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.

ETA:
Ingredients!
Filling
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

Crust
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.

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:
Kindle
Laptop
Phone
Shampoo and conditioner
Four bottles of wine
Wine key
Fuzzy sweater
Four pairs of pajama pants
Two pairs of jeans
Toothbrush
Soap
Toilet Paper
Towel
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:
Bikini
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.

CRAP! AGAIN!

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

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

So, I Heard...

You know what I just don't do anymore?

Keep up with current pop culture.

I used to read all the gossip blogs, and look through the magazines... I wanted to know all the things about all the things, and pop culture is actually a large part of urban life. It is what everyone is talking about, all the time.

Out here in Idaho, though? Not so much. Here, the big talk is about Cord taking some 38-year-old woman from Eurasia who spoke NO ENGLISH to the film festival, where they both got so wasted that while crossing the street, one of them barfed and the other peed her pants. Or that Karl is having an affair with a girl who's not even old enough to drink legally, and they aren't even trying to hide it. Or that Luke got into a fistfight at a pastry store over a tiling job. Or that Justin's girlfriend is totally coked out and he is in denial.

It's kind of the same shit as everything you see in the gossip rags, just involving people who aren't as rich, beautiful, or famous. But there is kind of a clear divide between the two, which seems really contrived to me.

I mean, the lives of the rich and famous are generally seen as fodder for public consumption, whereas local gossip is-- well, just that. Gossip. In the derogatory sense. You could argue that celebrity gossip is public domain because these people are public figures, but aren't we all figures in public, in our own domains? What's done in public can be spoken of publicly.

I dunno. I mean, gossip in general is not a savory enterprise. I'm not sure that picking apart every outfit Kim Kardashian wears on the nightly comedy shows is any different than sniping about Lucy and her nip slip at the Mini Mart.

Thoughts?

MIA

Just a note to let you all know I'm at Ye Olde Family Homestead for the next week, so I may be more conspicuously absent than usual.

To sate your slathering for MOAR, I gift you with this rare photo of The Viewmaster.