My kitchen is small, but because I am my mother’s daughter, and clean as I go, I’m able to work all right in it. I have a great sense of accomplishment when I take all the pieces and parts, throw them together, and the outcome is good. I’m grateful I’m in a position to be able to afford the groceries to cook on a whim, because that wasn’t always the case. If I continue to cook foods heavy in dairy I’m going to have to work out twice as much in the gym, so I’m going to try to find some healthy stuff too. I like the time it takes to prepare and cook food. It keeps me busy, it keeps my mind occupied, and I can share with those who might want some. Because most recipes are made for families, and well, it’s just me here. In the future I think I’ll try to cut recipes in half, but I didn’t this time, and can share with a girlfriend and her daughter. There will be a lot of trial and error in this. I don’t like working with raw chicken. I shouldn’t wait until 9:00 to go to the grocery store to start. I’d like a lot more spices in my cupboard. I’m making spaghetti tomorrow night.

I like learning – this has been fun so far. Last week Jennie and I made buffalo chicken dip and salsa rolls. This week, I made broccoli chicken casserole. I have left over chicken, broccoli and rice (separately) because I misjudged the size of my dish, so I’ll figure out what to do with that tomorrow. Tonight, what I can say is, I enjoy cooking so far, and although I’m starting off with easy things, at least I’m starting off.

(I’ll be working diligently in the gym tomorrow)

For now, I’m watching the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2 and going to bed What a great start to my weekend!

The thing about being a voracious reader is that, I tend to struggle to find writing that challenges me. I’m currently reading some Sherlock Holmes and I love that there are words that I have to look up. I love the style of writing, the way people spoke back then. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle does an excellent job of providing the reader with details enough to imagine the place he describes. I can see the steamy ports and grimy streets and hear the clip-clop of hooves as horses travel through Tottenham Court Road. He, describes in detail things people are wearing and how they’re sitting because, by definition, the character Sherlock Holmes is a man who deduces much from little. Ah man, I love books!

Here’s the thing. I think about food constantly. I obsess about it, and that isn’t something easy for me to admit. I hate it. But I think maybe, if I start to cook, I might alleviate that a little bit. It may have the opposite effect, and if it does then I’ll have to stop. But if I know what I’m making and I know what is in it and I took the time to prepare it and have some pride in what I’m doing, then maybe I’ll love it. And maybe the incessant thoughts about food will let up. And maybe I’ll find something I’m really good at. Or really suck at, but enjoy. I don’t know, I just feel like I’ve got to try.

Baked Parmesan Crusted Mayo Chicken, buffalo chicken slaw rolls, grilled asparagus with lemon zest and feta, broccoli and mozzarella stromboli, jalapeno popper grilled cheese sandwich?! salsa roll ups, honey lime chicken enchiladas…are you kidding? My stomach is ROARING right now! And that’s just the tip of the iceburg. I’ve got dips, pastas, appetizers….all kinds of yummy goodness that no one else is going to make for me, I’m a big girl. I need to just get over it and do it myself. SO I’m having movie night with my sister-in-law tomorrow and I’m going to make something to take over. I just haven’t figured out which one yet. Wish me luck!

There’s just one teensy tiny little hang-up.

I absolutely loathe touching raw meat.

I know!

I’m ridiculous.

I don’t know when it started or why it bothers me so much. Sometimes when I think too much about what I’m actually doing, I freak myself out and have to quit. But I think I’m an ok cook, when I can get past that. Usually by opening the package with a long knife, removing the plastic with aforementioned knife, flipping said package directly into the pot or pan I’m cooking it in, and immediately cleaning the knife and my hands. Prepping chicken to cook is interesting. If I can manage, I keep the plastic between my fingers and the chicken. Most of the time that doesn’t work, so I hold it in place with a fork or another knife. But, that doesn’t keep it in place very well. I’ve thought about gloves, but what kind? And how can I guarantee that my meat won’t taste like them? I can’t be hopeless. I’ve gotten through a lot, so I’d guess that I should be able to figure out how to get past this hurdle to prepare my own food. I make all sorts of things that don’t have meat, or just require ground beef, because that is very simple to cook without touching it. Unless I want to make burgers. Sigh.

I see all these yummy recipes and I KNOW cooking at home is better for me, and cheaper. I’ll figure it out, I hope. What a silly thing, right?

“The code theft from the security giant will not likely affect the average computer user or compromise his computer, an analyst told  — but the breech is certainly to leave the Fortune 500 company red faced.

 Ghosh called the security breech a real business risk more than anything else, one that may lead to a loss of confidence in Symantec and potential loss of market share for the publicly traded firm.

 The compromised code — between four and five years old — does not affect does not affect Symantec’s consumer-oriented Norton products as had been previously speculated, Symantec said.“

Did you notice the errors? No? Here, let me help.

Breech: (as defined by Merriam Webster)

1:  plural  a) Short pants covering the hips and thighs and fitting snugly at the lower edges at or just below the knee b) Pants

2:  a) At the hind end of the body : buttocks  b) Breech presentation; also : a fetus that is presented breech first

3:  the part of a firearm at the rear of the barrel

Breach:

1:  Infraction or violation of a law, obligation, tie, or standard

2:  a) a broken, ruptured, or torn condition or area   b) a gap (as in a wall) made by battering

3:  a) a break in accustomed friendly relations   b) a temporary gap in continuity : hiatus

4: a leap especially of a whale out of water

(Did you notice the repeated phrase in the last paragraph?)

I’ve lost faith in spelling and grammar. Is proofreading dead? Are people in such a hurry to get news out that proper writing abilities are overlooked for the person with the quickest fingers? If that much is true, then we have no hope for this kind of journalism. If speed is always the most desired quality, then the integrity of the writer and the company or entity he or she writes for is compromised. Since technically breech is spelled correctly, the egregious misuse of the word goes undetected by the auto check that comes with nearly every word processing program available. Maybe people aren’t taught to reread their papers anymore, or to keep a dictionary and a thesaurus around when writing a paper. (I realize I’m probably making myself sound much older than my 26 years, but seriously.) When people use words like irregardless and make mistakes with to, too and two; there, they’re and their; you’re and your; then and than; accept and except, effect and affect, which and witch (I’m not joking, I’ve seen that) lay and lie (the list goes on and on) and as I witnessed today, breech and breach…my nerd heart breaks a little. Is the ability to use correct grammar and spelling a lost art?

I hope everyone has a Happy (and safe!) New Year!!

There are times when I get tired and crabby, or complain more than I should, or grimace taking the stairs after a killer lower-body work out. But the predominate emotion in my life is happiness, and I am amazed at that. Just recently (a little less than 6 months ago) my life took a drastic turn, and while there was (and is) fear and doubt, things are clearing up, and I am taking a different look at life, and what I see has a pleasant spin on it. I’m trying to write more, and sometimes I’m not very insightful, so forgive the randomness. It happens. Anyway, I’ve been grinning all morning, and I’m sure its for a multitude of reasons. I’m just glad my life is so different today. If I were to describe it in colors, my life was very bleak before, varying shades of gray, and that might sound totally cliche but its true. If it were a color palate that’s what you’d get. Gray and black. Maybe dark brown. Heavy, oppressive colors. Not that I don’t love to integrate them into my wardrobe, because that’s not the implication I’m making. But in terms of emotions, those colors are not exactly on the happy-go-lucky end of the spectrum.

Today, however, I feel bright and buoyant. Joyous. My color palate is completely different now. Bright pink. Buttery yellow. Psych green. I’m not kidding. I think that’s why I love that Coldplay song and video so much. It’s full of vibrant colors and the song is upbeat and it makes me happy. I have good relationships with my family and I have genuine friends who care about my well being. I enjoy my job, for the most part. (We all have our days, right?) I absolutely love working out and feel better about myself when I do it. I’m growing, evolving, changing. It’s pretty awesome.

Now I know life happens. I know things aren’t always sunshine and daises. And I’m ok with that. Because I’m learning how to handle things. I’m not perfect. I don’t have it all figured out and I’m glad I don’t. I guess what this boils down to is: I’m happy today, and I’m glad to be happy.

I know. I know. That sounds completely ridiculous.

So dance, you say.

Now now, its not that easy. For one, I’m extremely self-aware. Meaning, I know that I have no place in a dance club. Ever. My inability to groove shines through when I’m sitting still. It grows exponentially when surrounded by people who actually have talent in dancing.

I’m not talking about ballroom dancing. Or choreographed dancing. Because I can do that, kind of. I’m teachable.

I’m talking about from the heart, deep down, feel the music dancing. Look, I have rhythm. I’m a musician. I can ‘feel the beat’ if you will. But that cool, smooth, suave badass dancing? My body just doesn’t move that way. I want it to. I wish it did! I flail around like an idiot in the car or at home when I hear good music. (I use flail in a very literal sense.) Sometimes I shrug my shoulders up and down with a ridiculous look on my face. But most of the time I think, wtf do I do with my hands? Do I snap? Clap? Flick at the wrists? Throw ‘em in the air like I just don’t care?

The fact is, I really, really can’t dance. But I like to.  Sometimes I hear songs that have a good beat and I can’t help but move around. But that’s all it is. I would hardly consider it dancing. That implies a level of smoothness that I just can’t attain. But flailing, shrugging and moving around seem to work ok for me, for now. It garners a few laughs anyway, and really, who cares?

Try not to dance to this. I’m just saying.

Anyway, I think as we grow, we start to build that wall, brick by brick, without even realizing it. As we get older, and lose the childhood innocence we don’t know we have until it is gone, the world starts to seep in, and slowly we throw up a defense. Against pain. Lies. Fear. Doubt. Betrayal. Jealousy. Rejection. Grief. As we start to experience and acknowledge what those feelings are, we put up defenses against them. The problem, as I see it, is as those bricks go up, we start to suffocate our emotional growth and spiritual vulnerability. I imagine God as that person from my picture, handing the flower through the teeny space left. Because sometimes that’s all that’s there. Sometimes, there’s less room, or no room, and the whole wall has to be knocked aside, figuratively or literally. How can we grow if we refuse to move from where we are? How can we have hope to grow if we squeeze faith out of our lives entirely?

Imagine a pond in the middle of the summer on a hot still day…water stagnant, with bugs skimming the surface. The heat hangs above the water in a haze, everything is still. Humid. Unmoving. I don’t want my life to be that way. I want my life to be like white-water rafting. Beautiful, slightly unpredictable, both exciting and tranquil, an adventure, one worth telling. And there’s no way I’ll live a life that way if I refuse to move.

Faith, hope, trust, those things lead to an adventurous life. Because where are we without faith? And what is faith? Belief and trust that something out there is bigger than us. Sure, of course, life is not always sunshine and daises. Things happen. It is how we handle those things…how we conduct ourselves in the midst of the sludge and come out on the other side that help us grow, and be an example for someone else who may have to go through the same thing. I am not a model of perfection. I have been on the merry-go-round of life moving way too fast. That white-knuckle experience lasted long enough for me to relish in the simplicity of my life today. I’ve broken down walls, brick by brick, and I have a short list of things that occupy my time. As that starts to grow I want to be sure that the list grows with things I can be proud of. I’m grateful today, that I get a second chance. It’s pleasing to think that some of my best days are ahead of me. There’s that hope thing again.

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas!

Good music. This song makes me happy every time!! I can listen to it on repeat. Good coffee. (best when consumed first thing in the morning) Psych. Helping someone else. Being outside. Getting lost in a good book.Snuggling with my kitties.

We all have funks right? I mean, I know I get them. A LOT. But as I said in an earlier post that I published and had to delete for any number of reasons…I get to choose how long I stay in a funk. Any of those things I listed above usually can break down that gunky mess and allow the sunshine of the day to burst through. I’m not perfect, and I will never claim to be. I just know what I’ve learned, and that is, life is just too short to sit around and feel sorry for myself. By helping others I help myself. And I try to remember to start every morning with a thank you and a your will not mine to the big guy. Because my way didn’t work for a long time. And I never know what the day will bring if I let it go. I’ve found they’re better when I try not to control everything. Strange isn’t it? I’d always heard that saying, if you let go you’ll get more, or however it goes, but man I just pushed against that for years. It didn’t make sense to me. How how how?! I had my fingers so tightly wrapped around every particular aspect of my being, that I choked the life out of everything I cared about. I didn’t give myself the opportunity to listen when my God said, hey…you might be happier if you do this.

I quit living and simply existed.

Thankfully I’m 26, and I have my whole life ahead of me. Thankfully, I’ve got people around me who helped me figure it out. There’s still time, to do anything I want if I just keep focused on doing the next right thing. I’m so grateful that I am living today. I’m waking up, and realizing there are so many things I want to do!

Everything it its own time.