I blog gluten-free

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

You're Not Going to Prom!

It's... been. Wonderfully vague, that. My great aunt left on Easter, March 31st. The family has been in a state of flux for the better part of 2 and a half years now, and people are still at each other's throats. At the moment, I am sad, I am freaked out. People keep coming to me, both with complaints, and their struggles, and I'm choking a bit. I've found myself trying to bite my tongue before I snap and shout: "If you can't behave, then you can go sit in the corner until you can play nice or I tell you that you can come out!" "If you kids don't behave, that's it! You're not going to prom!" As the bulk of the people I' 've actually snapped at are in their mid- sixties, this is a teeny bit of an issue! As for Mom- pulling her " don't do that/ don't go out, it's (Insert Lousy Weather Conditions Here)... until I have to virtually taste blood to stop from shouting, "is it always raining in that hell hole/scar on the planet I left behind?!"- needing to rehash bad anniversaries and horrid assumptions and gossip about others... I'm worn down and not even sure how, exactly, to begin grief, for two, as grief for Grandma got waylaid into "comfortably numb" at this moment... because I don't know anything else. I'm trying to laugh, to get things out so I'm not hurting myself holding them in. But "what's new?"- scary question for me. I don't want to say, I am in a fog... Finally got over a rather lovely set of chills from the funeral- I'm thinking stress, and being in a mausoleum in 30 °F weather were probably culprits. Can't do a lot until I have time. Or get myself out of myself, so to speak. For now, adventures and baking/ cooking will have to do, and music. I can change no one but myself, and am trying to remember this: I don't know the key to success, but the key to FAILURE is trying to please everybody."_ Bill Cosby It's me I need to please. I've been listening to the Black Crowes a lot... among other favorites, played good and loud. The Black Crowes - She Talks To Angels (original video) - Video Dailymotion

Thursday, April 18, 2013


Awkward conversations are part of life. Thankfully, many are the sort that can lead to giggles later. A friend and I were discussing rather bad romance novel tropes. The first thing I think of is this highly unsexy scene: Our heroine, (Let's give her a rather depressing and clunky for the 21st century name... uh, Desdemona.) enticed by the hero, uh... Lord Byron's Underpants... Or, Lord Pants, to shed her rigid and upright demeanor, and "submit". "Desdemona's heaving bosoms... apparently she, and Lord Pants, who also apparently grew bosoms for this conquest, are elderly maiden aunts. Hot!) "...rose and fell over the tight whalebones of her corset..." unfortunately for every author of romance, I always picture the bosoms hovering... escaping from the confines of the corset and flying off heaven- knows- where. Hot! So I am left not in the fancy bedroom of the couple, but trying to sort out where these hovering- flying- titties are going. Will they be having a more splendid conversation than those they grew on? Are flying titties now loose and attacking fair cities? It's really quite pleasant, albeit awkward. I can't say the same for Desdemona and Lord Pants. Now, a disgusting word. I'm uncomfortable with "moist", even if it's a box of cake mix proclaiming its... Ew!- . I find myself responding, with a rather bizarre posh accent of unknown origin... I know, for example, my German accent is not unlike that of Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle... "Get moose und squirrel!"... "Yes, yes. My coffee is rah- thuh moist, as well." And then I feel warm, possibly from blushing at how embarrassing this all is. But there's always fun to be had.