New Blog!

Hi friends,

Just popping in to say I have a new blog! I think and hope this blog reflects more of where I am in my life right now, and therefore I'll update it more frequently than this one and will be able to be in touch with all of you better than I am now.

Check it out at:
http://fireflygirlyoga.blogspot.com/

It's still a work in progress, but the first post is up!

Can't wait to see where this is headed.


Love,

Pre Easter Musings

When I take the time to actually contemplate my religious views and how I follow through on them, sometimes I think I really stink at it.

I'm supposed to be helping the poor, feeding the hungry, comforting the brokenhearted. What am I doing? Spending hundreds of bucks to host an Easter lunch for my friends. Getting a mani. Buying things I don't need. Worrying about my weight.

I read an article my friend posted on Facebook and it really got me thinking. It was about the new Pope and how he washed the feet of a Muslim woman in prison, just like how Jesus washed the feet of his disciples a few days before he was crucified. It's the ultimate in humility and service.

I have a good life, a life many would be envy (at least on the surface), and by many accounts I've achieved many of the dreams I had when I was younger. So why does it feel hollow?

It doesn't always feel hollow. Most of the time I'm too busy for self reflection, so it doesn't feel like anything at all except one long drag race to get the most pressing task out of my way so I can get on to the next and the next and the next. I spend an hour in the car on my commute in the morning, 9 hours at the office, then another hour getting home, then I have just enough time to crash on the sofa till I work up the energy to make dinner for my husband and me, eat it in front of the tv, go to bed and read for half an hour then go to sleep so I can get up and do it again the next day.

I know what I'm supposed to do. Leave my net and follow Him. There are many reasons why I can't, or at least why I think I can't...not right now. The student loans, the car payment, the career opportunity that might be right around the corner if I just hang on a little longer...

There's a delicious smell of strawberry cake baking in my oven. I just peeked at it and it's rising nicely in a beautiful Bundt pan I got as a wedding present last week. Easter is supposed to be about Jesus rising, and instead my cake rising is what's on the forefront of my mind.

Lord help me, I'm a mess.

Saturday morning

Good morning everyone!

I am already enjoying my weekend. I stayed up late last night reading a new mystery novel, I slept late, rolled out of bed and made a cup of caramel coffee and settled in front of the tv in my pajamas and am watching the Golden Girls...my not so guilty pleasure. My other favorite go-to weekend indulgence show is I Love Lucy. My favorite episodes are the ones where she's in Los Angeles.

There's a little bit of snow on the ground. It's not bad, but there's just enough snow and it's just cold enough to make me want to stay inside. I have plenty of chores I need to do to finish getting the new home set up but for now am content to just sit and relax.

I hope you have a nice weekend too!

Reflections in the Parking Lot

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Disclaimer: This post is going to be about church and my faith. I'm not writing it to try to preach to anyone or tell you how to think or what you should believe. I'm just telling you about a moving experience I had that I can't forget.
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Do you ever have the feeling that you're right where you need to be? Like, right EXACTLY where the universe ordains, right in the perfect moment? I had that feeling last Sunday in a church parking lot, then in a pew, then as I was shaking the preacher's hand after the service.

Going to church regularly is an important part of my life, or at least it used to be. I'm very familiar and comfortable with the rituals, the music, the sermons, and I feel as though (when I'm at a church that I can connect with) I get a spiritual boost for the week, and that it's easier to pray because I feel closer to God, just for having set aside an hour on Sunday morning to contemplate His works. But I hadn't been going for awhile. There were lots of reasons, the usual ones... too busy, wanted to sleep in, wanted to have Sunday brunch instead, burned out, tired of being asked to volunteer for things every time I set foot inside the door.

But as you can see from my previous posts, I've just gone through a transition in that I moved to a new house in a different neighborhood. When I woke up last Sunday morning, I had the urge that I hadn't had in a long time to get up, get dressed and find a new church to go to. I googled my denomination to see what churches were nearby and found one fairly close. I was fully expecting that finding "the" church would take weeks or months of searching, possibly sitting through bad sermons and possibly being ignored by people in the pews around me till I found the right place. Nonetheless, I set off, kind of excited about the search.

When I pulled into the lot, it was a little early and I hadn't finished my coffee so I decided to sit in my car for a little while. The cynical voice in my head, the one that takes over when my faith is a little on the wane, started asking some tough questions. Like, what would I say if an atheist asked me why I go to church. What's the point? Is there a good solid intellectual answer? The cynic was thinking no, an atheist would just say it's superstitious nonsense and fodder for the weak minded. So what WOULD I say? Then the answer washed over me.

I see a lot of evil in the world. Anyone who has access to the 24 hour news cycle sees a lot of evil, horrible, bad bad things. From our Congress that can't get along while the country flounders to disturbed men shooting up schools and movie theaters, dictators directing their armies to kill innocent civilians, people starving, people dying in developing countries of diseases the West cured 50 years ago, people honking and flipping each other off in traffic...I could go on and on and it's truly atrocious when you think about it. I don't even HAVE to consciously think about it all because I feel like it's the muck we all live in day after day. It's in the air we breathe.

I go to church because I want to follow a leader who has a different set of rules. Who is not of this world and its cold cruelty but who says there is a different path. Who says blessed are the peacemakers, who says that the one who is the least shall be the greatest among you, who befriends the friendless, who says let the little children come to me. The one who said the greatest of these is love. I want to follow that man. Not because I'm a spineless sap who just has to have a leader to follow. Because I know, I know, that He's right. And in this dark world whose evil I see every day, I like to open my window to let the bright light of that love in, even if it's just for one hour on Sunday morning.

Then I went inside. I found a seat. A few minutes later, and older lady walked in, saw my coat sprawled out on the pew and asked if I was saving seats for someone. I said no and moved my coat. I said, "It's my first Sunday here, I hope I'm not sitting in someone's regular pew." She looked my right in the eye and said, "Honey, you're right where you need to be."

The sermon? About Jesus' first miracle: turning water into wine. At a wedding. (My upcoming wedding is THE #1 thing on my mind these days.) A sermon illustration? The preacher talking about one of the first weddings he ever did, for his sister in a small Texas Hill Country town called Kerrville. That town, my friends, is about 45 minutes away from where I'll be getting married. Did I mention that this church is on the other side of the country from that place? The odds of him having BEEN to that town, much less mentioning it on the Sunday I was there?? I'd put them conservatively at one in a million.

I'd like to close this blog with some of the words from the opening hymn. I couldn't really sing them properly at the time because tears were streaming down my face:

"Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.
.....
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above."

The Dregs of the Fridge

Turns out you CAN make dinner out of next to nothing.

My kitchen is almost bare, there are boxes piled up everywhere, and things that haven't been packed are lying around begging to be tripped over. I had one of those days where I felt really blue...not sad, not angry... more like overly stressed and worried to the point that it was debilitating. It was hard to focus on anything and I felt like I was moving in slow motion. Like a weight was on my chest, and like if anyone said one cross word I might burst into tears.

After work, I had 15 minutes to get ready for my muay thai kickboxing class. Hitting and kicking a bag for an hour really helped my spirits, but I still felt a little bit mopey. I was also starving. I thought I would just make a protein shake, like the kind I have for breakfast.

Then, on a whim, I remember I had a bag of chopped brussels sprouts from Trader Joes. When I went to pull them out of the fridge, I noticed I also had some broccoli and some spinach and some mini heirloom tomatoes. The only pan that hasn't been packed is a tiny one, about 6 inches in diameter. I put the veggies on that. I had the last of my good olive oil, and I found some cooking sherry. I heated all of that up and it was sizzling nicely when I remembered I still had some tofu. I put that on as well, with a little balsamic.

I had no idea how all this would taste, but in less than 10 minutes, I had what turned out to be a delicious, wholesome meal. All from things I never would have thought to put together unless I was out of just about everything. All cooked in a pan I never really use.

Sometimes when I'm running on less than empty, I have small moments of beautiful right in front of me, right there for the taking.


I hope you had some moments of beautiful today too.

Panic

Thank you so much to everyone who left me sweet notes on the last post. I missed you guys too! Muah!!!

 For R who asked about the hunk, one thing I forgot to mention yesterday is that he's a veteran too. So some way or another I still find myself in this mil-spouse - girlfriend - fan circle. I guess we were all just meant to be friends no matter what. Even though he's not in the military anymore, he still works with the military and there's a possibility that he'll be gone for weeks at a time for his work.

 Enough about him. I want to talk about me.

 Y'all, I'm freaking out. I'm moving into his place this weekend (we picked it out together but he's been living in it for months and it just feels like his place) and I had no idea how emotional it would be. Moving is a HUGE pain no matter how you slice it, but it's not just the packing and the sorting and the broken nails and the hurting back. It's the HOLY CRAP I'm about to COHABIT with my MALE PARTNER and it will be FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES.

 Let me back up a little before you all start to suggest counselling. I LOVE him. I'm so lucky to be able to be in a relationship with him. He's the mac to my cheese and the grand to my canyon and all that. It's just that, see, I'm a VERY independent person. I'm also not as young as I used to be. OK, I'm not decrepit though I did turn 30 not too long ago and I kind of felt like it. Point is, I've been on my own for a long time. Yep, I have a roommate now and she's awesome but it's not the same. Her stuff is her stuff and my space is my space and we get along great and are very considerate of each other and I feel like I have my own space and my own zone and my own things and my own privacy.

 But as I took the first few boxes in last weekend (and he wasn't there...gone for work for awhile) it hit me. There is no longer any MINE. It's all OURS. And I may have had a little meltdown.

 Again, I want to say this isn't a commentary on our relationship per se. I've been a feisty and independent thinker since I was in diapers. My grandma reminds me of that all the time. As Gaga said, baby I was born that way.

 I'm just not sure what to do with these crazy emotions. I know that I just have to let them come and feel them and not dwell on the negative but I just feel so unbalanced right now and I don't like it. I tried to talk to him about it last night and I'm not sure that in my state it was such a great idea. He asked me how I was, I promptly started crying, then started blubbering about how my olive oil wouldn't be my olive oil anymore it would be OUR olive oil and that meant my life was over. And he's like, Oh my God, I won't be able to leave town with you by yourself ever again.

 My friends just came over and brought Mediterranean food and wine so I have to cut this short. I will complain to you more later. Thoughts and advice welcome. XO,


 

Transitions

It's my first time to log onto Blogger in a LONG time. You know what the best part of logging on was? Reading through my news feed and catching up on old blogging friends. It's been about 2 years since I stopped blogging regularly and during that time I stopped keeping in touch with most of you. (Nothing personal, I promise!) It was SO much fun to drop back in and see where everyone is two years later!

Some of you who were mothers to one are now mothers to two! Some of you who were single are now newlyweds! (Hiiiii, R!) Some of you have moved across the country. Some of you have gone through enriching and soul-searching experiences.

And a lot of things have changed with me too:

I'm engaged and will be getting married in 2 months. He's wonderful. He's handsome and brave and strong. And French Canadian. I can't wait to be married to him.

I've turned into a vegan. This happened about 8 months ago. I went on a wonderful vacation to Hawaii and while I was there I indulged in every bit of sweet treat I wanted. I ate more junk food in a week than I usually do in a month and just felt GROSS by the end of it. I wanted to make a drastic change to get healthier and for some reason zeroed in on veganism, i.e., no meat, no eggs, no dairy. I did research on the health benefits and got started. There have been ups and downs along the way (major down came in month 2 when I got SOOO bored with eating the same things over and over) but so many wonderful health changes have come as a result.

I'm moving from my chic bacherlorette pad in a trendy neighborhood to a townhouse in the suburbs. I'm excited and I know good things will come from this, but I'm also terrified. My life is going to change in a big way.

I've set a few goals for this year:

Find creative outlet outside of work. Writing is one of my favorite things to do and there are so many things I love about blogging, especially the connections I make with wonderful people. I don't think I will ever be as regular a blogger as a used to be, mainly because I sit in front of a computer for 9 hours a day at work and usually don't feel like getting in front of a screen again when I get home. But I love it so will try to keep at it.

I'm also going to try my hand at cold-pressed soap making. Why? Why not.

Travel to Cambodia. I want to go somewhere far away, exotic and beautiful that I've never been.

So now that you've caught up with me, can I ask you a favor? Can one of you recommend a site designer? Mine is out of date and I don't know how to fix it. Or can you at least tell me how to get rid of the black and white damask for the time being?

Blessings to all of you,

Worst Date Ever part II

Hiiii everybody! Gee, it's been so long since I've been on here that I don't recognize a THING. It took me almost 2 minutes to figure out how to start a new post. It feels almost like coming back to your hometown after being gone a few months. Things look different but it's so good to see some old friends and pick up right where you left off.

So back to my story. I didn't think anyone cared how it ended after allllll this time I haven't written, so THANK YOU ANNIE for asking me to finish it. :)

I'll try to make a long story short. I have hot peanut butter pasta to eat. :)

So the dude picks me up at my hotel in a taxi. I don't mean he hired a taxi to come pick me up. I mean he was DRIVING a taxi.

(At this point in the story, everybody always asks me if I sat in the front or the back. I sat in the FRONT, smartasses.)

His tires squeal on the gravel as the car shoots off down the road. He asks, "Do you want to go to beach or Mt. Olympus?" I say, "Whatever you want to do. You know what's best around here, I'm just along for the ride." He persists. "No, I ask YOU. Do you want the beach or Mt. Olympus?"  I say, "Um, ok, how about Mt. Olympus?"

He screams, "I KILL YOU"  which comes out more as "I KEEL YOU" then makes a u-turn in the middle of the road and we tear off in the opposite direction.

On Mt. Olympus, it becomes clear in the course of the conversation that he does not know what my name is. I try not to start hyperventilating, and go into survival mode. I realize at this point that NO part of this weekend will be good, not even getting to be on a legendary mountain, albeit in bad company. My goal is to get out of it alive.  On the way down the mountain, he tries to massage my neck as we are walking. I wiggle away.

Once we're back in the car, he starts PICKING UP PASSENGERS and TAKING THEM PLACES. I'm still sitting in the front seat, trying to play it cool, like I do this all the time. No, he didn't split the fares with me.

At some point, I feign a headache and ask to go back to my hotel. He drops me off, then comes back for me at 9 to take me to the beach. I made the foolish mistake of wearing a swim suit. That gave him ideas. I snapped. I thoroughly disabused him of any notion that I was interested in any sort of intimacy. For the first time since I'd met him, he looked crestfallen. He didn't say anything on the drive back to the hotel. I hardly slept that night. Around 5 am I got a text message from him saying I needed to find my own way back to the bus station the next day.

My next thought was, "oh fuuuuuuuudge. what if when I call the cab it's his fuuuudging relative who comes to get me?" The thought after that was, "I have no fudging idea how to call a cab. I don't know the number and I don't speak FUDGING Greek." And I HAD to catch that bus so I could get back to Athens and get back to work.

Insert phone call to Embassy. Insert Embassy dude saying he can't help me. Insert me bursting into tears, and Embassy dude saying ok don't cry, he can help. Insert Embassy person in Athens making phone call to taxi company in Mt. Olympus. Insert cab driver who shows up (mercifully in a DIFFERENT cab than the one I was in yesterday) who must have heard the abbreviated story I told the Embassy dude, looks at me with sympathy in his eyes, and pats me on the back.

The story didn't end there. Two things: First, there is no "bus stop" so to speak. There is a plastic chair behind a shed that two police officers in mirrored shades were standing in just past a toll booth. Second, the driver got me there about 30 minutes early. So I'm chilling in a plastic chair under a scraggly olive tree with my suitcase next to me and some serious life re-evaluation to do on the side of the road. One of the police officers was trying to look me up and down and I glared and him and thought "I've been looking for someone to kick in the nuts, just TRY me buddy." He didn't look at me again.

At some point during my wait, I heard what sounded like a bell ringing. I thought, WTF. I turn around, and there is an honest-to-goodness SHEPHERD, with a CROOK, leading goats down a path behind me. Just typical, I thought. This day can't get any weirder.

Finally, my bus burst through the toll booth. The police officers flagged it down, I got on, and a few hours later I was back in Athens.

So much for keeping that story short. But there you have it, folks.

My worst. date. ever.

Worst Date Ever Stories

It's the day after Valentine's day, so that can only mean one thing:

Time to share Worst Date Ever Stories!

I will tell you mine, and I want to hear yours too! Leave them in the comments section, or email me at starspangledstockings (at) yahoo (dot) com and I will post them as a guest blog.

To get the creative juices flowing, take a look at this from The Globe and Mail. Some of those stories are hilarious! Recreational eye patch!? Who does that?

OK, here goes.

I've had some real doozies of bad dates, but hands down, the worst date I ever had was with a Greek policeman on Mount Olympus.

During grad school, I spent a summer in Athens. I am pretty adventurous and open to new experiences, so when I met a policeman who asked me out for coffee, I said sure and gave him my cell phone number. He called a few days later and said something about how he still wanted to go out for coffee but he was leaving town for the weekend to go visit his family in Mt. Olympus and said he knew it was short notice but would I like to go with him?

I saw this as a great opportunity to see one of the most famous sites in Greece, and I also thought, what could possibly go wrong? I'll get to meet a cute Greek family and see a different way of life, and he's a policeman so that means I'll be safe. My brother is a policeman and I see it as a noble and honest profession. I also thought, there's no way he could possibly think of trying to get physical with me because I barely know him and this is a first date and we'll be with his family and he can't possibly think I'm that kind of woman.

Little did I know I would be wrong on all three assumptions.

He drove up to Mt. Olympus while I was still at work, so I caught a bus that left Athens after I got off for the day. I got to the little town close to Mt. Olympus REALLY late at night, and there was no actual bus stop. Just a bench on the side of a highway. The bus driver barely stopped long enough for me to step off the bus, then started yelling at me because I was taking too much time getting my suitcase off, then sped away. I was left standing in the middle of a dark deserted highway all alone, except for this big hairy old man with a long beard, a pot belly, a bottle in his hand and a crazy look in his eye. He started walking toward me and something inside of me snapped. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and took off sprinting across a 4-lane highway in the dark. I had no idea what I'd find on the other side but knew I had to get away from that creepy man.

On the other side of the highway was a hill and I could see some lights on about halfway up. I stumbled toward the lights, then burst in the door of what looked like a seedy pub. I am sure I had a wild look on my face, not to mention I was still holding a suitcase, and it was about 2 in the morning. Two old men slowly swiveled around on their bar stools to look at me. "There's a crazy man down there! I had to get away! I'm waiting for my friend and he's not here yet!" I babbled, half hysterical. They blinked, then turned back to their drinks.

I furiously punched in the number of the policeman on my cell phone. "Where are you?" I screamed when he answered. "I'm here all by myself and some crazy man was coming at me." "Ah, don't worry, I be there soon," he said in clipped English and hung up.

He picked me up and then took me to this strange hotel that was completely isolated. I thought I'd be staying with his family but I was wrong. Fortunately he didn't try to make a move but instead just left me there. I asked him what time I needed to be ready to go sightseeing in the morning and he said, "Don't worry. I call you" and then he left.

I slept restlessly. The next day I woke up, waited for him to call, and finally wandered downstairs to try to find something to eat. It was at least noon, and he still hadn't called. I got some food, sat by the pool, and a couple of hours later he still hadn't called. I finally called him. He said, "OK I pick you up now." I said, "OK, but what are we going to do today? Are we going to the beach or to Mt. Olympus? I need to know what I should wear." He said, and I quote, "Don't wear nothing." I gave a nervous laugh. "Ha. Um, no really. What are we doing. I need to know if I should wear a swimsuit or hiking clothes." He said, "DON'T WEAR NOTHING. I be there soon." Then hung up.

I thought this was a bad sign. I had no idea the surprises that were in store for me later that day....

To find out how this ends....come back next time. :)

Up and At 'Em

I hate it when I wake up 4 hours before my alarm is supposed to go off and I can't go back to sleep.

Actually, I don't think that's ever happened before until this morning. Usually if I wake up in the middle of the night I can fall back asleep.

It's not so easy now because my sleep schedule is all messed up because of shift work. I adjusted to working nights pretty well. I ate healthy foods that gave me energy, I didn't just drink coffee for caffeine, I also drank lots of green and black tea, and I used an eye mask to help me get to sleep during the day. What I didn't count on was how hard it would be to switch back to days.

I have recently discovered pinterest and I've found a lot of healthy recipes for smoothies that I want to try, and healthy meals that I can make ahead of time and take with me to work. I'm hoping that a veggie-packed sandwich and a peanut butter and apple snack will get me through this day.

If you have to work unpredictable hours (moms, I'm looking at you), what are some of your tips for getting yourself to sleep when you have to, and powering through the day when a nap isn't an option?

Trying to shine,

Bridget Jones

Bridget Jones' Diary is one of my all-time favorite movies. She's just so funny and so real. Even though I'm not single anymore, I can totally relate to her search for fulfillment and her quest for love (been there, done that). And her occasionally disastrous public speaking skills. "Oy! OY!!!" Classic.

There's a part in the movie when she's getting ready for a big date and she has 'an emergency summit with urban family' to prepare. It got me to thinking about my urban family, you know, the friends who will rally for you at a moment's notice when something major happens, like a breakup, a birthday, or a date that requires an emergency shopping trip. I've relied on these friends SO MUCH for emotional support. They've seen me at my best and at my worst.

But so has my real family, even though I don't get to see them as often.

Here are some of my favorite things to do with my urban family:

1. Sit around with cocktails or coffee and talk. About anything and everything. Men, work, the meaning of life, where we grew up, the famous people they've met (those stories never get old to me...I get dazzled very easily), gossip, etc.

2. Go out to fabulous restaurants for brunch. I love brunch. I think it's a city thing.

3. Go to the theater. One of my urban friends introduced me to the Kennedy Center and now I must go at least once a month. It's the mother ship.

4. Go to interesting attractions in the area that are off the beaten path for most tourists, like the ice skating rink in the sculpture garden or the cocktail party in the museum of African art after hours.

5. Have theme parties. I've had an Out of Africa party, and helped host a Will and Kate party. We had an animal print theme at the former and I wore white gloves and pearls at the latter. Good times.

Favorite things to do with real family:

1. Sit in the living room, drink coffee, watch TV, talk about books.

2. I love, love, LOVE seeing my cousins at Christmas. I love the frenzy in the kitchen, holding the new baby, catching up on the latest, and feeling like we can pick up right where we left off.

3. Doing anything with my grandmothers. Cooking. Eating. Doing various random projects around the house, including watering the African violets, changing a light bulb, making the crescent rolls, stirring the orange drink, and on one notable occasion, helping haul cinder blocks in a wheelbarrow. My 80 year old grandma was better at that than I was. There's just something so comforting about being in the kitchen while grandma cooks. I have especially fond memories of jam making. It has something to do with what I wrote about yesterday...doing things the way they're supposed to be done.

4. Going out to eat -- the foods from back home that I LOVE. My fam always indulges me and takes me to whatever restaurant or fast food joint I want to go to. Sonic happy hour? Chicken fried steak? Mexican again? The choice is mine.

5. Listening to my brother's cop stories. No one has as good a story as a cop does.

What about you? Do you have an urban family?

Cake!

I am so dang proud of myself.

I just made, from scratch, a chocolate cake (with the good cocoa!) with salted caramel frosting. I found the recipe on pinterest.

To some people, whipping up a beautiful and tasty dessert from scratch is no big deal. To me, this is huge.

You see, I like to cook and I like to bake. But I usually like to take shortcuts. Why make a lasagna when you can buy a perfectly good one from a box in the frozen section? Why go to the trouble to make brownies from scratch when the box mix costs $3 and only requires 3 ingredients? Why do something really, really well when you can do it quickly and it still comes out more or less ok?

The trouble is, for the past year I feel like I've been living my life just skidding by on the surface. Making sure I was the poised professional who never steps a foot wrong at work. The girlfriend who can cook him a three course meal, even if all three courses did come out of the frozen section. The person who felt so unsettled in this city and this life that I traveled almost every other weekend just to get away from it all.

The problem is, none of that was fulfilling. Not rocking the boat with certain people is good in some cases, if that person is, say, your boss. But holding back my true feelings when a "friend" continues, day after day, to drain my energy by being consistently negative REALLY wears me down and I don't want to just keep on smiling and listening [which is what I thought a good friend is supposed to do] when what I really should say is STOP BEING SO NEGATIVE YOU'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY! Is that really so bad?

I love to travel. It's my absolute favorite pastime, it's my passion, it's my love. But doing it every other weekend to escape the reality that I don't like living in this city is not only expensive, it doesn't get to the root cause of the problem. The truth is, I have to do some really intense soul searching to figure out not what job I want or what city I want to live in, but who I am. That seems a little trite but not being in tune with that was the root of my dissatisfaction, and is something that I'm still working on.

I felt like I had to be everything to everyone. The stellar employee who dresses, talks, and acts like everyone else to fit in and get ahead, even though I got so sick of people telling me how much I'll enjoy working there for 30 years when it's been hard enough doing it for a year and a half. The friend who patiently listens wayyyyyy longer than necessary to toxic negativity, because I thought that's what good friends do. Smile, nod, repeat. The woman who tries to find a balance between being a well-educated city girl with my fast-lane friends, and a down to earth, non judgmental, trying to make sure no one thinks I'm looking down on them just because I moved away kind of person with the people back home. (Not you, S. I know I don't have to be anything but myself around you.)

Enough.

Getting back to the cake. It may have taken an hour to make. It may have cost a lot more money for ingredients than a Betty Crocker mix. But the process of making it was therapeutic. It felt like I was doing something the way it was supposed to be done. I was so proud of myself when it actually came together. And ... better yet, it's the absolute BEST cake I have ever tasted.

Licking the frosting,

P.S. Thank you to the readers who've stuck with me even after all this time. I <3 you.

Chopped

I just gave my blog a really short haircut.

I didn't believe all that old baggage accurately reflected me and the things I wanted to talk about. I left it up for so long because I thought that maybe seeing what I went through in a failed relationship might help other people going through the same thing, but honestly, enough is enough and it's finally time to just get rid of all that and move on.

So that's what I'm doing....stay tuned!