Happy Frikkin' New Year

As much as I hate to sound like every other depressed asshole in the world, I really hate the holidays. I love Thanksgiving. Rather, I used to love Thanksgiving. My family would get together and we would cook an enormous meal that everyone ate with fantastic abandon. We haven't had a Thanksgiving dinner in a couple of years now. I don't know what happened but it makes me really sad.

Christmas on the other hand I totally despise. If I could somehow jump the calendar from Thanksgiving day to New Year's day I would. Once upon a time I had a magnificent collection of ornaments collected for my children. Due to yet another of my bad decisions the huge box of ornaments was taken from me and after that, it hardly seemed worth the effort. And yet I tried. I honestly tried. I made all new ornaments and decorated tree after tree. I smiled until I thought I would puke but I kept doing it. Finally the kids grew up and moved away. There has been only one tree in my living room since that day. It only happened because Luke and Sarah came home for Christmas at the same time. I can't tell you where any ornaments are if they exist at all.

I dread the holidays as if it were the black plague. I sit here alone every year and this year the worst thing was when on tv someone complained that sitting home alone meant nobody loves you. Yeah. Go ahead. Rub it in.

As if I don't feel bad enough about myself, I have gained another 10 pounds. I weigh more now than I ever have in my life. I am so uncomfortable. I'm paying attention to what I eat and cutting down on portions but I've never been one to eat enormous amounts of food to begin with so cutting down is rather hard. I'm beginning to wonder if I can live off a nightly spoonful of peanut butter.

I'm not looking forward to another year. Every year is worse than the one before. The highpoint of this year will be the day I get my walking cane because I can barely make it from point A to point B without something to hold onto. I can no longer raise my right arm over my head and my right hip will just barely hold me up. I have never been one to sit around doing nothing. This shit is getting the best of me and I can't seem to stop it. I'm trying to figure out how I can keep doing things because when I can't get up and go anymore, what's left?

So, it's Christmas

Ho to the third and all that rot.

I'm not a big fan of Christmas. I used to be. I loved it. The kids were little and Christmas morning was loads of fun. My family used to get together and cook an enormous meal. It was fantastic. These days I sit alone in front of the TV all day. Big whoop.

People complain about the cooking but I love roasting a turkey and making dressing from the recipe that has been handed down from so far back I don't know from whence it came. The stuff rocks. Putting the 'BIG' meal together has always been so much fun for me. I can never express how much I miss it. Worse yet, I'm the only person who knows how to make the dressing. When I die, it's gone. Believe me, I've tried to get someone else to learn how to make it but these days nobody seems to care. It hurts my heart that things have turned out this way.

My children live on the other side of the country. They called me on Thanksgiving. They were at their father's house, also in California. When I hung the phone up I cried. Not only did Greg have our children there but he also had the spouses at his house. I cried because I will never have that gathering happen to me. I cried because I miss them so much and I cried because I was so goddamn jealous of Greg.

To top off this joyous holiday, my neighbor died. He couldn't have been 40 yet. I'm sure the heart attack was somehow related to the drugs he enjoyed on a daily basis. I used to worry his small children would wander into the meth lab he had set up in the out building and blow us all up. He was a nice enough guy to chat with and I do feel sorry for his children (all 6 or 7 of them with I don't know how many women) because Christmas just isn't going to be the same for them. To top that off, instead of the screeching from next door I've become accustomed to (our houses are not close, the fights were LOUD and usually followed up in nine months with another kid) I am now forced to listen to three harpies fighting over where to bury the guy. Seriously, an ex-wife wants him buried in the plot next to hers. He's been married to the current wife for nearly 10 years and yet his ex-wife wants him buried next to her? Welcome to Screwtown. (shaking my head because I've been here all my life and this shit still flips me out) His mother has spaces all ready to go for herself and all her sons. I suppose she figured they all wanted to form a circle around Mom in the afterlife. Kinda weird if you ask me. But even all that isn't as weird as the widow planning to bury him - wait for it - next to the other dead husband. Yep, this is the second husband to die on her. Maybe she plans to plant herself between the two of them. Either way... c.r.e.e.p.y.

Another fine how do you do happened yesterday. Hubby has been laid off again. Oh boy. Starting off another year on unemployment. I had hoped to use the tax returns to build a porch because the steps to the trailer are caving in and my old ass is going to take a header very soon if it isn't repaired. Instead I will be taking the steer and the hog to slaughter so the freezers will be full of food. I suppose when the steps cave in I'll hang a rope so I can pull myself up and into the door.

I have always been poor and I've always been white, but I was never poor white trash until I got tangled up with this bunch. In my next life I plan to pay more attention to the choices I make.

Well, the clock just turned over and it's officially Christmas. I will still get up way before daylight and trudge out to start chores just as soon as I can see what I'm doing. I haven't had a holiday in years. Nobody ever says 'Hey, sleep late and I'll do the chores'. Not on Christmas or Mother's Day or my birthday... never. Maybe I'll go grocery shopping tomorrow. I've put it off as long as I can because I didn't want to fight my way through all the crazy people.

This place has taken all the celebration out of me. Time for a beer.

Sweet Tooth

Have you heard of Amish Friendship Bread? It's been going around here for years and the stuff is fucking delicious. I have no idea whatsoever why the Amish are in any way connected to the making of this bread but that's what it says on the mass printed recipe I have so by gods it's Amish. Deal with it.


The day you bake this bread -which by the way makes two loaves so you had better be hungry - you will have enough starter left over to give to two friends and keep one for yourself. If you have plenty of friends then finding two every ten days to give starter to will be no problem. I have very few friends and none of them live close to me so it presents a problem. The two starters I'm supposed to give to friends is unceremoniously dumped into the slop bucket and fed to my hog. The starter I keep is put into a jar and wrapped with a dishcloth. I don't know why I wrap it. I wrap my kefir so why not wrap the bread starter? Besides, it looks much better to have jars wrapped with decorative dishcloths than to have them sitting around filled with fermenting god knows what. Don't you think?

After the jar with the starter is set back out of the way, the rest of the ingredients are added to the bowl and mixed to utmost perfection. Of course it's perfect. We are talking about me after all. Then it's poured perfectly evenly into loaf pans and baked for exactly one hour. OMG! Talk about making the house smell like heaven! Nothing like cinnamon to make life worth living.


Once the bread is out of the oven and placed on a rack to cool, the only thing left to do is sit quietly for an hour - 30 minutes - 20 minutes- 10 minutes - oh fucking go ahead and eat it already! Big pats of melty butter all over it! Absolutely to die for! If you want the recipe and some starter let me know. It's sinfully delicious.

By the way, that's my Potbelly Tess in the picture. When I'm sick of eating this stuff she happily finishes it off for me.

Security is a Full Fridge

As I was cooking supper tonight I started thinking about a time when my kids were young and money was super tight. I know... money is always tight but at this particular moment in time we had been abandoned in Kansas by my ex-husband. I was attending a community college as well as working as a tutor and a chemistry assistant and doing third shift at a convenience store. I dropped the third shift job the day after I fell asleep and ran into a ditch on the way home to change clothes so I could get back to my 8:00 class. I didn't think dying would help much.

Hubby passes the fancy grocery store in Mars Hill that caters to the professors from the college on his way home from work. They have much better food at that store than here in this podunk town we live in. Every now and again he picks something up and that's how we treat ourselves. I cook better than any local restaurant so our night out is something special cooked in. I searched my favorite recipe site and decided to fix sea scallops with burgundy wine sauce. Making your mouth water, eh? It should. The stuff was delicious. Anyway... I was standing at the stove reducing the wine and cream when I started thinking about the time one of my friends made me (and I do mean MADE me) go to social services for food stamps. I had never had food stamps and it really bothered me to have to ask for them. I don't harbor harsh feelings toward anyone who gets them. It's just that I had never had to get them and it made me feel like a total loser. I'm sort of independent and I've always believed I should take care of myself and my children. To have to get food stamps meant I was a failure as a mother, as a provider, as a role model... the list goes on. I was face down in the mud and worthless.

I was given just a bit over $200 worth of stamps for a month. That was a small fortune in grocery money to me. I went to the 24 hour grocery so I could shop at 2:00 in the morning and hopefully not be seen by anyone I knew. It had been over a year since I had been able to really shop for food. We lived on the bare necessities. I purchased a whole chicken and the next day all I could think about was that chicken. When I got home from the day's classes I rubbed the chicken with butter and salt and put it in the oven. After a while the aroma began to permeate the house. My children and I migrated toward the oven and stood there with our mouths watering waiting for that damn chicken to brown. Nobody said a word. We just stood there inhaling. Eventually we started laughing about it but in my heart it didn't feel funny at all. That's when I realized just how fucking hungry we all were. The chicken never did get properly browned because we couldn't wait any longer. It was the first proper meal we had eaten in months. Veggies and everything. I remember that meal like I ate it yesterday.

I look back at the times when I was doing the best I could but it was hard on us. I think about all the times I feel like I failed my kids no matter how hard I tried not to. I also think back on the times when I wasn't doing my best and needed a kick in the ass. Not much I can do about any of it now. My children have grown into wonderful people and I love them. I adore them. I explain their goodness by saying they grew up good not because of me but in spite of me. They are loving, caring, hard working people who make me proud. And they love me. I don't know why but they do. Someday I would like to do one thing to deserve it.