First and foremost - I've been working. See, I'm gearing up for our new culture at work - you can read about that over at http://www.icangetback.blogspot.com/ - don't bother heading there just yet - as I haven't posted a damned thing over there recently either. I'll get to it after this - maybe. If I'm still awake. Or alive. I work. And work. And work. You see, what I've discovered (which I'm sure will come as no surprise to those of you who know me well) - I seem to have a problem - with addiction. Addiction to whatever suits my fancy at the moment. And when the fancy hits me - I'm ALL IN. Fuckin' Texas Hold 'Em style - that's how I live my life. When I work - I work - day and night. It's all I talk about. It's all I think about. When I walk. I walk. Day and night - walk. When I drink - I drink all the booze in the house. When I cook - I cook 85 meals for 75 countries. When I watch TV - I watch it for weeks upon end and never leave my bed. I'm a damned addict. I've admitted it. Tomorrow I'm going to make a schedule for myself - one that embraces both work and home life - with a little focus on everyone and everything and one that helps me find BALANCE. I cannot be trusted to just "live" - because I immediately become obsessed with whatever is I'm doing.
Blah blah blah. Okay - I'm over that - and see - I was apologizing for not being here and my explanation of WHY almost turned into a 50 page essay on addiction. I'm an addict. Obsessive compulsive. That's me.
So where have I been since August 4th? I'll tell you:
One day I made pickles. That's right. Pickles. Me. I made them. Thanks to my friend over at http://thedillpickleboutthat.blogspot.com/ gave me a short tip on Facebook about how to do it and she made it sound so easy, I decided to go for it! See, I'd been reading all about it on the local extension office website (whatever the fuck an extension office is) and it had me totally freaked out - but the pickle said it was simple and who knows more about how to make pickles than a pickle herself, right? It was simple!! And here they are to prove I made them:
And we've opened one jar and they are YUMMY!!! I put wasabi powder in a few jars. I gave one of those jars to my dad - he said they were good but not terribly hot. I'll have to open a jar and find out for myself. I plan on making more too - as soon as the cucumbers decide to cooperate!
I also made numerous batches of zucchini brownies. Trust me - I'm an addict. I made numerous batches. Okay - maybe it was two. But it seemed like a lot. I plan to make more. I don't have a picture of them because they are gone in an instant. Here's the recipe - you try it too!! http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Zucchini-Brownies/Detail.aspx
And then, because I still had zucchini coming out my ears. I decided to make these: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Connies-Zucchini-Crab-Cakes/Detail.aspx
They tasted like shit and we ended up throwing them away. Which was really a shame because think of all the brownies I could have had with the zucchini that went to waste in those nasty assed crab cakes. Don't make those - they are shitty.
And I went to World's of Fun. There are no pictures of that because I was stoned on Xanax and also because I didn't want to carry my camera or phone around with me. We went with my brother and his family. There were 9 of us. That's an odd number. And the kids ranged in ages from 18-6. It was approximately 786 degrees that day we went. Perfect weather for trapsing on black asphalt with a slew of kids. I mostly hated fucking Camp Snoopy and I think in my heat induced state, I may have threatened to kill Snoopy. I know I told the kids who wanted to go on the "rides" in Camp Snoopy NO and that if all they wanted to do was jump on a fucking bouncy castle, I could have rented one for the ENTIRE week for what it cost me to get them into Worlds of Fun. I'm fun to take to places like that. Mainly because I'm highly tolerant of children and am always able to be understanding and patient.
I don't think I'll be invited next year.
I spent a lot of time shopping - for going back to school shit. On one adventure to Bed Bath & Beyond - the brunette and I ran across this little gem:
If you've read my stance on body hair, you'll be VERY surprised to learn I did NOT purchase this for my husband. Although I did put it on the list of shit to get him for his birthday.
There was a storm that came through - I think it was just last Friday actually - and I looked out the back window and saw this:
And then I cried. And while I was crying, I decided to look out the front window. And I saw a rainbow - both ends were in view. I took a picture, but I'm too damned lazy to upload it at the moment. Fine. Here it is:
So I cried some more.
Then I moved the prodigal son 3+ hours away to college. His new life. Without me. It was my birthday. And also my ex husband and his 52 kids and wife went along. We were just like a traveling circus. 9 of us - ranging in age from 44 - 2. Dropping an 18 year old off at college. My favorite part of the day was when my step-wife placed a framed picture of her, my ex, and their 52 kids on the prodigal son's desk. It was logical. They've been there for every single major rite of passage in his life. It only stood to reason he should have a framed picture of them on his desk in his dorm. I didn't have a picture of us handy in my purse. Hell, I couldn't even remember the last time we had a family picture taken. I think it was 6 years ago. He was still shorter than me. My heart bled with this realization and tears welled up. How could I have fucking forgotten to bring a picture of our family for his room? What the hell kind of mother was I? I looked over toward their picture again - it was face down on the desk. I was the BEST kind of mother - that's what I was. He didn't need a picture of us - we've been there at every single lousy assed practice, game, concert, recital. It was US that was there for the pain and the tears and the lessons. But by crocky, it was THEM that was there that day - the biggest fucking day of his life so far - of course they'd be there - it's important to steal my thunder - rob me of my moment with him. As I
squeezed him damned near to death hugged him, and kissed his cheek over and over, my throat got a huge lump in it - but I didn't cry. I made him promise he'd look both ways before he crossed the street and then I kissed him one last time and walked away. And when I got out to the car, I took one last look back toward his dorm - AND THERE HE WAS STANDING 2 DAMNED FEET BEHIND ME. And that's all I needed to see to know that it was as hard on him as it was on me. And I can't type about this anymore right now because NOW I've decided to bawl. I'm so proud of him. He even cleaned his room before he left - see:
So that pretty much sums it up! I'm sure there are some other things I did - none of which I guess were terribly exciting. If I think of them, you can bet I'll write about them!