Owie

I have a headache thisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
big.

It's name starts with C

Whomever first said love hurts may have actually had a migraine

Blind Boy Pug is administering his best nursing skills, which mostly consist of attempting deep nasal swabs with his tounge.

Girl Pug is trying out her Rolfing technique by repeatedly using my body as a launching pad during her mad dashes around the living room

And I am going to eat a giant cookie

Requiem Courtesy of Johnny, Trent, and Paul

Or maybe I'll just shut myself down completely again

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
but because of you, I walk the line

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focused on the pain
the only thing that's real

What have I become
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end

you are someone else
I am still right here

If I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

When you're weary
feeling small
when tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all

I'm on your side
oh when times get rough
and friends just can't be found
like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down

when you're down and out
when evening falls so hard
I will comfort you

your time has come to shine
all your dreams are on their way
see how they shine if you need a friend
and sailing right behind

I will ease your mind

A Messed Up Romance, In 3 Acts

Act 1
The Letter he will never get

C,
Funny how sometimes I feel I know you so well, but am unsure how to spell your name. Or Where you live. Or your email address.

There's a lot I want to say to you, a lot of the time. But I don't. This isn't normal for me, as I have a tendency to state my mind. Usually not an opinion I'm holding, but what I see as the truth. But some thinngs...with you..I haven't. I think I was in the process of figuring that out, and if I don't have conviction in what I say, I shut up ( and you may ask, so why isn't she shutting up now?)

Translating a gut feeling and a true yearning or need into words isn't the easiset, even when one has a background in self indulgent self expression, whether they be written or performed of channeled into flour and sugar. But I'm trying.

There's part of me that has never been quiet. It's conradictory and questioning and genrally quite the brat. But when I'm around you, talking to you, it's quiet. It whispers. It's calm. I feel this contentness and...recognition. I don't know if you've ever had something, done something, known someone where you have that clarity, that " I Know You"

I have that with you. The edges stop blurring.

You are something unexpected for me

Act 2
The Phone Call
This is the point in the story where I call C and tell him that I need something from him so I know I can trust him. I need to know it's ok for me to feel this way. I need him to tell me it's ok or to let me go. Because none of this was planned, none of this was easy, and I don't want to keep caring so much. I never expected to meet him. I ever expected I'd want to let him in.
He talks about consistency, about how he's glad I fell this way, about how it's important for me. He says he doesnt want to hurt me.

I tell him I've lost the rulebook and don't know what I'm supposed to be doing.

He tells me nothing.

Act 3
What I need. What I do. What will I do.

I do not need a ring. I do not need a boyfriend. I need my hand touched sometimes.
I'll stop letting him talk to me for hours on the phone. I think he needs this. I need to talk to him and put my hand on his neck, just sometimes.

I've cried for hours today.He doesn't want to hurt me. He doesn't hurt me. I hurt me.
Kidney stones hurt me. Crazy mothers hurt me. Loving someone when I've never loved before does't hurt me. Someone thinking they're protectig me...hurts me.

I'll give him his chocolate and a smile. Maybe sometimes I'll answer the phone. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I'll tell him if he wats to talk to me he has to be able to look at me. Maybe I'll move away from this city I hate that has the person I want, to a city that I don't hate that has people I don't want.

Week In Review

Sore feet, Placido Domingo, boogery pugs, 4 hour phone calls, canceled flights, paper cuts from cardboard boxes, mended hearts, overtime

I Smell Like An AssTray

yes, you read that correctly. Bella has a broken heart ( I'm contagious) and I have a confused heart and was on the phone with the reciepient of my "I like you" speech, who finally gave me the "Quit freaking out " speech, who is at the moment getting over a cold I gave him ( I'm contagious) that was acquired NOT by making out, but by my selling him chocolate.

Long story short, I smoked too much tonight .

I still don't know whaddahell is actually going on, but I seem to be wising up to the fact that apparently, you aren't supposed to.

And this week I get to deal with turning down a job offer to go back to NYC to fling about fancy chocolates there. My slacking off idea backfired, I ended up in management, the I further impressed Super Upper Management, even the President, whom I hate because he made me cry like a girly weenie once......and working closely with him is precisely WHY I won't move back to NYC.......but this week I get to play "Let's negotiate" anyway.

On other fronts, having a libido again is not all it's cracked up to be.

Long Time No Post

For those of you have ever found a new life, you'll know locating one is not always seasy, and when one does finally locate said new life, it requires nurturing. But it seems I have finally located a sembelance of one, and perhaps can start posting again. Although Blogger is not allowing me to start new paragraphs, but i was never the most comprehensive writer, was I ? To start, I seen to have fallen in love, without my being really aware of it. harken back to the "I have a date" posts. he was one of them. We were friends, we did some naughty things, we did some not naughty things, and after 8 months or so I find myself falling into something I didnt even know I was capable of. And a few nights ago I told him the " I like you, I think you know that, I like what we have togeteher, even ythough I dont know what that is, but i feeel this awkwardness sometimes that I dont like, and I thought if I said something i would feel better" speech. And now my phone does not ring, and my heart hurts greatly, even though I thought it was so hard it could never hurt again. And I miss my old friend M, who flipped when I left her and NYC, and I am lost and alone and confused, And I am in such pain, pain greater than those stupid stones, because i thougfht I was immune to this...but I am not, it seems. All my fighting and standing strong and someone snuck into my heart, someone who I could have little babies with and make dinner with and someone I could tell my fears and now it may be gone...and I seem to not be as strong as I thought

Life or Something Like It

So, life in the Chocolate City is SERIOUSLY more boring than life in NYC.

I have absolutely nothing to report, other than I became an auntie Thursday night and Boy Pug broke a tooth.

If anyone happens to locate a missing life, please email it to me so that I may have something to blog about.

Well, It Seemed Like A Good Idea

So....seems date 1 has been postponed, and the puglets and I have settled into an evening of shedding, snoring, and sleeping. Shedding would be them, as would the snoring...since I am the dateless wonder I'm not sure if I snore or not, and sleeping would be all three of us. I was attempting a pedicure, but Boy Pug stumbled into my toes and is now streaked with pink nail polish.

There are two horrid little pug puppies spending the weekend at my parents house, and as i had the day off I was relegated to popping over and letting them out. These beasties belong to my brother and his fiance, and Girl Pug takes great delight in ferociously humping the youngest of the two, while he seems to take great delight in licking the unsuspecting eyeballs of Blind Boy Pug.

Now, I do love me some pugs, but having my two, my parents two, and my brothers wild puppies in a backyard that measures 30 by 15 does seem to be a bit much.

Fricken Fracken Addendum

TWO DATES!!!

With CUTE BOYS!

Of course, I think it's because I feed them both chocolate at job number 77, and i really..really..really have a sneaking suspicion they think I'm like Willy Wuglet and the Choclate Factory, and am always smiley and nice, when anyone who actually knows me ( or, so of my readers that would be Bella) knows I'm really a moody cranky nihilistic sort, who only smiles for tips or if someone is tickling her.

But still....TWO DATES!!!!!!!!!!

FRICKIN FRAKKIN FARKLEBERRIES!

So..new shiny computer had some issues.

I beat new shiny computer mercilessly.

Brother in law reinstalled mp3 something or others and Mozilla

New shiny computer is back on????

Puglet has missed blogging.

She waves forlornely at all her former readers and whispers "come back..I'm sure my spleen will fall out sometime soon"

I have two dates next week. Which for me, is major, because generally men disgust me and women just don't rock my boat that way.

This is precisely WHY I don't date

because I have to work two jobs tomorrow ( flinging about fancy kitchenware, then flinging about fancy chocolates) and instead of SLEEPING I'm running about trying to find my "dang the boobs look nice" top to wear to work, as opposed to the "dang look at the boobs! "top, as one is good for wearing when future beaus stop by unnanounced, and one is good for my boobs self esteem while on dates.


hrrrrrrmph


Bella is much excited about my dates. If she comments I'm sure she'll chime in as to why.

OOO...Blinking lights!

My computer, formerly broken, temporarily fixed, and currently wavering between life and death, is temporarily stable.

Besides my new KitchenAid Pro 600 series stand mixer with the 525 watt motor and 6 quart bowl, I am hoping Santa brings me my first ever brand new computer, that hasnt been handed down from my sister or mother.

I would also like some pretty amethyst earrings and a purple striped sweater for Girl Pug, and a green striped one for Boy Pug, and a carton of Camel Lights.

I'm hoping the New year brings the ability to blog more frequently, an apprenticeship with a boutique chocolatier, and a trip to Eastern Europe with Bella, who gave me the bestest Christmas present yet by visiting me tonight.

Oh Happy Day!

I gots me a new 'puter for Christmas! Brand spankin new, not a hand me down, all shiny and virus protected and MINE MINE MINE!

Of course, it's not set up yet, so I may still be MIA until my super smart brother in law gets it set up with all the wi-fi cables and thingamajigs.


I got the dangly earrings too.

In honor of the possibility of being communicado again, i'll try to fall down some stairs or get mugged or cut off an appendage so i have some interesting things to blog about.


Yay

of course, having eaten my first Turducken tonight, I could quite possibly explode before getting my paws on that shiny new 'puter.

My 'Puter Had Worms..

..or viruses, or something of the like. After ingesting many emails and blog posts and whatever else it felt like eating, my brilliant brother in law seems to have given it an enema and all will hopefully be well.

On the non-wormy front, I am retailing my way through the holidays alternating selling realllllly good chocolates and realllly overpriced kitchenware. I've yet to find a pastry type place in my new neck of the woods that doesn't seem breakdown inducing, and after a few years of being in baking hell during the holidays, I am so loving part time seasonal retail work. My resume has raised many eyebrows...the overpriced kitchenware store tried to give me a management position after seeing my stints as bakery manager, and the chocolate place kept telling me it wasn't a production job, but frankly, floating along as a seasonal employee showing as little initiative as possible has REALLY appealed to me.

The downside to all this, is after a few years wearing ripped pants, broken bras, bandanas, and butter stained shirts to work, I'm now forced to wear a thong ( no panty lines), proper bras, and tailored shirts. And makeup. And I have to remember to pluck my eyebrows and all that girly stuff.

So here's hoping this post takes.....

Oh Fuzzy Sock Fairy, How Do I Love You?

I am blessed to have a Nutrageous Bar Fairy AND a Fuzzy Sock Fairy, who pop up from time to time.

My Fuzzy Sock Fairy has reappeared, and whilst gleefully throwing lintballs in the air, given me my very first UPS package delivered to my new house, full of fuzzy socks and stinky bull pizzles for the puglets and obscene photos of pugs....WEEEHOOO!

Thank you Fuzzy Sock fairy, for making a pretty crappy month less crappy, and for keeping my fuzzy sock supply replenished. Blind Boy pug is currently torn between a huge rawhide and a bull pizzle, and Girl Pug is, of course, trying to eat my new electric blue sockies.

On the non fuzzy sock front, I am still hunting for jobs, avoiding the 'rents, and still getting lost navigating the bus and metro system of Chocolate City, which really doesnt seem to have all that many chocolate shops in it. Hrrmph.

Things I've Learned Of Late

Tapioca pudding may taste good, but I still can't get past what it looks like.

DC is much harder to navigate than NYC. And you can't use your "metro" card for the bus. And you have to swipe it when entering and exiting the metro station. And the metro is way to clean and has too many helpful signs and it's SCARING ME. But I still have no clue where I'm going.

After many years of pounding dough and hauling flour and lugging bread and filling cakes and whisking sauces, AND having a nasty digestive disease, after getting a fancy Elliptical machine for my birthday, it has become apparent that there are still muscles in my bum I'd never used until now.

Putting a pug on a picnic table and then pulling away all the chairs is very funny, unless you've left your hot dog on the table with the pug.

Not Intended For Human Consumption

I'm a year older today, and my blog is a whole year old..give or take a few days.

I suppose I should be reflecting. On..stuff. Whatever it is that someone who's now 29 should reflect on. But I think thats why I have blog archives..so I dont have to reflect.

This has not been a good week. I really...and I mean really...should never have moved this close to any members of my family. And what makes it worse is I KNEW I shouldn't. No matter how much things seem to have changed, when you move 1500 miles away and live by yourself for many years, that should tell you something. It's like kidney stones in a way. When you dont have them, you forget how painful they are, until a new one hits. And then as your eyes are rolling back in your head and you're screaming for more drugs to just make it stop, theres that godwaful moment of clarity. You thought they were gone. You took your meds and drank your water and got your xrays and thought they were gone, and out of nowhere they're back.

So.

I needed a change of scenery. I needed a better "support" system. I got 'em. And now it looks like I need to start going back to those "Dude, everyone in my family is like SO totally alcoholic" meetings. And I HATE those meetings, because I really don't like people trying to hug me and hold my hand or get me to go out to coffee with them.

Because all I really want to do is yell at someone and tell them to grow up and take responsibility, stop being the victim, stop with the sneaking around and shaming and blaming everyone else, and make a choice. Because even though I'm a year older, I'm still damn well ok with running away from you again.

And of course, nobody made me a cake today.

Making People Fat

For those lacking in parenting skills, this is what happens when you call your slightly chubby child fat and try and put her on a diet. When she's 7. And was so totally not even close to fat, at least not then.

She grows up nice and chunky, runs as far away from you as possible, and becomes a pastry chef.

Ten years later, after all your parents antipsychotic meds have kicked in and you stop being mean to her, she moves into the apartment under your house and in two weeks makes you...

peach pie

chocolate raspberry brownies

blueberry pie

vanilla layer cake, layered with raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries

peach blueberry crisp

buttermilk biscuits

and most recently, a chocolate layer cake infused with raspberry cognac syrup and a chocolate ganache frosting, since my soon to be not so tiny pregnant sister who always tortured me about my weight is coming over for dinner tomorrow, and rumor has it cake is her current weakness.

I now understand EXACTLY what is meant by "Revenge is Sweet"

Wet

I've not given much thought to blogging the past week. I'm not a poltical blogger, socially active blogger, humanitarian blogger. I'm just a girl who makes stuff with sugar, loves her pugs, and has been nearly eaten alive by mosquitos of late.

Of course, I have opinions..sometimes too many, and sometimes too loudly. I'm trying to avoid those things now, because in my stomach I have that gross feeling (and not the one that comes from my being lactose intolerant and worshipping at the feet of the gods known as Ben and Jerry) but rather the one that starts in your stomach and moves into your head and makes some people cry or write bad poetry or rally or run or just scream.

The last time I had this gross stomach feeling was several Septembers ago, when I could smell the smoke from the fires burning downtown, and would wake up at night cowering in my bathtub because a bolt of thunder or a fighter jet screaming overhead had sent my still sleeping body into such panic I would dive for cover while still dreaming. I took my lease and utility bills out on every walk with the pugs because I didnt have a local ID and my block was barricaded on both sides. I did a lot of cleaning back then. For some reason when highly stressed I become very Martha-esque. i also do this when stoned out of my mind on medications. Cleaning is just not a natural response for me

I'm trying not to make some of the same mistakes this past week. I'll read the paper, but not watch the news. I know that stomach ache has a name with fancy intials now. Sometimes I start to feel jumpy, and I'll walk..this time in a new city, with no barricades on my block, and I'll smoke and hunt for something that gives me comfort, like a Nutrageous bar. I'm making myself tell my family how scared I was, because then it was so hard to do, because they were so far away, and so totally helpless. But I still can't say much, because now, this is so much worse, and I know so many people have that gross feeling in their stomachs, but this time it's SO MUCH BIGGER and I feel like I only had a 24 hour flu.

So I do what I can, to help all these aches, to rty and help others from aching so much, and so much more, but when it's late...I just scrubbed my bathtub again, and my refrigerator is probably next.

Gimme Some Chemicals!

As I mentioned before, I can totally deal with roaches and rats.

Mosquitos are a TOTALLY different matter.

I've been enjoying the back garden..teeny tiny and paved with old bricks covered with ivy and hanging plants..the kind that in NYC would add at least a grand to your rent each month. The pugs have been peeing and pooping with pure abandon and flopping in sunspots to nap.

I've been scratching my ankles raw because all those damn 'squitos are eating me alive. It's bad enough I have to live so near my parents..now I'm starting to dress like them by wearing mid calf socks with my sensible shoes and capris. The choicest bites have been covered with my piratey bandaids,,but still..I look pretty odd.

I really need to get some bug spray. And some friends my own age. And figure out the Metro.

Melancholy Puglet

I'mn almost unpacked..having go flitch some bookcases from the parents.

I have a new dessert catering thing coming up..happy happy joy joy

My new doctor wants my brain thourougly poked, since he thinks some of my ongoing issues could be related to either a half dead thyroid or one thats sent little thyroid soldiers to set up base camps in my armpits, or abdomen perhaps. Since I already have endometriosis that send rogue warriors to set up base camp on my bladder and bowels, this seems concieiable. Then I get a great brain scan to see if I have a piuitary tumor.

I'm mostly cranky because I have to do some fasting blood work and me and hungry are an evil sight to behold.

I'm also cranky because I'm a bit sad and lonely. I'm excited about my new life, but I havent met anyone yet I can bother who will play with me. I really wanna go play with someone, but I'm shy and dont do well at parties and bars.

That and my pregnant sister was over tonight, telling her pregnangt stories, whilst I contemplating sticking a fork into my very troubulsome likely barren womb

Tartlets, Shmartlets

Sixty tartlet shells

Rum pastry cream

Framboise pastry cream

Lemon curd

Blueberries

Strawberries

Blackberries

They were the cutest things at the party, which actually made me feel like a shmuck. So I hid in a corner until it was time to go home. Maybe I should have taken my sisters suggestion and done cupcakes from a box.

An Open Letter To M

M,

Since one of my posts deepened our drama, I'm putting this one out there as well.

I can totally understand why you feel I was being cruel/unnecessary. But please know, it was not with intent or to make you feel that way.

I'm sure that doesn't lessen your feelings of betrayal any, but I promise you, I would NEVER purposely hurt you. Even if we were not friends anymore. Doesn't mean you wont still get hurt, but I did/do/will always hold you in a very odd place in my heart.

Theres a lot of stuff that came up before leaving that would make me say and still think what I did, but I'm not trying to do the "I'm right and you're wrong" or "you're right and I'm wrong" thing either. You ARE under a huge amount of stress and having lifestyle changes. That affects ANYONE'S coping skills and behaviors. Same for me.

I know you said you were fine after our phone convo, but obviously, I wasn't, and to an extent still am not. It's a matter of different perceptions to words/actions/situations and to the intent of them, or lack thereof ( I am so confusing myself now). Point is, friends or not, in any relationship both people can start taking others for granted. I'd hope we've gone through enough that we're more like family ( but possibly without the hairpulling or wedgies, and PLEASE don't pin me in a corner and try and smooch on me like my drunk brother did) .

So maybe we'll get over this. Maybe not. Either way, please know you are very much loved by me, even if you hurt me/piss me off, and even if you hurt me/piss me off and don't think you have or should have.

To anyone reading this for pug/ghetto/medical dramas, well, this post may not be interesting to you. But as I told M, it's still a personal diary/writing exercise that happens to be very public. And it's still written because it's for me.

Oh, Just Shoot Me Now

MONDAY: Movers arrive in NYC. There is lots of sweating involved. Mommy drives me to DC.

TUESDAY: Movers arrive in DC. I set off my new alarm system multiple times, scaring myself and the puglets senseless. I go set up a new bank account and realize I've left my drivers licsence in NYC while closing THAT bank account. Luckily, this means instead of going to the DMV to renew said lost licsence, I drink many iced coffees while locating the whereabouts of the lost ID and arranging to have it mailed to me. Whilst locating lost ID, I check the balance of the NYC account I was forced to leave open since my landlords have yet to cash my July 1st rent check, and find they have still not cashed it yet tried to cash my August 1st check which they claimed was lost in an office fire, forcing me to put a stop payment on it and issue a new check.

WEDNESDAY: I visit my new doctor, who is thoroughly impressed with all my Itis-es and doles out appropriate referrals and prescriptions. Mommy and I hit many huge chain stores looking for apartment stuff, like towels and flatware, when I realize I can't purchase any of these items because I dont have a debit, PIN card, checks or much cash yet, and have no idea what size lamp I actually need until I've unpacked the many boxes now stacked in my kitchen and living room. The pugs start to love the back garden, and I experience the joy of multiple mosquito bites. I didn't know ghettos had 'squitos. I'm used to rats and roaches, and just so I don't forget the roaches I realize some have hitched a ride to DC in my moving boxes while trying to find out exactly where I packed the clean sheets. Now clean sheets with roachie germs

THURSDAY: The pugs are shuttled to the new vet, I do phone concults for the desserts I'm catering on Saturday, make my shopping list for Friday, and try to recall in exactly WHICh box my pastry implements are located in. My little brother shows up completely drunk to say hi to me, crushes me in a bear hug, and traps me in my apartment for many minutes bawling and kissing me and telling me what a horrible brother he's been, how he's so glad his family is all here now and I've agreed to make his wedding cake, what a wonderful sister I am and how screwed up our family is. We go up to my parents house where he passes out on the sofa, I get some dinner, and my parents go to drive him home before he pukes. Once back, I make myself scarce before the alcholic family drama insues..the one where the alcoholic parents try and decide if the alcoholic child is truly alcoholic or just stupid, and I laugh in nervous hysteria once safely back in my apartment, whilst reminding myself this is why I ran away in the first place. Oh, and he totally did puke while in the car, apparently.

The phone line has been turned on, at last, and I open emails to find a "Dear John" best friend breakup letter citing references from two posts down. WOOHOO! This day keeps getting better!
I LOVE moving!

Saying Goodbye, Saying Hello

All I know about bitter sweet is when it refers to chocolate.

I do know this is hard.

New York was always the place I was fighting to get to. I had my bags packed before I graduated high school, trying to get as far away from my po-dunk midwestern town and my destructive, insane family as fast as possible. Since I didn't have a passport, it was either California or New York. Winning a scholarship to atheater school here helped me make that decision.

A year into school, my body started to self destruct and I crawled back home, defeated, with odd things coming out of every orifice and some really strange rashes. I spent the next two years living in my parents basement, shuttling to doctors, trying to ignore the community college pamphlets my mother shoved under my door when she wasn't busy counting my medications to make sure I'd taken them.

Eventually the rashes and odd orifice objects subsided a bit, and I promptly packed my bags and medicine botlles and ran away to NYC again, leaving my parents words of "You'll never make it..you'll never be well enough to do anything" rolling with the tumbleweeds. There was more schooling and auditioning and working and trying to be independent self esteem building.

And then at another point, more parts of my body started disintegrating and relocating and becoming posessed by ancient demons, and back to Hicksville I went..seemingly for good. Eventually I learned how to force my body to submission, or at least medicate it into some stage of behaving. I started baking at a local joint, something I'd done in NYC to support myself between acting gigs ( needless to say, I did more baking than acting). I studied school brochures, this time for learning alternative medicine and healing, but that little voice in me kept telling me " Go East, Young Woman"

So yet again, I ran. Determined this time no matter which part of me spontaneously combusted I wasnt going to let my body define me..or make me live in my parents basement!. The last 5 years in this apartment, my mom got crazier and drunker, and slowly better. I stopped the parental interrogations and just sent them my medical bills instead. 9-11 sent me into a tailspin, and I decided to actively to pursue my life and my dreams instead of believeing that at some point my spleen was going to fall out, so why really bother?

And now I'm going back to my family, something I swore I'd never do. But this is the first time I chose to do so, and wasn't forced into it. Yes, my many kidney boo-boos influenced that choice, because after years of having no emotional support system..and claiming I didn't need one..my family was healthy enough to provide me a good one. This time there are no strings, no threats,
no failed dreams. I've accomplished more here, and in my life, than I ever really expected. And starting a new chapter isn't filling me with dread, but excitement and anticipation.

I'm sure I'll get sick of my parents ( I'm renting the apartment attatched to their house, but as they keep exclaiming.."It's NOT the Basement in Po-Dunk!") and my sister and her husband in the suburbs,, heck..even my little brother moved their last year! But they know me as a grown up now, and are actually in awe of my career and accomplishments.

I'm still changing all the locks right when I get there, though.