Caterwauling

I was sort of slap-happy last night as I slapped together my grandmother’s famous fruit salad, but boy did I learn the lesson that it doesn’t matter whether you use all the “right” ingredients. If you use them in the wrong order, something fabulous can turn into something rather ghastly.

Blah.

But do I have the time/resources to redo it? Not so much. As far as I’m concerned, it’s fruit, it’s pasta and it’s Cool Whip. Therefore, it’s edible enough. 😉 But I am sure as hell not taking it to the party it was destined to go to!!!

This culinary adventure sort of loosely puts my life into perspective right now. The dreams and wishes and wants and images are put into your head and your heart for a reason. What you do with them, however, is entirely up to you. Even the bad stuff — lord knows I’ve entertained the occasional homicide scenario in my day.

But it’s how you choose to handle the things that you find when you’re rummaging around in the recesses of your mind — acknowledging that they exist, developing a plan to achieve them and/or simply shooting them down before they have a chance to help (or ruin) you — that’s your job.

And that’s where my mind has been lately. (No, not plotting homicide — perhaps wishing for someone else to do it. … LOL, just kidding!) But it’s been sorting through all of the things that have popped into it, wondering whether my destiny was staring me in the face, daring me to do something about it.

On the other hand, I admit to wondering whether this was one of those random flights of fancy that the Muse likes to toss my way to distract me. You know how the proverbial “they” always say that good things come to you while you’re busy looking the other way? Perhaps, while I was busy looking at something shiny, it was to prepare me for something else.

But the scarier, and probably more-likely, explanation, was that the universe wanted me to take on a new challenge. Of wanting something, plotting to get it and actually getting off my ass to achieve it. Because follow-through is SO not my style.

Well, that’s not true. I did try. A couple of times. Maybe I tried hard, by my own standards. But failure is not a houseguest I’m willing to entertain for long, and I ain’t running no bed-and-breakfast for it, either. It can have the occasional stay, but I’m a bitch of a landlord — no repeat visits, damn it. At least, not too many of them. 😉

But then I went and attempted NOT to try/succeed, and well, I failed at that, too. I’m happy to find new dreams. I just don’t know why certain ones insist on recurring.

I don’t know. None of us will ever achieve greatness by simply setting mundane goals. I have always believed we’ve got to dream big, and we’ll grow into them eventually. And the way life goes for so many of us, we dream small and let our dreams get bigger, incrementally. But when you do it that way, do you ever reach a point where you’re willing to just settle down where you are than fight another day?

I’m never going to stop dreaming and pushing for them to come true, no matter how out-of-reach they are. But I’m scared to let them change too much because there’s still a part of me that says, “Patience, Grasshopper.” Then again, what if too much time goes by and the dream does come true, but I’ve changed too much to want it anymore?

Well, then I guess, in that, I have my answer.

Look, I trust the universe. That’s something I haven’t been able to say for awhile because it always feels like time is running out. And I’m not in that much of a rush, truth be told. If good things come to those who wait, then I’ve got an amazing reward coming my way when it’s ready. And I don’t want it in its less-than-perfect state — let the universe work out all the kinks and I’ll take my fairy-tale ending whenever it’s good and ready.

Just keep reminding me that it’s on its way. That’s all I’m asking.

In any event, I’ll share my recipe behind the fold. The problem is that none of us in my family cook with recipes, so nothing ever turns out the same way twice. And then when you’ve got people like me who never cook, you tend to forget what someone showed you 20 years ago! Read the rest of this entry »

Mom always said things would look better in the morning. I think it’s less that you’ve had some time to live with whatever your situation is and more that, if you’re like me, you can’t think without coffee. And a few moments without thoughts in your head is the greatest peace of all. 😉

All this crap that’s going on in my head, I decided to do something about it. Probably not the “right” thing, but I’m tired of trying to guess just exactly what that happens to be. I just sort of laughed at myself a few minutes ago, realizing that I haven’t acted or felt this much like a teenager since, well, I was a teen. And I eventually realized all that angst was just stupid and useless.

So, too, is all this.

Oh well. It’s my right to go off the deep end once in awhile. Maybe one of these times, I’ll actually learn how to swim to shore a little more quickly!

Today’s plans are so very up in the air. Either my mom is coming to visit, or I am going to go visit a friend out-of-state. In a way, I’m sort of hoping neither one works out, because I would love to either work on the house today or go out and take a class. (It’s 10 a.m. — you’d think I’d have more of a game plan by now.)

I do know I need to figure out something to cook/bake/buy for a par-tay tomorrow. I cannot even tell you whether my stovetop/oven/microwave even work at this point — I’ve never used ’em. 🙂

And because things have gotten ENTIRELY too serious around here lately, let’s move on to more important issues — pop culture!

So is Paris Hilton back in the slammer to stay? I don’t honestly believe that she got such a crappy sentence for driving with a suspended license. Lindsay Lohan can be cracked out in the front seat and she can go check into Hotel Rehab and everything will be forgotten. There are worse people on this earth, doing infinitely worse things, who get off scot-free, and that’s the real travesty.

I admit I don’t feel sorry for the heiress that jail simply didn’t agree with her, but the time to hand the judge a brown paper bag filled with unmarked bills was before she got checked into the prison system, not after. Now, even I want to see her spend 45 days in jail, after she got to escape and go home, however briefly.

Is John Edwards right that her even getting to be sent home was an example of us having “two Americas” (i.e., the rich getting special treatment)? Sure. Why not?

But I thought that with jails being so overcrowded, anyone who can pay their way out of their sentence, well, could. That’s the two Americas of which he speaks. Now, it’s just one big fat fucked-up America, one dedicated seemingly solely to sensationalism, that sponsors today’s message.

Speaking of John, last week in an extensive interview series on CNN about presidential contenders and faith, Soledad O’Brien asked Edwards what the biggest sin he ever committed was. Jeez. I think I’m going to start asking that of people I’m about to hire! 😉 He said something noncommittal about how he’s always conscious of sinning every day, blah blah blah.

I think at least a fun answer to that would have been, “Staring at your cleavage during this whole interview.” Clearly there’s a reason why I will never be able to run for president!

Today’s hor(ror)oscope:

“Bring matters out into the open and make your wishes larger than life. You should note an extra certainty in your hopes and dreams that you should embrace. You are at a climactic point in your yearly cycle, so take advantage of this dynamic time.”

I don’t know how much more I can advertise said “matters,” although it occurs to me that nobody actually knows what I am talking about when I do. heh. I always prided myself on my convoluted blog entries, but apparently the latest batch take the cake.

I do have to take issue with that “extra certainty in your hopes and dreams” bit. I think that’s why I’m so fucking nuts right now. I was convinced that I interpreted the universe’s signs correctly. I’m still convinced of it, truth be told. But when confronted with obstacles, well, I sort of don’t know whether to shit or go sailing. But “things,” I can handle. People, however, not so much. I will sooner step out of the way than make my presence known.

Every day, every thing is such a struggle this week, and I’m so tired of expending energy fighting for the little things that, when the big things are saying “seeya,” all I can really do is wave when maybe it’s that I need to do something drastic.

I said recently that one of my biggest fears is seeing my soulmate with someone else. In tandem with that, I fear giving up absolutely everything and being left standing with nothing. Now, “they” say that the bigger things are worth the bigger risks, but I learned in Las Vegas that the more you bet, the more you can lose if you pick the wrong side.

But at this point, all I can say is that you go on to earn more money and the sting of losing so much starts to fade away eventually. But maybe in my heart of hearts, you hope that Roulette table and that dealer are there when you come back and you’re ready to win it all next time. Even if you thought you were really ready to win big now. …

In one of my various password-protected entries, I’d posited how when a door closes, a window opens. But the real question I’d raised was that, when the door is left ajar, what exactly are you supposed to do?

Prop it open? Go running through it and get your answer right then and there? Wait for it to decide either way? Or run for the hills in the interim?

I chose the third option.

And that swinging door hit me in the ass. Read the rest of this entry »

T sent me an e-mail that had this gem tacked on:

“If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.”

I’m thinking that if I hand you some money today, you might want to take it personally. 😉

Hour eight of my captivity commences, although I’m tired and haven’t achieved enough to REFLECT eight hours’ worth of work. Which means another good four hours to go. Woo. My productivity is shot, people.

My emotions are pretty overwrought, too. It’s because we’re late with one of our monthly products. I swear to God, we missed producing it one month, and my cycle skipped that month. I shit you not. Now it’s a week late, and I’m a week late. The thing comes out a few days early, and I’m early. I give up. I hate the Pill with a passion but at this point, I’m ready to go back on it just to get my fucking cycle in some sort of order again. *bonk*

So, since I’m overemotional and incoherent and just plain fatigued, deal with it. Or move on to another one of the fine blogs listed in the blogroll that I haven’t updated since Jesus was a wee lad.

In any event, I read on a dear friend’s blog today how much he wants to get married, and how he knows EXACTLY WHO he wants that to be. And I can’t tell you how much I admire that certainty. I’m so used to acting (and, in most cases, BEING) fairly disinterested in the “happily ever after.” You don’t want to put your eggs in the proverbial basket only for them to be stomped on. So you just don’t care. It’s not worth it. The less faith you have, the better. Right?

I was talking to one of my buddies the other day, who says he has minimal expectations of the women he dates so that he can be pleasantly surprised if they either don’t piss him off or they actually do something memorable. And I was sort of riled up by that — I said I want to set my expectations high and have them be met. That’s my “low bar,” so to speak. I’m happy to bandage the boo-boo if they hit their head on the bar — it means they’ve risen enough to the occasion to be worthy of it.

I don’t mean to say I’ve been scraping the bottom of the barrel. Far from it. I’m out there trying to find the best. But it’s hard. When I think about it — and I try not to think about it — I can name one person with whom there was an instant connection. And it’s hard to recreate it elsewhere, but it’s worth trying for. It’s good when you have a comparison point, that you know what it feels like to feel good.

“I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child
When one restless summer we found love growing wild
On the banks of the river on a well-beaten path
Funny how those memories they last.”

— Deana Carter, “Strawberry Wine”

But it seems like you have to work at it a lot harder with some than others. Again, no big, as long as everyone’s on board for the time investment. Yet when you’re wondering whether everyone’s on board — yourself included — it’s easy to go, enh. Fuck it. Maybe it will be easier next time. If it’s too hard, then it’s not the “right” thing, right?

It’s weird how I find myself feeling close to people on different levels. Some, it’s the emotional level that clicks. Others, it’s the physical closeness that generates more of an intellectual connection. I don’t rule out anything based on the order in which it happens — I just expect that at some point, it’s all got to fall into place together instead of in succession or in an alternating fashion.

So in seeing how emphatic my friend was that this was the girl, and this is how he wants it to go, I was crying happy tears for him because of course I want him to be happy. But I was also encouraged because I don’t know that anyone’s ever felt that way about me (at least, that I knew about) and I hope that maybe I can come to feel that way about someone someday. Or, maybe to feel it “again” if I already felt it, but if I have to question it, then maybe I didn’t.

“There’s nothing time hasn’t touched
Is it really him or the loss of my innocence
I’ve been missing so much?”

I think one of my biggest fears in life is that someone else will end up with my soulmate. And I often wonder whether said soulmate is out there in the world (whoever it may be), wondering where I am and whether the future will unfold the way he (she? I’m flexible these days!) hopes it will.

I guess I just don’t know what to hope for right now. So I just hope for the wait to be worth it. That’s all a girl can ask for.

I’m just going to slap my photo on a milk carton, and when I wander off into my little sacred space and forget to come back, maybe somebody will come find me. Assuming, of course, I would WANT to be found — at the rate I’m going today, there’s going to be no forwarding address to my happy place. … 😉

All right, who else is as appalled intrigued as I am about the new VH1 series, “Scott Baio is 45 and Single”?

Dude, I MET Scott Baio when I was 8 years old. I got to shake his hand. *swoon*

So here’s what I’m thinking. He’s 45 and single. I’m 33 and desperate looking. I think I should be on the show and marry him, since he was my first crush. (Well, after Fred Rogers, of course, but you know how THAT story ends!)

And since I’ve “known” Scott for 25 years, I think it’s a perfect solution to everyone’s problems. 😉 Although, let’s face it, I’d still be pining for Jon Bon Jovi anyway. …

I hate summer. I don’t care how cold I have my a/c on, I still can’t sleep through the night. And then I got sick sometime during the wee hours, as my mind was working overtime and I believe it manifested itself in other ways. So, I had to get up early today, but that was when I had finally snuck in some Zzzs. In any event, so much for being up and prepared for a morning meeting.

In other news, my younger cat is 4 years old today. I bought cat treats in honor of it — the girls are suspicious, because while they are well-fed with wet Fancy Feast food that’s supplemented with dry kibble every day, I don’t do the treat route. Bad kitties don’t get rewarded. 😉

In fact, since I stopped doling out treats, my elder cat has lost about 7 pounds. (She was pushing 20 before.) Perhaps if I start denying myself some Goddess treats, I might enjoy the same sudden state of being in shape! 🙂

That’s probably why I was sick last night — dinner was a handful of reduced-fat, Zesty Guacamole Pringles and a triple-chocolate Klondike. Either that, or it was writing out that huuugggeee rent check yesterday that reminded me how little money I have to play with when the first pay of the month rolls around. *barf*

At least my problematic new coffee pot brewed a full eight-ounce mug o’ java joy today. I think it knew I needed the equivalent of a hug. And I appreciated it!

So I’ve been needing a new coffeemaker for, like, for-ev-ah. So this weekend, I broke down and bought the red Senseo because, well, it’s red.

I know. My logic? Impeccably convoluted, but always justifiable in my mind.

I’m not sure I’m thrilled with my new bundle o’ java joy. First of all, there are two buttons for it — one for a four-ounce cup of coffee (I could snort that, people. Seriously) and another for an eight-ounce mug. But anytime I fill the water tank to eight ounces, and then hit the button for the, oh, eight-ounce brew, it only heats/uses four ounces. Not getting this.

But I do have to admit that, once every six cups, it will give me a full mug, so it’s moodier than I am. Perhaps I need to stick a Midol in the pod-holder every few cycles to get it in the mood to function again? 😉 You can buy a bigger tank but really, what’s the point?

The expense of buying those stupid pods isn’t something I thought through completely. My yuppie grocery store charges $4.69 for a bag of 16 pods. Which is cheaper than going to Starbucks for a venti dulce de leche latte, so I can’t really complain. But the selection blows.

I was shopping on the Senseo site because I really wanted the Hazelnut Waltz, but you can’t just buy a 16-pack. Oh, no, you have to buy 96 of them for $30. (Or you do the subscription plan for $3 cheaper, but I don’t see the flavored-java option for the auto-ship method.)

This works out, price-wise, but resisting temptation isn’t one of my strong points — I snarf down 96 cups of coffee in a month — especially if the machine keeps pissing out these teeny four-ounce cups at every turn!

I’m also admiring the Irish Creamery flavor, too, as no store seems to carry that, either. I got a sample of the Hazelnut and loved it, but the Irish one is untested at this point. I did try the Vanilla, which is available everywhere, and didn’t go ga-ga over it.

I’d heard reviews that the water never got hot enough with this coffeemaker. I have no complaints about that — the thing is perfect, even if I do have to trip over the cats wander into the kitchen twice as often to get as much brew as I need to be functional before I leave the house.

Now if this isn’t the most boring blog entry ever, clearly I didn’t slack try hard enough. 😉