Mysteries

I'm not really sure what possessed me when I decided that I really needed to make this salad. Dealing with crazy family members? Hormones? I don't know. All I know is that I was committed to the idea and so yesterday I fired up the grill.

Now don't get me wrong. It's damn tasty, especially after I hit it with extra hot sauce. Hot sauce is kind of like bacon in that it can make so many things even better. The problem is that I'm not a huge fan of tomatoes. It's one of my weird food quirks. Yes, I will eat all kinds of meat but I just am not a fan of tomatoes. But if you love tomatoes, then this salad is completely for you.

I had to rush the salad though after receiving a surprise text message yesterday though. From Drummer Boy of all people. He said he had disappeared because his life had gotten crazy and he didn't think it was fair to drag me into the craziness. Y'all know how I am as magnet for all things crazy so of course I agreed to go out with him. Turns out his crazy was very similar to mine -- family. Now he is no longer speaking to certain family members because he just doesn't have time for the drama.

I have purposefully spent the past year not dating. I kind of figured that if I was meant to be doing such, then the universe would let me know. And boy did it ever. Because what did the universe give me? A guy who talks about the near and far future. Including stuff like how I am silly in saying that my birthday should indeed be something special. Heck. I might even have to try out some of his favorite crockpot recipes that he was kind enough to share with me.

All I can think is how on Friday I was thinking about how I missed my old rock and roll lifestyle. And now it's back in some ways.

Life goes on

For at least a year, Fluffycat and I have talked about going to La Fondue in Saratoga. Finally as a celebration of her birthday this year -- You don't look a year over 21, Fluffycat -- she made reservations at La Fondue and invited me and a few other friends.


After salads, it was time to dive into the wonderfulness of cheese fondue. Now I happen to think that cheese is an essential food group and cannot imagine life without it. Also a couple of weeks ago I stopped counting calories. Some of my coworkers have started a weight loss challenge and I decided to not participate. Some of them participated in a similar challenge a couple of years ago. When I tried to argue for a "getting healthy" challenge, I was overruled. Under my idea even those who were not trying to lose weight would have been able to participate. And so came my mind shift. Yes, I am still trying to lose some more weight but I am no longer locked into the idea that it has to happen by a certain time as that was sure to lead to some unhealthy, unsustainable practices. So yeah, I enjoyed the hell out of that cheese.


The cheese was followed by meat and this was the big deal. See for years Fluffycat has been wanting to try the Wild Thing assortment but had yet to find anyone willing to indulge. (And yes, I believe there was some singing of Tone Loc's "Wild Thing" as the meat selection was ordered.) The meats are, from left to right, alligator, buffalo, llama, ostrich,wild boar and venison. (Fortunately the server told us that they were placed in alphabetical order. I can do alphabetical.) I just couldn't get myself to try the llama though. Fluffycat assures me it was quite tasty.

Dessert was two different chocolate mixes. And because the restaurant needed us to shift tables to accommodate a large party, we received free bubbly for our trouble. I think the consensus was that the favorite items for dipping in the chocolate were the pirouettes, the chunks of chocolate chip cookie dough, and the cream puffs.

This dinner was perfectly timed for me. On my way there I received a text message from my dad. Something about how I needed to call, he was sorry and that he's now attending AA meetings. I briefly thought about writing back, "Good for you." Oh, and this was after a week of being assaulted nearly non-stop by emails from his fiance. Because my saying that I wasn't in the mood to talk to people obviously stands for nothing.

But dinner was a reminder of what my life was like before I got enmeshed in the crazy. And I liked it. Today I received a call from my dad's younger brother and once more I let it go to voicemail. After hours of debate, I finally listened to his message. He said he understood. "Your dad didn't do what he was supposed to do when he got out of the hospital and so you cut off contact." A tear rolled down my cheek as I listened to the message because finally someone got it. And knowing that I plan to continue to get out there and live my life and not someone else's.

Appropriated

One of the reasons why I enjoy Cursing Mama's blog is that she is always taking some interesting quizzes. Seeing as things around here have been a bit heavy of late and with the upcoming holiday weekend, I felt it was necessary to borrow the following quizzes from her to add some frivolity back in this place.

You Are a Margarita

You aren't just the life of the party, you are the party! You mix a good drink, bust out some great music, and know how to get down. And it's no wonder that you find yourself invited to almost every event in town. It's really not a celebration until you get there. You know how to get everyone excited.

What Mixed Drink Are You?

Now I am sure that anyone who really knows me is not the least surprised by this result.

You Are Greasy Food

You can't help it, you love to indulge yourself. You are a total hedonist. You're the type of person who will drink until dawn, wake up afternoon, and gorge yourself on hamburgers and fries. Does eating greasy food help you kill the morning after blues? Of course it does! You've gotten to the point that eating drinking fresh juice and eating salad makes you feel sick.

What Hangover Cure Are You?

Once more not really a surprise to me. How often have y'all heard me telling folks the day after that what they need is a good dose of grease?

You Are a Blueberry Margarita

Honestly, there's no one quite like you. And believe it or not, most people think that's a bad thing! You're open, wild, friendly, wacky, and tons of fun. You have a big personality... and a big heart.

What Flavor Margarita Are You?

Of course I wonder what my result would have been if they had had what is truly my favorite Spanish word as a choice -- chingada. I love that word -- so multipurpose. Also I was not really thrilled with the choices of cities in Mexico. These days I'd probably like to hang in Oaxaca somewhere. That way I could have some really good moles with my drinks.

Hope y'all have a fun and safe weekend.

But I'm sorry

As I sat in the darkened theater listening to the monologues that were the culmination of two months' work, an idea began to form in my head. During the 70 or so mile drive home, the idea took further shape.

Somewhere over the last few years, I had once more lost my way. I had let myself believe that it was about the cooking, the knitting, whatever crafty thing. These were merely crutches. It has always been about the words. This whole thing started five years ago (There were two other blogs before this.) because I had lost the words and wanted them back. And right when it seemed like they were back, I shut them away again and replaced them with food and the occasional craft. This time around I even basically stopped reading as it just took too much energy.

I thought about how once upon a time writing was easy for me. Not as easy as telling a story in person but still easier than it has been for many years. And as I thought about it all, I realized that Kailyn came to be around the time I was 12 -- back when the writing was easy and filled me with joy. Kailyn wasn't an alter ego; I had another name for that person. No, she was the me I wanted to be. She wasn't defined by someone else.

While chatting with friends at the intermission of the showcase, I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. I glanced to see who the caller was and let the call go to voicemail. During the drive home, I thought of erasing the message unheard but then I took a deep breath and pressed play. The message ended with the words, "... but I'm sorry."

I thought to myself that I could accept the apology and just move on. That's what would be expected of me. Then I remembered how much I hate those words. This is not the first time I've heard them. I have heard them and thought, "Maybe now it will be different," but it ends up being more of the same. To me they have come to mean, "I'm not going to change but I need you to stick around. And as such, you are going to have to bend some more." I remembered just how weary I have grown of being the one who always seems to be making the effort.

And like that, it came to me. Where the words had gone. Every time I have accepted one of those apologies, more of the words got shut away in my mind, securely under lock. Every now and then though I am around the right combination of people and some of it slips out. I remembered that even when I wrote fiction, there was always a little bit of me in there. But I have spent a lot years letting others tell me what I can and can't say. It became that I wasn't sure who I was anymore.

I will try my best to remember all of this when others might say, "One day you'll regret your choice." About the only things of which I have ever felt sorry necessarily were word choices -- not actions. Because I hate the words, "I'm sorry," so much that I try my best to never be in a position in which I will have to say them. To me, they are just empty words.

Extraction

I spent a great deal of time last week researching recipes so that I could show y'all some new stuff. What happened is I wrote my list and went shopping. Then the psychic attack began and I didn't want to cook.

It started with my cousin chastising me for having another cousin stay with my dad once he got out of the hospital. This is the busy time for me at work; if I take time off, it involves major changes. My cousin has a fluid work schedule. But because I was handing this off to someone else, I was lacking. I know this because I was asked "Why can't you be there the first night he gets out of the hospital?" This was asked about a relative who lives at least 2,000 miles away. I mentioned something about having a job, having bills. So yeah, folks who wanted me to take care of shit while not getting paid and possibly endangering my employment status? Yeah, they got a finger for their pain.

Thursday my dad got out of the hospital and proclaimed he wanted his business checkbook back. Because he could handle things. Like before. When he was two to three months behind on his bills. But I figured that he was a big boy and used to handling shit. Turns out that he is used to dealing with the present. The past? Please forgive him.

So by Saturday, I had decided that I had no father nor relatives on his side. Then I drove my mother across the Bay so she could leave the country. She was not satisfied with my answers about how I was handling my dad's situation. I was told that my wanting to disconnect was a sign that perhaps I needed to go back to therapy. And this is the point at which I decided that I don't have any blood relatives.

How is it that everyone is deep into dysfunctional behavior but I'm the one who needs therapy? I have spent way too many years being the crazy one. But I'm not crazy. I just want a life in which boundaries are respected.

Other than the ugly scene with mom on Saturday, I have not spoken to a family member since last Thursday. And I've never been more together in appearance.

My response to this, besides the "radio silence," has been to indulge in food. This is how I gained all the weight in the first place. I felt beat up beyond belief Saturday and so I went shopping. There was Haagen Dazs, microwave pizza and five layer dip with chips to name a few items.

Pity food is done. I'm backed to my pissed off strategy -- 900 to 1000 net calories. Yep. Eating disorder eating. But I'd need to lose 25 pounds from my current weight to be hospitalized. No need to fear that since I'm so far from that weight.

Balancing act

As some of you already know, my dad has been in the hospital for a little over a week. Pancreatitis from his alcoholism, the treatment of which has irritated the COPD from his cigar smoking. As is normally the case in this kind of situation, there has been a great deal of family drama.

Add to this that my mother is still in town and it's Mother's Day weekend. Oh, and that this is the really busy stressful time at work. I snapped yesterday on my way to pick up my mother while talking to Uncle Crickity Crack. There was lots of yelling on my part including the words, "Shut the fuck up!" before I hung up the phone. As I continued driving, I just let the tears stream. I have driven to Sacramento twice in the past week. That's 180 miles round-trip for me. One trip on Wednesday and one on Friday. The only day this week that I didn't go to work for at least part of the day was Friday. By Saturday I was feeling emotionally and physically burnt.

But Saturday brought one ray of sunshine. Weeks ago my mother and I planned to attend the annual flower show at Filoli. The theme this year was "Filoli Goes to the Movies." Below are some of the arrangements with the movie that inspired them -- if I actually remembered. Yep. I didn't take notes so this is from memory. I think I did a pretty good job considering.

And yes, the flowers were just what I needed after this past week.

The Wedding Planner


Finding Nemo

A Chorus Line

Phantom of the Opera

Titanic

Titanic


Finian's Rainbow

Four Weddings and a Funeral

Joy Luck Club

The Devil Wears Prada