Foodathon: It begins!

Last night, we started the actual cooking.  Luiz expressed his desire to really be involved with the baking this year, so he can feel like he's giving out gifts, too.  He loves all our friends and family, and really wants to contribute.  It was sweet, and boy was he handy!  Irv always helps, he's getting to be better in the kitchen than I am, but to have both guys working dilligently at my side really sped things up.

We started with making one test batch of lemon cookies.  I used a new soft sugar cookie recipe, and it was my idea to add lemon essence instead of vanilla, a splash of lemon juice, and roll the cookies in lemony sugar. When I made the first batch, I boggled at the quantity of butter (sure as shit, I predicted it.  4 lbs of butter is NOT going to be enough) but they came out so amazingly good, rich and lightly fragranced with lemon...they are definitely going to be my go-to sugar cookie recipe, and maybe competing with the molasses cookies as my top favorites. They're not so lemony that I even want to call them lemon cookies. They're a subtle buttery sugar cookie with a vague lemon aroma.

Awesome.  Batch 1 of the lemon cookies.  That's the homemade Kahlua in the back.

While those were going, we made all the rum balls. I made and chilled the dough, and the guys rolled, rolled, and rolled...and rolled...and rolled.  These are a no-bake easy as hell crowd pleaser, and I don't think I could have a Christmas without rum balls.

Check out that flurry of motion!

Somewhere in the middle of that, I whipped up the Kahlua, so it'll mellow before I give it out as gifts.  We get a bottle of it every year from the neighbors, and we love it so much, I did some research and figured out how to do it myself.  It's pretty well received by the drinkers among us.  We do homemade Baileys too, but I decided against it this year.  As far as booze goes, at some point, I want to get into infusing liqueurs, and maybe doing some lemoncello in the future.  It's fun.

At this point, I was hitting a wall, but still had some energy left...so we did all the chocolate chip M&M cookies.  Didn't get a pic of them in progress, because I was really stumbling through, but they went fast with the help, and came out excellent.

Those are all done!

I didn't anticipate getting those done, but since they're an annual favorite, making them is like clockwork.  Cue faceplant. I didn't even have the energy to upload the pics, or update this blog.

Tonight, we're doing the fudge, and the other two batches of cookies.  Then, we *should* be all done baking.  Tomorrow, once the fudge is set up, we'll assemble, or we'll start.  If we have extra time tonight, I want to make a batch of macaroons, maybe if they come out awesome enough, I'll throw some in to the buckets.

Ups and Downs

I've been stressing a bit.  I've got bronchitis, and I have zero energy, but I've got this cookie thing to do, and Aunt Lynne's food.  I've been taking care of myself, and trying to rest and store up energy for the bursts it takes for marathon baking/shopping/cooking.  All I really want to do is sleep, though.

I had a bad dream last night, that paired this whole Gawker thing with my cookie stress.  I dreamt that someone hacked into some database on my machine and stole my Triple Ginger Molasses cookie recipe, and that was the only incarnation of said recipe ever. Which is total bullshit, because I have a few copies printed, there's a similar recipe available online that's like mine but with tweaks.  But, in my dream, I logged on using DOS of all things, and accessed my special secret recipe storage, and it was gone, and I knew it was because I'd been "Gawker'd".  Disturbing, because that's my favorite cookie, and I limit myself to making them over the holidays only.  So, something I've been looking forward to for a year got taken away from me, by some scary phantom internet war that I got caught in the crossfire of.

The Gawker thing upset me more than I let on, I think.  I was one of the lucky bunch that had my password and email exposed, and even though I don't use the same password for many things, I used to use one simple pass for all my forum accounts and social stuff.  One for more important stuff, like online shopping, and another even more elaborate one for innernet banking.  Now, I use a program called KeePass, and have like 10 different passwords, all with 15+ characters.  Having my email out there on Piratebay, and my old basic password exposed left me with such a strange feeling.  Like when we had out house broken into, essentially.  My FB account was hacked into immediately, and my Amazon account showed weird stuff.  Everything's fixed and restored now.  There was nothing major, but it's like if someone broke into your house, and just moved shit around.  Drank a beer, ate some leftovers.  You feel somewhat violated, and really questioning "security".  Like, my door locks aren't enough, but thank god they didn't take the TV.  This will be the 4th time this year that my identity was somehow tampered with.  It's been a shitty year as far as that goes. My iTunes account got hacked, and some asshole bought a bunch of shitty pop and hip hop music, to the tune of almost $400.  I stopped all the charges, but I had fees to pay for all the stop-payments.  Then my debit card got compromised twice in a month, once online and once in a store.  Now this. It's enough to make anyone a little paranoid.  

Enough bitching.  Yesterday was an incredibly good day.  I slept very poorly the night before last, and was feeling gross in the morning.  Initially, I wasn't going to go out, but it was Luiz's and my Wednesday, and we had plans.  He was sweet about it, not pressuring me to go out, like we'd planned, but I dragged myself out, just because I'd promised.  I'm so glad I did. We had a lovely morning, and got loads accomplished.  After we got home, Alden's progress report came in the mail...and he's getting As and Bs!  For the first time since like...second grade!  I seriously wept tears of joy.  I showed him, and he cried too.  We all had a crying, snotty hug fest in the kitchen.  It was awesome.  Hopefully he'll remember how overcome he was, and I was, and the guys were, and keep up the momentum.  I was exhausted by evening, but I was on a roll, and started with the baking.  Got way more done than I planned, then crashed into sleep before midnight.  It was a great day.

Foodathon: Shopping

It's done...ish.  Tomorrow we're going to the huge discount liquor store, to get rum for the kahlua and rumballs, but otherwise, we *seem* to be done.  I have to say seem, because you know, it's never accurate.  Inevitably, I will have forgotten some piddly thing, or miscalculated.

The final list of stuff going into buckets:
Chocolate chip M&M cookies
Triple Ginger Molasses cookies
*Soft lemon sugar cookies
Rum balls
*Cappuccino fudge
Cookies and Cream fudge

Homemade Kahlua to a lucky few

*new recipes for this year.  The lemon cookies are standing in for the snickerdoodles, and the cappuccino fudge is standing in for the amaretto and rocky road.

I wanted to also include coconut macaroons, dipped in chocolate, but Irv is hesitant, he thinks lots of people hate coconut.  He's silly.  I'm making one batch anyway, even if I eat them all myself.

So, the shopping haul looks like this:

15 lbs of flour
10 lbs of sugar
12 cans condensed milk
16 lbs of chocolate chips
6 lbs of white chocolate
6 lbs brown sugar
6 jars of molasses
3 lbs of lemons
3 lbs confectioner's sugar
6 boxes of vanilla wafers
4 lbs holiday colored m&ms
4 lbs butter (I know we're gonna run out. I really just know it)
36 eggs
1 gallon of rum
3 lbs raw sugar
misc. amounts of various extracts, powdered ginger, fresh ginger, candied ginger, dark cocoa, espresso powder, regular instant coffee, nutmeg, cinnamon, corn syrup

Also:  27 large and small tins and buckets
500 sheets of white tissue paper
2 rolls of parchment
6 cookie sheets
6 cooling racks
miles and miles of plastic wrap

Should be fun.

Tomorrow, if luck and all that shit is on my side, I will start making doughs.  Tomorrow night is one batch of each dough, just to make sure everything's going well.  I might make up the rum balls all together tomorrow, if time permits.  They need to hang out for a week to mellow.  If time *really* permits, I'll do all the chocolate chip cookies tomorrow.

Jasper's all like "get your shit out of my bed, this sucks"

That was a quick picture, of all of it gathered together in the living room. You don't see most of it, because it's hidden in the bags alongside the cube.  Irv brought more stuff in after I took the pic.  

Foodathon: Meh

Finalized making what I call "the kit" which is really a stapled together booklet of lists and recipes.  I do it with every great cooking feat, planning for parties, multicourse dinners, etc.

Top page is a shopping/ingredient list, this way, I can look at a glance and see that for the four kinds of cookies all require flour, how much etc.  Also on the first page is a final list of what I'm making, exactly.  Second page is a list of how many buckets and who they're going to.  The rest of the packet is the recipes.  Now I have a master list to cook and shop from.  By the end of the holidays, it's normally crusted over with molasses, egg, and sugar.  I still have the ones I used from previous years, but I'm making some changes this year, so I made a whole new thing.

We cleaned out the corner baking cabinet, and began organizing the box.  During the baking session, I keep a huge rubbermaid box in the center of the kitchen holding all my baking supplies, for efficiency's sake.  Nothing halts a good flow like having to hunt for something. I hate that shit, so before I even start, I go through the house hunting up the baking powder, ground ginger, sugars, flour, extracts and toss everything in the box. Really saves time.

Now I have to put together my big shopping list, find all my cookie sheets and cooling racks, buy the gift containers, parchment, and wrapping supplies.

This almost didn't happen today.  I feel like I'm coming down with bronchitis.  I feel mildly shiteous today, but overall I'm fine, if it gets any worse, I'm going to have to postpone or cancel Foodathon all together.

Last Malodor, I promise

So, today I got to see the last girl, Jeanie, and she's still on the Malodor panel, too.  According to her, Jeff said there she made a lot of small mistakes, but now that she knows what to do, she can continue improving and working on things.  Crazy, right?  I make one good mistake, and maybe a few other tiny discrepancies, but nothing Jian or Nima would bat an eyeball at, and I get cut.  He said to Christine that they'd be cutting a lot of people after the new year, and screening for more, which is a minor comfort, if it's true.  Chris said she'd keep me posted.

I think this is still in my mind, because I really felt like my data was good, even if the panel wasn't exactly my favorite thing.  I am really wondering how can I have perfect results in dose, his words-not mine, damn good results in taste (even the smelling part of taste, if that makes sense) and still bomb this enough that I was the only one that got kicked off. Did he go on raw data?  Was he going on longterm data, or just last Tuesday's test? Did he go on some other trend or observation?  I hate this not knowing why feeling.  I hate the feeling of really trying, and coming up short, with no real explanation.

This is fertile ground for the whatifs.  What if he just didn't like me?  What if it was some other reason?  What if he glossed over my mistakes, and I well and truly shitted it up?   Then there's the sense of discomfort I felt moving around people.  Being fat, edging down a hallway moving in and about 4 postage stamp sized rooms with nine other women at the same time, made me really uncomfortable, but I stuck with it, overcoming my awkwardness.  My solution was simply to hang back, and let everyone go ahead of me, so I was most assuredly not blocking anyone or in anyone's way.  What if he observed that, and was like "this girl is a clumsy mess."  Because I felt like a clumsy mess, trying to dodge and weave, and still do my actual job.  Being judged on something besides my raw numbers is enough to send me spinning back to middle school anxiety.

Now that that's all off my chest, I'm going to move on from this. I have a lot of unanswered questions, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter.  I'm going to keep my ear to the ground, to see if any more panels come up, like blotters, flavor, skin, or diffusivity.  I still feel like, in spite of this, I'm good at my job, and I still have a lot to offer.

Bad Fit

So, Malodor.  It's over.  Had the one on one interview, today.  The pure "malodor" and the pure "not malodor" jars both came up a little wonky, and by a little, I mean maybe a 6-10 point spread (out of a possible hundred), for my data accuracy.  Of the 24 entries, I could only see one that was really erroneous, and three were sort of off.  I don't think it was an enormous discrepancy, but it was the big screening, and I didn't nail it, period.  With him showing me that, and leaning on how WAY OFF those few things were, while only glancing over my (from what I saw) fairly accurate other entries, I think he was just looking for a reason to cut me.  I think he doesn't realize that because of all the feedback and data analyzing we do on Jian's panel, that I know how to read it probably as well as he does.  He only let me view the raw numbers for a minute, pointing out quickly "this, this, this, this, see here, this thing, and this" and talking fast, using jargon.  Only, I know the jargon, and I can read super fast.

He alluded to the fact that Nima just sort of crammed a bunch of us into the panel before she took off for Loreal, and now he was stuck with sorting us out.  It was crystal clear that there were way too many of us on the panel. Hell, he didn't allude, he said that directly.  It feels political, and I feel like the four of us were sort of used as pawns.  Nima told us, before we left, to really stick it to Jeff if we can.  Jeff's said repeatedly, "if anything went wrong, it's obviously because of Nima."  Animosity much?  Frankly, I dislike both of them, and the less Jeff the better. He's still my boss on Dose, but he's never around for that.

If Maureen and Christine were both perfect, and mine was even a little off, I can see why he'd shed me.  I think Jeanie got cut too, for the same reason.  I feel like it was a bad fit all around.  I complained earlier.  The only thing I'm sad about is the money.  It would have been nice, at least to have it through Christmas break, then do the screening stuff after the new year.  I still have my two regular panels, though Dose and Taste.  Overall, I'm not upset, but the few minutes walking through the building after the meeting, back to the rest of the panel was a little anxious, like having to go back to a group and say "well, it was nice working with you, briefly, I'm not on this panel anymore, so seeya' round" After I walked out the door into the parking lot, everything was entirely fine.  One nice thing was, during the interview, he was like "it's strange, because your data for Dose is dead on. Like, your stuff looks like the control. It's perfect."  So...whatever.  Politics.

On the very far upside, I have my Wednesdays back, and losing them for a month really made me appreciate having a day off, midweek.  It was more important than I'd initially thought, as a day to spend where both Luiz and I have off, together, the one day we can spend with each other alone, normally.  Also, a day to get personal things done.  Or not, sometimes, as any mother/wife knows "weekends" are about the craziest time, so Wednesdays are my quiet mid-week break, in lieu of a real weekend.

WoW Post: Musing on Character Shuffling

So, Cataclysm is in effect, joy.  I've got a dilemma, though.  I have three characters on Twisting Nether, and since the time of our departure, the server has gone from a 2:1 to a 4:1 Horde:Alliance ratio.  On a PvP server, this is disastrous.  I attempted to play some of the new 80+ areas, today, on my 80 hunter, Arachnae. It was a sea of Horde, and maybe 10 Alliance.  I couldn't click anything, do anything, go anywhere, without getting murdered, accidentally or on purpose. The numbers were just so unbalanced.  I'm not exaggerating, by the way, I have screenshots of Ara swimming in a sea of red.  It's almost scary.

Shadow Council is my "new" home, and it's not a PvP server.  I have some choices here.  Choice one, continue on with my main characters there, and try to get them as well geared as the TN "big 3" meaning, Ara, Dawna, and Una.  Hunter, pally and druid, respectively.  Those three are equipped head to toe in purples, but judging by the stuff in the new areas, it more than doubles the stats of the old "epix" so, like with every expansion, stepping in to the new stuff means overhauling all your gear and starting fresh.  My SC chars are well...struggling.  I have one 80, my poor long suffering mage.  Her name used to be Gossamer, she was on AD from around retail, where I got her to 60.  Then I moved her to TN, when Burning Crusade came out, and got her to 70.  Then, when LK came out, I moved her to SC, and just recently got her to 80.  She goes through phases of "I'm doing ok, I have some good gear, and I can hold my own in a fight" to "omg, I just stepped out of the door and I'm dead."  But with just a bit of preservereance, I can get her well geared, I think.  Soloing as a mage is a study in agony, though, when you're gimped.  Then I have my paladin and hunter on SC, and they're 71 and 61, and again, with a little dedication, they can be 80 and moving into the new stuff in a decent amount of time.  I already created my druid worgen, to play the new content, from level one, and I'm really looking forward to that (or a priest.  Still on the fence, but I definitely want to heal).

The second choice is, immediate gratification.  I could transfer one of the "big 3" over to SC, which is a much better environment, and have one of my "old mains" on my new server.  It would cost money, which I'm saving, and would duplicate one of the character classes that's already there.  As in, if I move TN Ara over, with all her awesomeness, why bother to keep playing SC Ara?  I'd probably delete her, and have just the one high level hunter.

Playing on TN is no longer really an option, I don't think. Not right now, at least.  Someone said over General, that the ratio might swing back in favor of Alliance with the Worgen influx, but right now, it's a sad state of affairs.  It's sad, because the last vestiges of OOH are over there, in spirit.  There's still a "guild bank" and we have a guild name, and tabards.

As I mull it over, I think I am going to go do some general account maintenance, and maybe check out the new profession.

Foodathon: More prep. The hidden stuff.

I was just informed, just a few minutes ago, that "we absolutely HAVE GOT to clean out the baking cabinet in the kitchen, as well as the pantry, before we EVEN THINK of cooking a THING."

Well.  Okay then.

I admit, it's pretty bad.  I cleaned out the pantry solo, last time, though, in a fit of ire.  I spent four hours digging and flinging, sweeping and tidying, while Irv, Luiz, and Alden stood around trying to be "helpful".  I refused to do it solo again, and am leaving it up to someone else to take the initiative.  The baking cabinet, however, is a real fucking mess, and I know for sure that there's at least three open bags of brown sugar lurking in there, so it's a priority.

I think I might actually blog the Christmas Foodathon, this year.

Every year, I do a lot of baking and candymaking for Christmas, to give out as gifts.  I decided a long time ago, that a bucket of fudge and cookies goes a long way giftwise, and it's a lot more appreciated than yet-another-candle or yet-another-ugly-picture frame.  So far, I think it's true.  I get a lot of compliments, and I truly enjoy the whole act of planning, shopping, and cooking.  The BIG cooking gift is for my Aunt Lynne, and her brother Bryant.  She works long hours, and he's in ill health, and they have lots of money, and they're about the hardest people to shop for in the universe.  I make them about a months's worth of meals packaged  individually in heat and serve portions.  I try to get all their favorites together, plus a few new things.  All of this truly is a labor of love.

So, because I think it's a whole interesting process that genrally takes up my whole month, I plan to discuss,  and document it here with words as well as photos.

It's December 6, and my progress so far:  Listing everyone getting a bucket, this year. Or, starting to, at least.  There's 24 people on my list, down from 36 last year. I know some people aren't around, or whatever, but I've added a handful of new families, and I am absolutely sure I'm still missing some.  This is why I make half a dozen unlabeled buckets. Unexpected guests, people I've forgotten.

Figuring out what to include in the bucket.  What cookies are absolute "musts" every year, and what would be a nice change of pace.  Absolute musts include: Chocolate chip M&M, Triple Ginger Molasses, and some sort of sugar cookie.  Last year, it was snickerdoodles, this year, perhaps I want a sparkly lemony sugar cookie.  Also, the fudge.  Cookies and Cream is the big one, everyone's favorite. Last year we had rocky road and amaretto, along with the cookies and cream.

New stuff for this year:  I found a coconut macaroon recipe that's got like 4 ingredients, and it looks so delicious and easy.  Kicking around two new flavors of fudge, too.  Definitely going to do something with mocha/espresso/cappuccino flavors.  Currently, I'm crowdsourcing, too, to see what would be more popular, cheesecake or peanut butter fudge swirled with chocolate.

I haven't even started thinking about Aunt Lynne's stuff yet. That's going to start with an email, to them, seeing what they want.

So, from here on out, any posts about this annual undertaking are going to be headed with "Foodathon"

Asheron's Call (subtitle: Don't bother reading this, no one cares but me)

I got bit by some weird nostalgia bug, yesterday.  I could chalk it up to drinking, but I really wasn't.  I think I just needed a taste of old times, or something.  AC was my first MMO, well before ever discovering World of Warcraft.  I began playing for one reason only, and that was to mess with my friend ArtEChoke.  I was buddies with him and a guy called Shralp on an old forum for (of all things) Baldur's Gate players.  Arte was anti any interpersonal relationships online, so Shralp and I decided that I would make a sexy female by the name of Eye Vannah, and attempt to flirt with him.  I have no recollection as to how that turned out, because I failed at flirting across the board, and the minute I stepped into that game, all my cynicism was gone.  Till then, my attitude was "I will NEVER pay a monthly fee to play a game, when there's hundreds of awesome games out there that don't charge."

Long story short, that kicked off a pretty serious habit.  Addiction.  AC was the first ever game that featured in my dreams. I still even remember some of the dreams. That period of my life was both rather beautiful, bitter, and ugly at the same time.  Irv hated that I played, so I wouldn't even log on till he was asleep, around 11 at night, and I sank into it with joy because at the time, he and I weren't getting along too well, there was so much RL stress, unrelated to the game.  I really needed that escape.  I rarely played during the day, because I was going to college at the time, and it was during Alden's infant/toddler-hood, so I was extremely busy trying to get through school and motherhood.  I was doing it on 3 hours of sleep a night.  I'd play from 11 till 3 or 4, then get up at 7 am, and do the mommy thing.  It was pure hell, to function every day, but I got straight A's, didn't shirk any real life duties, and managed not to piss anyone off.  But that time in game...it was my first MMO! It was so filled with wonder, and such a great social outlet. I made so many friends, plus Arte, Shralp and I had become inseparable, all sworn to a patron, who became something of a father figure to me, in game, and taught us everything there was to know, a guy who called himself Bruce the Darkknight.  He was a good dude.  Lived in Fl. and took really good care of his vassals.  I made loads of game friends, Flaming Tiger, Itself, Aelwin, Cepolgara, Fiery Lady, Gordon, Okami Wolfpack, Kissel, Seven Birds, Mina, Ace, KO Kid, and my own adoring vassals, Lance, Ex, and many whose names I've forgotten.  Then later, my little brother Chris joined me, and that just really made my whole game.  I've never experienced such joy in a game, as when playing with him.  Helping him get his cottage, bequeathing him my armor, and my quirky "first one in, last one out" playing style, rescuing him, teaching him, getting him into trouble, bailing him out.  I really wish he joined us in WoW, back when he was younger.  That would have been so nice.

WoW had some "golden years" for sure, but AC left such an indelible mark.  I had to go back and play, a little.  It doesn't suck.  I signed up for the free trial, with a new account.  Fresh, new char.  I canceled the minute I signed up, so that when the free trial is over, I won't be charged, and I have a solid two weeks to play.  WoW is still my main game, I guess.  The mechanics of AC seem downright prehistoric, in comparison.  I'm learning, though, that user friendliness and sweet graphics do not a game make.  Comparing WoW to AC, WoW is by far way more shallow, and borrows heavily from established concepts and ideas.  AC...totally original.  No elves or dwarves, or silly dragons.  More like living shadows, zombies, and broken dollbabies, walking lightning, big metal giants, demons, tropical islands filled with exotic birds and apes, aliens, huge walking mushrooms, tribes of lizard men, towering pilliars of deadly and prismatic diamond golems, and just tons of bizarre races. It borders on sci-fi.  There's no happy quest givers, with little symbols over their heads urging you to pick 7 flowers, and kill 12 tigers. You want to go on a quest in AC?  Go running through the woods, stumble across an abandoned logging camp with a crumpled note in a backpack, seek out the writer of the note, find him dead in a basement three towns over, and go from there.  AC is complex.  AC is *hard*.

There's very few players, these days.  Out of sheer goofiness, I added lots of my old friends, to my list, in the off change that one will log on.  We used to joke that Bruce would endure, even when Turbine had long since lost interest in maintaining the game.  He's not there anymore, I guess.  No one is.  Wintersebb, my old server, is a total ghost town.  I got to level 20, and went to visit my old haunt, the lovely Sho town of Hebian-to.  It was completely empty.  Heb was my favorite trade center, and hangout, besides our mansion lawn.  I went back to my old lifestone, which was a gathering place, and a large pretty blue rotating crystal.    I would joke about it, that had a dent the shape of Vannah's ass, because I spent so much time sitting on top of it chatting.  Dancing, fooling around, playing with the toys in the game, scheming, resting, venting.  We staged a mock wedding, for Flaming Tiger and I, with a bunch of dudes in purple dresses as my bridesmaids.  It was touching and hilarious. My patron/sugar daddy "gave me away", there were fireworks, the whole thing was on top of a stunningly beautiful waterfall, and at the end of the ceremony, we all dove off and killed ourselves.  Like, over fifty formally dressed corpses piled in the water, all at once.

To go back to that lifestone, where most of my great game memories are, and see absolutely no one there, made tears prick my eyes a little. I don't even know why.  It was just so weird, I could almost feel people's presences.

I have to write about it, because no one, literally no one understands.  When I let slip that I was back playing, Irv had an "are you fucking kidding me?" sort of attitude, which I expect, because he was always a little bitter about it.  I could write to Shralp about it, but he wasn't as emotionally invested, as I was, I don't think. He quit pretty early on, and so did Arte.  I keep mumbling to Luiz about it, but he doesn't understand, and gets tired of hearing me go on, in my own language about people he's never met, and a game he's never played.  I understand, though.  He loves to go on and on about his old school days, and all the games and stuff he would play with his brothers, and I try to listen attentively, but after a certain point, he loses me. Still, I get the importance of being able to walk that memory lane.  I think I'm writing this as a similar outlet.

Oh, you poor kid.

It seems like every day, I feel bad for Alden, for some reason.  Lately, he's been bringing it on himself.  I do feel bad for him today, as he sniffled and snuffled through getting dressed in his work clothes, to go do leaf cleanups with Irv and Luiz.

He had it fairly easy, this morning.  He was supposed to go with them anyway, that was part of the deal, surrounding this report card.  They felt bad, because it's rather cold today, and left him at home.  Well, he started in on his bullshit early.  He wanted to go visit a friend of his, and hassled me about it.  Every time he'd say her name, I would say "chores."  Then he'd come back with some smart answer.  Something like "I KNOW!" or, "I'm ALMOST DONE!"  with a huge 'tude.  I shrug.  I know he's being kind of a little shit, but whatever, he's not going anywhere.  Kendra, his friend, wasn't going to be home till after 2, anyway, so no rush,  We watched a movie together this morning, and I had him helping me tidy up the house (with more fucking 'tude).  It's kind of a slippery slope, with his mouthing off. I ignore it, and he gets worse and worse.  Well...Irv and Luiz come home for lunch and he turns the mouth on Irv.  Irv does not ignore it.

I got a call from his teacher, Thursday, and among other things, she said that he was mouthing off to her, which really surprised me.  It really is a slippery slope, with him and his mouth. He gets away with it to his grandmother, then he talks shit to me and Luiz, and we mostly ignore him...then he butts heads with his father.  Irv's like, major league.  Alden bitches at him, and now the kid is freezing, crying,  ass deep in leaves.

To make a long story short, Alden went from having a warm and peaceful morning, with him helping me idly around the house in between reading his book and watching a movie, anticipating going to see Kendra...to getting press-ganged into going out in the cold windy weather and do leaf cleanups with the men, all hopes of hanging out with his ladyfriend out the window.

I do feel bad, in a way, but what are ya gonna do? As he was weeping, and putting on his layers, I said "this could have been prevented, you know.  It's pretty simple.  Someone asks you do kindly do something, and you do it.  Without the blast-off commentary.  Then, we'll do nice things for you.  Without any bullshit."

Something stinks in Mal-odor.

One thing I noticed about my old blog, that I fail to do here, is daily little notes.  It's a good way to get me writing, and think about stuff.


So, all the complaining about Mal-odor panel, and maybe it was all for no reason.

Jeff the dude that runs the panel, took us four new panelists aside and said "ok, this is your last panel, next week come in on Tuesday at 11:30, and we'll get together and do some screening.  Then, when the data comes back from that, I'll call you, we'll meet again, and go from there.  But as of right now, today is your last day doing this."  What the fuck?  Ok, so we get tossed into a panel, with no training, screening, or orientation, aside from a 30 second "this-is-what-it's-all-about-follow-along-with-everyone-else" extremely rushed battlefield peptalk in the hall on the way in to our first day...and we've been asking every day "how's our data?  Will we get some sort of orientation?"  With nothing but vague answers...  Well, NOW we get the screening after doing this 3 days a week for a month straight...and now he doesn't even think we're good enough?  Fucking hello?  No training?  No ANYTHING?  We've been in the dark for a month, struggling along grilling the other panelists for a "how to" some feedback, are we doing this right, ANYTHING.  And now we're not good enough?  Boss Jeff is new.  Something tells me that he doesn't know shit about shit.

Imagine, going to your first day of work.  Your boss points down a hallway, says "your office is down there, good luck".  And...that's it.  In a month, when you finally found your place, learned what the nature of your job is, exactly, and are maybe just beginning to get the hang of things, in spite of many power outages, computer screwups, freakish scheduling, and nasty colleagues...NOW they say "well, you're not going to make the cut, probably, but we'll train you anyway."  Boggling.

I really like the money, but I also kind of like having my Wednesdays off.  In the grand scheme of things, I don't mind dropping it.  The first two weeks, when we were really struggling, I thought I would anyway, just to spare my own embarrassment and the sanity of the existing panelists.  But, it really bugs me how it's being handled.

Here's hoping this turns into one of those bitchfests, for no reason, and we screen well, and get to rejoin the panel.  Shit, the way I feel right now, if that happened, I might just drop it to be a jerk.

A WoW post? All the way out here?!

My old blog, Epiphany was rife with them, in later days (starting around fall 2004, when I started playing, in fact) and starting this one, I thought to myself "at least I won't be blogging about World of Warcraft all the time, I am so done with it!"

I am so not.

Ran the guild for five great years.  Quit for months, the guild came apart with a fizzle, and then one day, I decided to play again.  Solo.  Or, more importantly, with Alden.  That was near the end of last year, and I've been steady since.  Solo, though. No guild, no schedules, no raiding, no social obligations, no chatting.  Just me, and occasionally Luiz, and when Alden's allowed to play I love guiding him around.  No real fever for the game anymore, just idle clicky time when nothing's going on.  A few hours a week, if that.

The third expansion is coming out in less than a week.  They're fixing everything about the early game, and adding a bunch of stuff.  The fever is back.  I've been playing whenever I get a chance, and feel enthusiastic about logging on.  All the old stuff I loved, the idea of questing, leveling, and being self-sufficient, has been examined and updated.  Last two expansions focused on end-game high level stuff, not geared towards casual players. This update is for me.

I'm still not joining a guild.  I play this game with eleventy billion people, like it's a single player.  It was kind of awesome to run a guild filled with friends, old and new.... but it took up every spare minute of my time, and the game drama...oh the in game drama, it always became real life drama.  All the scheduling, the arranging, the worrying about game stuff, then maintaining the site, and the cost of upkeep.  For five years, WoW wasn't one of my hobbies, it was my hobby.  It's kind of awesome now to not have that obligation.  I do miss the "good old days" sometimes, mostly when I'm lonely in game, drinking, with no one to talk to.

It's nice to look back over my playing style and levels of addiction over the years, from the manic "seek help" Asheron's Call days around 1999, where I'd play for eight hours straight, and sleep two hours a night. (because I'd never cut into family time...I would just play like a junkie after everyone went to sleep), to my "I hate mmos" phase, to my now casual "I can play AND have a life" phase.  It's nice.



Postscript:  Holy shit, I am such a flaky creature of habit.  I just clicked on Epiphany, to use the link up there, and the very last post, almost two years ago to the day, is about WoW, and it sounds almost identical to this one.  I am such a bizarre creature of habit.  I almost deleted this in one fell swoop, out of embarrassment (to who, myself, of course!) but I mentioned it laughing, to Luiz, and he was like "you better not delete it"  So, I'm leaving it.  I guess I need a mental check every two years, along the lines of "I am a thirty-something year old woman, and I play video games, habitually, and I am okay."  Maybe I ought to make this a theme.  Every two years, do a state of the union post about my life and gaming.  Riveting.  I'm rolling my own eyes, at myself.  I need to get new material, or something.

So! Important!

So, I started another panel, a few weeks ago.  Just to keep up to date, now I have Monday and Friday's Dose Response, Tuesday and Thursday are Taste, and now Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, Research and Development Mal-odor.  It went from "manicure money" to an official job.  I'm there five days a week.  That's not what this is about, really. I mean, even though I'm about to bitch on the small scale, I really love it, and the money is outstanding.

I've been doing Taste for a few years, and just picked up Dose last January.  Both of those involve a group of panelists, but both are way more "individual" than  Mal-odor.  Like, if I show up late for Taste, I get a "look" from our boss Jian, but I won't ruin anyone's whole damn day.  So, it's my (maybe bad) habit to show up a la minute.

Mal-odor is a whole other ballpark, I'm discovering. It doesn't really have to be, but the mentality with that group is really different.  I've been trying to figure out why, and I saw it today, I think.  It's been an ill fit, with the three of us that are "new" for starters.  The group has been together for years, and are the cattiest panel there, as far as I'm concerned.  There's a lot of backhanded girl-snark, which is sort of a change for me.  This panel already challenges my social anxieties, by forcing me to work with a group.  To explain exactly how would take a lot of space describing minutia, but in other panels, I sniff or taste, and rank on a computer or on a piece of paper, in Mal-odor, it's fundamentally the same, only we go in a hallway lined with small rooms, as a group, and the subjects that we're smelling are distributed throughout the rooms, and instead of being stationary at a computer, it involves running up and down a hallway in a choreographed dance.  It's weird, and involves a lot of bumping into each other, waiting in line, apologizing, holding others up, trying not to...

Ok, that's still not what I came here to bitch about, I mean, that's one element that I'm forcing myself to deal with, but the women and their personalities...  Just. Rude.  Not all of them. Some are quiet, some are friendly, the two other girls that are on Taste and Dose with me, the two I started this panel with, are great, but others...  All I ever hear about is how "we're only getting paid for an hour!" and no joke, if that panel runs over the hour, it's fucking mutiny.  Once, the three of us were late, from Jian's panel, running to that one, and we got there FOUR minutes late, and the bitching...oh my god...they were murderous.  "If you plan on being this late all the time, maybe you should drop one of the panels. I mean, we're only getting paid here for an HOUR."  This is not my boss speaking. This is some bitch named Vera who thinks she runs the whole goddamned show.  This is not the only woman with this attitude, just the most outspoken.

Today, one of the servers went down, and you'd think someone took a shit in the jars we were about to smell.  The complaining! The outrage!  We're supposed to be there from 11:15 to 12:15.  Normally we get done at 11:55.  By noon, half the panel were on the phone griping to someone that they would be late, or just complaining in general. In fact, I heard the oft repeated mantra "we're only getting paid for one hour!"  Dude.  We get paid $25 an hour, under the table.  I'm just happy to be there!  Sure, I'll wait for an extra few minutes, while the computers get online.  In fact, I made it a point to let everyone go ahead of me, because...what the fuck have I got planned?  Probably the same as the rest.  Get home, eat some lunch, tidy up the kitchen...Guess what time I got out of there?  12:10. Still five minutes early, even pointedly saying "No, after you, you have somewhere important to be."  The irony was lost on them all.

Life's way too short to get fluffed about shit like that. But, I suspect that a lot of these self-important bitches on this new panel of mine really honestly can't put it into perspective.  I'm ok with that.  I'll go last, still get out early, get paid for my hour, and smile, knowing in my heart that I'm not going to be on blood pressure or anxiety meds when I'm 40.

...for the people in my life, and the people out of my life.

It was a weird Thanksgiving.  The first time in over 20 years that I haven't cooked a thing.  I thought ten years, at least, but my mother reminded me that even when I lived at home, I did a good share of the cooking.  Even when we eat at her house, I do most of the cooking.  This year, perhaps out of protest, I didn't cook a scrap.  Not even the pies. I bought those from Lenora, she made them from scratch, so I feel ok about it.

We went out last night, and closed out the bar, having loads of fun at karaoke night. It's weird, because I hate karaoke night, under most situations, but everything went right, and the crowd was good, DJ Pete was feeding off of our good vibes, and we were feeding off of his, and it just about took a fire hose to get the crowd out of there, at closing.  Everyone was hugging, kissing, laughing, dancing, drinking, singing.  Bruna yelled "ok, no more hugging and kissing, get out!" So, I ran over there and gave her a hug and a kiss (then we got the hell out...).

Most Thanksgivings?  I would have been cooking since Sunday, and really doing all the work on Wednesday.  I would have fallen into bed at 10, to tumble out of bed early to pop the turkey in the oven (or the smoker) and continue on through the day.  Without this totally free holiday, I wouldn't have really realized how completely exhausting it is.  I usually recover for the next three days, we eat leftovers, and I don't get out of my pajamas till Sunday, at least. We also spend a load of money on food.

Leading up to the holiday, I felt weird and nervous, like...I'd get up on Tuesday and think "ok, I should go shopping, I have lots of stuff to...nope, no I don't."  I felt fidgety and guilty.

Maybe it's the reason why I took a sabbatical.

I'm too old to kiss family's ass, and I never got into the idea that "we have to like them, just because they're family." maybe it's because I'm adopted, or maybe because I've inherited the "Brandshagen Curse" where we really suck at being close and keeping in touch.  But, my mother wanted a nice big family dinner at her house for a chance, so after fighting with her for a month and a half, I gave up my cooking control, and agreed. Then she dropped the bomb.

We'd be spending it with my mom and Earl, and one of Earl's kids.  Hate them.  The stepsibling always treated me like shit, he's 10 years older than I am, and ever since I was a kid, he's always been a real jerk.  Once, he locked me in his basement, when I was 14, and left me there, for 4 hours. It was December.  No, it wasn't a nice basement, or heated. It was one of those really low ceilinged dirt floor basements. It's a long story.  I hate him and his family. His asshole children, his fat son who follows in his obnoxious footsteps, his daughter who manages to be one of those mean-popular girls, yet she looks like Groucho Marx.  His fake wife.  Their many many issues.  Cannot. Stand. Them.  They were estranged from the family for years, many lovely years, because he got in trouble with drugs, and organized crime, and borrowed loads of money off my mother.  They're back now, and they really weird up the holidays, bigtime.  If dinner is at three, they show up at 11 am, rush the scene, force dinner to the table by 2, and take off by 3, claiming illness, or some shit.  Every time.  Then, because dinner is done, rushed, and everyone's feeling awkward, the "holiday" be it Christmas or Thanksgiving, or whatever, is over.  I refused to get into it this year, offered to provide dessert, and washed my hands of the day.  We began drinking and having fun over last weekend, and went to Thanksgiving with a resigned fate.

They canceled this morning. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't overjoyed.  I actually ran around my house in a victory lap.  The sun shone brighter, my headache disappeared, we got up early, bounced out of the house to breakfast, then showed up at mom's house a little early to help with prep.  I did wind up cooking a few things, and it was so awesomely pleasant.  She made all my favorites, and did them well. We took a long time at the table, eating, enjoying the company, chatting, laughing.  Then we took a long time cleaning up, chatting, laughing, then we watched lots of bad TV in a half turkey coma.  It was good times.  Really comfortable, lots of love and good food, and great relaxing vibes.

I love when my dread is all for no reason. I've been bitching for the past few weeks to anyone who would listen, and all for nothing.  Good.  I'm glad when I'm wrong, sometimes.

I can;t even think of a title, so this will have to do.

I have 21 minutes to write this.

I've been having a problem with identity lately.  I feel as though I'm losing mine.  Luiz put it very well, when he stated "Irv is so watery...and you're dissolving in it."  Although to place the blame on Irv wouldn't be fair to him, and wouldn't allow any kind of progress or change.

Here's the fundamentals:  I have no time for myself any more. Now, it's a common problem, probably.  I'm sure everyone knows how it feels to some degree, but much of my spiritual development hinges on time to meditate, read, contemplate the tarot, and just have quiescent time, free of external static.  It's gone.  There is no more of that time, available for me.

I wake up, and Alden is awake.  He and I leave for work and school at the same time.  I get home from work, and now Luiz is awake, and Luiz and I spend time together, often running errands, going out to lunch, and definitely, all the time, talking to each other.  3 pm happens, and Alden and Irv both arrive home.  Now it's their time, and the relatively quiet (though not at all the quiescent meditative quality spiritual growth stuff that I'm talking about) morning, turns into a circus.  Now it's homework, pandering to Irv, cooking, cleaning, cleaning, homework, pandering, and so forth, till I declare that I am sitting and not doing one more fucking thing.  At 11 pm.  Sometimes I stay up till one, vegetatively staring into my computer screen, playing some mindless brain flushing game, just so I shut it all down enough to fall asleep, sometimes I drink so I can shut it all down enough to fall asleep, sometimes, when it's been especially trying, and it has been especially trying, I take a pill that allows me to shut it all down and fall asleep. Often washed down with said drink.  Sure, post 11, I could read.  Can you effectively read Faust or Regardie after running around maniacally for sixteen hours? Neither can I.  If I do read, it's easy stuff.

That sounds like a somewhat typical day, for a mother, right?  It's more than that, I think.  Irv has serious, and I mean extremely serious codependency issues.  When he is home from work, which has been more often lately than usual, he relies on me to do everything with him or for him.  Everything.  As in, I cannot even shower alone. He has to shower with me. It's not a sexual thing, no, it's a "but I need your company!" thing.  When I was sick last week, he was on vacation from work, and he actually had a foot stomping (as in he shuffled and lightly stamped his foot, yes.) tantrum, because I absolutely put my foot down about going out of the house. He wanted to drive for an hour and a half, and check three stores, to find some nonessential tool, because it was "something to do".  He would not go by himself, and he was very unhappy being "trapped at home", which led him to stomping around the house, making my already tiresome and mildly shitty day extremely shitty.    So, when he's home from work, just to keep peace, it's The Irv Show! (cue zany talk show music)  To a lesser degree, it's The Alden Show!  I really try to focus on Alden and get involved with his schoolwork and life.  Luiz, sometimes works during the day, and we don't see each other, so sometimes, he attempts to have a conversation with me in the afternoon...which sparks off a frenzy of attention getting behaviors, and essentially results in me being pulled in three equal directions. My own direction, whether it's doing research for work, or idly pursuing my own interests, or god forbid reading...doesn't even figure in.  Even yesterday, when I was rushing out the door to go to a tarot event, Alden was literally throwing himself in my path, and waving papers in my face.  Nonessential things.

Here's why I'd never tell Luiz to fuck off and leave me alone:  For the most part, he does.  When you're in a relationship with someone, whether it's a friendship or more, it's expected that you do spend some time together, talking, sharing ideas, being intimate. Around both of our work schedules, and The Irv and Alden Show! we try to eke out a little of that.  It's been precious little of any of that, lately.

Here's why I have a problem telling Irv to fuck off and leave me alone:  This one is more complex.  During the lawn season, we honestly spend very little time together. He comes home around 8, eats dinner, we have a little time to talk while we're cleaning and doing nighttime things, then he showers around 10, and crashes.  So, that's part of the year, and it makes time spent during those times, precious.  So, I enjoy devoting a whole Sunday to doing Irv things.  Secondly, the time we spend together, is pleasant.  We seldom bicker, and he's very cool about doing nice things for me.  Like, Sunday we wound up going on the non-essential tool odyssey, that he's been wanting to do for awhile, but on the way back, we hit a few of my favorite liquor stores, and he got me some really nice beer.  It was overall, a pleasant whole day. Often, he's keyed into my mundane needs. Like, if I need to run to the store and get a few things for dinner, he's excited to do that (with me, not alone).  He thinks he's being sensitive.  Yesterday, I got home from work, and it was particularly tiring.  He took me out for lunch (pleasant! It's never not pleasant) and we came home. I wanted, have been wanting, to read an excellent educational, spiritually fulfilling book.  He said "I want to go out later and " because he was off yesterday from work, and not feeling well.  But, by 11 am, he was already antsy and inventing shit for himself (and me) to do.  He said "you have about a half hour of free time, that'll be great.  See? I know you need time to yourself"  He thinks he's really trying.  His feelings get very hurt.  

Here's why I can't tell Alden to fuck off and leave me alone:  He's my boy.  Of all the directions I'm pulled in, his is the one I'm most devoted to.  When there's clamor, and he's trying to tell me about his school day, Luiz is like "babycakes, you gotta read this thing here.", and Irv's going "hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, is the bathroom clean? Should we clean it? Let's go to Home Depot and get a special thing to clean it. Could you look the price up online, and maybe compare it to the other cleaner, and while we're out, I need to stop at Barney's house and pick u-zzzzzzzzzzzzzomfgshutup....."anyway, when that's all happening, I make it very clear to everyone that ALDEN IS SPEAKING and I wanna hear it.  I wanna hear about his good test grades and his bad ones, and if he got picked on at school, and did he take a shower this morning?  I actually want to hear it.  Why this is bad?  Alden really takes advantage of his position on the attention totem pole, and will often monopolize my attention and run his platform down into minutia, till I'm listening raptly to him talking about the honey mustard dressing on his salad at school today, and how it was tangier than yesterday.

My identity is dissolving.  Irv just walked in the door and said "hello mudder"  I said hi, and he replied with "I see Alden left his breakfast on my desk."  It took every bit of my willpower not to scream "I DONT FUCKING CARE".  I'm cracking up.

I feel like, I can't keep up at this level.  I don't ever want to feel like "I DON'T FUCKING CARE" to Alden, Luiz, Irv or anyone.  It's damaging to our relationship.  But, my "give a shit" meter is full, and it's full of minutia.   Like, I do care when Luiz needs my help with the camera, so he can take pictures, because it's fundemental to his whole artist career.  I do very much care, about Alden's day, and his success in school both academically and socially.  I do totally care about Irv's peace of mind and happiness, because well, shit, it't extremely important to me and to all of us.  I...

see...this is how it's happening.  I was about to write about what about me is important to me, but the minute I get to that part...Alden walks in with a friend, and the friend's father in tow, having brought them both home from school.  It was a very weird moment.  Irv just walked in and started grilling me about the situation, and all the stuff I was gonna say just zonked out of my head.  The whole situation is extremely depressing and overwhelming to me, and I'm now having a very hard time not to cry.  As soon as I am done typing this sentence, I will compose myself, and go fill Irv in on why there's a strange child in the house, and why there was a strange man here 3 minutes ago.

Bowling, Journaling, Cooking, and How They're All Connected

So, we've entered into a quiet phase, after a long complicated few months.  I've never been so happy about routine. Or, at least what passes for routine in this house.

Alden had a particular shiteous pair of games, at bowling, today, and I've encouraged him to begin a bowling journal.  I told him, any time you seriously dedicate yourself to something, it's important to document your learning and growing process, that way, when I ask, or when he asks himself, "what the fuck went wrong today?" He has a language for it.  Then, I realized...how totally hypocritical.  I haven't exactly been diligent, myself.

After bowling, I made us some pastina, for a late breakfast.  Pastina is something my dad's mother made for him, then he made for me, then I taught myself how to make it, and now I make it for Alden, and he's learning how to make it.  It seems fairly unique to our family, and it's strictly comfort food.  It has no measurements, and only by cooking it for probably 25 years, have I developed a fool proof method.  It's pretty simple, a small amount of boiling water, salt, butter, then shake in a few tablespoons of pastina (microscopic star shaped noodles), and let it cook till the pastina is getting soft, and the water is disappearing, then we stir in shredded, or small cubes, or grated, or slices of cheese. The secret here is to always have some sort of processed cheese, otherwise the whole mess will be stringy.  The shit cheese makes it all cohesive.  Today I used about 2 ounces of colby, and a krap single. Season vigorously with salt and even more vigorously with pepper, sometimes garlic, sometimes hot sauce, and serve.  Best with some type of crispy meat product crumbled on top, or within. Today, I finely diced a bit of ham, and fried that till it was brown and frizzled, and stirred it in at the end.  What it amounts to, if done well, is microscopic star shaped noodles suspended in a melty cheese sauce, roughly the texture of...well, it's hard to explain. Something like risotto, but not quite as fancy.  No milk. No fancy shit. No heavy cream, no broth (although I have been kicking around the idea of a dinner pastina, cooked on chicken broth, with some sage or thyme, and asiago...same concept, same method, fancy shmancy ingredients.)  It's comforting to eat, comforting to walk Alden through the steps, and pass on what I've learned through years of refinement.

When he was wee, I was really excited about teaching him how to cook. I planned on getting all these children's cookbooks, and his own set of stuff, all that artifice.  I learned through the years, that he learns best, and I love teaching him, when he's hungry and looming around the kitchen.  Like "mom, mom, mom, can I stir that? What's in that?"  He started out as a pain in the ass, underfoot boy, but as he got older, the rule of "if you're not helping, you don't belong in the kitchen" came into effect.  Now, when he's hovering and excited about dinner, I hand him onions to chop, and make him my fetch boy.  When he's tasked to get a list of ingredients from the pantry or the fridge next door, he always asks really involved questions, and he learns loads.  He's grown into a better cook than most adults I know.  Not recipes, although we're getting more into them, but the "why" of cooking.  I feel like it's more important for him to know formulas, and the science of things.   Like, why it's important to brown the onions before adding other stuff.  Yesterday, he helped me make a French leek pie, and hung around for every step, and he learned a lot about the science of custards, how proteins coagulate, and emulsifiers blend oils and water.  God help me, he might be a shitty bowler, but I think he's going to be a damn amazing cook, when he gets older.

If only I could get him as curious about the science of bowling, the hows and whys of trajectory, and whatnot, as he is about cooking.  Writing about it might help him become more curious.  It certainly works for me.  On that note, I think I'll head over to my tarot blog.

Here's an unexpected chance...

I know, looking at all the physical posts here, leads one to believe that I'm lax about blogging.  Not true.  Every day, at work, when I have idle time, I compose and ponder, and think long, blogworthy thoughts.  Then I come home, with the intention to commit them to screen, and I get distracted.  Then, either my time is taken up elsewhere, or those great thoughts don't seem worth typing out.

...Argh....

Ok, I stopped typing there, and got distracted. Irv woke up and called me upstairs. Here four hours later, after having a decidedly pleasant morning of making love, going out to lunch, shopping, and coming home, I can't for the life of me, pick up that train of thought again.  I really had something.  Well, let's call this a step in the right direction, an acknowledgement, of sorts.  Better luck tomorrow!

Wrapped in Cotton

Indifference.  Is it a good thing or a bad thing?  When I become indifferent about something, or worse yet, someone, it's mainly because I have exhausted all manner of coping with that thing.  It's good for me, because it saves my sanity.  When I mull over, cope with, get upset about, agonize over something, till the horse is dead and bloody, and I can beat it no more...and still, there's no resolution, I become indifferent.  It's all I got.

 In the darkest times growing up, Indifference for myself, indifference towards "loved ones" indifference in general, has helped me to retain my sanity.  It's not selfishness, ignorance, or apathy, it's a controlled "ok, this isn't good, and I can't fix it, so fuck it".  When I cease to get emotional about some situation  or someone, it'a kind of a release.  It's also seen the end of many friendships and relationships, when I simply can't muster a care anymore, when the patterns are so striking and so dead-end, that I feel like nothing I can say or do will help...then all that's left is to stop giving any kind of shit at all.  I feel the muscles in my face turn a certain way, almost all straight lines.  I turn into a shrugging, blank, apathetic wall of "don't give a shit".  It's not some front, either, although often it starts out that way.  I say "I don't give a shit" over and over, in dealing with something, till...well, till I really don't, through every bit of my being.  It's not something I plan, or bring on consciously.  I've felt it turn around, though, like once the indifference kicks in, if things really start getting better, then I feel more like my "old self".  It's gotten me get past rage, and past love, and through everything.  Wrapped in my thick dense armor of indifference, I am whole, sane, and moving through life.

I hate that.  It's saved my own life and sanity, but I still hate it, when I really analyze these feelings and my own coping mechanisms, I really do hate my natural predilections for not giving a shit.  I don't know how else to go, when the indifference kicks in, though.  Maybe I'll learn something better some day.

I feel it coming on, again.

Happy Day!

So, my misgivings were for naught.  We went to Phil and Danielle's wedding, and it was a great thing.  The first person I saw, going in the place was Phil standing outside and getting air, and the first thing he said to me, before even "hi" was "Lisa, seriously, I've been joking.  It's irony or something, don't worry, I'm doing great."  And seeing him face to face, I believe it.  Sometimes, I just have to see people to  understand, and seeing them yesterday, I finally understand.

I have worried about Phil giving up his identity.  That's been my prime worry, that Phil's become so much "Danielle's Husband" that he's swapping his general Philness for it.  As I see him yesterday, in that role, rising to it, being her rock, her comforting steadfast husband, I realized...this is what he needs. He needs to be needed, and for as much as she bosses him around, she really truly needs him.  It's not a loss of identity, it's a change, and don't we all change when we get married?  It's stepping from one place, one less mature, more self centered, place, into an identity where you're part of a whole working active thing.  I think he had a lot of parts missing or not fully developed, in his psyche, even moreso since his mother passed, and moving into this stage of life has helped him develop and fill these hollows.

I had a lot more thoughts on this, when I woke up this morning, but generally puttering around the house, making soup, doing laundry, and playing with the pets has somewhat dimmed my original epiphanies.  Suffice to say, going to the wedding, seeing the two of them, and (most of) the family come together, feeling the vibes...left me very happy for the couple, indeed.

October Weddings!

I'm having this weird and pleasant doubling sensation.  Michele got married six years ago, and we spent months putting together our outfits, and getting ready to celebrate with her.  Phil's getting married tomorrow, and as I slid on the fishnets, I had this total deja vu.  I fucking love fishnets, they never fail to make me feel sexy and empowered, like I'm slipping into my Scarlet Woman wardrobe.  It's fun playing dress up. Once the fun of all that was over, the doubling sensation disappears, and the weirdness comes out.  Phil's been posting weird shit on his FB all day, sounding not like someone who's about to become happily married, no joyous gushing and general excitement...but more like dread, bitterness, and he sounds, for a wonder, like someone just getting out of a terrible relationship.  We're not exactly going to share the love and celebratory nature, and the joy of a truly awesome union.  With the way Phil's been going on about things...I just don't get that vibe whatsoever.    Honestly...we're going for the trainwreck value, the Jerry Springer fun, and hoping to catch the off chance of any meltdowns.  I truly wish them the happiest and most positive vibes and the joy of their union...only I just now checked out Phil's online status reports from the past week...and they *seriously* read like a man going to his death sentence.  Not even in a ha-ha, funny, ball and chain kind of way, but there's honest to god dread.  Such a difference from the last October wedding.

Well, it should be interesting, tomorrow, to say the least. No matter what comes, I'm gonna look smokin fucking hot.  Now, let's hope Luiz drives, so I can drink myself into a giggly mess, and say goofy and awkward things.

Alden's Birthday Day

I love doing stuff for/with Alden.  Like I put up on FB, he's so good, and so appreciative, it's worth it, he makes it easy to spoil him.   I wish we got an earlier start, yesterday. We saw most of the museum, only really missing out on the Rose Center, and the actual planetarium.  For whatever reason, the place was mobbed yesterday.  When Schuyler and I went, it was empty, we walked in, no lines, and most of the halls were nearly empty, which made for a pleasant meander. This was more hectic, and some things made me a little ranty...but overall it was an outstanding day.  I'll rant about them later.

We're getting more familiar with the trains every time we go into the city.  We've had a basic knowledge of certain lines, for awhile, but now, I can find where something is, and almost intuitively know which line gets us in the vicinity.  It's nice, after sticking to the well traveled routes, and taking cabs everywhere when I was a kid, to really range far and wide, discovering new neighborhoods, and good places.

Max Brenners was good, a little schlocky, but that's part of the experience.  I wanted Alden's birthday day to be a little over the top, and I figured what's more over the top than dessert for dinner?  We planned it out so we'd have a substantial breakfast, a light lunch, and then in place of a typical evening meal, we'd do a giant dessert thing from there.  It worked out good, and we didn't kill ourselves with sugar coma.  I had a churro fondue platter thing, Irv had an enormous cookie ice cream sandwich, and Alden had a s'mores sundae that wound up being the size of his head, which we all sort of freely shared around the table.  The kid loved it, Irv not-so-much, but I get the feeling that he's getting grouchier in general, as he gets older.  Sometimes, I think Irv is getting to be one of those people that looks for things to complain about, or is becoming more likely to complain when he's out of his comfort zone, or something.  Or maybe he's just been acting like that more lately for some reason.  It was a little pricy for dessert, but the food was very very good, and it beat the shit out of Rainforest Cafe, that's for sure.  

We moseyed around Union Square, walking around that neighborhood, checking out some stores, and walking off the chocolate, then headed home.  Had to stop at the only "local" Tim Hortons, and get some coffee, in Penn Station (Tim Horton franchisees, if you're reading this, come to Monmouth County, you'll have customers for life, just keep the coffee the same).  

Alden kept thanking us, sleepily, the whole way home, which is the greatest feeling.  Like, when you've nailed it, you know?  All the money, planning, fiddling with time and finances, really comes to fruition. When the kid can't stop talking about which exhibit was his favorite, or how he got to see Turkana Boy "in person", or how great the food was, etc.  He only got "spoken to" once, and it was because he was getting punchy at the end of the day, and losing his already minuscule attention span.  He asked if he could go in another room, and I said "give me a minute, let me look at this thing here, then we'll all move there together" and he trotted off, like I didn't say anything.  I didn't notice that he took off, at first, so I had the moment that every mother goes through, the "holy shit, where's Alden...he was just right here" moment.  So, when we found him a few minutes later, we made him take a time out, sit on a bench, and gather himself for a few.

All in all, it was a fantastic day, and like it happens every time, we get home and go "that was so much fun, why don't we go to the City more often?".

I think I'll save my rant for the following post.  

Five blogs that I've been wanting to write in the past two weeks, but haven't...

> Yes, I did say "mini Blizzard" you asshole, just because I'm fat, doesn't mean I want a huge mega-sized drum of your air whipped chemical shit fake ice cream.  So, don't for fuck's sake, goggle at me and go "MINI!?!".  Asshole.

>  I am very upset that I'm now allergic to tomatoes, and peanuts.  I have become one of those food people.  Ordering pizza has become an ordeal.  "A white pizza for Lisa", has become the thing, now.  I feel like an asshole, to be singled out.  I have to read labels, paranoid, now.  It's scary and frustrating, and limiting, and if I think too hard about it, it almost makes me cry.

> I'm frustrated about the homogenization of the gaming industry.  It's become mainstream, and now the big companies are pandering to the lowest common denominator.

>  I have been having hilarious dreams lately.  Interesting, frustrating and funny.  I need to blog at least, about the  one in the burger place.

> Perdurabo is an incredible biography, it's so goddamned good, but I worry about hero worship, like it's skewed.

Open Letter to the Unreasonably Miserly Fuck Sitting Over There

Disclaimer:  I'm angry at this moment.  We just had/are having a huge fight.  About what...what else? Money!  Things, hopefully will be cleared by tomorrow morning.

So, you say you're tired of hanging out with people on weekends.

I apologize for making plans for you, two weekends in a row, with something spontaneous coming up, for this coming Saturday night.  You forgot about the 3 weekends in a row before that, where we were bored to tears, sitting around the house drinking all evening/going to the bar on Sunday because we had nothing better to do.

So, you say it's because you get nothing done.

What do you need to do?  Clean the house?  It's spotless (because we're having company! Company clean!)  Work on yard stuff?  At 10 pm on Saturday night?  If that's what moves you, go do it.  Go do whatever, because it's mostly my company anyway.  You just sit around and drink, and unwind, mostly.  In fact, if I didn't keep things moving with my friends, that's ALL we would do. Sit and drink.  At the bar.

So, you say it's because of money.

Ah.  Now we're getting to the heart of the matter.  Money issues, I understand.  How about this?  I stopped buying spiders, video games, music, and tarot cards, this August.  (You wouldn't believe how much I spend on that stuff...hundreds.  a month.  seriously...)  Let me take care of it.  I usually keep things on the cheap anyway, using stuff from the freezer, manager's specials, whatever.  I can do a barbecue for 10 people for less than $50.  I can afford it. I'm working.

So, now you're blasting me, incoherently, repeating the above things, over and over.

"I have THINGS I need to DO!" you say, "THINGS".  What else can I say besides "go do them?"  Ok, how about quit spending a few hundred dollars at the bar every week and go fucking do these THINGS.  How about quit buying shit offa ebay, you're scaring me with this toy car habit, when every single day, really pricy tiny antiques show up in the mail.  Or, how about packing your lunch again, I buy lots of groceries, and plan for lots of leftovers, so that you can have a nice lunch every day, and every day, you spend upwards of twenty dollars on gourmet subs and breakfasts.  Or...how about you just shut the fuck up about money, you paranoid fucker, and let me handle my affairs (barbecues included) and I won't hassle you about drinking in the bar with your fucking loser friends every weekend.  How about let me continue to shop, and clean, and have my friends over, which you're allowed to totally ignore, if you so chose?  How about stop assuming every plan I make is an assault on your soul.  How about instead of inviting people here, we go out for dinner every weekend, like we used to?  Remember those days? Going to Portuguese Manor and spending $150 on steak and booze?  Hell, it was easy, and there was little cleanup involved. We certainly don't do that anymore.  Or, how about we cancel all our plans, with ALL our friends, and sit at home every single weekend, drinking, both by ourselves, staring at the computer, or youguessedit...at the bar.  Better yet. I'll start going out by myself, doing my own thing, spending time with my friends, outside of this house, and you'll never see me.  I'll spend my own money, and you won't have to worry about a fucking thing.

I'm sick of drinking. I'm sick of the bar. I'm sick of being fake-broke, or trying to act like I am.  I'm sick of these nonsensical arguments.  I'm sick of this insane money paranoia.  We're not fighting anymore, at this moment, we haven't resolved anything, though.

My plans still stand for the weekend.  And no, they don't include the bar.

Now, I know I am blessed, and have a lot LOT less to complain about than other people, but this money thing has been bearing down slowly since early this year.  In fact, it happens every year, and every year we wind up doing fine. This year it's worse than usual, not the finances, but his attitude towards them.  Not too long ago, we got into a really brutal fight in front of Alden, while we were driving, about money. He was careless with a customer, and they skipped out on a very large bill.  Sheer carelessness, and he knew it.  He was so worked up, he was practically frothing at the mouth.  I asked if there's anything I can do to help him recover the money, like press charges, or help him keep better records. I asked with 100% earnestness, and he flipped his shit so bad, he was driving through a parking lot at about 30 mph, and then slammed on the break, throwing me into the windshield.  Not through, but I banged my face pretty well.  That was about the closest he's come to actually doing me harm. Over money.

He's angry enough to rage.  Not angry enough to do something about it, like save money, or move the house forward, to get it rented, or even like...stop fretting and really evaluate and budget.  This is what scares me. Like his father, which is a real hot-button in this house, any mention of Sr...but, like his father, he's getting more paranoid and insane about money every year.

Part 2. The Love

Ignore all that, below. It was a necessary thing for me to say.  I can only carry such strong feelings around, for so long, without spilling them somewhere. If it must be read, it serves only to juxtapose how much overwhelming love I have for Luiz's Real Family.

Luiz's cousin Tatiana is a sweet, deeply insightful, intelligent woman, with two sons around Alden's age.  Her mother is Luiz's mother's sister.  She visited last month, and it was our first meeting face to face.  We'd gotten to know each other a bit on Facebook, and of course she's heard all about me through certain other avenues (demonic bitch, that I am), so she had no idea what to expect, upon visiting here.  She came anyway, and slept over, and we hit it off well. Lots of drinking and unplanned partying, and her visit was over too soon with a hangover, and promises to hang out some other time. It really did my heart good to see Luiz connecting with other members of his family, ones that accept him.  He needs that level of support and love in his life, especially fighting the struggle with his mother.  

Well, this time she visited and brought her own mother, Janis, and sons with her, for a slightly longer (and thankfully less alcohol soaked) visit.  Tati knows about us, and in a surprising act of forthrightness, she told her sons about us, which I am so thankful and taken aback about.  I mean, our kid knows, obviously, but most people shield their kids from diversity.  I love that about her.  Of course her mothers knows about us too, from hearing Eliane's (Luiz's mom) bitching about us.  They came here, with an open mind, and open hearts, the same as I treat everyone I meet.  It. Was. Wonderful.  Our sons played perfectly together, her kids are so bright and well behaved, I couldn't pick better companions for Alden.  Tati is a devoted mother, and it really reflects in her boys.  She also brought us a cake that made me moan and warble and rendered me speechless.  It might have even swayed me over to Team Cake. Alden is there visiting now, and I'm counting the days till Friday, and going to visit their house, and picking up my boy.

Janis (is that how I spell it?  From here on out, I'm gonna call her Titia which is "Auntie" in Portuguese, I think)  Anyway, Titia is a strong and crabby woman, and she's my kind of gal. She complains, and sort of ekes out her own place, roaming, asking questions, scrutinizing, naming, and making unedited commentary about everything that comes her way.  In the first half hour, we learned that she hates animals, children, and fat people!  And I said "you're gonna have a long night, lady" and we laughed.  Lots of laughing.   I saw a sort of challenging glint in her eye, upon first meeting us.  Reminded me of another dear woman in my life, who I miss a lot, Mrs. Metz.  Very forward and confrontational, and I love it.  Give me an honest person, and let me handle that as I may.  Apparently, I did well, because we got along great.  I think, at one point,  I said "no, you're not 'nice' but I totally love you!" and I meant it.  Nice people can go bite a lemon.  I have little patience with "nice" people.

I feel a measure of empathy for her, as she recently had a house fire, and lost all her worldly possessions. I can see it's depressing, but I can also see her moving through it, and earnestly trying to start a new life here.  But here, these women, they've heard the worst things about us.  They came here with Love in their hearts, for Luiz, and in return got lots of love back.  We laughed, last night, and talked deeply, and cried real tears for things out of our control, and felt hope for things within. I say We, because there's much chemistry, and I feel like a lost cousin, myself.  There's no awkwardness, Tati and Titia have made me feel like a member of this wild, vivid, passionate, and hilarious sisterhood of the powerful women that Luiz has been raised around.  I felt tears, and a lump in my throat, when Titia referred to me offhand, a few times, as "niecy".  I'm getting emotional just thinking back on it.  My own family is small, and sometimes distant, so to be casually adopted into this one fills my heart with such joy, I don't even have words.

I also felt, as the evening dwindled to a close, a sense of melancholy.  Eliane, this raving crazed thing, that Luiz has to face as his mother figure, was discussed at length.  I felt, as though, the Sister that she used to be, one of this family of awesome Scarlet Women, has died, and we are left only with the ghost of her, wishing she were there, wishing she could share in our meal and laughter. It felt like the coming together and acceptance, and sharing of ideas, histories, cultures, that one would hope for any families meeting, like something a mother should be doing, not an aunt.

Perhaps there will be mending.  Hope springs eternal.

Part 1. The Hate.

I am bubbling over with things to write, but I'm not sure where to start, here. Such an overwhelmingly positive, and profoundly moving weekend.  I guess I'll just start listing the thoughts that are trotting around in my head.

It feels good to be living an open and honest life, free from fear of judgement, persecution, and rejection.  It's not something I talk about in public places, but it's good to be "out of the closet" about our life together.  We kept it very secret, concealing and dissembling for years, out of fear of the above.  In the past 8 months, we've decided to just live life, and not quite advertise our status, but not seek to cover it up either. Let people think what they think, and answer questions that come openly and honestly.  Luiz has taken things a little further with his family, doing like Luiz does, and just telling them flat-out, that we're all together.  Which, at first, I felt weird about, but now not only am I ok with it, but feel downright good about things.  

I've been dancing around writing something like this for a long time.  I try to make it a point not to dwell, speculate, or gossip.  I vow never to talk shit about this woman, to anyone. It's not my way, to continue hate.  However, I do need to get it off my chest, here, in my little world.  I need to tell the truth in my own way, as it affects me, and as I see it.

Luiz's mother is not coping well, with our familial development.   I feel enormous hate and jealousy from her, like a beacon, just waves and emanations of black hatred.  She's saying we're Satanic. She says I encorcelled him and cast evil Satanic spells to seduce her boy, and that he's just a parasite living with us, using us, and we're using him.  I wish I could live up to the powerful sorceress dominatrix sexual demon wrangling Jezebel she paints me as.  She's preaching this vitriol to whoever listens, and repeats these hate-mantras to herself.  She's gotten herself so worked up about us, she can't even bear the thought of her niece or sister visiting us.  She berates attacks, and grills other family members as to what we're doing, how we're doing, what's going on in my house, creating divisiveness in her own family, over the idea of me, and my household (oh, to have such power over a person, not a day goes by that she doesn't think about me. A hate so saturated it mirrors love.  If I weren't a Nice Girl, I would use that to my advantage.)  

So, that's Mom.  She's a fucking peach.  A peach being consumed from within by a worm in sheep's clothing.  It's something we have been trying to help Luiz cope with, and help him sort through every day.  Always Love. Love is the Law, and we've been talking it over, and how to best deal with this woman that turns Love into an instrument of her own manipulative, power hungry hate. It's hard for a son, who's mother has had such encompassing power over him, to accept, cope, and move on, or hope to reach through all that poison to find the human mother that he loves well, and that claims to love him.  But, we're trying, by God.  Love for him, and compassion for his situation causes me to stop and really try to help him work through all this.  Usually, I'd be all "oh, fuck them.  Fuck them, and I hope they all die with their intestines running out of their assholes. Fucking haters."  

I feel slight remorse for being such a wellspring of divisiveness in his family's lives. Also, I feel a bit blindsided.  I'd be lying if I said confused, because I know precisely what's going on here.  For my part, I never meant it to be this way, I have often invited her to my house, and made overtures, to draw the family closer. Before she knew, we chatted on the phone often, wrote back and forth, she's had my son as a guest in her house for days on end, and she's come here with her younger children, to eat and enjoy good company.  She loved us.  Before.  Luiz is part of our family, and has been accepted as such, invited to all gatherings, loved, and cherished as yet another oddball in our tiny little family group. My mother harangues him and bosses him about like she does her own brood, collectively calling us "The Kids".  On our side, nothing's changed.

I could never hope for the same, from her, only just a bit less hate, and a smidge more acceptance, is all I want for him.  For myself?  It wouldn't be so bad if she and her two lovely lambikins sons, got sealed in a capsule, and shot to the center of the sun...well, that's the nicest thing I can say.  I won't even get started on Luiz's brother, because I can't really speak of the dude without saying "self righteous snotbag" and "swimming in a filthy fishbowl of his own stagnant piss.", and really, there's no love.  So, with Love, I just move on.  Some people, like Luiz's brother,  are destined to wallow in their own stinking fishbowl, and that seems to be the whole story, for that kid.  I hope I eat my words, one day.  

That's the hate.  To move on to the Love, I had to get that right out of the way.  

New music from old bands

Last night, I half-assed listened to Dee Snyder on the Eddie Trunk show, and one of the points he brought up was that no one wants to hear new shit from classic bands, at shows, and furthermore, no one's interested in new music by old bands..  At first, I was like "yeah, bastards, play my favorites."  But then, I really thought about it.

Sure, I have a bad taste in my mouth about new music played the wrong way at shows.  Hello, Megadeth? No one wants to hear Risk from start to finish, then Countdown tacked on to the end of that 45 minute set.  I've never been so bored at a show in my life.  Or, how about when Metallica was touring for Load of Shit, and they played like 4 songs from that album, then 3 more songs from Re Load of Shit.  Then, to appease the masses (snort) they fucking made a MEDLEY of the old favorites.  I've never been so insulted at a show in my life.

So, initially, I was like "yeah.  Dee's right, no one gives a fuck."  But then...Look at Alice Cooper.  He cranks out a new album all the time, and I have them all and they're all stellar.  We went to his Brutal Planet tour, and the whole stage was done conceptually for that album, and he opened with a three song run of the storyline of that album, and you know what?  It blew my mind.  Similar concept for The Eyes of Alice Cooper, and he played a good smattering of new stuff.  But, it was done well, in between some great old ones, when the crowd was rocking, he just launched into it.  Kept us moving, kept us interested.  As far as releasing new music?  Rush's new stuff is deliciously heavy.  More please!  I'm sort of leaning on seeing them live.  I've got the opportunity to go, so maybe.  I'd like to see them play the new stuff! As long as they play a smattering of stuff from over their career.  Scorpions have a new album, and from what I've heard, it sounds really updated. They still have their signature tone, but again it's heavier, more intense, and a little more electronic.  Good on them, I hope they tour the shit out of it.

It's not about new music or not. It's about showmanship.  If you're conceited and douchey, like Iron Maiden who got pissed off at the fans, because the fans got pissed off that they were ONLY going to play their new album, on tour...then fuck you, get up there, and play my favorites, you trained circus monkey.  If, like Alice Cooper, they give us a taste, make us want more, make us want to buy the album, or tell our friends how awesome that new song is, live...then bring it on.  Showmanship.  Twisted Sister has the market cornered on showmanship, they really do bring it. But we've seen them live so many times, and they are so good about playing to the crowd, the set list rarely changes.  They lead with a certain song, bring other songs in the middle, close with others.  I have it memorized.  Nice, but hardly challenging.  For once, maybe Dee's playing it too safe.  Not that he's getting poor doing it.