For Real.

Somedays I sit, starin out the window
Watchin this world pass me by
Sometimes I think, there's nothin to live for
I almost break down and cry
Sometimes I think I'm crazy; I'm crazy, oh so crazy!!
Why am I here? Am I just wastin my time?!
But then I see my baby, suddenly I'm not crazy!!
It all makes sense when I look into her eyes

Cause sometimes it feels like the world's on my shoulders
Everyone's leanin on me
Cause sometimes it feels like the world's almost over
But then she comes back to me

My baby girl, keeps gettin older
I watch her grow up with pride
People make jokes, cause they don't understand me
They just don't see my real side
I act like shit don't phase me; inside it drives me crazy!!
My insecurities could eat me alive
But then I see my baby, suddenly I'm not crazy!!
It all makes sense when I look into her eyes

The Best Part

OK. What is your favorite thing about fall? Otherwise known as autumn? Otherwise known as those brief weeks between late summer and early winter?

Our side gate

It is just about fall here right now. That is my hands-down ABSOLUTE favorite time of the year. I love the leaves turning colors, the weather getting cooler, the jeans and sweaters, the football games (!!), the pumpkin carving, the costume-buying, the smell in the air, the firewood stacking by the fireplace, the nutmeg/cinnamon/mace/cloves everywhere, the apples, the brisk walks, the cozy blankets.

I am in love with this tree.

Everything. We have a flame maple outside that is positively burning up, one branch at a time, and every time I duck under it a part of my heart finds peace.

The broom is not going to sweep the courtyard itself...

So. Your favorites of fall. Go.

Hermit Crab

So, I am not sure if any of you have ever dealt with... well, I will call it "self-help shit" for lack of a better term. You know what I'm talking about-- dealing with demons, facing fears, cleaning closets. That kind of shit.

But if you have.

MOTHERFUCKING WHAT. I mean, how do you deal with it? It is exhausting and draining and... well, more than anything for me, apparently, it is enraging. I mean, I'm doing the baby stepping. I'm not a slacker!

But to me, all of this sifting through feelings and emotions and wading through personal history and... shit... is shit. I get so effing ANGRY every time I try to step forward. Even though I know that what is best for me is dealing with this shit so I don't have to feel broken and fucked up and shitty (I know, I know, I'm not, but that is how I feel, regardless, and anything you say is not going to change that, only going through this process will, and LOOK HOW GOOD my brain knows these things, WHY can my... rest of me... not catch up!!).

Anyway. That is why I have not been around as much. Because I am trying to deal, and I'm not talking about cards. I'm trying to chill, and I'm not talking about A/C. I'm trying to be a rock, and I'm not talking about AC/DC. HAHAHAHA see what I did there?

OK. So I'm still me. But... yeah. It is not the most fun I've ever had in my life.

Shitshow Kitchen: WIIIIIINES CAKE

This recipe came from my hubby's grandma. They called it Wine Cake and didn't add the spices. I call it WIIIIIINES Cake, and spice it up a little. Even I did not mess this up significantly. First, your ingredients!

1 box yellow cake mix
1 box vanilla pudding
3/4 C sherry
3/4 C vegetable oil
4 eggs
1 t nutmeg
1/2 t mace
1/4 t cloves
powdered sugar for dusting

This cake is basically the easiest thing to make ever, on the planet. And yes, it uses box mixes. Fuck it. You know, I can make a cake from scratch, but sometimes it is nice to have something you can throw together in five minutes.

Look at all of those prepackaged ingredients. That means this is easy and also bad for you.

So here is what you do. Preheat the oven to 350F. Grease and flour your bundt pan. YES, I said BUNDT pan. That is the circle with the hole in the middle. If you do not have a bundt pan, borrow one from your mother or mother-in-law or old neighbor lady. These things used to be the shit.

I AM THE SHIT (if this was the 1970s)

Also, I cheated and didn't grease/flour. I just used that Baker's Joy spray stuff, because otherwise the flour might show up on the cake. You don't frost this one, so aesthetics are important. YES, I said aesthetics are important. I know, it might be some sort of record.

OK, moving on. Could I be more long-winded? Eff.

DUMP ALL THE THINGS IN A MIXING BOWL. Unfortunately I only had olive oil, so I used that. Let us see if it ruins all the things.

All the things!

Mix it for a second on low to so you don't spray it all over. Then turn it to high for three minutes.

Velvety smooth. Don't eat all of it yet.

Somehow, I forgot the spices. Because I am special like that. So I put them in last. You really don't need all of it-- the nutmeg is essential, but I think the other stuff adds a little somethings special.

How did I do it wrong when all I had to do was dump everything in and mix.

Pour it into the pan.

How easy was that.

Put it on the center rack of the oven and SET THE TIMER for 35 minutes. Do not forget the timer, people. Take it out of the oven and put the pan on a rack for five minutes.

This smells so effing good.

Don't worry if it looks craggy. This is the bottom.

The crevasses are tasty, too.

After five minutes, invert the pan onto another rack or a plate.

Bam, bitches

Cool it all the way, then sprinkle with powdered sugar. I use a tea strainer for that, but a strainer or sifter would work, too.

I feel prettyyyyy, oh so pretttyyyyy!

EAT THE WHOLE THING.

YUM, FOR REAL.

Seriously, it will be hard not to eat it all immediately. It is best if you make this when you are having people over, or if you have to take something to the office. Because not only will everyone love you, but you won't eat the whole thing yourself.

Look at that. It was like the easiest thing EVAR, and it is delicioso. Way to go, you. Take the rest of the day off.

This is two hours after I cut the first piece.

Another success.

A Snapshot of my Photobucket, Part Three

Make a Run for the Border

I am 100% unashamed to admit that one of my absolute most favorite foods on the entire planet of Earth is a Crunchy Supreme Taco from Taco Bell.

I have never had one with this many tomatoes.

I KNOW! The wafer-thin taco shell! The indistinguishable "beef product," spiced just enough to remind you of enchilada sauce that you know it is supposed to be an American interpretation of Mexican food. The cursory shreds of nutritionally-vacuous iceberg lettuce! The strangely dusty shreds of American cheese (oh the irony!)! The slathering of sour cream, the four morsels of pale pink tomato! Not to mention the rusty orange trail of grease that snakes down your arms, pooling in the bottom of the tortilla shell if it is not devoured within exactly 2.5 minutes of manufacture! And the vaguely vinegary HOT SAUCE, squeezed out of little foil packets onto the taco as you drive down the road!

Holy mother of mercy. These things are so incredibly delicious that I think my salivary glands are going to malfunction if I don't get a stick of gum or something. Hang on.

OK. So for real, though. Taco bell Crunchy Supreme tacos. When I go to the drive through, I order more of them than most deem appropriate. I remember the first time I went there with my then-boyfriend, now-husband. He asked me what I wanted, and I paused for a second before saying, "Um, I guess... six crunchy supreme tacos." And his eyes bugged out from his head a little bit, and he said "WHAT." And I said, "Yeah, no, better make it eight." This was massively cut back from the number I wanted to say, which probably would have given him a straight-up coronary on the spot, and that would have been the end of that relationship.

This is what they actually look like. NOMNOMNOM GET IN MY MOUTH

I try, now, never to order more than four. Well, OK, five. And usually I will try to get someone else in the car to order more than they actually want, "Because you never know if you're going to be extra hungry, and what if we are ten miles down the road and all you want is one more taco, and we can't come back? It's only $1.29. It's worth it to get an extra just in case." And then I take their extra one, because OF COURSE they didn't want another one, most people can't even stomach three of these things.

I don't know, maybe my stomach is made of iron, a little bit. Something about those tasty little morsels calls to me, though. Whenever I go to a town that has a Taco Bell, I make a belabored point of getting my tacos.

SO! Tomorrow, we are going to Twin Falls, the city that is home to the nearest Target. It is about 70 miles away, or something. I am not good with distances. It takes a little over an hour to get there. BUT! There is a Taco Bell in Twin.

Tomorrow, however, is going to be a sad day. I am still on this CUNTPUNTER of a diet, so I can't eat six tacos with a combined caloric content of 13409283325098, 4250923458 of those calories from saturated fat. So I am driving OVER AN HOUR to a place that I visit maybe FOUR TIMES A YEAR, and I am MISSING my chance to gorge myself on tacos.

I am almost literally depressed about this. I am literally sad. Like, I kind of don't want to go, just because I don't want to have to drive by the Taco Bell without stopping. It is going to be all I can think of tomorrow.

FUCKING FUCK GUEWIOFHW:?IGH WOIGHWEGF"OIHFUCK.

I had better be smoking hot by Christmas, or my Christmas present to myself is going to be a 24-pack. Of tacos.

Thanks to Google, I found this. I am torn between horror and understanding.

Haiku for You

Tangled, mutely snagged
Running in tight figure eights
Worsening the mess

Wading through deep shit
Bargeloads of roiling, hot filth
Looking for a rope

There's no easy way
To take the sting out of it
To pretend it's fine

Instead, let's just breath
Through our mouths, not our noses
Heads over water

The alternative
Is not attractive. So we
Will swim. We won't sink.

Things That Overwhelm Me

The sensation of being overwhelmed is not necessarily a bad one. You can be overwhelmed with joy, with happiness, with pleasure, with excitement.

Then again, you can be overwhelmed with pressure, fear, stress, anxiety, and hunger.

I am slightly hungry right now, but not nearly enough for status overwhelmed.

I am, however, a touch overwhelmed with the things going on in my life right now. If by "things going on in my life" I mean emotional baggage I have been carrying around for absolute ages that is starting to get too heavy. Like, if I was flying, they would make me pay $100 to check it. Which, I guess, means that it is over 50 pounds, and when I think about it that way, it doesn't seem like much. I mean, I can lift 50 pounds easily. Carrying it around all the time might get... cumbersome. But it's not like it would be impossible.

Sometimes, labels overwhelm me. Naming things with such definitiveness, when it is possible-- no, probable!-- that there is more to it than one multi-syllabic label. I mean, look at the ingredients on the back of your Gatorade. I am more complex than that. I am not one label.

It is easy to be overwhelmed by a label, too, though. Whether it's "dyslexia" or "Prada". One for one reason, one for another. That's why we have names, not labels.

You can call me Overwhelmed.

Resolved!

So you know how people make New Year's resolutions, then never keep them? The gym is all crowded for two weeks, the liquor stores are desolate, cigarette sales go down, and there's not an empty pew in church? Then two weeks in, everything is back to the status quo.

I think maybe part of it might be the timing. You are asking people not to drink or smoke or eat greasy burgers and instead to go to the gym and church the morning on which they wake up with their worst hangover of the year. Also, it is the dead of winter, and the Super Bowl is right around the corner. Please. That would be like trying to fast on Thanksgiving Day.

OK, so here is the thing. Right now? We have a solid month (slightly more, actually) before Thanksgiving. It is the end of summer but not yet snow-clogged, depressing winter. And what you really need is ONE solid month of unbroken resolution. ONE month. If you can do it for 30 days, chances are you can do it almost forever. Unless "it" is not breathing. Wait, no, that totally works. If "it" is... running a marathon a day, you would definitely die, though, and not be able to keep it up.

I am getting sidetracked. MY POINT IS! Now is the time, ladies and gents. The hour is upon us. Make haste. YEA! MAKE HASTE!

Where did that come from. It must be really late.

MY RESOLUTION: To make no resolutions, because all I do is break them.

How Well Do You Know Me

So I got two catalogs in the mail today. The first one was this one:

For all of your horsemanship needs... down there

And the second one was this one.

For all of your clothing needs. Ever. Period.

Which one is intended for me, and which one was addressed to the Barber lady who occupied this space three years ago?

Good Stuff, BITCHES

What do you think of the cursory addition of the epithet "Bitches" to off-the-cuff statements, highlighting the badassery of the speaker?

I just got back from the gym, and I ran five miles, BITCHES.
That Sichuan pepper went down like a peapod, BITCHES.
I just nailed that test, BITCHES.
I walked to the hospital in a blizzard with a broken leg, carrying my grandma on my BACK, BITCHES.

The thing is, usually, if you have done something badass enough, there is no reason to tack on BITCHES at the end. Shouldn't your statement stand for itself? You ran five miles! You ate a fucking hot pepper! You nailed a test! You... well, I think that last one was just a bald-faced lie. But still. Point being, do we need to call someone our bitch to be badass? If that's the deal, we should be able to use it with regular ol' stuff, and it will still lend badassery to our deed.

I just got back from the knitting circle, and I purled my scarf, BITCHES.
That applesauce went down like water, BITCHES.
I just failed that test, BITCHES.
I lied about my grandma, BITCHES.

Hm. Maybe it does kind of work. I guess you learn something new every day.

BITCHES.

WINING

I am wining but also whining tonight.

The wining was the 7-bottle blind tasting we held at our house. It was so much freaking fun. One person picks 12 bottles, a third party wraps 6 of them, then we go through them, one through six, and when we're done, we unveil them, starting with the acknowledged worst one.

In past tastings, we've had $8 bottles beat out $75 bottles. It's strange, everyone generally comes to a consensus on the ordering of the wines. There are usually a few that we love, a couple we like, and maybe one or two clear losers. Tonight was mind-blowing as usual, as hubby's favorite wine placed fifth, and I recognized two of my favorites by taste and was RIGHT, FUCK YEAH.

So. I highly recommend double-blind tastings.

Secondly, I just wanted to whine a little bit. Because I did.

WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE.

OK, now I am going to finish watching Kung Fu Panda with the kid and go to sleep.

Bonus! Picture I took at the grocery store as it was starting to rain and the smoke was rising from a fire out Indian Creek that a lightning bolt started. It's going to be smoky all up in this valley for a few days.

Beautiful.

Goodnight!

Name That Tune #9

If Today Had a Theme

AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuughaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

So Polite.

I could bore you to death by going over all of the chores and health-type shit I did today, but instead, I will gift you with Charlie's current favorite story. It is a true story, and none of the names or places have been altered to protect anyone's identities.

Charlie's Current Favorite Story, as told by Charlie

Showing Clifford the view

Once upon a time, there was a Mama and her Charlie. They were riding on a BIG BIG AIRPLANE. And they were going from Wisconsin where Grandma Mary lives all the way to Hailey. So Mama and Charlie are on the plane. And Mama hears a rumbly sound, and she turns to Charlie and she says, "What was that noise?"

(This is the part where Charlie can hardly keep a straight face, because he knows what is coming. It takes a few seconds for him to compose himself and continue.)

And Charlie yells, "EXCUSE ME I FARTED!!!!!!!!"

(That is the part where Charlie dissolves into giggles. He leaves out the part about how everyone on the packed flight looked around shiftily and edged away from us.)

And they all lived happily ever after the end.

Modern Family and McDonalds

1. Modern Family is one of the best shows I have seen in recent history. It is hilarious, all of the people are beautiful (especially Sophia Vergara, who is worth watching any amount of any show for a mere glimpse).

I told you. I KNOW!!!! SHE IS SO GORGEOUS.

And let's be honest, we watch television to forget our own problems, to laugh at those of others, and to ogle beautiful people. What makes this one rise above, though, is its ability to renew your faith in human nature. The way that it makes your heart glow with love. It is a family that is neurotic, hot-tempered, at-odds, and under siege, that still makes it all come together in the end because they love each other. A modern-day fairytale.

2. McDonalds
WHY IS THE FOOD SO CHEAP WHEN IT IS SO FUCKING BAD FOR YOU. WHY, I ASK YOU. Also, there is a Chicken McNugget shaped like America. That was not a mistake. The mere SMELL of the Happy Meal wafting to my nose from the back seat of the car makes me want to jump ship and just wallow in fries and nuggets and paper-thin burgers until I can't wallow anymore because my chins are impeding the movement of my belly rolls.

Game Day Roundup

Today is the first game of the year for me. Boise State kicks off at the Georgia Dome in three hours, and I am just hoping they don't get their tight little blue-clad asses handed to them.

The Broncos are down three men, no reason forthcoming for the suspensions (although there are some who suspect that the players' Dutch citizenship may have something to do with the NCAA eligibility requirements).  Coach Pete is, as usual, playing his cards close to the vest, so we're all just hoping that Kellan "Fingerguns" Moore will mesh well with the players replacing Pettis and Young, the two standout receivers that graduated last year.

I gotta admit, I'm nervous about the game. And the season in general. New conference, new players, Moore's last year. And this game is basically the big one-- if it isn't a hard-won victory on the side of BSU, the rest of the season won't matter as much.

Thursday is The Big Game, though, the first NFL game of the year, and it just so happens to be a Packers/Saints game. BOOYA.

Sidenote: Googling Clay Matthews, the first suggestion was "Clay Matthews Girlfriend". Fry eyes, women of America. Fry. Eyes.

Drunk Post #1

Not that this is going to be some sort of repeat occurrence. I am just saying, it took me three tries to even get here, and one of those tries involved typing this address into the tab bar.

There are few times that I allow myself to intoxicate anymore, and apparently September 2 is one of them.

I think it was the fact that I worked my muscles to exhaustion doing that thing I won't talk about (that is not sex you dirty people) and then I didn't have alot of food. Because it is intake and output, people. IT IS SCIENCE.

I am so killing this thing day one. I had innumerable temptations, too. And I stuck to my guns. Or my dietary restrictions. Guns sounds more badass so let's go with that.

Also!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Um... I forget. I think I was going to say something about Bon Jovi or Celine Dion, whose concerts I watched tonight on screens as big as a wall at my friend Dave's house.

YOU GIVE LOOOOOVE A BAD NAME

OOOOOOOOH WE'RE HALFWAY THERE
OOOOOOOOOOH LIVIN' ON A PRAAAAAAYER
TAKE MY HAND
WE'LL MAKE IT I SWEAAAAAAAAR
OOOOOOOOOOOOOH LIVIN' ON A PRAAAAYER

And I forget the rest.

Don't you wish you were here with me. The Eagles are next... I feel "Life's Been Good" coming on.

Work It, Baby

So this is how I usually try to lose weight.

1. Plan some sort of diet when none of my clothes are fitting.
2. Get sick of waiting for all of my diet planning to be done, set a date.
3. Miss deadline for starting.
4. Start the next day.
5. Workout so vigorously that I can barely tie my shoes.
6. Tell everyone about my new workout/diet program later that day.
7. Never workout again, eat pizza that night.

So I was going to come in here and complain about how I almost died today lifting for the first time in a YEAR, and how hard core I am for being a motherfucking champion beast when it comes to losing weight, but that does not seem to have worked out so well for me in the past.

Instead I am just going to say that I am bodily tired. That driving was nearly hazardous, as lifting my leg off of the gas pedal required near-Herculean effort. And that if I do end up not posting for the next few days, the most likely explanation is that I died and the Lunges were the ones that killed me.