You lied to me, Mr. Lundegaard.  You’re a bald-faced liar.  A…  F-f-FUCKING liar.



I really don’t ever blog here, despite my intentions to do so. i still have dreams about writing awe-inspiring delicate prose that would enmesh myself among the highest caliber of bloggers in today’s society, with ad revenue to boot. alas, it is what it is. and what it is doesn’t leave a lot of mental white space that i could fill with my writing.

so, i might switch to Tumblr. Unfortunately I’m aware of some wrinkles that Tumblr’s been going through, and I don’t even really know where that leaves the site and its network of thoughtful authors. I think I’d be better suited to a Tumblr-like situation, nonetheless. My thoughts and experiences come in drips and drops, like inkblots and spaghetti sauce splatters. I don’t have the time to devote to creating banners or making phone calls and begging for sales and behind-the-scenes codes and scripts and shit. I rarely have the inspiration to write anything at all – sometimes I just want to share a funny YouTube video or song that’s been running through my head. I really wanted to be something BIG, but I never gave this desire enough effort. In my defense, I really don’t have the time or energy to. Two children are essentially all-consuming, so whatever hours are left over for “me” are spent trying not to think or do much of anything. Quiet time for the gray matter, if you will. Dreaming about blogging was fun, and the hope for creating a masterpiece was real. Obviously WordPress was the simple way to do it, and from what i have here already it was an enjoyable and easy little journal of sorts to play around with. Perhaps there’s a better avenue, though, for the subordinate like me… one where I won’t feel sad if I leave it alone for weeks on end. I want to be okay with not posting often. I want to know that the design I participate in doesn’t offer me a myriad of templates and add-ons, of domains and virtually unlimited media potential to cast away and leave out to rust, like the plaster-molds of trophies that never had the chance to build something golden. I want the remedial version of blogging. I’m just not in the same class as the valedictorians that I read and follow on twitter, whom I secretly wish I was more like (at least I wish my blog was more like theirs with all the clanging bells and melodic whistles). Part of me really wants to be able to brag about getting 400,000 page hits an hour and have upwards of millions of twitter followers. I want to be funny and anticipated. I want to be worth the attention. I want a life I don’t have.

I am me, and I’m not sure I belong in the big, bad vast society of privately-owned domains and fan mail.

So do I keep this up, however overlooked and delusive? Do I give Tumblr a go? Or do I continue to act dejected over an enterprise that has always rested on the back burner? It’s time I find something to fire up, I just don’t know what that is… yet.

My favorite time of year is here… that time being October, November, and December. All things kitchen-related shall be moved to the highest pedestal and glossed. I can’t wait to bake sweet things and simmer savory things and feed hungry people and forget about how much weight I am gaining.

Good things are happening. And yes, I am fully aware that October has already passed. Hush, yeah you there in the back, I see you.

So what’s cookin’ in your neck of the woods? I just finished off a couple batches of raspberry jam, thanks in part to a local farm that grows everything wondrous and resplendent (including their raspberries).

Now I’m off to get myself into trouble, I have some potatoes itching to be boiled.

I’ve been solely responsible for polishing off at least 2 boxes of these each week, every week, since about June of this past year.  Miraculously, I’ve maintained my slim figure, although since these are ALL I eat, there aren’t many more calories with which to do battle.  I’m certainly not proud of this dietary dilemma, especially since I am longing for a career in NUTRITION… guess it’s the old “do what I say, not what I do” adage.  Maybe if they weren’t such a crunchy and satisfying balance of sweet carbohydrates, I would be able to resist.  There’s also a sense of nostalgia as my Mom and I inhaled many a package during my adolescent years.

Okay, I’m all out of excuses.  Damn you, Keebler Elves!

Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner

The Husband (ugh) and I are in financial ruin, and as such, I A) REALLY REALLY REALLY need a job, and B) Can’t enroll in the school that I was hoping to be in by now.  I mentioned how happy I was to finally be on the road to professional development, I even wrote about it here, but now I realize how we can barely afford toothpaste no less a private education.  I’m trying to stay positive and work to dig us out of this mess, but I am placing 90% of the blame on The Husband for being so secretive about the true state of affairs.  I’m only claiming 10% responsibility because I “trusted” him to handle our money.  I mean, he works for a bank… one would think…. ALAS.  I guess I should bite off more than 10% but I’m angry. My life isn’t what I wanted it to be or where I wanted it to be, and I’m trapped.  I’m a scared Mommy raccoon that had its food scraps stolen away and is backed into a corner by a broom-wielding giant who’s out to smack me and my babies out in the cold, and I’m hissing and clawing and trying to fight my way out.

I wish I had something nicer to blog about, I can’t imagine this is much fun to read?

Let’s talk about something happier, like how many packages of Vienna Fingers I can polish off in a week… (it’s about 4).

The last full blog post I wrote was about 9/11… and as deeply as I feel about those events, I still don’t want to be married to man I almost lost that day.  It doesn’t mean that I love him any less or take his life for granted.  He will always be a part of my life as the father of our beautiful boys, and I will always love him and cherish him and honor him.  I just don’t think I’m meant to be his wife.  Is that wrong, on the basis of what happened 9 years ago?  Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t ever let him go, other times I just want to be free.  Mostly, I want to be in love again.