The Zit

So after I went to Roller Derby Saturday I seemed to develop a small zit up my one nostril.  By Sunday night it was starting to get a strong heartbeat.  Today I had a very stressful and important day and not only is Zitty McZitterson still up my nose it's now red and hot on the outside of my nose.  When I twitch my nose it pulls up my face and makes my eye twitch.  Amazing! 

I don't think anyone noticed today that I was packing my new friend with me but I guess that can't really be held against me.  I hope to report some good news in the coming weeks.  It's been so busy that I have to really focus on thinking about blogging. 

Stay tuned...I promise to get out my weirdness soon.

As per your request....

So I kind of missed out on my favourite time of the week.  Sunday early morning.  The pets and I slept in till 8:15 and now I feel almost out of sorts.  I really do love my quiet Sunday morning tea and writing.  After feeding the dog and taking him out in my PJ's to see the church folk parking for the quickest exit spots I almost slowed down my schedule.

I've had a request by one of my few readers to add a little more food talk.  Clearly this person isn't suffering food cravings like I do but I will do my best to step it up a bit.  I tend to be an open book on here so I will admit that recently I've been craving big hot Sunday dinner meals.  Being a single lady who's not cooking for a family or boys I can't really be busting out huge meals like that.  However with my meat brother moving soon I'm taking the opportunity to make a few things before he goes that I can enjoy.  (Also, I'm not going to return his video game...but he seems to be aware of that.)

Today, I'm going to go with my first craving and make my own meatballs for spaghetti and meatballs tomorrow night.  I'm going to do my best to take pictures of the process since I seem to be stepping that up with the blog.

Step One.
Debbie's old food processor.
I spent the better part of my teens cleaning this beast.  My mom used it about 3 times a week so I got to know it fairly intimately.  I inherited it two years ago and have used it 3 times.  The cord is all yellow and creepy and the top has a few tiny paint splatters.  Good job Dad.  I really take after that man.

Step Two
Choppin and Mixin'
So the picture above is the beast.  I can put it together blindfolded from memory of my teen years.  Kind of like Forest Gump with his gun.  Anyway, I mixed an onion, celery, Italian spice, two pieces of bread and two eggs.  Then with my hands I mixed it all in together with the meat.  I find that I'm a compulsive hand washer with mixing.  I don't like my hands to be too cold or dirty.

Step 3
Balls

So after mixing it all together I gave a cookie sheet a little oil rub, washed my hands twice and then began rolling the balls.  I didn't think there would be tons but thanks to Baby Jesus and my inability to measure properly or follow a recipe I have a cookie sheet full of balls.  I should mention that the below picture is my largest cookie sheet.  Meaning my balls are not small. 

Step 4
Debbie
I'm proud to say that I only called my mother once to ask one cooking question.  "Do I cover the balls or not?"  Wise as ever she asked what I made them with and said no.  Apparently covering them would mean they would be too wet.  Go Debbie.  So now my balls are in the oven, smelling up the house with meat goodness and the Parmesan cheese I added to them.  Amazing.  I see now why Italian kids don't leave home until they get married.  I may never get married if I had an Italian Momma cooking for me all the time.

Step 5
Balls are done
So I cooked the balls on a cookie sheet for about an hour.  Maybe too long but keep in mind tomorrow I'm going to soak them in sauce so they will kind of rehydrate and get even more flavor.  I think with sauce and what I plan to put in it I might have too many.  But I will be saving some in the freezer for the next time I have a craving.  I did try a small one and it was pretty good.  The sauce will only make them better.  I kind of want a meat ball sub.

So despite a slow start I have managed to get something fun done today.  Also, can I just say that I really had no clean up to speak of.  Why?  I'm one of those anal people who cleans up as they go.  I can't stand people who cook and leave a huge mess at the end.  Bowls and pots get crusty while you eat so you have to use twice as much water to clean up.  Also, during a meal all I can think of is all the cleaning I have to do when I'm done eating.  I don't have a big enough kitchen to have someone beside me helping either.  (Personal space.)


Will let you know how the balls go over tomorrow. 

"Only in my dreams"

I love writing when the house is so quiet.  Just the laptop, bottle of water and the humming of the fridge in the next room.  Fred is out and the dog is still in bed.  I think he's in bed.  I've not seen him since he crawled under the covers last night.  I assume he's in there. 

I feel the urge to tell you guys about a dream I had yesterday.  For some reason I was on the run with this blond woman in a wedding dress.  (Could happen.)  Anyway, in the dream we were in a stolen car, pulled into these condo's and broke into a house.  (Total bad ass move.)  After making out on some stairs, (I would never do this as I have a bad back and when you think about it it's not very practical.  When I was much younger I did do some very adult things on some stairs but I didn't have a bad back and my partner at the time was very athletic.)  So...where was I .  Yes, so we both felt like she needed to get some real clothes on and of course I opted to get us some on the run food.  I headed for the very well designed and decorated kitchen and began filling a bag with food stuff.  Then, on the kitchen table was a huge two layer tray of cookies.  Fuckin Score!  They were all home made and I began filling a container with them.  Then there was this messy filled with icing sugar kind on the far side.  Over filled really with frosting leaking out of them all.  I googled a picture. 

I know right?  Anyway, so in the dream I'm loading up the container with the cookies when I say out loud.  "These are not going to be good for my sugars."  Hold the fuckin front door!  In my dreams I'm usually always at my ideal chunky yet handsome weight, I'm dressed in semi fun yet well fitting clothes and I am usually looking my optimal (if only in my dreams) best.  Never in the Rhonda handbook does it say "Now that you have gotten the diabetes will you be all diabetic in your dreams.  Be sure to test your sugars before you have that dream 3-way with Gabrielle Reece and Terri Clark." 

I think it was important to add those pictures. 

Anyway, I guess I assumed that my dreams were that last place in my life where I wouldn't have to think about what I ate or my sugars.  I could dream about Texas BBQ and going to New Orleans some day and eating my way up and down Bourbon Street.  I guess if my inner self in my dreams is concerned about my sugars too, maybe this really is a life time deal.  I mean come on!  Is nothing sacred?  I might have to meditate and tell my inner soul to knock it off so I can enjoy bad foods in my dreams and not be worried when I have filthy dreams about very tall women. 

Soup

So I went out and bought a space heater yesterday just to take the edge off during the day.  I am on the plan for gas and don't need a few days of extreme cold to cost me an extra 10 bucks a month on next years bill.   I have been trying to think of a way I can put in a gas fire place in my living room.  I'm sure there is a way...a very expensive way. 

Right now I'm all about saving money.  I've been invited out for dinner a few times since being off and have had to more recently decline for fear of spending money I will need at some point.  To make matters non really worse but weird, I've begun to buy unemployed people foods.  After my stomach flu I seem to be living on soup.  Today my nose would not get warm at all so after my hour long after noon nap (when it's cold it helps me get warm) I made up a huge pot of soup.  Two packets. I'm guessing by the end of the cold night I will be eating it all.  I'm envisioning friends stopping over and forcing a mug of soup on them.  "No, you will need it.  It's cold in here.  Take the guest slippers too."

I've had a fun few days.  I've found a few jobs online and applied for them, cleaned the house and waited like a good girl until after 7 to do my laundry.  There should be a clause for us unemployed people who are home all day and want to do our laundry and use extra power to do boring unemployed people things.  I think it's fair.  What about stay at home mom's with a bunch of kids?  I used to work with a woman who had 3 little girls.  I think she was constantly doing laundry.  If she was still home all day I'm guessing waiting till after 7 would really piss her off.  Apparently from 11 till 7 am it's even cheeper.  Fuck.  I wonder if things get really bad will I have to get up in the middle of the night and do my laundry?  I guess it's good I'm only wearing pajamas and using my white towels.  If I play it right I can maybe only do two or 3 loads a week.  Clearly I'm all about planning.

Not much else is new.  My poor wiener dog needs to be carried home if we walk more then 3 houses away.  He gives me the eyes after his poop and I can't stand to see him lifting his cold paws looking at me to fix it.  I feel like a celebrity carrying my little dog down the street.  I guess all I need is a purse and really big sunglasses. 

I think I need more soup. 

Bad Juju

	Definition from Urban Dictionary (Where else would I look?) Haunted by a bad vibe or aura. Can be used as a noun or an adjective. “Now that place had some bad juju.” In answer to a question about what someone thought of a person place or thing one could answer, "bad juju".

So I have decided that my bedroom has some serious bad Juju.  There are a few reasons for this clearly over dramatic realization but needless to say changes need to be made.  I wouldn’t say there is a spirit of a demon or anything in there but I think I’ve fucked with the feng shui and really just not created what I want for that room.  I know many people out there hate Oprah but the one thing I remember her saying while talking about home, (yes...I’m carrying Oprah’s words in my soul) is that “your home should rise up to meet you.”  Well my bedroom trips you and penetrates you without the benefit of any lube.  Here is a list of why in no particular order.

1.       Paint job.  I don’t fully hate the color.  It’s called Ritz Cracker.  Ok, I chose it because that’s a cool ass name for a paint color.  Anyway, I now hate the color but due to the shitty uneven walls and corners the cutting in and painting close to the ceiling looks like Stevie Wonder with Parkinson’s painted it.  That bad.  I lay in bed at night when the light is on and laugh...

2.       Stuff.  My bedroom is not a big room and with a queen size bed 80% of it is taken up with workbench.  Add in a dresser and a smaller night stand used as underwear storage...there goes another 15.  Then I have a tall bedside stand.  So, there goes my 100%. 

3.       The Bed.  I really think that when a big girls likes other big girls the owner of the big girl bed should invest in a good bed.  Something that will last the test of time...and big girls.  My bed is about 7 years old and thanks to my ars has worn out on my side while the visitor side is ok but has a bit of an incline that causing rolling over to my side.  I’ve been trying to switch sides but that has gone about as well as me switching to penis.

4.       The mood.  Right now my room is messy and there really is no mood.  My small bedside table with underwear and socks is covered with clothes.  Under the clothes is a Buddha with some candle holders.  This would be a great mood to set, if my collection of unemployed clothes were not smothering poor Buddha.  (This could be totally effecting my juju on a spiritual level.) 

So I have devised a plan.  At some point I will get back to work and I will also have some tax money coming my way so I have opted to invest in a really good bed.  Before that happens I need to get the room ready.  Here are a few plans.  Again, the order might change.

1.       Space.  Something had to give in this house and I’m sure as hell going to get back my good juju one room at a time.  So, because I’m writing to you from the laptop in the dining room its time that I think about my small den as more of a functional space.  So I will be getting rid of my hard drive (it’s shit) and my desk.  That space will then become free for my white dresser to go into.  That will free up some space in both rooms. 

2.       Paint.  I suck at picking paint colours.  I don’t know what my issue is but my bedroom was once what I thought was going to be a popular calm pear green.  It turned out to be long suffering mucus pneumonia spit up infection.  My living room and dining room were suppose to be a beautiful “cottage” blue.  This turned out to be “we are having a boy” deep baby blue.  I picked that color after a huge loss in my life.  This time I have my wits about me and have fallen in love with grey.  I don’t know fully if I will be going light as in my living room or a bit more of a slate grey but I know it will be making an appearance.  I also would really like an accent wall.  Maybe not one that is totally visible from the hall but one that I can enjoy laying in bed. 

3.       Mood.  With a little more space the bedroom will be a little more airy, so I will have to go with this and maybe give up my two pictures.  Both are of nondescript European streets and were bought during one of my phases.  I don’t know if I can work with them in my “vision” but either way I do want to have one or two things on my walls to set a new tone.  Like any good gay I do have a picture of a half naked lady.  I could work that into something.  Either way, to get the juju back I need to step it up.

4.       The Bed.  When I manage to swangle getting a new bed I plan to go back to that person from a few years ago.  Back in the day bedding mattered to me.  I paid close attention to thread counts like a fat kid watching cake.  I opened packages in stores and jammed my tiny yet thick hand in to make sure they were soft enough.  I still morn a set of sheets I had years ago.  They were so soft and thin.  I bet they lasted 8 years and this was in my 20’s during some of my most action and when I played lesbian baseball and had some semi steady relationships.  Anyway, I need a comfortable bed. When I find and can afford said bed I think the room will be fully ready.  Until then I can get it ready. 

I think you can create your own reality.  If you put some effort into a situation you can change it.  I’m determined, for myself, to change the creepy vibe in my bedroom and make it rise up to meet me. 

Support

I’ve reached a new phase in my life.  I now have to moisturize my hips before bed.  Let me explain that this time of year my skin is super dry due to the weather and my love of hot showers.  So, I get a little dry and tight.  As a side sleeper I hop into bed, get situated and then the feeling hits me.  It’s like a dry itch I attempt to ignore but the neurotic part of me pictures little bugs aggressively biting me since I’ve pinned them down under my weight.  I lay there for a while thinking I’ve got bed bugs then convince myself that I’m fine and to go to sleep.  If the dry itch is really bad I turn over to my other side and repeat.  A sane person would itch but for me I feel like it will make the itching worse.  So, I’m going to shoot to be even more sane and pre-moisturize my hips before bed.  No more going to bed thinking I’m going to be devoured by bedbugs and then judged for having bed bugs. 

Now that you are all wondering why you even bother to read my blog, let’s get down to business.  I went into work the other day and left with a huge full binder for my course with my reading.  I have to say carting the 10 lbs around downtown for the rest of the day made me a little worried about the course but I know I have amazing supports should I get into trouble.  I guess I like that about my life.  I have amazing friends and support in different pockets in my life.  Work friends who have become a bit of a fun work family, old friends I’ve connected with over the last year who I’ve not missed a beat with and an amazing friend who has my back no matter what.  I really am truly blessed. 

I love my pockets of friends.  They all seem to add something the others don’t.  I mean that they all seem to have their own gifts in my life.  Take my most uncomplicated friendship with Rex (name changed to protect the innocent.)  He is like the little brother I would have had should that pregnancy test I found in the bathroom garbage in Grade 8 (thanks Mom) been positive.    Wait...I think that kid would be older.  Never mind.  Anyway, our friendship is about uncomplicated dude stuff.  Conversations about chicks, food, comedy shows and life.  Unlike chicks we don’t dig deep into the “why’s” of our issues, over analyze or obsess about our issues.  We just put them out there, have some food and joke around.  Our expectations are not high.  We are cool with each other and very in the moment.  It is a nice change from many of my other friendships. 

My other interesting friendship is that person who had my back.  Who will take my text almost any time, made sure I knew what I was doing when I got the beats and knows when to just listen when I’m having a hard time.  I don’t think anyone knows me or more importantly, gets me like she does.  I’m assuming she gets me.  I could just be mistaken for her unwavering support and acceptance of all my weirdness and quirks but honestly I think she gets me.  There are no demands or expectations.  We are just there for each other in a way that I can’t even explain.  We might not see each other super often but we talk daily and I almost never have to tell her how I’m feeling when something bad happens.  She just gets it.  I have to thank Sweet Baby James for that one. 

This year has gotten off to a bit of a suck ass start but at the end of the day I sleep well knowing my support system is strong and that makes my heart and soul full. 

Sylvia

So I had every intention of going downtown today and getting a few things done.  At the crack of 8:30 I called to make sure my hair dresser Sylvia was working today since this would be one of the main reasons for putting on pants today.  My heart sank to her it was her day off.  Fuck!  The other woman in the shop who sports mall bangs, an oozing cold sore and specializes in shaving dudes necks is not someone I can trust to do a proper razor cut to my delicate, thinning, boyishly handsome lesbian hair.  That’s what Sylvia has mastered in the last year of our relationship.  (That and I feel bad for her.  She is named after one of the worst songs ever.  Sylvia’s mother.  I’m not named for Help me Rhonda but my song is catchy and most likely about some surfer whore named Rhonda blowing a beach boy to help him forget his past love.  Sylvia’s mother...ug.  Here is a link if you want to be depressed and confused.)  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dc6EWYws_X4

It’s kind of sad that my day has hinged on a woman in her mid 40’s who is going to make my lesbian surfer hair into a sensible lesbian cut again.  I do kind of feel that now when I pop into work I need to look semi professional to be hired back again.  I don’t believe one hair cut can erase almost 3 years of short pants, desk toys and running shoes, but it can’t hurt right?  Now tomorrow will be a full day of running around before dinner with a friend.  Today has thus far consisted of scrubbing the shower and tub, exfoliating, a peel off nose mask and job searching.  I needed a big of a blog break.

I also just took a chance and signed up for an online employment course.  It’s been a while since I’ve taken a course, I used to enjoy a good night school course and took some in project management, creative writing and Health and Safety.  It’s been a few years since my learning involved more then meditation and self improvement.  I’m guessing my home work won’t ask me to look back on my childhood and figure out why my relationships with others aren’t the best.  I’m sure I could figure out a way to make it about me in a professional employment related way.  I feel like I have found where I want to work and how I want to spend the middle part of my work life as I slowly begin approaching my middle years.

I was talking to a former co-worker the other day who is about my age.  We talked about finding “that job” for this part of our lives.  We don’t want and are not having kids and don’t have any dependents so what we plan on doing from now on is for us.  Talking to someone in the same place, same past employers and with the same goals was refreshing.  We both want to work somewhere doing something that not only makes a difference but is where we want to be.  Maybe that’s why I miss my job so much.  The work, the clients and most of all the co-workers that got me.  I even miss a few of the co-workers who didn’t get me.  (I’m a hard nut to get sometimes.)

I also got a sign yesterday while out shopping that I need to think about checking another thing off my bucket list.  See photo.  

Yes, I bought this game for 2 dollars! 

Today I got a sign from a comedian I used to love about an improv night in Toronto.  This is my perfect storm.  Toronto, no distraction and my chance to do comedy.  I’m going to look into it.

“Feet on ground, heart in hand, looking forward, be yourself.”

Beth Hart and solids

So this has been quite a week around Casa De Kursack.  Or however you would say that in Spanish.  I’ve managed to get emotionally and physically drained and thanks to a raging bout of the stomach flu I’ve lost 12 lbs.  Thanks to whoever shoved my toothbrush up their ass.  After getting a new toothbrush I’ve managed to thus far have a great weekend and feel almost (ish) normal again.  I had one of my perfect mornings starting with the sound of rain, tea and a biography. 

I almost don’t have much to talk about today.  I look forward to trying more solid foods and getting back to real life again this week.  Last week was a right off but I guess here and there we all have them.  Nothing is really a waste but maybe a pause to realize what we have and what we are shifting to focus on. 

Basement Girl went to church (for real) so I’ve managed to blast some tunes to bring be back to where I want to be today.  I think if I could tell anyone who to listen to it would be Beth Hart.  Some Sunday’s when I need a kick in the ass I listen to her and feel like I can either punch someone in the face (in a good way) or do almost anything.  She is the best singer you have never heard of.  Fun Fact about her, apparently the band Metric covers one of her songs.  Suck those balls.  So I will leave you with one that I love.  The lyrics...well are very...me. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQgcogjw1QQ 

Lyrics for you lazy bastards who don't listen to the song.

Wish me luck give me somethin'
Help me out and I'll go there
Wish me luck give me somethin'
Help me out and I'll go there

All I want is a brand new truck
With one eyed jacks and beginners luck
The doctors script for the perfect drug
Get it all while I can

But I got no money and I got no man
I drive around in a beat up van
I ride on coffee and percodan
Get it all while I can, get it all while I can

Is that too much to ask?
Is that too much to ask?
Is that too much to ask?
Is that too much to ask?
Come on now

So people tell me to clean up my mess
Like I was sweet sixteen in a dirty dress
But I'm wiser now so I must confess
That I get it all while I can, yeah
I get it all while I can

Is that too much to ask?
Is that too much to ask?
Somebody told me
Is that too much to ask?
Is that too much to ask?
Just make it real and make it last

Someday maybe I'll understand
This crazy old life is in my hands
Someday maybe I'll figure it out
Somebody help me anybody tell me

Wish me luck give me somethin'
Help me out and I'll go there
Wish me luck give me somethin'
Make it real and make it last

[Incomprehensible]

Is that too much to ask?
Is that too much to ask?
Somebody told me
Is that too much to ask?
Is that too much to ask?
Just make it real and make it last