Delicious!

I love it when my Husband runs into the bedroom and says, with urgency, "Open your mouth!"

I love it more when this is immediately followed by the introduction of my tongue to a chocolate cream puff. A gluten free, dairy free cream puff!!


What the heck were you thinking?!

Halloween Bust...

I just found Kitten's base costume from last year. Being able to reuse old costumes is made far easier by buying adult sizes and throwing in a couple of stitches to make it workable on a nine year old body. It turns out that the dress still fits well width-wise - Kitten isn't much of a weight gainer - and she's grown enough that she won't have to worry about tripping on its ragged hem. Yay!

Not having much to do on the kidlet's costume started me thinking about my own. My plan was to be a dark/fallen angel. It's my Saturday so I thought I had plenty of time to tweak and perfect. Well, it turns out I have neither the time nor the expertise needed to make right my masterpiece. You see, I have an old pair of leather pants that I have only ever worn once... to the bar... about twelve years ago when I was twenty-three. As much as I have loved them, I've never had the right personality for leather pants. I'm a little bit too hippy-chick. For me, Halloween has always been the perfect time for hair experiments and leather. I have leather (which is not to say I have no hair. I have hair, I just need it to remain mundane for work).
So, I pulled the pants from their place on my closet shelf, slid them on and...

Swore. Loudly.

I forgot that I have lost a literal ass-load of weight. Black leather pants are not attractive when they are two or three sizes too big. Saggy is just not sexy.

So there you have it. My dream of a leather-clad Halloween is dead until next year. Hopefully by then I will have used my 'spare time' to experiment on tailoring pants. Maybe I'll be 20 lbs heavier and not have to worry about it.

For this year, I'm at a loss. I wanted darkness in my costume but nothing too freaky or scary. I work as a cashier and occasionally see children in my line-ups. My goal is to have fun, not to traumatize.

I would ask for ideas but I have only this evening and tomorrow to work on it before I'm back to work on Thursday... Oh yeah, and I have no readership. Seems a bit daunting when seen from this point of view.

Ninja fast...

Today, I learned that I can make it from sleep to working in sixteen minutes. I also learned that I never want to have to do it again. Ever.

I do, however, want to eat Banana Cream Pie, a piece of which is still melting in my mouth. I am the luckiest person in the world. I never thought I'd be eating cream pies again, once I decided to avoid my allergy foods. I was fully accepting of a life devoid of dairy, most grains and anything processed (read: tasty). Then came Wolf (who is, at this moment, lighting wood chips and throwing them in our front garden - and no, there is no reason behind it, at all).

Wolf is my husband, my partner, my soul-mate. We've been together, this time, for six and a half years. Our first year together, he was a very meat and potatoes and cheese and cream sauce kind of guy. That first year was the second nastiest allergic time of my life. Our second year, I tried to abstain from the nasty foods, which meant two evening meals had to be made - don't think that I'm complaining. I don't cook often. That would be Wolf's domain.

Anyway, there was always such disappointment if Wolf made something so delicious that he needed to share it with me. "Just one bite," he'd say. Often, I would cave just to avoid his negative reaction to my refusal^*. That made our second year my worst regarding my allergies. Anyone who's familiar with 'playing' with an allergy knows that messing up now and again hurts more than going whole-hog for months.

By our third year in, his need to please paid off big for me. His kitchen prowess, mixed with his adventurous nature, created the perfect environment for learning. He now has years of trial-and-error, tweaking and practise under his belt and I now have pita bread, delicious lasagna and banana cream pie under mine!


See? I'm a lucky ninja.



*He and I both have issues with self disapproval. His negative reactions, which I always took on myself (thinking that he was upset with me), came from his disgust with himself for having put me in an uncomfortable position.

The beat goes on...

I've done it. I signed up for NaBloPoMo.

*deep breath*

I've never been able to post daily and I've been blogging since 2002. I've found over the past few days that I'm looking forward to writing. If I don't write before work, I think about it until I get home. It's been therapeutic on a few levels and this makes me look forward to the month ahead. It has been a season of change and growth for me, so here's to another step away from my comfort zone.

Practice makes NaBloPoMo possible...

I'm contemplating signing up for NaBloPoMo. Funny thing is, I didn't even know signing up was something one did. I just thought it was about personal commitment. *Sigh*, I'm such a dork.

I've made it half way through my work week. Sometimes I need to hold on to these thoughts. I miss my family, my old life. I realized recently that, even if everything were to return to normal, I still wouldn't be able to go back. My old life is over and it's no bad thing. I have learned so much about myself; I'm so much stronger than I ever thought I could be.

This isn't a news post either. It's late, as I've been up since 5:30 am and my contacts are bugging me so much that I would not be adverse to clawing my eyes out right this moment. I fear that might make the rest of my work week a touch more difficult, though, so I refrain. Go, me!

Yes, there's a story behind my extreme contact use. The problem with all these stories is that I have to start at the beginning. In order for everything to make sense and convey my reality of the situation I am in, currently, I have to begin with background. Anyone who's familiar with me knows that I'm a stickler for detail. I do so like to tell a story. So, in the name of "the good story," I will work on linear writing. Loop-de-loops are best saved for the fair-grounds.

Until then...

Phoenix rising...

Today, I did not hate my job. I didn't love it, but I smiled again. I think much of my stress springs from me, myself. Funny that I say "I think" when I know. I've known this for years.

Soon I will post some news. There's a reason I've been absent - a long convoluted reason. I just don't have the time or energy to go into any detail.

Soon, and this time I promise.

This toast has spent a week in hell...

I cannot tell you how much I hate my job. That's not true. I can tell you but the intensity of the feeling is so frightening, it makes my husband nervous. One side effect of this hatred is the ever shortening of my weekend, which arrives on Tuesdays. This most recent two day break had me in tears by Tuesday afternoon. My depression and anxiety disorders were well in hand and now I am cycling again.

I work at a building supply store. I spend my days with people who are unhappy and seem to be bent on making everyone around them just as miserable. I've been told I need to develop a thicker skin. What if I don't want a thicker skin? It just so happens that I really like who I am. For crying out loud - of which I do a lot these days - I'm thirty-five years old. I know who I am and I don't liek having to smile through thinly to completely unveiled insults. That's not right no matter where a person works.

Is it too much to ask for respect? I'm dealing with some of the most dishonest, ignorant customers out there and I'm asked to do it with a smile on my face. I'm held responsible for their lies ahile beign given no support to call them on their falsehoods. All of this I'm having to do with one month worth of on the floor training and no product identification training. It sure forces me to deal with my perfectionism issues.

Next, I am working with a lot of letters and numbers. I knew I was dyslexic but I had no idea how badly until now. I also have ADD which makes it really hard for me to focus, mentally. I'm good with the conversation aspect but looking at a reciept on which twenty items are displayed and having to identify each, both on the reciept and in the vehicle, is a particularly hellish experience for me.

I'm an introverted, dyslexic, ADD adult with depression and anxiety issues (read: sensitive artist). I have a tough time standing in one place for long periods of time. I'm helping to financially support my family - I know, I'll get a job standing behind a counter serving ignorant, unhappy people for eight hours a day and I'll do it for ten bucks an hour!

Me thinks my logic was faulty.