a dear friend of quasi-landlord's (and mine, by extension) joined us for christmas dinner. i'd not seen him in months, and we were all looking forward to being together and catching up. in addition to his famous potatoes with chorizo (which i absolutely love even though i can never get them right whenever i try to make them myself), he brought a mexican hot chocolate torte (nom nom nom) and presents for all of us, which was completely unnecessary and yet totally thoughtful. the message of the card he included has stuck with me, so much so that i'm leaving said card on the windowsill near my bed so i can see it easily.
front of card:
"The light of Chanukah
reminds us to have faith
that miracles are on their way."
inside of card:
"Wishing you
a wonderful Chanukah
and every blessing
always."
his handwritten message:
"I know you're not
Jewish. But I
like the message of
this card. Even
in our darkest days
light will guide
our way!"
he's not jewish, either.
i was unable to tell him just how much this meant, especially in that particular moment, so i just leaned over and gave him a hug. score one for the universe.
i haven't made any sort of resolutions or intentions for 2017, but i think this is something that i wish for all of us, self included, in the coming year - that we be reminded of the power of miracles and that light will continue to guide our ways.
merry new year, y'all. here's to a fucking outstanding 2017 because holy shit do we deserve it. i love you.😘
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Thursday, December 29, 2016
recipe review: barbecue fries
[thank you for all of your concern re: my last post. i've been sick (as in physically ill) off and on this week, but i'm slowly and surely approaching something resembling normalcy. my high-risk breast cancer assessment has been moved to late january instead of march, so yay for that. i made some more headway on researching therapists, but the practice i'm most interested in at the moment doesn't currently have any therapists that will accept my insurance, so i will revisit that in a few weeks to see what's what. i love y'all to the moon and back. and now, the aforementioned recipe review.]
quasi-landlord's other tenant had about 4-5 leftover russet potatoes that she gifted to me. normally, i would just make a batch of mashed potatoes and be #fatgirlhappy, but i didn't really want mashed potatoes this time around. (as if we needed further proof that i haven't been myself lately, right?)
i was already digging through my recipe files looking for greens & black-eyed peas inspiration for the new year and came across this recipe for barbecue fries. it's so easy that i can't believe i haven't tried it before. lord only knows what i was waiting on.
i used a 1/2 teaspoon of tabasco sauce and, though listed as optional, added both the paprika and the cumin. there were 2 different bottles of bbq sauce in the fridge, so i used 3 tablespoons of each. quasi-landlord's oven tends to set off the smoke detector at high temps, so i baked the fries at 425° for about 35 minutes, turning them over after 20 minutes or so.
if i make this again, i'd cut the olive oil down to 4 tablespoons and skip oiling the baking sheet. i wanted crispier fries and i think there was too much moisture for them to cook up the way i really wanted them to. i have no idea if there's any sour cream in the fridge and since i was having these as part of my pork chop and leftover green beans dinner, i didn't really care that much about having a dipping sauce. part of me wants to make some scrambled eggs and have these fries on the side. obviously they'd go well with a burger or a steak or some other meaty main dish. ooh, maybe i'll make these again, use fewer potatoes, and throw in some broccoli. that could be delicious.
quasi-landlord's other tenant had about 4-5 leftover russet potatoes that she gifted to me. normally, i would just make a batch of mashed potatoes and be #fatgirlhappy, but i didn't really want mashed potatoes this time around. (as if we needed further proof that i haven't been myself lately, right?)
i was already digging through my recipe files looking for greens & black-eyed peas inspiration for the new year and came across this recipe for barbecue fries. it's so easy that i can't believe i haven't tried it before. lord only knows what i was waiting on.
i used a 1/2 teaspoon of tabasco sauce and, though listed as optional, added both the paprika and the cumin. there were 2 different bottles of bbq sauce in the fridge, so i used 3 tablespoons of each. quasi-landlord's oven tends to set off the smoke detector at high temps, so i baked the fries at 425° for about 35 minutes, turning them over after 20 minutes or so.
if i make this again, i'd cut the olive oil down to 4 tablespoons and skip oiling the baking sheet. i wanted crispier fries and i think there was too much moisture for them to cook up the way i really wanted them to. i have no idea if there's any sour cream in the fridge and since i was having these as part of my pork chop and leftover green beans dinner, i didn't really care that much about having a dipping sauce. part of me wants to make some scrambled eggs and have these fries on the side. obviously they'd go well with a burger or a steak or some other meaty main dish. ooh, maybe i'll make these again, use fewer potatoes, and throw in some broccoli. that could be delicious.
Friday, December 23, 2016
adulting with/through anxiety: a week in review
sunday. you get belated birthday greetings via text from your niece, her mother, and carol. you do not hear from your brothers, and you know at least one of them will hold forth during christmas dinner about how they never see you and how you're too good to come all the way out there to hang out with them, oblivious to the fact that he's an asshole and you have way better things to do with your time. you cry yourself to sleep because you start thinking about all the things you need to do during the coming week and you're missing james because at least he remembered your birthday every year and you don't ask your family for much - for anything, really - but would it really do your brothers any harm to remember their baby sister's birthday, especially since it's a milestone year? your brother's ex-wife remembered, albeit late, but come on.
monday. thankfully quasi-landlord has reminded you that the house is full because her european folks are staying for a few days. you love them dearly, but you hate the chaos, specifically the clutter and noise, that happens when they're here. all of the clutter and noise and you've been off work for a few days and are thinking about what you need to do to hit the ground running when you return but you can't really think because clutter and noise and noise and clutter and it's making your teeth itch. you're frustrated because you were "supposed" to be back in your own place by now but prospective landlords see that eviction on your record and laugh all the way to the bank with your application fee in hand and who gives a damn if you have a job that's paying you the most you've made in your working life to date and who the hell were you kidding by having ambitions and shit? how dare you dream...not even big, really. medium? it was all a medium-sized dream and you are furious with yourself for falling short on one of your major goals for 2016 but it doesn't matter because this year has been trash anyway so fuck it.
tuesday. back at work. you find out that someone you worked with on a project right before your birthday break tried to throw you under the bus even though they'd blown every deadline you'd set for said project and since they're local, you resist the urge to go find their desk and punch them in the face. you didn't sleep well and you just wanna go home and relax, but quasi-landlord's houseguests are still around and so you make dinner and get into your pajamas in record time and hang out in your room most of the night curled up with your "this is fine" plush dog. you also make an appointment for your first mammogram because it's part of your post-physical homework. you try not to freak out about said mammogram because your self-exams have yielded nothing and your doctor's yearly exams have yielded nothing, but to no avail.
wednesday. bathroom break at 4:30am. you finally start dozing off 15 minutes later, but then your brain decides to have ALL OF THE THOUGHTS EVER and sleep is like "oh, you didn't really wanna hang? kthxbai." you have no idea when you actually go back to sleep, but you wake up in a panic thinking that you've overslept and in reality, your alarm is a minute away from going off. you're not sure how much sleep you actually got and you consider not leaving the house at all and just working from home, but the houseguests are still here and there will be no quiet, only clutter and noise. if you have to leave the house to go to starbucks or somewhere else with wifi so you can work, you may as well go into the office. you are not happy about this. your boss assigns you a new project and you complain and whine about it for 10 minutes, as you do with every new project. your heart's not really in it, though, because who really gives a shit about this project or anything else? you play phone tag with the high-risk breast cancer center people, again based on your post-physical homework. nothing is wrong, but just making that call fills you with blech. you also spend a good hour researching therapists (yup, also part of your homework) that you can't bring yourself to call to confirm insurance acceptance because you've hit the wall. you go to the library after work and not even talking with a former co-worker about how glad she is to be in a new place after the fire in her apartment building boosts your mood, although you are genuinely happy for her because you could feel the stress in her texts to you about the situation. you stop by the bar for a round and it is actually quieter there than home, so you sit for a beer and a shot and finish reading the book in your purse. you make a mental note that this is the first alcohol you've had since sunday night and your doctor would be proud because she wants you to cut back to 1 alcoholic drink every 24 hours, but since that's not in the written post-visit homework you decide you don't really need to follow that one all that strictly. you go home, you warm up some dinner and eat while standing up in the kitchen because the houseguests have taken over the dining room and you just cannot deal with the clutter and noise. but they're leaving the next day so you stay in the kitchen and help clean up even though you didn't actually consume any of the food that was cooked for that dinner but kitchen duty usually helps settle your mind because you're able to zone out, but not this time. a wonder that no dishes were dropped and you didn't injure yourself.
thursday. o hai, crying in the shower. you are feeling 17 kinds of hopeless and nothing is making any sense but you go to work anyway. you make some progress on your new project because this is what is expected of you, even though your boss is out for the day and you really could just look busy and be done with it. quasi-landlord texts you while you're heading home because she wants to go to honey butter, and you agree even though you do not have the energy to carry on a conversation. you also realize that you are having a really shitty week and hey, you should probably text or email a friend because you promised after last year that you would be better about vocalizing when you weren't doing well, but the way your anxiety is set up, you put your phone down because everyone has their own shit and honestly, no one gives a good goddamn about your feelings so you may as well just stfu and deal with it. you are tired of powering through, though. you know something's wrong because this is usually your favorite time of year but there is no joy in your heart.
friday. a teammate suggested mimosas the other day and the two of you convinced your boss that this is a thing that should happen today. day drinking is one of your favorite things, so that, combined with the fact that said mimosas will happen at work, should have you skipping down the halls. it doesn't. you finally make contact with the high-risk breast cancer assessment people and you have an appointment scheduled in march, which makes you laugh because your mammogram is 2 weeks from today and you know in your gut that everything is fine but holy nervousness, batman. you look at your phone again because really, you should text someone, but that voice in your head reminds you that it's pointless and you're worthless and no one gives a shit, and you don't have the energy to deal with it at that moment because you're at work and you need to focus on not falling apart there. you're successful in that quest until you're doing laundry later, when the urge to do something harmful to yourself hits you so quickly and so forcefully that you double over for a second. once you're able to breathe normally, you realize that this is a very bad idea for myriad reasons, not least of which is because quasi-landord does not need to come home and find you passed out (or worse) in the basement. you've been pondering a blog post off and on all week, so you commit to writing this one. that oh-so-lovely voice comes back to tell you that no one is going to read this, but you're ok with that because the shit has to get off of your chest and you're stable enough to know that you are not going to harm yourself because you have some things to look forward to, like the bottle of klinker brick rosé that you forgot you had but you're totally going to drink while watching the bears game tomorrow, and jesusjack, and christmas day itself, and seeing "fences" with quasi-landlord on monday, and you remind yourself to keep trying because you really did promise yourself and everyone else after last year, but holy hell the anxiety has done a number on you this week. you're always cold, no matter how many layers you're wearing, and you're still hungry after meals regardless of how much or how little you actually consume. you are thankful for your stash of chocolate.
monday. thankfully quasi-landlord has reminded you that the house is full because her european folks are staying for a few days. you love them dearly, but you hate the chaos, specifically the clutter and noise, that happens when they're here. all of the clutter and noise and you've been off work for a few days and are thinking about what you need to do to hit the ground running when you return but you can't really think because clutter and noise and noise and clutter and it's making your teeth itch. you're frustrated because you were "supposed" to be back in your own place by now but prospective landlords see that eviction on your record and laugh all the way to the bank with your application fee in hand and who gives a damn if you have a job that's paying you the most you've made in your working life to date and who the hell were you kidding by having ambitions and shit? how dare you dream...not even big, really. medium? it was all a medium-sized dream and you are furious with yourself for falling short on one of your major goals for 2016 but it doesn't matter because this year has been trash anyway so fuck it.
tuesday. back at work. you find out that someone you worked with on a project right before your birthday break tried to throw you under the bus even though they'd blown every deadline you'd set for said project and since they're local, you resist the urge to go find their desk and punch them in the face. you didn't sleep well and you just wanna go home and relax, but quasi-landlord's houseguests are still around and so you make dinner and get into your pajamas in record time and hang out in your room most of the night curled up with your "this is fine" plush dog. you also make an appointment for your first mammogram because it's part of your post-physical homework. you try not to freak out about said mammogram because your self-exams have yielded nothing and your doctor's yearly exams have yielded nothing, but to no avail.
wednesday. bathroom break at 4:30am. you finally start dozing off 15 minutes later, but then your brain decides to have ALL OF THE THOUGHTS EVER and sleep is like "oh, you didn't really wanna hang? kthxbai." you have no idea when you actually go back to sleep, but you wake up in a panic thinking that you've overslept and in reality, your alarm is a minute away from going off. you're not sure how much sleep you actually got and you consider not leaving the house at all and just working from home, but the houseguests are still here and there will be no quiet, only clutter and noise. if you have to leave the house to go to starbucks or somewhere else with wifi so you can work, you may as well go into the office. you are not happy about this. your boss assigns you a new project and you complain and whine about it for 10 minutes, as you do with every new project. your heart's not really in it, though, because who really gives a shit about this project or anything else? you play phone tag with the high-risk breast cancer center people, again based on your post-physical homework. nothing is wrong, but just making that call fills you with blech. you also spend a good hour researching therapists (yup, also part of your homework) that you can't bring yourself to call to confirm insurance acceptance because you've hit the wall. you go to the library after work and not even talking with a former co-worker about how glad she is to be in a new place after the fire in her apartment building boosts your mood, although you are genuinely happy for her because you could feel the stress in her texts to you about the situation. you stop by the bar for a round and it is actually quieter there than home, so you sit for a beer and a shot and finish reading the book in your purse. you make a mental note that this is the first alcohol you've had since sunday night and your doctor would be proud because she wants you to cut back to 1 alcoholic drink every 24 hours, but since that's not in the written post-visit homework you decide you don't really need to follow that one all that strictly. you go home, you warm up some dinner and eat while standing up in the kitchen because the houseguests have taken over the dining room and you just cannot deal with the clutter and noise. but they're leaving the next day so you stay in the kitchen and help clean up even though you didn't actually consume any of the food that was cooked for that dinner but kitchen duty usually helps settle your mind because you're able to zone out, but not this time. a wonder that no dishes were dropped and you didn't injure yourself.
thursday. o hai, crying in the shower. you are feeling 17 kinds of hopeless and nothing is making any sense but you go to work anyway. you make some progress on your new project because this is what is expected of you, even though your boss is out for the day and you really could just look busy and be done with it. quasi-landlord texts you while you're heading home because she wants to go to honey butter, and you agree even though you do not have the energy to carry on a conversation. you also realize that you are having a really shitty week and hey, you should probably text or email a friend because you promised after last year that you would be better about vocalizing when you weren't doing well, but the way your anxiety is set up, you put your phone down because everyone has their own shit and honestly, no one gives a good goddamn about your feelings so you may as well just stfu and deal with it. you are tired of powering through, though. you know something's wrong because this is usually your favorite time of year but there is no joy in your heart.
friday. a teammate suggested mimosas the other day and the two of you convinced your boss that this is a thing that should happen today. day drinking is one of your favorite things, so that, combined with the fact that said mimosas will happen at work, should have you skipping down the halls. it doesn't. you finally make contact with the high-risk breast cancer assessment people and you have an appointment scheduled in march, which makes you laugh because your mammogram is 2 weeks from today and you know in your gut that everything is fine but holy nervousness, batman. you look at your phone again because really, you should text someone, but that voice in your head reminds you that it's pointless and you're worthless and no one gives a shit, and you don't have the energy to deal with it at that moment because you're at work and you need to focus on not falling apart there. you're successful in that quest until you're doing laundry later, when the urge to do something harmful to yourself hits you so quickly and so forcefully that you double over for a second. once you're able to breathe normally, you realize that this is a very bad idea for myriad reasons, not least of which is because quasi-landord does not need to come home and find you passed out (or worse) in the basement. you've been pondering a blog post off and on all week, so you commit to writing this one. that oh-so-lovely voice comes back to tell you that no one is going to read this, but you're ok with that because the shit has to get off of your chest and you're stable enough to know that you are not going to harm yourself because you have some things to look forward to, like the bottle of klinker brick rosé that you forgot you had but you're totally going to drink while watching the bears game tomorrow, and jesusjack, and christmas day itself, and seeing "fences" with quasi-landlord on monday, and you remind yourself to keep trying because you really did promise yourself and everyone else after last year, but holy hell the anxiety has done a number on you this week. you're always cold, no matter how many layers you're wearing, and you're still hungry after meals regardless of how much or how little you actually consume. you are thankful for your stash of chocolate.
Tuesday, December 06, 2016
update: #alldecembereverything, 2016 edition
i've decided that this is indeed a thing that will happen on 12/17. stop by for a round or 5 and wish me a happy birthday. https://t.co/A68Fd9nHrZ— lady black (@queeneulalia) December 6, 2016
it is entirely possible that i'll be at @NiseiLounge 2 weeks from tonight accepting as many birthday drinks as i can. you should join me.— lady black (@queeneulalia) December 4, 2016
original #alldecembereverything post is here as a reference.
happy tuesday! 😀
Monday, December 05, 2016
on: not running away
went to church yesterday. saw one of my nearest and dearest play mamas after service. i hadn't seen her in a while so as soon as i was able, i made a beeline over to her so i could say hi. she teased me about showing my face before the end of the year because i didn't want her hunting me down and moving slowly in the streets with her cane. we talked for a few minutes about everything and nothing, as we do. she'd asked if i was going to be back at church before new year's. i said probably not because, well, i probably won't. then she leaned in, grabbed my face, looked me in the eyes, and said something that i've been pondering ever since.
"don't run away. we need you."
in my gut, i knew that she wasn't just referring to my church attendance. it shook me, because no one there knows about what i went through last october, or anything else for that matter, unless they've somehow found this page and/or my twitter feed.
i had to take a second to recover, and then i said that i wasn't going anywhere. i might not be physically present at church, but i wasn't running away. i wasn't going anywhere.
y'know how sometimes you say something out loud and you can practically feel that shit all the way down to your toes? like what you've said is actually taking root somehow? that's kinda how i felt.
maybe i'm susceptible because my birthday's coming up. maybe it's related to my post-election feelings. maybe it's the part of adulting i've really been trying to be better about - the part where i try to show up and be present and embrace the path i'm on.
"i'm not running away. i'm not going anywhere." a friend and i have had ongoing conversations where i remind them that i'm always around for them no matter what, but this felt, and still feels, like a public declaration of sorts. i think i can be ok with this. sometimes we all need reminders that we're needed and that we shouldn't run away. here's hoping the universe sends you the reminder you need and the strength to keep going. amen.
"don't run away. we need you."
in my gut, i knew that she wasn't just referring to my church attendance. it shook me, because no one there knows about what i went through last october, or anything else for that matter, unless they've somehow found this page and/or my twitter feed.
i had to take a second to recover, and then i said that i wasn't going anywhere. i might not be physically present at church, but i wasn't running away. i wasn't going anywhere.
y'know how sometimes you say something out loud and you can practically feel that shit all the way down to your toes? like what you've said is actually taking root somehow? that's kinda how i felt.
maybe i'm susceptible because my birthday's coming up. maybe it's related to my post-election feelings. maybe it's the part of adulting i've really been trying to be better about - the part where i try to show up and be present and embrace the path i'm on.
"i'm not running away. i'm not going anywhere." a friend and i have had ongoing conversations where i remind them that i'm always around for them no matter what, but this felt, and still feels, like a public declaration of sorts. i think i can be ok with this. sometimes we all need reminders that we're needed and that we shouldn't run away. here's hoping the universe sends you the reminder you need and the strength to keep going. amen.
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