is not. Brandy? Maybe. After you stir that up, add the flour.
Almost done. Already. ALMOST!
When the flour is all mixed in, add the tablespoon of milk. When you've stirred that in, you can add anything else your little heart desires. I picked mini chocolate chips and walnuts. MMMM!
The best part. BEST!
Pour into your pans. I usually do mini loaves so I can give them away.
You are going to want to eat me soon. SOON!
Bake for 50 minutes to one hour for regular loves, about 30 minutes for small ones, or until a toothpick jabbed into the middle comes out with just some crumbs on it. They will look pretty brown on top, but not burnt. Basically, you want them set and stuff.
REFRAIN from eating it directly out of the oven. You will BURN yourself.
Cool in the pan on a rack for 15-20 minutes. If you try to take it out right away, you will be screwed ten ways from Sunday, because it will not come out in one piece and you will be left with Banana Mess. Tasty banana mess, but not really what you were planning. After about 20 minutes you can pop those babies out and enjoy.
I gave these away and everyone loves me now.
You can eat it plain or slathered in butter. I will leave that decision to you. If you're planning on gifting them, though, you better do it NOW, or you will slowly rationalize yourself into eating every single last crumb all by yourself. Which is fine... you can just make more.
Bow down before me. I am fruit, apotheosized.

Friday, October 21, 2011


OK, so here is the deal. I have had cramps that feel like fucking labor contractions for the past THREE WEEKS. And I didn't know what it could be, but I suspected possibly a hernia (because I've been lifting weights and pulled something not too long ago) or an ectopic pregnancy. Because my mind immediately goes to the worst case scenario. And although I never go to the doctor, last week I caved and scheduled an appointment.

Then the pain started getting worse, to the point that I wanted to stab my ladyparts and carve out my uterus with a sawsall. Or, conversely, if it was a hernia, wanted to rip out my intestines and beat the everliving fuck out of them. So the pain, combined with my overactive imagination and general stress, gave me so much anxiety that I couldn't sleep. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and just lie there, thinking about all of the things I wanted to do before I died. Feeling my abdomen to make sure my intestines hadn't hardened up and died. Weighing the benefits of going to the ER vs. the cost of going to the ER.

So after too many sleepless nights, too much pain, and lying awake until 8AM when the walk-in clinic opened, I went to the doctor the day before my scheduled appointment. Victory: me, because I paid $160 at the clinic instead of $630 at the ER. I do feel good about that.

Unfortunately, the doc told me I have an ovarian cyst. There are NONE OF THE THINGS to do about it except possible surgery, unless I can get the motherfucker to go away before Monday. You best be believin' I'm doing everything short of literally punching myself in the ovaries to avoid surgery. Actually, I totally did punch myself in the ovaries. Because I am simultaneously that hardcore and frightened like a child that I may have to go under the knife.

I am going to make this motherfucker go away. One way or another.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Unexpected Email from My Dad that Made My Day, in Its Entirety

There was something I forgot to say to you as I am thinking about you now. I want to thank you for all the wonderful, caring and loving memories you gave me as you grew up before my eyes- I love to think about you- you are still my favorite thing to think about- and what a tapestry of richness it is- from you dancing with the puppy dog at our first place in Moline to your ice show, your love of playing 'can you go up,up,up' with me, your laugh, your never tiring interest in books of any kind- your hugs, your smiles, the sound of your voice, just being able to open the door and look at you as you slept- looking like an angel or a princess- and what a feeling of happiness and peace and love it gave me.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

"I Hate to Tell You This, But..."

Don't you HATE when someone starts out with that phrase?

"I hate to say it, but..."

There are endless iterations of it, too. "I hate to be THAT GUY, but..." "I hate to point this out, but..." "I hate to rain on your parade, but..." "I hate to disagree, but..."

IF YOU HATE IT, THEN DON'T DO IT. THAT SIMPLE. Also, guess what? Everyone else hates it when you do that, too. Not just you! How about we make EVERYONE happy and you just keep that little comment to yourself?

It is NEVER "I hate to say it, but your hair looks absolutely gorgeous today!"
"I hate to be THAT GUY, but I really want to buy you a drink."

These kind of people should just say LOVE instead of hate, and it would all make more sense.

"I LOVE to disagree: YOU ARE WRONG."
I LOVE to rain on parades: YOU WILL FAIL."

It would all be more honest that way. And the patronizing condescension they manage to pack into that "but" makes me want to stab them.

I hate to tell you this, but you're not fooling anyone, BITCHES.

My whole point, though, was that I hate to tell you this, but my computer is still on the fritz. (TAKE A NOTE, THIS IS THE CORRECT USAGE OF "I HATE TO TELL YOU THIS." I actually DO hate saying this, because it is TRUE AND AWFUL.)

Not only that, but my phone is about to take its last dying gasp, too. Why are phones that cost $600 only good for an average of 1.5 years? JUST long enough to crap out before your contract is up? I think we all know the answer to that little rhetorical question. Anyway, so my phone sucks and freezes up a bajillionty times if I try to access the internet. It is a smart phone grown dumb. Maybe it has Alzheimer's, and is reckoning back to the Golden Age of the Telephone, when all it did was make calls.

Regardless. I thank you all for sticking with me through thick and thin over here. And, as always, I PROMISE I WILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!*

*probability of fulfillment: 1 in 10000000000000000

Monday, October 17, 2011

Word of the Day

Fungible : Able to be turned into a fungus.

You'd better use those peppers soon; they are fungible and will be covered in mold if they sit in the fridge too long.

Friday, October 14, 2011


How can I think of a new blog post when I can't even think of a new Facebook status?

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Shitshow Kitchen: The Best Roast Chicken EVAR (plus Bonus Garlic Mashed Potatoes)

I know what you are thinking. Roast chicken? Um, that seems like A.) alot of work, and 2.) impossible for me to make without screwing it over. Well, THINK AGAIN. This is so ridiculously easy that if it didn't involve chopping some stuff, handling raw chicken, and using an oven, a child could do it. OK, that was a really bad comparison. A child would cut off their hands, get salmonella, and light themselves on fire making this. But YOU will be fine. And it is SO EFFING DELICIOUS. It takes almost NO time to throw together, and the end result is perfect, every time. The chicken recipe is lifted wholesale from Ina Garten, who is my favorite.
You can tell this is healthy, because there are alot of veggies. And fruit.
INGERDIENTES! (How did that even happen right there. Well, you know what I mean.)

1 (5 to 6 pound) whole chicken
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 large bunch fresh thyme
1 lemon, halved
1 head garlic, cut in half crosswise
1/4 C butter (half a stick)
1 large yellow onion, thickly sliced
4 carrots cut into 2-inch chunks
1 bulb of fennel, tops removed, and cut into wedges
Olive oil
4 Yukon Gold potatoes
5 cloves garlic
1/4 C milk
3 T butter

If you are making this meal right away, then preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Usually, I get this chopped/buttered/together in the morning, then put foil over the whole thing, throw it in the fridge, and put it in the oven an hour and a half before I want to serve it. Make sure your oven racks are on the lowest levels, or you will not have room for the chicken and you'll have to finagle them while they're smoking hot and your chicken is ready and you will undoubtedly burn yourself.
This is how we core the fennel, core the fennel, core the fennel
I do the veggies first. Chop them very roughly, into big chunks. Make sure you remove the fronds and the root-y type area from the fennel bulb first. And if you have never had fennel, you are MISSING OUT, DUDE. It is the Best Roast Veggie Evar.
Mmm. huge ol' chunks of fennel. These are going to be my favorite part.
Anyway, chop 'em all up, throw 'em in a roasting pan.
This was super easy but did require a knife so a three-year-old technically can't do it. YOU ARE SO ADULT!
Drizzle a little olive oil over the whole thing, then sprinkle it with a teaspoon or so of kosher salt and some pepper. Scatter about a third of your thyme branches over the veggies. THE VEGETABLES ARE READY. I know, so easy! So easy I can do it!
We are also pretty. Very, very, pretty. But not smart.
The chicken is slightly more difficult, but just barely. Take the giblets out of the cavity, then rinse the whole chicken, inside and out. If there are random chunks of skin or whatever, remove them so it looks like a chicken is supposed to look, not like Frankenstein. Make sure you kind of give it a once-over for any big feather quills that might have been missed.
Naked chicken!! It's NAKED!
Salt and pepper the inside of the chicken, then stuff the garlic and lemon inside with the thyme. Truss the leg bones (tie them together with string or do what I do, poke holes in the skin by the legs and pop each drumstick into the opposite side's skin. It works just as well, and doesn't leave the minty tang that dental floss does). Flip the wing tips under the body, then put the chicken on top of the veggies. I like to put the chicken on a rack over the vegetables, but I don't think it is necessary. Melt half a stick of butter in the microwave and pour the melted butter over the chicken, trying to coat all of the skin. The excess will go on the veggies which is totally fine. Salt and pepper it, then either put foil over the whole thing and put it in the fridge for later, or throw it in the oven.
It already looks good.
After you put the chicken in the oven, peel a few potatoes and a few cloves of garlic.
Yukon Gold, baby
Chop the potato roughly and put them with the whole cloves into a pot.
Tasty makers
Cover the potatoes with water, cover the pot, and put it on medium heat when the chicken's been in the oven for about 30 minutes. In the meantime, throw a few tablespoons of butter, a little splash of milk, and some thyme (not the branches, just the leaves) into a mixing bowl.
Fat fatty fat fat
When the potatoes mush apart when you push on them with a fork, they are ready-- it should be right around the time you pull out the chicken, which has to rest 20 minutes anyway. Drain them and throw them in the bowl. I know you're not supposed to do mashed potatoes this way, but eff that. They come out absolutely gorgeous and it is way easier than doing it by hand. Mix them on low just until everything comes together. You might need a dash more milk to make them the right consistency.
These are parfait, and I did nothing fussy to them.
Roast the chicken for 75-90 minutes at 425, or until the juices run clear when you cut between a leg and thigh. It is possible that the chicken will be done after an hour-- this happened to me. Just take the chicken out, tent it with foil, and keep roasting the veggies for another 20 minutes or so. You should let the chicken sit for 20 minutes anyway, since it will do something sciency to help the meat retain its juices. Plus, you can drain off the juices from the veggies at this point and make gravy. Nom.
And there you have it, folks. Mashed potatoes. Veggies. Beautiful brown chicken. Gravy if you made it (juice from the pan, fat skimmed off, little bit of flour and butter, some milk/water, whisk it over high heat, BAM). EASY PEASY LEMON SQUEEZY.