Downpour

I must have done something right
Standing in such a glorious light

Cradled in the arms of a beautiful earth
Seeing it's plan and knowing my worth

If destiny has had it's say
I think I heard it clear today

The blessings of love towards me, I savor
Realizing I'm in His favor.

Finding Joy

It's easy to complain, to nag and worry about when life seems to go all wrong.

I have to remember, that when JOY comes into my life, to brag and boast on the blessings in my life, so that others may see, and allow some joy to come into theirs.

It has been exactly 1½ years today, since I found my true Love. This roller-coaster ride has proved to be trying, beautiful, difficult and glorious. I am blessed that we both have had the perseverance to see this milestone day. 

I don't know exactly what the future holds. No one can ever guarantee they'll see a tomorrow, but if the world and the lives as we know them should end today, I want the world to know that I am happy and grateful for a Love so dear.

May we see many more wonderful anniversaries.

With Love.
~Me

Love and Whiplash

As soon as I've decided that I am done with Love
That I have seen more than my fair share of the pretentious kind of Love

I'm reminded I have no choice.
No say so.

As soon as I declare I'm fed up with heartache
That the good ain't worth the bad and I've learned my lesson

I am commanded to try again
To give it another shot

So on this bumpy roller coaster ride I call my life and Love
The ride I swore was over and done with

Here I am again. 
And God as my witness I'm in love with Love.

Again.

If I Should Die... Don't Trip, It's Cool

Whew! 2012 has been a doozy! Not even halfway through it, and it seems any and everything that shaped my childhood has withered away. If I start listing, I will regrettably miss someone, so I will refrain.

Most heartbreaking was my friend Anthoney Bills. I had always teased him that his name had MY name in it, so we were destined to marry. I am sure I proposed five times, three times he accepted (probably to hush my rambling, lol)

I wondered if he was ready, if he felt his final days coming and accepted them peacefully? I wondered if he'd really patronize me enough to have married me, lol. I wonder, and wonder then wonder a little more.

Well, don't wonder about ME! 

If I should die before I wake, I'm okay with it. Really I am. 

Whenever I blow-dry my hair, I comb it forward into a very inappropriately long mohawk that drapes over one eye, then I begin to recite emo poetry. No matter what the lines read, the final line is always "The Dead... are the Lucky Ones". My kid gets a kick out of that, lol. 

Eventually I realized there may be some truth to that. The world is cruel. There are beautiful times here, but they are almost always followed by some trials. It makes us who we are. 

But, the thought of eternal rest in Heaven? I believe in it! And the people there... from family, to friends and musicians? Everybody whose somebody is there, and I ain't scared to go!

Side Note: Anyone who knows me, knows I want "Can You Feel It" by the Jacksons played. Get the instrumental or an organ version, but I want it. And anybody who wears black gets sent home. I like colors. Don't rock the rainbow, people will get the wrong idea, lol... but yeah, it had better be a celebration!

Don't be sad, because I won't be, and wouldn't want YOU to be.

That is all! ;)

 

 

Nightmarepalooza at the Chapel!

The dreams are getting creepier!

So I dreamt that the fates decided it was my wedding day.

All of a sudden, I am being fussed over by dozens of people who are family of people I met on facebook whom I'd never met in real life. Pretty sure there is some significance to that. However...

I was told my wedding would begin at 3:30. I sat in my bed with sweatpants and a t-shirt on as I looked at my watch... which read exactly 3:30. CPT starts now.

I was teleported to a church... or hall... or whatever it was. It was full of people... most of whom I did not know, and it was dark. A very gloomy overcast set over the aisle I was to walk down.

I was rushed into a large room that smelled like old wood planks (my dreams are very vivid.)

There was a seamstress who pulled out a beautiful white gown, sleeveless, gathered at the waist with a short train. In a millisecond I was in it, and she stood close-by making alterations from the pins attached to her cushioned wristband.

I admit it. It's been a long time since I've had a perm, and I am long overdue. How that stylist managed to hide these naps and pin some curls up was a miracle in itself.

A makeup artist urged me to stop blinking, as she applied a shimmering shadow to my eyelids, and a friend decided I would look beautiful in the pearl earrings she'd loaned me.

For a moment, there was a muted hush, as all these kind people hustled to make this day beautiful for me. There was me, the bride, adorned in a gorgeous white dress, beautiful makeup, hair in tendrils, wonderfully classic accessories and a church full of admirers. Then I realized there was one thing missing...

In a way, his absence scared me and relieved me at the same time. The total commitment of your life to another... not family, and not someone you would ever know 100% about?

That's all she wrote and I'm never getting married.

Eats, Times, Life.

Eats, Times, Life was an homage to Beats, Rhymes, Life... in case you didn't... Check the Rhyme. Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk!

I had decided to give the pork recipe in the Chinese Food cookbook a try. Third try, third fail. The last recipe attempt will involve steak. If it fails too, I will rainch the steak off, throw some A1 on it and 'squoze' it next to some mashed potatoes. I ain't playin' no more!

I had such an interesting dream a few nights ago... about a female police officer helping me to catch an evasive hairy brown tarantula hiding in my sheets. According to the Dream Interpreter, something is bugging me and I need to get things sorted out. For that reason, I started a dream journal, in case my slumber stories reveal more about the enigma that is me.

Dreamscapes after that included: 

Getting lost in a shopping mall looking for my camera to take to a New Edition concert, finding a kitten wrapped in a blanket on my window ledge like some squirrels had planted him there, working at a whorehouse where the Madame was a deaf girl, a spitting contest from moving cars in a public parking lot, me and Q-Tip hanging out in a church acting like BFFs, and last night... saving my pet bunny (which morphed from a kid, to a bunny, to a cat) from the evil butler, then escaping through the bushes in a zig-zag path to avoid drug dealers.

Whew!

Some nights ago, I had an epiphany. But it was so deep, and so personal, that I refuse to tell this (lonely) blog the crazy details. 

Don't you hate it when someone tells you they have something to tell you, that they never intend to tell you? Here's the distraction I refer to as the "Stop Effin' With Chinese Food and Go for What You Know!" picture.

Can't go wrong when you throw jalapenos on somethin!
In this case: Taco Fixins over Cilantro-Lime Brown Rice.

Mmmmm, S'good!

Sweet and Sour Chicken... Psyche!

Dear Little Paperback Book I Bought from the Register Hidden Among the Tabloids & Horoscope Scrolls:

ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?!

What a send-off. How can 2 recipes, back to back, both containing chicken and fabliss wannaful fragrant spices... taste AWFUL?! How does that happen? I followed this recipe to an absolute tee.

How is it humanly possible to mix chicken and ginger and garlic and soy sauce and peppers and onions into a recipe... and the RICE I boiled... out-flavors the FOOD? 

One hour plus of cooking... and the result is Chunky Air Pudding. No taste at all whatsoever (except for when I occasionally bit into a random piece of fresh ginger root). Even the mandarin oranges and apricot preserves have been rendered tasteless in this recipe.

Well, I have pork and steak in the fridge that are awaiting their spin in the wok. At this rate, this cookbook will fail them both, but I am keeping the faith. Not a strong faith in this book of pretty (pretty awful) food, but faith nonetheless.

I will certainly never secure my husband at this rate. If the next couple of recipes fail, I will have to resort to other measures. 

Measures I am not yet certain of.

*...sigh*

*...sigh again*

Hell with it... *...another sigh*

Spicy Orange Chicken

Small talk, small talk, small talk, RECIPE SCAN:

More small talk, small talk, SNAPSHOT:

My rendition of Orange Chicken over fragrant Jasmine rice!
Mmmmm, that smells divine. Oranges and peppers and garlic and ginger 

make it smell like an authentic Chinese Food restaurant!

 

But, I will tell you one thing...

If it looks like

AND tastes like

 

...I am most  DEFINITELY never making this bullhockey again.

I am disappointed in myself for dedicating a whole blog to it, not to mention the 2 shopping trips worth of hard-to-find groceries!

However, I plan on getting to Ideal WIFE Status before the end of 2012. Learning recipes is just the beginning.  My other, ummm... "Personality Alterations" have yet to be documented, but I promise you'll be proud of me! Or rather, I will be... seeing as though I'm the only fool who reads this stuff.

HoneyB... Out.

Kick. Open. Side-to-Side.

Hold hands standing face-to-face with a friend.

Kick one leg forward. Then open them. Then kick left, then right. Thus the:

"Kick. Open. Side-to-Side".

Unfortunately, that means the partner has to:

"Open. Kick. Side-to-Side" or someone's getting a swift shoe to the shinbone.

So guess who was always the one who compromised???

Pat-a-Cake vs. Cake-a-Pat:

Four friends in a circle. Partners facing each other. 

Pat up, pat down, pat left, pat right.

It's all simple until the question arises about which pair has to:

Pat down, pat up, pat left, pat right. 

Who wants to pat DOWN first? Geez!

So guess who was always the one who compromised???

Guess who was left convincing her aggressive buddy-partner to do the same?

Sidewalk Chicken:

You're walking down the sidewalk and someone, sometimes a couple, sometimes a pair of friends... are coming towards you in the opposite direction. 

So guess who always ends up in the f*&#!*g GRASS! 

I usually bow my head and avoid direct eye-contact, making sure I keep my focus on the narrow sidewalk and hoping the oncoming chowderheads would be so kind as to notice it too. Never fails though. TWO people walking down a narrow sidewalk, always outpower one person coming from the other way. Can't you two line up? Single file? Make an effort? SO inconsiderate.

So today while walking, a middle school kid with some Bryan Adams sunglasses is coming towards me, so I test my cold-hard-stare. He jumped into the grass and I think I heard his heart beating fast when he passed me. I felt bad. No more of that. I'd rather walk in the grass and mumble the obscenities under my breath, wondering who failed so miserably at raising the rude brat. Or... better yet, write a worthless blog about it. 

Me: A lifetime of compromises... until further notice.

Love Is: Seventeen Katrillion Calories

My fluctuating girth can be attributed to many things.

The most predominant of those things are... well, food. Naturally.

I have found that I indulge in comfort foods and the joy of cooking...

When I am in Love. 

When my heart is all a'flutter, my tummy is all a'growling.

Although I would never recommend the Stress-Induced Diet to anyone,

The truth is, it works, just for all the wrong reasons.

Maybe when we're not in Love, we focus more on being all svelte and sexyfied for the next encounter? Although men who like fat chicks are just kinder... gentler... more considerate and loving creatures by nature. That must lie in the satisfaction of knowing that if your girl is fluffy, she's eating good. And if she's eating, she's cooking. And if she's cooking, and she loves you... you will be eating good too.

*fat raspy voice*

"Sherman I cooked all this food. Is that all you gon' eat?"
~Anna Pearl Klump

Love is sweet and rich. Filling and satisfying. Much like a Twinkie.

When my spirits are high, so is my calorie intake. 

Love just reminds me of snacks... and chickens deep fried.

Kisses... Hershey's.

Tartar sauce with a side of crispy fish sticks.

Butter and hamhocks and Edy's Caramel Praline Crunch.

A big bag of plain Lay's, a vat of Louisiana hot sauce and On-Demand.

A 2-liter of 7-up with a straw I wish was long enough to hit the bottom.

Damn. 

And now I'm howngree.

I forgot where I was headed with this.