recipe review: slow cooker jambalaya

a funny thing happened a couple of weekends ago: i had an entire sunday free. no plans. nothing on my calendar. no need to leave the house unless i really wanted to. this was exciting because i couldn't really remember the last time i'd had a saturday or sunday that was completely free with no errands to run or no laundry to do or not going to church or brunch or lunch or dinner or to a party or a concert or to the bar or anything. it was going to be great.

the day before this lazy sunday, i looked in the freezer for something i could cook on sunday that wouldn't really require much effort. i spotted a pack of andouille sausage that i'd bought with some vague idea of making "cajun" pasta at some point. the sausage went into the fridge to start defrosting while i went to my recipe files for ideas.

i realized that making something in the crock pot would be a great idea because i could do all of the prep either late saturday night or whenever i got up sunday morning, and it'd be done by the time i was ready to have a late lunch or early dinner. that helped narrow things down a bit.

this was the first recipe i found in on my laptop that looked promising...until i realized it had no seasoning. none. i just looked at it again while copying the link here and there is no salt, no pepper, no garlic, no herbs, nothing. obviously this would not do.

off i went to my folder of hard copy recipes, where i found this one. i didn't really want red beans and rice per se, but at least this recipe had more seasoning and other things i could make work.

what i wound up with was a combination of elements from these two recipes. here's what made it into the crock pot for 4 hours on low:

• 1 package (16 or 20 ounces - can't really remember right now) of andouille sausage, cooked and broken up into pieces
• 1/2 pound of shredded cooked chicken (the jewel near me sells "leftover" shredded chicken from the rotisserie chickens in the deli case. i've used it before for other things, like nachos, and it was fine, so i decided to buy some for this as well)
• 1 red bell pepper, chopped
• 1 yellow bell pepper, chopped
• 1 large(ish) sweet onion, chopped
• 2 ginormous cloves of garlic (i used a garlic press, but you could mince them the old fashioned way)
• 1 15 ounce can of red kidney beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 14.5 ounce can of fire-roasted diced tomatoes
• 2 small stalks of celery, chopped
• 1 12 ounce can of beer (i had a yuengling in the fridge, so that's what i used)
• salt and pepper (i eyeballed both - no actual measurements)
• creole seasoning, which i also eyeballed - maybe a tablespoon and some change? i dunno.
• dried thyme - this was also eyeballed but i doubt if i even used a full teaspoon, really
• a couple sprinkles of garlic powder (b/c garlic)

verdict? i should've drained the tomatoes since i was adding more liquid with the beer. i also wanted, and this will sound strange to those who are aware of my intolerance of spicy food, more spice - i probably could've added another teaspoon or so of creole seasoning without potentially injuring myself. the yield was probably closer to 6 servings than 4 - i had a couple of helpings that sunday and monday, and there are two plastic containers of it in the freezer. i made some microwavable brown rice with it, but obviously you could use whatever rice you wanted or not use rice at all.

on: being a disappointment to family

i saw a tweet a few days ago that discussed being a disappointment to your family. i said it kinda depended on how one would define both "disappointment" and "family." y'all know that i think of a good number of you as family - i've said countless times that the family i've created is preferable to the one i was born into, and i stand by that.

here's the thing about being a familial disappointment, though: i've learned that i can still function and be myself without worrying as much about their expectations. don't get me wrong - there is still a really small part of me that wishes, and probably will always wish, that i could fit into the box certain family members set up for me decades ago. but i don't, and i won't, and i likely never will, and that's ok.

one of the things i mentioned in response to that tweet was how, in my opinion, my independence plays a large part in the how and why of my family tends to be disappointed. it's noteworthy to me because they raised me to take care of myself and be independent and resilient and all those other things, and yet the fact that i'm independent enough to not rely on them is always in the background.

i told myself when i finished high school that i wouldn't move back in with a sibling of mine unless i absolutely positively had to, and i've stuck by that. even through the eviction/couch-sitting/quasi-nannying period of 2011-2012, going "home" was a last resort that i only seriously considered for the briefest of moments. see, i knew and still know that going home would be the end of that independence. not just because of the relative geographic isolation, but feeling like i had to fit into the box of expectations and, well, y'all know how stubborn i can be. that would not end well.

i gave up on being the "good little girl" decades ago. it was me - or at least i tried to make it work - when i was younger and lived at home and didn't have any autonomy. this is not to say that i've developed into a super duper evil person, although we all know i can be an outright bitch at times. :P


y'know how i keep saying that i'm working on meeting (and occasionally leaving) people where they are? i have to remind myself to do the same thing with my family. i remember ages ago being upset that they just didn't get me the way i thought they should, and i had to make peace with the fact that they probably never will. hell, i don't really get them 100%, either, and i am more than ok with that. i can meet them where they are and then leave them there because if i've learned nothing else, it's that i can't expect everyone to travel on this journey the same way i am. it's unfair to everyone involved and if that means disappointing someone as you try to be your best, most authentic self, then so be it.

on: resilience, patience, and other things in progress

[editor's note: this is really long and some of it may be borderline tmi for some of y'all.

also, i apologize if my blabbing about all of this here and not directly one-on-one with any of you makes you feel some kind of way. most, if not all, of you know how to find me outside of the blog if you want/need to chat or yell at me about any or all of this. it's a lot, as you'll see, and putting it all out here seemed to be the best way for me to process/deal with a lot of it. please don't take my not coming to you individually and/or offline as an insult or an affront to our friendship. i love y'all like i love bacon and chocolate and ll cool j and books and quiet time and alcohol.]

quasi-landlord and i were having dinner a few weeks ago with her other tenant. the two of them joined a fitness center recently and they were going on about the various classes and services offered. apparently they have access to a steam room, which quasi-landlord said no to because she's somewhat claustrophobic. i can understand that - what if something goes wrong and you can't get out of the room, etc.

"not unless eulalia was there. maybe i'd go in if she was with me."

me: what? i don't understand.

"i mean, i know that if something went wrong and you were there, things would be ok somehow."

me: are you calling me an optimist? b/c i know you know better than that.

"no, no. you just have this...resilience about you. even when things are falling apart, you manage to figure something out and you keep going."

me: ok. i guess. sure. i suppose that's true.

patience, on the other hand? i swear the universe has been and is continuing to conspire to teach me a lesson or 50 on patience. my life feels like one big exercise in delayed gratification and, given the way the past 4-5 years has played out, that makes sense. i get it. i couldn't come back to chicago until it was time. the full-time job search took way longer than i ever thought it would. now, of course, i'm chomping at the bit to do all of the things and reestablish myself as a functioning adult in my own space. that resilient part has to come in occasionally and remind me that even baby steps still count as progress, even though i feel like things aren't moving fast enough. like i'm not doing enough despite evidence to the contrary. a friend of mine shared this post earlier this week and i almost started crying at my desk because that whole lack of patience thing is so very real for me.

like the whole moving thing. i was a very responsible adult and used a sizable chunk of my bonus from work to make a settlement offer to my former landlord, which they accepted. once i have a copy of the court order vacating their judgment against me, that's one major thing i can get removed from my credit report and i'll feel a little better about apartment hunting without that blemish on my record. this is a good thing. this is a very good thing, especially since my tax refund basically covered all but $400 or so of what i used from my bonus to pay this. it was all sorta kinda free money, right? this is awesome. i'm excited, and yet i feel like i'm still floundering because i'm not out there looking for places and shopping for a new bed and other furniture. then i feel silly for beating myself up and then i get impatient b/c i wouldn't feel so damn silly if things would just hurry the fuck up already.

another reason for the moving delay is the surgery i need to schedule to have my fibroids removed. i knew when my gynecologist first diagnosed them back in 2010 that this would need to happen. i am trying to convince myself to just have a full hysterectomy because if i'm going under the knife, they might as well take all of my reproductive equipment.

y'all. i am freaking the entire fuck out about this. if you know about my hospital phobia, then you probably understand why i'm just like "holy fucking shit i can't believe i'm doing this" even though i haven't even scheduled an official surgery consult, let alone the actual surgery. i probably don't even need the full hysterectomy, but, again, if i'm going in, just do it all at once. i know at least two people who were diagnosed with uterine or ovarian cancer after just having their fibroids zapped away vs. a full hysterectomy and that is NOT a life i want to be about. #fuckcancer all day, every day.

i refuse to accept any blame for being scared about this. both of my parents went into hospitals and never came out alive. i just powered through my father's birthday and the anniversary of his death, and the anniversary of my mother's death is coming up on tuesday and james' death anniversary is next week and...hold on. i need to remember how to breathe properly.

*pause for station identification and/or to take a drink*

ok. sorry about the interruption. where were we? oh, right - freaking out about a surgery that isn't even on my calendar yet. the only thing that is keeping me from full out panicking all the time about it is knowing that i have a support system in place that will make sure i get to/from the hospital and bring me tacos and make sure i actually attempt to follow doctor's orders. also i can work from home (yes i have already thought this part through even though i haven't talked to my boss about it yet b/c, again, no surgery date). that's resilience for you, i guess - thinking shit through to something that could be construed as a logical conclusion so you know wtf you're getting into.

here's the thing, though. being resilient and trying to maintain a modicum of patience ain't easy. if you've been reading for a while, you know i've become more committed to following my empath/caregiver tendencies. i know it's been paying off, but what i didn't know is how fucking taxing being resilient can be when you're trying to be in tune with your feelings and those of the people you care about. my patience reaches a breaking point b/c i just want everyone to be ok. like, if y'all are good, then i can focus on my own shit and process it and then come back and help y'all out if necessary. but if we're all sorta kinda broken and fucked up, i am more likely to tune into what other folks are feeling/thinking and what they need and push my own shit to the side. yes, i know that's unhealthy. if you follow me on twitter, you've probably seen how that impacts my sleep pattern (or lack thereof).

this past week was exhausting. i was working yesterday and at one point, i told one of my teammates that i felt like i was juggling all of my projects in the air and one or more of them was going to drop and everything would be screwed up. he, of course, told me that no such thing would happen because i'd pull everything off and it'd be fine just like it always is. i'm not so sure about that. this week may have been the first time since i started in this position where i honestly felt like i wouldn't be able to do my job the way i'm supposed to. that a deadline might get missed. that something might go horribly awry. i still kinda feel that way, honestly.

i know i wouldn't feel that strongly about work if i wasn't so stressed out about everything else in my life. the downside of being all resilient is that you get all kinds of things thrown at you and no one expects you to flinch. you will just deal with all of it and come out shining and everyone will just be like "oh, eulalia, you always manage to pull through!"

being resilient wears me out and i think i really hit the tipping point this week. trying to power through all of my shit and everyone else's shit was a bit too much. plus my social calendar was packed this week, so i was out every night after work like i have a life or something. and the hits kept coming. every time i thought "ok, i have a grip on what's going on and i can deal with this," i'd find out about something else that happened to someone, or i'd have an anti-epiphany of my own, and i'd throw up my hands and add it to my pile of things to tackle.

and then my lack of patience kicks in. "why do i have to be the one tackling all of this shit? i need some of this shit to get resolved so we're not all walking around stressed out. i need a vacation. i should take a vacation. no, it'd be silly to spend money on a vacation when i'm saving up for my own place. but if i'm not moving anytime soon, i might as well book a flight somewhere. i haven't been on  plane since may 2010. i deserve. no. sit your ass down and keep working and keep being resilient and trying to be patient because all the chips are going to fall like they're supposed to."

i swear that internal dialogue happens about once a week normally. this week? at least a few times a day. i was so fucking over everything and yet i caught myself still trying to be tuned in to what other folks needed. never mind that i was (am) sleep-deprived and, if i'm being really honest, would love nothing more than to leave all of this at someone else's feet and go be a carefree black girl for at least a day.

please let me be clear. i do not want any of you to feel like you can't come to me if/when things are bothering you. please don't feel like you're upsetting me, or that you're a burden, or that you need to deal with all of it by yourself. you know better. you know you can email or call or text or dm or tweet or leave a comment here or send a letter or a postcard or a letter or schedule a lunch/dinner/coffee/drinks date or what the fuck ever and you can tell me what's up. that's not going to change. i promise.

what i need to change, though, is how much of these things i internalize and start thinking i can fix or solve or otherwise address. on a cerebral level, i know that not everything is my problem. the empath in me knows that it's my job to stand with you (besides you, behind you, whatever) while you're going through things. i'd do that for a fair number of you even if i wasn't committed to being an empath/caregiver, b/c we're friends and that's just what the fuck we do. we show up and we stand up for each other. this is how it is and this is how it should be.

but - and this is difficult to type, let alone admit to myself and to y'all - there is a limit. this week left me reeling and i cannot function like this. it's not fair to me and it's not fair to y'all. at least i was honest enough to tell some of you this week (and possibly longer than that) that no, i wasn't okay and no, i wasn't really in a space where i could talk about it. we all know past me would've thrown up a grin and lied and said everything was fine even though my heart was shattering for reasons i couldn't even articulate.

don't get me wrong. my heart is still shattering and there are things i didn't write about tonight that are still weighing heavy on me but since they're not really my stories to tell, i'm keeping all of them close to the proverbial vest.

i can say that this is the most relaxed i've felt all week, though. never mind that there are giant knots in my back and stress/hormones have done a number on my face all week and i have no fucking clue what's going to happen next. i might actually get more than 5 continuous hours of quality sleep tonight. i should probably start winding down if that's gonna happen, huh?

i love y'all. remember: we are seen and we are heard and we are safe and we are loved and we are stronger than we think. good night.

recipe review: sausage and cheddar muffins

trying these muffins out was a bit of a no-brainer. i was home on #adventuresindogsitting duty last friday night, so i had plenty of time to make dinner and do laundry and then try this recipe out.

thing i learned while making sure i had everything i needed for this recipe: quasi-landlord doesn't have a muffin tin. i'm pretty sure i have one packed away somewhere. quasi-landlord's other tenant had a couple of jumbo muffin tins and also some "muffin-top" tins, so i decided to just make 6 giant muffins instead of the normal 12. i used more than the cup of sausage called for in the recipe, and i didn't really measure the cheese, so i probably wound up with a little bit more than a cup of cheese total.

y'all. i put a couple of these in the freezer so i wouldn't eat them all over the weekend. they're so good. quasi-landlord's other tenant tried one out and immediately asked me for the recipe. i used "regular" pork breakfast sausage, but i might try turkey or chicken breakfast sausage the next time around. i'm also thinking about using some sort italian sausage and mozzarella cheese, or maybe parmesan, or some combination thereof because in my head, that sounds fucking delicious. if it turns out that these freeze decently, then it is entirely possible that i will be making these on a regular basis so i have an easy option for breakfast during the week.

it's the most wonderfully depressing and emo time of the year!

january kinda sucked for a lot of people, so i was happy to see it go. i then realized that my glee would be short-lived, as february and march are historically difficult months for me and this year will be no different. my annual wallowing in all of the feelings has nothing to do with the weather, though.

now i get to embark on my yearly quest to power through february and march without falling apart. whee!

— auntie lori is my og (@queeneulalia) February 1, 2016

i don't know exactly when the death anniversaries of my mother and father started to impact me as an adult. my father died on february 27, 1997. my mother died on march 1, 1984. maybe it was after james died in march of 2009 (march 8, for those playing along at home) that i realized that hey, there's a method to this sadness.

dealing with those three anniversaries would be enough, but this year marks the first anniversary of lori's death (february 4, 2015) and just typing that makes me want to cry.

every year at the beginning of february, i tell myself that if i can make it to march 15 without completely falling apart, then i'll be ok. i am usually able to get through those 6 weeks or so without any major meltdowns. sure, there's crying and there are days when i just wanna wallow in my feels, but nothing too traumatic.

i'm not so sure about this year, which is why i'm writing about it and putting it out here for y'all to see. i might need to lean on y'all more than usual between now and the ides of march.

gonna try to be better about reaching out for support or just saying i need to stfu for a while during this timeframe. i know y'all got me.

— auntie lori is my og (@queeneulalia) February 1, 2016

my annual swan dives into a pile of emo have already started. i was at work earlier and a song came on that reminded me of some recent conversations i've had both with myself and with some other people, and i felt that being an empath/caregiver wasn't really worth it if i couldn't actually fix at least some of the things we're dealing with. i wanted to reach out to someone who would basically put me in check and remind me that i am not here to solve the world's problems and that there's only so much i can do. i wanted that person to be james, or lori, and the reminder that i couldn't text or call them just about shattered me. i was already missing james thanks to a different song i'd listened to earlier in the day, so i was already susceptible to a grief fit or whatever one would call it. i managed to pull it together by watching highlights of game 6 of the 2013 stanley cup final, which will always make me shed happy tears b/c holy shit that was awesome.

when i was at the bar later tonight, my friend asked if i was ok. i said yes and they immediately called bullshit, b/c they saw something in my expression that wasn't quite right. i amended my answer, saying that i was ok overall but that i had some things on my mind, which was true. i was still processing the wave of grief from earlier and trying to figure out how the hell i'm gonna get through the next month or so without sobbing myself silly.

i don't know if it'll help that i currently have plans on lori & my father's death dates. maybe it'll be distracting enough that i won't completely fall to pieces and if i do, maybe i'll be lucky enough to do it in private and just sob myself to sleep.

this is one of the many reasons why i tell people that there is no timetable or proper way to grieve. i know i can still be knocked flat (figuratively and literally) by grief after all of these years and therefore everyone should be allowed the space to mourn in a way that feels right for them.

i have no idea what's going to feel right for me this year. i know enough to know that i owe it to myself and to y'all to be a bit more vocal about how this season (for lack of a better term) impacts me so it's not completely out of left field when (not even gonna lie and say "if") i have some sort of reaction.

so, yeah. happy february! :P

imagining home

"a house, even borrowed for a little, but all your own, would mean a place to imagine and be safe." © sandra cisneros

— gwendolyn/maya/zora (@queeneulalia) January 26, 2016

i came across that line while finishing sandra cisneros' book this week. i totally agree with the notion of a house, if not somewhere to call home, being a place to imagine and to be safe. no argument from me on that one.

during the past week or so, i have been wrestling with the fact that i won't be moving out as soon as i'd hoped. i was aiming for the second quarter of this year, and while it's still possible on paper, it just doesn't make sense. at my checkup last week (the same one i alluded to in my attitude of gratitude post a while back), my doctor and i pretty much confirmed that this is the year for my fibroids to come out. surgery has been an option on the table since i was first diagnosed with fibroids some 5-6 years ago, but, y'know, i was kinda preoccupied with other stuff and therefore surgery wasn't super high on my priority list.

surgery still isn't super high on my priority list, if i'm going to be honest, but i have resigned myself to the fact that it should happen sooner rather than later. hence the delay in moving. i spent a lot of time weighing the pros and cons of moving out and then having surgery, or having the surgery while i'm still here with quasi-landlord and then moving out. the latter just makes more sense. quasi-landlord works from home and can drive me to/from the hospital and anywhere else i need to go. i can work remotely if i'm not ready to go back to work right away. depending on the surgical option my doctors and i decide to go with, i could be out for a couple of days or a couple of weeks. i know without any doubt that if i asked y'all for help, we'd make it work, but just thinking about the stress of getting settled into a new place and then having surgery was enough to make me want to pull out my hair.

none of this is set in stone. i haven't even followed up on the referral my gynecologist gave me to see which surgical option is the most viable. but, me being me, i had to start thinking ahead in an attempt to figure out what was going to make the most sense in the not-so-short term. of course quasi-landlord is all "you can stay as long as you need to and if you have the surgery before you move, that's fine," which almost made me cry even though i knew that was gonna be her response all along.

my overall goal of being back into a place of my own in time for my birthday is still viable. i just have to be ok with getting some other shit handled first. what's a little more delayed gratification, right?

recipe review: jamaican country ribs

thanks to quasi-landlord's current dietary restrictions, we're sometimes left with ingredients that she can't eat and that i more than likely forgot we had in the house. like black beans. there were a few cans of black beans lying around and quasi-landlord can't eat them, so she reminded me of their existence so i could do something with them at some point.

off i went to my recipe files while i happened to be making a grocery list. jewel had pork country ribs on sale, so my original thought was to buy a couple packs and freeze them for later use. then i found this recipe and realized i could make it this weekend. i bought a red bell pepper instead of the green pepper called for in this recipe, because organic red peppers were on sale for less than what i would have paid for either an organic or a "conventional" green pepper. 5 cloves of garlic instead of 4 because garlic is delicious and the cloves i had were on the small side. i didn't bother with the scallions at the end because lazy. oh, and i used a tablespoon of arrowroot instead of flour because i was out of flour. 

i didn't want to buy jerk seasoning because my spicy food tolerance is practically nonexistent and i didn't want to be stuck with a bottle of something that i couldn't actually use. i did a little digging and found a recipe for a jerk seasoning blend that i figured i could adapt for my own purposes. turns out we didn't have any onion powder, so that was omitted. i used maybe 1.5 teaspoons of cayenne pepper and skipped the crushed red pepper altogether because i'm a wimp like that. the seasoning isn't really that spicy, which means i probably could have added another 1/2 teaspoon or so of cayenne pepper and been ok. i still have some seasoning left and will probably use it on some chicken thighs or chicken wings. maybe i'll add more pepper then to see what happens.

in the midst of doing my prep work last night, i decided to rub some of the seasoning on the ribs and refrigerate them overnight. i do not regret this decision; in fact, i recommend you follow my lead on this if you have the time before making this recipe.

end result? i'm happy. there are plenty of leftovers so i'll get to see if the flavors develop more as the food sits. 

a not even remotely close to complete list of things i'm grateful for right now

i feel as if it has been ages since i've blogged or tweeted about #attitudeofgratitude. i've been in a weird mood the past couple of hours, like i'm waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop on something or just an overall pending sense of DOOM. maybe it's because i'm going to the doctor for my annual exam on thursday, even though i was just there in november to confirm that my fibroids haven't morphed into something more life-threatening. that's something to be grateful for right there, obviously. also grateful that i have health insurance that is accepted by both of my main doctors, so i can go have my annual exams and any other follow-up visits or tests or prescriptions and not go overboard with worrying about how it's gonna get paid for.

but i digress just a tiny bit. i tweeted a few minutes before i started writing this post, basically saying that i need to go back to being about that #attitudeofgratitude life. just because i have plenty, and oh boy do i mean PLENTY, of things to be worried and concerned and stressed about, doesn't mean i can't take a minute or two to focus on some of the good.

like my job. i have been at this job for a little more than 6 months now and even though i still don't have a full grasp on all of the things i think i should know by now, i'm doing good work. i know this because i have a manager who is actually capable of sharing feedback, both positive and negative. my teammates are cool and i like to think that i've gained the respect of some of the other teams i work with on a regular basis. i'm not saying this is going to be the job i'm in for the rest of my life, but i like where i am right now, career-wise.

my job also helps me boost my #attitudeofgratitude in other ways. the steady paycheck is a big help. i'm able to donate to charities and other worthy causes. i can pay my bills on time if i choose to, if not a little bit early. tonight i bought theatre tickets for quasi-landlord's birthday next month, and i didn't even flinch about the (admittedly discounted) cost or if i had enough in the bank to cover the expense because i know the money's there. i can treat myself to nice dinners or hang out with friends or decide that yes, i do want to go out for lunch or stop and get tacos on the way home from work (b/c tacos) and not worry myself silly about the cost. there is such a blessing in that, and if you were around back in my couch-surfing and quasi-nannying days, then you know that this isn't something i take lightly.

i am thankful for my friends, which might sound a bit repetitive given yesterday's post, but it's true. you guys are some of the most talented and intelligent and hilarious and just flat out wonderful people i know, and i am beyond grateful that i get to be a part of your lives. it's no exaggeration to say that i literally wouldn't be in this place right now if it weren't for some of y'all. i love you to the moon and back and i can't wait to see what kind of adventures we have together in the coming year.

i also love that we're still able to dream big. that sometimes i will share a totally ridiculous idea and we will run with it. or that one of you will share something and i'll be all "yes this is a great idea let's do it!" regardless of the logistics or cost or anything rational along those lines.

we haven't let life beat us up to the point where our imaginations have gone dormant. we're still here, thinking and dreaming and plotting to take over the world. if we miss, we're here to hold each other up and come up with a new plan. when it feels like the world is attacking us, we're here to hold each other up. when those voices in our heads get a little too loud, we're here to hold each other up even if we're just being silently supportive.

we're here. we are here. i am so fucking grateful that we are here. we are here and we are seen and we are heard and we are loved and we are more than enough and i am thankful. amen.

on: the friend(s) who got away

a friend of mine sent me this article a few days ago and asked me to share my thoughts once i'd had a chance to read it. since i'd been meaning to write a new post for at least the past week and a half, if not longer, i figured this was as good a reason as any.

"If our friends are the family we choose, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that our old friends must be treasured?" 

you would think so, right? with all of the work we put into choosing our friends, we'd want (need?) to hold our dearest friends as close as we can.

and yet sometimes the best possible thing we can do is let some of those friends drift away. sometimes it's due to a major break, like the one the author describes in her article. other times it's because life just gets in the way and it's hard to keep track and keep in touch.

i've experienced both. i identified so strongly with the author's "breakup" with her friend because similar circumstances led to my falling out with my former bff. like the author, i've resigned myself to knowing that former bff and i will probably never talk to each other again, and if we do, it'll be nothing like it was when our friendship was active and intact. the last time we saw each other, i laid into her with a laundry list of reasons why i was pissed the entire fuck off at her, even though i knew my yelling wouldn't change anything about her behavior. and it didn't.

"The strongest friendships are ones that have withstood the test of confrontation. It isn’t easy, I know. Our voices shake. Our palms grow damp. Our hearts beat a little faster. But when we tell our friends the truth of our hearts—even when it’s scary, especially when it’s scary—we are allowing ourselves to be seen and known."

there's so much truth to this. i am probably more transparent on this blog (and twitter, to a somewhat lesser extent) than i am in real life, but i would like to think that it's a work in progress. that most of my friendships are at a point where we can own up to our shit and, if necessary, call each other out on our shit. it's not easy and i'm not sure it should be at times. and that's ok.

"You don’t need to like each other all the time. Just show up. Tell the truth. And be kind." 

i swear so much of being a good friend can be defined by simply showing up. sometimes i just need to know that someone else is there, even if i can't articulate why i need someone there. i think we all do.

maybe that's our charge for 2016. to show up, to tell the truth, and to be kind. i already know i won't always be successful at it, but i can at least try, especially since i know that i can count on y'all to remind me of how valuable our friendships are and therefore i shouldn't completely fuck them up. :-)

recipe review: sausage and pepper pot with collard greens

i decided to make my collards and black-eyed peas on new year's eve, since i'd be gone for most of the day on new year's day and didn't want to worry about having to cook them this weekend. as has become a tradition in and of itself, i wanted to find a recipe i hadn't tried yet to start the year off. this one looked appealing enough, so i decided to go with it.

here's what i did differently (because as y'all know, i almost always do something differently with these recipes):

• i used italian sausage instead of turkey sausage because italian sausage was on sale when i went grocery shopping
• yellow instead of green bell peppers because i wanted a bit more color
• 3 garlic cloves because garlic is fucking delicious
• i added a can of drained and rinsed black-eyed peas to the pot when the sausage went back in

i let the collards cook way longer than the "simmer for 10 minutes" because i like my greens to be a bit more on the tender side. oh, and i used salt and pepper and possibly some seasoning blend that i randomly grabbed while i was in the kitchen, but i didn't measure any of them.

i think i can scale back on the chicken broth (maybe 4-5 cups instead of 6) and on the peppers (one of each, maybe?) if i decided to make this again.

oh, and this serves way more than 4 - probably closer to 8. there are two containers of this in the freezer and i'm sure each of those containers has 2 servings, plus whatever i ate and kept in the fridge this weekend.

merry new year!

on: leaving and redefining "home"

yesterday, i read a tweet from a woman that really struck a chord with me. she was basically saying how she needed to go on a journey to become who she wanted to be and that she couldn't do that at home. i can so identify with that.

as longtime readers and friends know, "home" has always been a bit of a tenuous concept for me. i actually wrote about this a couple of years ago and it still rings true.

there are those people who wonder(ed) why i didn't just move back home when my life started falling apart in earnest back in 2011. the simplest answer is that i don't really consider any of my siblings' domiciles as "home" for me. moving in with one of them would be disastrous. this is my life and i know it sounds incredibly selfish, but i need to live it on my terms. i can not afford to move back or look back. i have worked too hard during the past 20 years and some change to make myself into the person i am and i don't want to risk reverting to the person i was in high school when they still had a major influence on me. hell, the fact that i still haven't actually told them about everything that happened with the eviction and couch surfing and bouncing around should speak volumes. i mean it when i say that i love my family, but it's best if i continue to love them from a distance.

in hindsight, that stretch of time i spent couch surfing and quasi-nannying and housesitting and whatever else it took for me to get back "home" to chicago taught me a lot. it showed me once again that i have some of the most amazing friends on the planet. it reminded me that i am way more resilient and resourceful than i tend to give myself credit for. it was difficult and if you were around back then, you know there was crying and gnashing of teeth and i might've pulled out some of my hair and banged my head on both proverbial and literal walls. there were times when i could not figure out how the hell i was going to make this shit work. there were a lot of times when i thought i'd fucked everything up beyond repair and i might actually have to phone "home." that was enough to make me cry even more, to be quite honest.

chalk one up to my tenacity, or stubbornness, or both. some positive things happened and i made some steps forward and look at me now. i am hoping to be in a place of my own by my 40th birthday and there's no way i would have publicly committed to that kind of timetable a few years ago. hell, just reading that sentence has me freaking out a bit like "omg what if it doesn't happen by then?" it's ok. i am in a stable place and i have the luxury of time to figure out what i really want to do in terms of moving and i don't need to rush into anything.

this has been one helluva journey and if i'm truthful with myself, i wouldn't trade it for "moving back home" at all. no way. i think it laid a lot of the groundwork for the whole "this is all part of the work" thing i've been focused on this year. it was worth it. i'm proud of myself and thankful for y'all at the same damn time. :-)

a song* for you on saturday

(*-no actual songs here)

it's no secret that i am one of the biggest and best (worst?) enablers my friends can possibly have. you can have an idea that, on its face, sounds like the most ridiculous or silly or impossible thing in the history of everything, and i will be the cheerleader in your corner like "do it! #embracethecrazy! let's go!"

i have told countless friends to take care of themselves because there's no way they can be there for other people if they're not their best selves. i believe that. i really do. i know in my heart of hearts that for me, dispensing black girl magic is impossible if i don't at least feel a little magical myself. this is a thing that is true.

i also know that yesterday i stayed in bed and didn't get into the shower until about 1:45pm. that is not normal behavior for me. i shower every day the good lord sees fit to bless me with because hygiene is important. even if i'm not leaving the house, i will shower and throw on something that resembles clothing and proceed with full laziness.

i woke up around 4am friday morning and once my brain realized that hey, i'd only been asleep for about 2 hours at that point, i passed back out. i was awake again around 7am and pretty much spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon alternating between sleep, dreaming, crying, daydreaming, and just being quiet.

the crying part kinda took me aback because, well, it was the morning after my birthday and i felt like i was in a pretty good place emotionally. in one of those quiet moments, i realized i was worried about that crying fit because i didn't want to revisit that weekend in october when i really thought i was going to end it all. i didn't want to allow myself the luxury, silly as that sounds, of breaking all the way down.

but i did. i rolled around in this bed and cried and dreamed and slept and daydreamed and thought and stayed quiet. a part of my brain was all "OMFG why aren't you up and moving?" and i had to remind myself that i didn't have anywhere to be until about 6pm or so. yes, i felt a bit guilty b/c i knew housekeeping would eventually want/need to come in and refresh my room and i was throwing the staff off schedule, but it's not the first time i've been that guy and i got over that relatively quickly.

i remembered a day off i had when i was still living in skokie. i'd talked myself into not getting out of bed until i absolutely had to and i don't think i showered until well after 3pm that day. a friend came over later that day and when i told them about my morning/afternoon, they were kinda surprised because they know how i roll even on my off days. i wasn't sick. i'd just decided to let whatever emo feels i was having that day take over until i felt like i could shower and get moving.

i think that's what happened yesterday morning/afternoon. i wasn't feeling depressed. i wasn't sad. a part of me was just like, "oh, fuck it. you don't have anything scheduled and you're not at home and you don't have to wear pants and SO THE FUCK WHAT if you just wanna stay in bed for hours and hours and hours?" don't get me wrong, guys. i tried getting up a couple of times and my body was just like "NOPE" and i said ok.

giving myself permission to wallow is still something i struggle with, obviously. by no means do i want or need to wear a superwoman cape b/c that shit is fucking exhausting and i am not built for that life. that much i know about myself. i also know that sometimes i have to shut the entire fuck up and take my own advice. if my body and brain agree that it's a perfect time for me to have some feelings and stay in bed because i won't be interrupted, then i should probably honor that.

not everything needs to be scheduled. bff was kinda shocked when i said that i didn't have a totally packed schedule for my birthday week(end). i told her that i knew i was going to want/need a little time to decompress so i could be ready to power through the rest of the year and get ready for 2016 and whatever it was going to throw at me. she got it, even though i didn't really believe myself when i said it.

i mean, really. how i am going to keep telling people that they deserve every and all good things that come their way if i can't or won't convince myself that i deserve that same kind of greatness? take today, for example. i decided that i wanted to watch sports and drink wine and not wear pants this afternoon, and i am doing just that. it is as glorious as it sounds. i deserve it. i know i'm going home tomorrow and going back to work on monday and real life will be all "here, have some fuckshit" and i will need to be ready. said fuckshit might not even be directed at me, but i want/need to be prepared just in case. "you can't be good to other people if you're not good to yourself" or some variation thereof is a thing i have said/typed to who knows how many people this year. i know i have to do the same.

this is me owning my shit, which has been one of the major themes of 2015 for me. as a dear friend told me earlier this year when i was going on and on about meeting people where they are (another major theme), i have to also meet myself where i am and be ok with whatever and wherever that is. it's not easy, but it's worth doing because it's part of the work (yup, another theme this year).

and now i will go pour myself another glass of wine (yes, i am actually using a wine glass today) and continue watching sports and remain pantsless for as long as possible.

for a colored girl who had a rainbow connection on her birthday

i was in my hotel room last night flipping channels (there's a channel called planes trains and automobiles and i totally got sucked into watching it for a good half hour or so) before i went to bed and "the muppet movie" was on amc. it was technically no longer my birthday since it was after midnight, but i was still counting it as a birthday miracle.

i love the muppet movie. it is one of my all-time favorite movies. i mean that without any irony. i love that movie even though i cry at the ending every single time like i don't already know that "the rainbow connection" won't hit me directly in the feels.

so to close out my birthday with the last few minutes of one of my favorite movies was great, especially since i actually heard from more family members than i thought i would on my birthday.

my family, my brothers in particular, hated the muppet movie. family legend has it that my parents took me to see the muppet movie in theaters and when it was over, i bawled b/c i wanted to see it again. my father had to bribe my brothers (i feel like this is something james would've had to do as the youngest brother, but maybe all 3 of them were involved) to take me back the next day to see the muppet movie again.

i have no idea how my family feels about the muppet movie these days. i honestly have no idea how they feel about a lot of things and i'm ok with that. what i know is that yesterday was my birthday and they managed to get their collective acts together and call/text me to wish me a happy birthday and actually mean it. and then i closed out my celebration by crying while singing "the rainbow connection" for the 5011th time. it was almost too perfect and i tweeted that i had to tell this story today b/c i knew i was a bit too sleepy (and, let's be honest, a bit too unsober) to do the story justice last night.

thanks, universe. you sure know how to make a girl feel special on her special day. more of those kinds of awesome coincidences and not so much the ones that completely suck, mmkay? thanks.

39

i woke up feeling like prince akeem: "why yes, it IS my birthday!" where are my royal bathers and rose petal bearers?!?

— eulalia (@queeneulalia) December 17, 2015

holy shit i am now 39 years old. i just read through my blog entries from 2015 and i can't believe i'm here. no, really. those suicidal thoughts i had in october could have developed into something much more serious and dangerous, if not deadly.

i'm glad i'm still here. i'm glad that a lot of the things i've been working on this year, like meeting people where they are and owning up to shit and making peace with this empath/caregiver walk of mine, have proven to be the things that i really should be focusing on. i'm glad that i still get to play enabler and cheerleader for so many of you. that we're all working on embracing the crazy and dreaming big and living our lives as fully as we can.

the coming year (fucking hell i'm going to be 40 next year!) is shaping up to be a helluva ride. i'm excited and, not even gonna lie, a little scared at the same time. i don't know how things are going to play out, let alone if they're going to play out in my favor or how i would like them to, but i am going to try my damnedest to trust the process.

thanks for sticking around for another year. hopefully we can look back on 2015 (after punching it in the face) and laugh ourselves silly about some of it when it's all said and done.

wake me up when december ends

december's always a fun month for me. not just because of #alldecembereverything (birthday in 8 days! wheeeee!), but because i tend to start looking forward to the coming year and seriously thinking about what i want and about what's realistic for me.

i have some goals for 2016 that appear to be a bit lofty, but i think i can nail most of them before i turn 40 next year. (yes, i'm old. shut up.)

some of them are easy enough on their face, like getting a tattoo (it'll be my first one) and maybe throwing myself a massive birthday party (it is a milestone birthday next year, after all) and continuing to pay down my debt (thank god for baby steps).

but then there's moving.

i am so ready to move, and yet i occasionally wonder if i'm pushing myself too much. never mind that my goal since being evicted in 2011 was to get back into a place of my own.

it's that nagging voice of self-doubt. the one that says wanting more is absurd. that i should be glad for my current situation and just be content with its stability.

y'all know me, though. that's not how i tend to roll. one of the primary reasons why i've managed to hold on for so long during the past few years is because i had/have an ultimate goal in mind. something to keep working toward and striving for.

maybe part of it is not knowing what my next major goal is after i'm in a place of my own again. my type-a minus personality likes order and structure and not having a firm plan of attack is enough to make my skin crawl. that's a constant battle, really - giving myself permission to be flexible and go with the flow vs. needing to know what's gonna happen next.

on: thanksgiving and hitting the road

as the #thanksgivingwithblackfamilies hashtag started to take off on twitter last night and as i was trying to go the fuck to sleep, i got to thinking about just how often i actually spend thanksgiving (or any "major" holiday, really) with my family.

before my father died, thanksgiving was a holiday we almost always without fail spent together. i can not tell you the number of times we'd hit the road the night before thanksgiving to go down to st. louis to see my paternal grandmother and all our 5011 cousins/aunts/uncles/other relatives that lived in and around st. louis. sometimes we'd go up to michigan to see some other relatives who lived right outside of kalamazoo. it was rare for us, at least as far as i can recall, to actually be at home in chicago on thanksgiving.

even while i was at northwestern, i knew that as soon as i was done with classes and work on that wednesday before thanksgiving, daddy would be on his way to pick me up or i'd be on my way to the train to head home because we were going SOMEWHERE. i had a friend who lived near st. louis and she tagged along for the ride one year. good times.

i can probably count on one hand the number of times i've had thanksgiving with my relatives since daddy died. i'm pretty sure i stayed in the dorm senior year and went somewhere in downtown evanston for thanksgiving year. while troy & i were married, we either went down south to see his family or we stayed home. after the divorce, i have either stayed home or hung out with other friends.

this is not a lament. please don't take this as a "woe is me i haven't had thanksgiving with my family in forever and i really miss them" kind of thing. if i really wanted to go, i would. trust me. as dysfunctional as we are, i know i could call/text and say "hey, what y'all cooking for thanksgiving and what time are we eating?" and once they got over the shock because i never call them, we'd figure it out. and that's ok.

but i haven't had to. last year i hung out with some friends and then went home to dinner with quasi-landlord and her friends and family. this year, i'm hitting the road with friends to go visit some other friends and when i tell y'all that i am excited about this trip? it's time for a break for all kinds of reasons for a lot of us and i'm glad things worked out so i can actually hit the road.

so among the oh-so-many other things i have to be thankful for this year, i can add having the family i've created through the years so i don't necessarily have to feel alone during thanksgiving. i can be thankful for the chance to get out of town, even if it's only for a few days.

#alldecembereverything: the 2015 edition

i know, i know - i start this celebration earlier and earlier with each passing year. this year's early start isn't technically my fault though. quasi-landlord offered to take me to dinner and to see one of my favorite musicals as an early birthday present this past saturday, and since when am i going to turn down dinner and a show, especially on someone else's dime?

that said, here's the (still sorta kinda in progress) list of #alldecembereverything activities. i'll add/edit as things pop up and as plans get firmed up.

tuesday, december 1 - chef's table at replay beer & bourbon and elixir in andersonville. tickets ($35 all inclusive) are still available as of this writing.

thursday, december 3 - bourbon women chicago holiday sip & shop at plum market in old town. if you're a member like i am, tickets are $10; non-member tickets are $15. registration is still open as of this writing.

thursday, december 3 through sunday, december 6 - one of a kind show at merchandise mart. you can keep an eye on goldstar for discounted tickets; they're currently sold out but it's possible that additional discounted tickets will be released. i will probably go friday night after work or on saturday, and i think i have one extra free ticket, so if you want in, let me know.

monday, december 14 - higher: renee fleming & patricia barber perform the music of patricia barber at the harris theater in millennium park. discounted tickets on goldstar are currently sold out, but as above, additional discounted tickets may be added if you want to keep an eye on them.

tuesday, december 15 - "self-portrait in a kanye mirror" at the museum of contemporary art. this event is included with museum admission, which just happens to be free on tuesdays for illinois residents.

thursday, december 17 - HOLY CRAP I'M 39 as of this date.

thursday, december 24 - there's been no discussion yet b/c it's still kinda early, but i'm pretty sure jesusjack will once again be a thing. you know you wanna come to the casino and sing happy birthday to jesus at midnight. :-)

in addition to the events listed above, there will likely be some sort of football and/or hockey watching between now and january. stay tuned.

recipe review: sweet potato & sausage soup

i had a package of italian sausage in the freezer and decided i needed to make a meal around it. i didn't want just pasta and tomato sauce and sausage, because that seemed too simple and i knew i'd actually have time to cook tonight since i'm not working tomorrow. i considered roasting the sausage with some grapes, but i remembered that i've done that before and i sorta kinda wanted to try something new, so off to the recipe files i went.

there were a couple of contenders, but i decided on this sweet potato & sausage soup. there's nothing about it i don't like: sweet potato, sausage, garlic, pasta, spinach...these are all among my favorite things.

here's what i did differently:

• i used a cup of whole wheat gemelli instead of small pasta shells because that's what i had on hand
• only 2 garlic cloves (i know, i was as shocked as you are) because these cloves were on the large side and also because quasi-landlord got a new garlic press and holy shit we get so much more garlic out of that thing now
• 1 sweet potato that weighed in at slightly more than 3/4 of a pound
• the package of italian sausage was 20oz, so slightly more than a pound
• reduced sodium chicken broth just b/c it's my preference
• 2 5oz bags of spinach/arugula mix because spinach and arugula are fucking delicious and also because the 5oz bags were the only spinach/arugula blends available when i went to the store tonight

oh, and i added a bit of trader joe's 21 seasoning salute (think mrs. dash) and a bit of creole seasoning at the end, in addition to the salt and pepper i used throughout. no measurements on the seasonings b/c i was just eyeballing and tasting as i went. i was worried about the sweet potatoes not cooking all the way through, but they did and were practically falling apart.

this definitely serves 6 - i had two bowls because i was starving and also because i'm getting blood work done tomorrow and therefore i have to start fasting later tonight, and there are easily 4 more servings left. i'm going to freeze most of it. hopefully it stands up whenever i thaw it out.

i would definitely make this again. maybe instead of pasta, i'd use some white beans - or maybe use them in addition to the pasta to make it a bit more filling. i'm sure this would work with chicken or turkey italian sausage if that's how you'd like to roll. obviously you'd use vegetable broth and skip the sausage altogether if you wanna try to make it vegetarian-friendly.

making life better, one step at a time

i've been mulling this idea around for the past week or two: what if we all did one thing each day to make life better? it could be your life. it could be someone else's life. the thing in question doesn't have to be grandiose in scale. it can be tiny. you could be the only person who even knows that you did something, or you could broadcast it to the world.

i'm not sure where this idea came from, honestly. i think it's more about being mindful about steps i can take, big, small, or otherwise, to make my life better and/or improve the lives of others. i'm choosing to look at it as part of my empath/caregiver role - finding ways to improve while still being supportive. or something. i don't know.

who's with me on this? from now until the end of the year, let's all try to do at least one thing every day to make life better, either for yourself or for someone else. i haven't decided if i want to start keeping a list of these things yet, but if i do, it'll probably be here and/or on twitter. if you want to report on your progress, please feel free.

this could be fun. it could be enlightening. it could also really suck b/c we put too much pressure on ourselves to do something meaningful every day. i recognize that, hence the earlier point about your gesture not necessarily needing to be grand. you can define the gesture and you can define if you did it for yourself or for someone else or some combination thereof. i'm all about self-directed action here. :-)

on: seeing and being seen

[note: i originally jotted these thoughts a couple of weeks ago, and had decided to save them for later. given  yesterday's events in missouri, i figured now was as good a time as any.]

10-31 6:20pm

it's not so much wanting to be noticed so much as it is not wanting to be rendered invisible. for me, anyway. it could also be true for other people of color or other marginalized folks or...i dunno.

i don't need to stand out anymore than i already do. i just want to be acknowledged. to not feel like my humanity is brushed aside or ignored or trampled on.

i know in my heart of hears that this isn't asking too much, and yet it feels like an ongoing battle. for every black lives matter, there's an all lives matter. for every black girls are magic, there is a what about xyz girls and their magic.

but we do matter. we are magical. what you see as "ugh get over it already" is us proclaiming our worth and our value to folks who would love to forget that we're even around. too bad.