Hainke Painke

I have started dating again. 

It is strange to date when you still love another. It, in fact, feels like you are cheating. 

It is even stranger to have to tell the one you love that you are going out with another man. 

To his credit, he said he was jealous - which was very confusing to me! I never considered that to be a possibility! Reeling, I made the mistake of responding that I wished it was him and I going instead. It took me a few minutes to realize that I didn't really mean that...

I really have to stop saying those kinds of things.

My first date (Sunday Man) pulled up in an old beat up jalopy ... with a door that had to be opened from the inside only. He was fun, but not enough for me to overlook his 39 years of backwards upbringing. I requested a return trip home due to an early morning at work. 

My second date (Thursday Man) turned out to be a little easier to manage as I had become smarter over the previous three days and learned to arrange a meeting place. He was a full decade older than me, very nice, handsome for an older man - and totally uninteresting to me. I felt very mean as he hugged me goodbye and asked for a second date. I knew there would not be another. And I did not say so. 

My third date (Friday Man) I also met on location - although on the way there, I was followed by a car that housed a man that vaguely fit my date's description. But not in a good way. I prayed so hard that it was NOT my date - and breathed a sigh of relief when he turned left and I turned right. My date turned out to be pleasant, handsome, well educated, well traveled, interesting - and a long-winded braggart. I truly did not get to say four words in about 3 hours while I listened to scores of anecdotes relating to his travel, his riches, his possessions...and then to top it all off, he took me up on my offer to pay half for our meal! Ha! When he hugged me goodbye, he assured me that he would be in touch. I am not sure I will be reachable...we will see.

My fourth date (Saturday Man) was the one I was really looking forward to. A manicure and pedicure, a new pair of shoes, and a new flush in my cheeks meant that we were to have a great evening! I had talked to him a few times on the phone, and enjoyed his repartee tremendously. The only red flag that I could see was his sudden and deep penetration into my social media life...he knew my personal email addresses, found my facebook page, my blog - it just felt a bit strange. As the time approached for me to leave to meet him in Denver, I received an odd text: " Looking forward to seeing you - don't come too late." To which I queried playfully what exactly too late would be. As texts went back and forth a few more times it became clear that he and I had different ideas of what our date was going to look like, and he was frustrated. And then - he stopped responding all together when I asked if maybe we shouldn't call the whole thing off! Twice I texted, twice I called, and then, remembering what D used to say about giving the non-responding party the benefit of the doubt (noone can be on their phones as much as I need them to be!), I kept our arrangement plans and assured myself that there would be a good explanation.

There wasn't. 

There was, however, an email that arrived on my phone an hour later. The part that stands out the most to me: "I am sorry that you came to Denver - you shouldn't have. If I had wanted you to, I would have called you back."

I am so very blessed that my God looks out for me. I am so grateful that this guy showed his character so early. I had no idea that I was dealing with that kind of personality. 


I did respond, though...just a short note, letting him know that I was glad that it wasn't because something horrible happened and that had kept him from answering his phone. (I honestly thought maybe his ailing dog had suffered an episode, as that is what he had been dealing with all week.)


His response? "Are you being sarcastic? I didn't know that Christian Republicans were smart enough for that?"


After my friends and I laughed at his ridiculousness, I privately took great pleasure in the fact that I held myself back from retorting that maybe we weren't smart enough for sarcasm, but we sure as HELL know that you don't end a statement with a question mark.

D never told me that dating was this...this...weird. I hope it gets better.

Sellur's Market

I have been doing crazy things to my phone lately. It is almost as if it senses my imbalance and translates all of my negative energy into random internal commands. 

For two weeks I tried unsuccessfully to reach my mother. I was so desperate to talk to her, so needy, and so distraught that my poor little phone freaked out. Twice, instead of calling my mom, it called D's mom! Very awkward...especially when sobbing. Three times it disconnected as soon as someone answered on the other end. One time it just refused to dial the number at all. (Are phones allowed to be that disobedient??) Finally, my mom called ME. 

And as soon as I heard her voice the tears started. 

Now, I don't get to talk to my mother a whole lot - I would like to say that we are the kind of family that calls each other once or twice a day or even a week - but the truth is, we aren't. I have gone for months without talking to my mom or dad. (Determined to change that, by the way...) So I am sure that it was a bit bewildering to have me launch into a full blown sob with sniffles and garbled words. Like a trooper, she listened until I was all done, asked a few pertinent questions, and did the only right thing to do in such a situation: she went online and procured a plane ticket for her crazy daughter to come visit her little piece of heaven in NH. 

I am going to see my mom in early Sept. YAY! :) 


Let's all say it together one. More. Time -  It's going to be okay. 


...right?

Stupid Girl

That's right. I said it.

Dumb, dumb, dumb, stupid girl.

I didn't make it over the last hurdle without falling flat on my face. The skinned elbows and knees pale in comparison to the gouges I caused on the inside.

You know, I wanted to break up because I didn't want either one of us to settle for less.

Instead, I became worse than less. I became the proverbial "booty call". 

Willingly. Over and over.

I am so ashamed. 

I am not as healthy now as I was even three years ago. 

I am less respectable today than I was three years ago, too.

...stupid girl.

Mercurial

 Do you ever feel like one of those roulette wheels? Like someone just grabbed hold of a peg on your emotions and gave a hard spin?

I went to bed last night in a very resolute mood - a wise, no nonsense, almost hardened spirit in me for sure. I woke up with the desire to bring sacredness in to our home throughout our day. I have since digressed into a bit of chaos and muddled thoughts, tinged with a bit of panic.

I am committed to using the practice of mindfulness to be aware of where I am and how my thought life is affecting my actions and the persona that I am portraying. But, good grief - who knew how much I think?? And who knew how much of those thoughts are just me translating others' actions, writing stories about who they are in relation to me? It is a bit exhausting to say the least!

In other news - I get to have "super week" (dubbed so by my youngest because it is one week plus an extra three days) with my kids. It is also the first week of school. Seeing how I missed it last year because it wasn't MY week, I am thrilled and feeling doubly blessed because it is Taylor's senior year. What a huge milestone.

I am so excited in fact that I am trading my Pool Time for more School Supply and Clothes Shopping. Now, that's a big deal!

Before I go, I want to ask you one thing: How do YOU bring sacredness into your everyday activities? What is one way you perform ritual in honoring yourself and your home?

Emergence

Emergence
Originally uploaded by tielji

What an unusual day. What a fantastical, magical, unusual and wonderful day.

Everything is just as it should be. I am overwhelmed by a profound sense of gratitude. Not sure how long it will last or how the intensity can sustain itself, but ohmygawd, I will take it!

My neighbor next door is a shaman of sorts. Maybe not a shaman - but definitely a strong woman of medicine and spirit. Her knowledge of herbs, meditation, spiritual access, reflexology and physical/emotional relations is astounding. I am in awe of her - and sometimes intimidated.

But not yesterday. Yesterday, my neighbor took me in to her home. She brought me into a room of muted purples and greens with soft music and fabrics and smells and a carefully prepared environment for ministering to my body. My poor, sad, ravaged and heart broken body.

As I climbed under the sheet on the table, feeling uncharacteristically comfortable with being naked, I marveled at the level of vulnerability that I was willing to achieve just to feel anything differently than how I have been feeling.

Before she even laid her hands on me, I started to weep. Silent tears streaming down both sides of my head, dampening the the hair at my temples and the lilac sheet I rested on. Searching for words to explain the tears (in case I needed to explain), I realized that these were not tears of pain or loneliness or heartbreak. These were tears of gratitude. Gratitude for the kindness I was being shown. Gratitude that I was safe and being cared for. Gratitude that I am going to be okay...

She massaged and kneaded and coaxed the muscles in my body for over two hours. Lingering on those places that seemed to want to hold on to hurt. Persistent with those areas that tried to hide the poisons that want to infiltrate the quiet places of the heart and mind.

It was wonderful.

She called me last night to check on me - sometimes breaking all of that loose can cause severe reactions in a person. But it seems that she took the brunt of it, as I had a wonderful and productive evening, and she ended up taking a three hour nap that left her disoriented and shook up upon awakening. Somehow, she took all of my "yuckiness"...

I don't know how all of that works, but she assures me that it happened just the way it is supposed to. This is her ministry. This is her gift. To me.

I feel like a brand new person. And I am so VERY grateful. :)

Big Sunglasses and Waterproof Mascara

So. Beginning of August, ah? Wow. Time seems to be speeding up as I get older...seems unfair! The kids are registered for school, my lawn is starting to green up again after the brutal heat of July, and I am doing things during the day other than floating around in the pool for relief. I better pay attention or the next post will be about how I am shoveling snow off of my front porch!

Things are getting easier...better...clearer. I am not struggling to breathe anymore, and honestly, I am saddened to know that some people live with that overdose of adrenaline every day. I can't even imagine. That pit in the belly, that clenching of the guts, that winded feeling from just a thought - what a killer. I read somewhere that our minds grant us the gift of amnesia when our hearts are broken so that we are willing to take a chance on love again in the future, to risk going through all of that dreadfulness.

 I am not there yet.

Just to be very clear - D did nothing to break my heart. There was just something missing inside of him - or a wall that needed some dynamite - and it kept him from being able to create a future with me. He was always a great boyfriend, and he kept me safe from myself when I was so destructive (especially after my divorce), and I am so very grateful to have had him while it was our time. And now it isn't our time anymore.

My next big hurdle will be to figure out how to keep us from landing in bed together - in that tangled, delicious heap of frenzy - every time I see him...

One Week Long

We had some exciting new changes in our house this week. Taylor got her permit & a grown up bank account of her very own. She also is working as a hostess at my place, so I have had the privilege of seeing her many, many times even during the week that they weren't "mine". 

...and it appears that, as of tonight, I will have them ALL of the time. Things broke bad at their dad's house - really bad. His reaction? He packed them up and brought them to my house. And dumped them with all of their belongings on my front lawn. My kids look like little refugees with their confused faces and tear stains down their cheeks.

Fortunately for us all, I was in town. And sober. 

So here we all are - broken and sad and clinging to each other, mourning the way things used to be. 

I know that they need me to be very strong and be their safe place to land (and I will be!), but honestly, I am a wreck. I tried very hard this week to play and keep my mind off of missing D - but there just isn't enough alcohol in the world to make the pain stop. And the only way that I can keep my anxiety level at a manageable state is to call him and hear his voice (I am still working in his office, so there is a reason most of the time), but I can't keep doing that forever.  

I know that broken hearts heal and that we will both be just fine, but my body doesn't seem to understand that. And my brain is making up all sorts of fantastic stories about what he is doing now and who he is doing it with, blahblahblah.  And boy am I creative. Ugh. 


I think the most amazing thing is that I am a completely different person than I was one week and one day ago. 


God, please make week 2 turn me into a princess again, and send some extra magic for my children. 

They are also different people than they were a week ago...

Happiness is a Flotation Device

The Egger Fence
Originally uploaded by tielji

I have had a pool for the kids (I don't know why we call it Mommy's Pool) every summer since 2001. It's a ritual. Gathering up the kids for the Pool Gathering Expedition, hoping we aren't too late in the season to get the one we like the best (the kind that you just put water in and it rises by itself, but it's big enough to float two rafts in at the same time), reminding each other what toys we need to replace from last year, and of course, getting ice cream on the way home - it's the way we signify that summer is here.

The last couple of years were pretty rough on my Pool Time. (That's the time between 11 and 1 when I just float around and around and around on my green raft, doing nothing but listening to the neighborhood and daydreaming.) I was able to fit in a few weekend days...but not more than that. Workworkwork kept getting in the way. The kids enjoyed it, though, because mommy couldn't hog the water and ruin Pool Games.

This year it is a much different scenario. I work when it's NOT Pool Time. I tell you, it makes all the difference in being a Happy Terri...and not. Ha!

The only people not as happy as Happy Terri during Pool Time is, of course, the kids.

But, they are bigger than me this year and for some reason making me share. Boo.

Heart Noises

I wish it were possible for my fingers to type for you the noises that I am feeling. The noises would sound like snuffles and whimpers and "aaaaagh" and sighs and all of the rough and uncomfortable sounds that a freshly broken heart makes.

Do I have a broken heart? Oh, yes I do. I didn't even know it was possible to feel it physically. I thought it was an "inyourhead" experience...but no. My lungs are gasping, my tummy is twirling, my head is pounding, my eyes are blurring and burning, and my hands are trembly - I am a mess.

I love him. Plain and simple. I love him. And our conversation was supposed to be a simple clearing of the air. An explanation session, a defining of occurrences and odd behaviour.

I had my words ready...they were finely honed, crafted to not cause anxiety or defensiveness. I also had my attitude in check, because I wanted him to know that I could hold myself accountable for my own actions. I wanted him to know that I was willing to do whatever it would take to make our relationship whole again.

But, alas - we never even got to the sorting out phase of the conversation. We only got to the part where I said, "I love you, and I want to grow old with you. I want to build a future together. And I want to work out these little things that are getting in our way...okay?".

And then there was only silence. Because he can't say "I love you" to me. He shows it in a million ways, but he can't say it. And he doesn't see me in his future, because he doesn't see his future at all. Brutally honest, him. But I guess I started it. 

I realized right then that if I hadn't yet inspired my man to see me in his long term future after 2 and 3/4 years, it simply wasn't going to happen.

And there was no reason to sort anything else out...there was nothing there to keep together.

I went to the kitchen, poured some wine, and invited my boyfriend to go watch movies with me. We watched two comedies...I cried through both of them. You know, the silent river of tears that leaves salt burns on your cheeks.

Then I took him to bed. Yes, knowing full well it would be the last of many things. The last night pouring oil on his back and shoulders and massaging out all of the ills of the day. The last time I would snuggle up next to him and smell his neck while he wrapped his arms around me. The last time he would reach his face down to kiss me gently. And then again, but not so gentle. The last time we would lose ourselves in a delicious frenzy of touch and smells and sounds and bodies meeting each other again like it was the very first time.

But it wasn't the first time. It was the last time.

I finally cried myself to sleep after I heard the safety of his snoring. Only to wake back up a couple of hours later, disoriented, exhausted, and ohsosad to have reality come flooding back. 

We had our coffee this morning together. Made small talk, did normal morning things, even smiled a couple of times. He packed up his bag to go to KS while I tried to organize my day in my head. My first day alone without Darin. (Gawd. How do people do this?) I tried really hard to keep myself together.

But then came the final moment - the GoodBye Hug and kiss.

And I panicked. What if I made the wrong decision? What if I am being unreasonable? Why can't I just be happy with the way things are???

But it was too late - what was done was done. Sobbing, I kissed him twice with my arms wrapped around him for dear life. He very gently kissed me one more time on my forehead, turned around and walked out the door.

I love him. I do.

...and I know I always will.

The End.

Sybil's Ride

I haven't decided yet whether or not my writing is going to be through rose colored glasses or just plain ole gloom and doom. 

Why the indecision? Here are my states of being:

I am happy and safe and grateful and loved and employed and well fed (just ate a whole tube of Ritz with a chunk of aged cheddar cheese and a glass of Malbec - nice!) and all of the things that make a girl glow in her writings as well as in person. 

On the other hands, I am lonely and confused and tired and stressed and a bit malnourished (please review what I just ate...that is the third time I have had that exact thing for dinner...ugh) and all of the things that make a girl whine in her blog as well as to her friends.


It can get a little tricky monitoring which side of me gets to come out and play. I prefer the happy, grateful, blahblahblah side of me, of course, but I feel that sometimes that specific act cheats me of bouncing ideas and situations off of my girlfriends - in effect, not giving them the chance to share with me the advisement they are sure to have collected over the years. I forget that I don't have to figure out what to do or how to proceed all by myself all of the time.  

But, the trouble with letting my Debbie Downer out for a stroll? Sometimes she just doesn't want to come home! Sometimes I am stuck in my whirlpool of emotions and ambiguity with no desire to climb out and dry off. That plain sucks. No one wants to be around that. Including me. 

So, I am going to bed. Whichever one of me gets up in the morning gets to share next - and don't you even worry...there are plenty of anecdotes to support all angles. Buckle in, my friends. We have some reading and writing to do.


;)t

Indulgent Lament

(Image found @ Caedes.net. Artist is Kodos34...one of my favorites.)

Please explain to me why I can't figure out how to make a life where I just take pictures and make crazy things with them and post them for everyone to see.

Please share with me why I can't amass a fortune writing random things in random forums. I am good at it - well, if quantity equals quality in this case. 

Please tell me why I can't pay my bills with the emotional currency of hanging out with my boyfriend and going to music festivals and eating nachos and drinking beer at lunch on swanky patios. 

Because those are the things that I want to do. Those are the things that inspire me and make me feel alive.

And right now it is important that I feel alive.

Have you seen my White Jacket?

I  am writing in the wrong blog again. 

I don't care.

They are my blogs and I will write wherever I please. So there. 

(I used to fancy me a Norwegian once who would say "So that!" ..I really did enjoy watching him misappropriate silly English phrases.)

Do any of you know what to do with panic attacks? I have had them since I was a teenager, but always thought it was something else. Inner ear infection, pregnancy, malnourishment, etc. As I got older I started labeling them my intuition...my warning sign that something bad was happening somewhere. And I would also take a pregnancy test just to make sure that it wasn't THAT. 

I have had one ongoing panic attack since Saturday night. I cannot keep food down, my heart races, I am dizzy, nauseous...it's ridiculous! My only reprieves have been when I have finally fallen asleep, or when my dear friend fed me beer until I couldn't feel my heart pounding through my shirt anymore. The worst part is the wrenching in the pit of my belly. Ugh.

I think I am starting to panic about my panicking.

And yes, I already took the pregnancy test. It has been so long that I had to look the results up on the internet to make sure I hadn't read them wrong. It was negative. Don't you worry. 

Now, you tell ME not to worry.

Marbles in my Head, Marbles on the Floor

(image found at sweetalyce.blogspot.com)

Falling in love with you means fulfilling your requirement for complete openness and vulnerability. 

I am so very awkward at that. So clumsy. 100% effort, and no grace. Like learning to dance on roller skates when you don't even know HOW to roller skate. 

You do not require the same openness and vulnerability of yourself. It has the same effect as dumping marbles on my rollerskating rink - I trip, fall down, bust open a knee, a lip, a heart...

Have mercy on me, please. Come pick me up off of the floor just one more time. Put your arms around me and lets do this open and vulnerable dance together. 

I promise I will be worth your effort. 

It's Going to be Okay

It's going to be okay.

Say it really loud. Whisper it. Mutter it under your breath. Say it to someone else. Write it down. Draw it in the air. Yell it as loud as you can in the middle of a dirt road in the middle of the countryside in the middle of the night. Graffiti it on a bridge with neon spray paint. Form the words with macaroni noodles and glue it to a page with Elmer's. Calligraphy it and leave yourself a note under your pillow. Write it in the steam on your mirror after showering. Draw it in the sand on the beach and take a picture of it before the tide washes it away. Write it on someone's driveway with sidewalk chalk.

Write it on your heart.

It's going to be okay.

It really is going to be okay...

Casting Call for Swift Kicks

(picture found at www.with1eye.com)

Ah - yes! This is what I do! I create something, invite everyone to look at it, promise upcoming features if they will just continue to come back to look at it, stop creating, and then hide until everyone is gone.
God, I suck.

I am weary of me. And I don't even have to act like I am just a little down so that my readers, friends and family won't tire of my whining. I sent them all to look at a DIFFERENT version of me! Ha! Ugh....

So. Let's get down to brass tacks. I am:

• Unemployed
• Divorced
• 40
• Depressed beyond all reasonable doubt

I am alienating my boyfriend...he thinks he can't do anything right. How sad. I make him feel that way when I tell him how once again he has made me feel bad about myself. Why do I do that? Me - of all people- the one who used to preach about how we are responsible for our own feelings and reactions, now making a perfectly wonderful man miserable with my unhappiness. WTF? (Sorry, Mom.)

I keep reading about infinite possibilities and positive thinking and how we are all in control of our future if we can get our thought life under control. I read amazingly inspirational books written by amazingly inspirational people and experience profound paradigm shifts - only to forget whatever insight I gained the very.next.morning. What a waste.

I am at a critical point, folks. I do not have many options for success or fresh starts left - and yet, I am still walking around in dream state. This isn't going to work.

What kind of proverbial kick in the pants is it going to take to get me back on track? What is my track, anyway?

OMG. I am scared. And lost. And ridiculous.

Employee Compensation Restructure

Employee Compensation Restructure ... sounds fancy, huh?

It means you are losing your job.

Not YOU - me.

I lost my job.

For the next three months my only job is to LOOK for a job.

...and I have never been happier in my life.

Thank you, God/Universe, for this miracle that usually means devastation and harm.

I will use every opportunity you bring my way to the fullest.

Alcohol Malfunction

I drank tequila last night.

It was supposed to be an innocuous drink. A sangria swirl, if you will. Frozen sangria and a frozen margarita in one luscious goblet served with a straw.

It had tequila in it.

I spent what was supposed to be a beautiful night with my sweetheart laying away from him on the very farthest corner of the bed, listening to him snore. Fitfully snore. Randomly, he would even make that sound where the snore has plugged up his nose and is suffocating him to death. I stared at the ceiling, the wall, the pillow, and his nose (willing it to stop making those awful noises) for four and 1/2 hours.

And it was all my fault.

I drank tequila and unleashed my tongue.

Gah.

Hey! It's me! ME! You remember -that ONE girl! (OR - A Bap Story)

*sigh*

Honestly, I don't know why I let things go so far. I mean, this is my BLOG, FGS! Everyone else that I know that has a blog uses it regularly. And to the betterment of mankind. And to make Earth a more better place to live.

Not me. I just use mine to make sure that I can post cheesy comments on all of those humanitarian blog sites. It's like having a homebase - one that I don't live at.

(Huh. That is a great description of my house! I use it as homebase, but I don't live here. And I digress. Just like ole times, ah? :))

I have so many things to tell you about, but first things first. And one thing at a time. That is my game plan, anyway.

Guess what??! (No...I didn't get a speeding ticket. Not in this story. Stay tuned if you want to hear a funny story on THAT particular subject.)

I got into a real life accident in Littleton! Yep. All by myself. I was looking down at my phone in my lap contemplating what smartmouth thing I was going to text my boyfriend about how ridiculous it was that I was having to go pick up his son from football practice AND then go pick up son's best friend for a sleepover AND then try to figure out how to keep them all entertained while boyfriend continued working and making me waste MY day off and how I was going to put all of that in one little sentence without using shorthand because you know how I hate text shorthand and think that it is lowbrow and kind of creepy because that is what all the creepos use when they are trying to hit on you and get you to send topless pictures of yourself on Yahoo...when WHAM! I let my foot off of the brake to follow the car in front of me through the green light (which I saw out of the corner of my eye, by the way) and then. She. Stopped. And I hit her. Not very hard, mind you...more like a tap. (Not a soft tap, maybe more like a rap. Between a rap and a bam. A bap. I BAPPED her.)

I put my car in park, grabbed up my phone that I suddenly didn't feel like texting on anymore, and walked like a man going to his hanging in the direction of the car I had violated. (Bapped.)

"Are you okay???", I asked the lady inside. "I have the paramedics coming", she moaned, "I had a stroke last year and I will need to be checked out".

Oh. A stroke. Well, THAT sucks. What can you say past news like that? Bring on the ambulance!

And bring on they did. Two ambulances. Two firetrucks. Two state troopers. One Arapahoe Sheriff. A whole lane full of red and blue and orange lights to alert everyone else in the state of CO that I had rearended this lady in the merge-on-to-c470-lane. Oh. My. Heavens.

The EMT's hauled the lady off on a stretcher while the troopers and sheriff inspected my insurance paperwork and eyeballed for damage on our vehicles. Which there was none of. None. There was NO damage from our little Bap.

The EMT's came back to my car to let me know that everything was just fiiiiine with the lady, and not to worry one little bit. The CO State Trooper teased me about my bald tires (bald from racing back and forth to see boyfriend!) and the Arapahoe Sheriff regaled me with stories of accidents he had seen in just this same area - some of them horrific! The Firemen just winked as they walked by...no, they didn't. But they did wave and smile. I was the one doing the winking. No - I didn't either.

Everything was right as rain until it came time for the final paperwork. (DumdumDUMMMMM!) Because there was an ambulance involved and I had rearended the poor lady, I got a ticket for Careless Driving Resulting in Bodily Injury. And because I am a poverty-stricken-single-mother-of-three, I didn't have proper tags on my car. Ugh.

Those combined charges: A court appearance.

The poor lady's charge to the respective insurance companies: Extensive head and neck injuries and a totaled car due to a massive collision from behind.

FML.

(to be continued)

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall...

Assignment- find one food word to describe who you are at this very moment: Hmmm.

I am an omelet. Yes. An omelet made by a four year old.

Scrambled. Jumbled. Full of great ingredients, but without a definable shape. (That's where the chef's age comes into play. The omelets you are accustomed to probably resemble a half circle which IS a shape. The omelet I am is a glop.)I am a fulfilling experience - unless you get too much of me, and then I will cause a belly ache. Also, too much of me will affect the health of your heart. Adversely, it seems.

Oh - and then there is the part where regular indulgence in me will create familiarity which will breed contempt. You will be sick of omelets.

I am light in color and sometimes fluffy. Occasionally, I will change up all of my ingredients and become a new creation. But alas - even with the reinventions, I am still just an omelet. I can pair well with any beverage, but Bloody Mary's bring out the best in me.

I guess being an omelet is better than being a pork chop. Or a brussel sprout.

What's YOUR food persona? ;)

Signs of Life

I am here! I am alive! I am happy and healthy and blah, blah, blah...

I was looking through my past blogging history and noting my ups and downs...particularly those times when I hermitize and/or start a whole new blog. It's as if I can't even bother to try to find the words that describe where I am or who I am at that moment, so I will either ditch and burn or hide and watch.

Anyway. There isn't any ditching and burning today, and I have been hiding and watching for so long that my default blog setting doesn't even go to my own blog anymore. HA!

I am getting ready to take my beloved children to D's house to have a fish fry with his beloved children. And I don't like fish fry's. But I do like D. And our children.

...I am taking mustard. And a camera.