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Aug. 17th, 2018

Oh, Sean.

He made the Barista Girl avatar for me.  I got to meet him twice, at Amber diceless cons, and we were absolute brats.  A GMs worst nightmare.

And now he's gone.

Too young.  Too soon.  Fucking unfair.

My condolences to his recent bride, his family, and his friends who all loved him.

Rest in peace, my friend.

"Are the tin soldiers made of rubber?  What about the trees?"

Oh, great good gods...I am going to quit watching the news.  Maybe I'm burying my head in the sand, but I cannot hear tRump, Guliani, AND Omorosa on a 24 hour loop.  Hell, in my desire to escape, the spousebeast woke up yesterday to me watching The Great British Baking Show...and did not object.

His first wife is a pastry chef (and ex-Army--she made a gingerbread replica of Rammstein for the kids' Christmas party when she was stationed there.  And an EMT.  This woman is HARD CORE.  And I adore her...aside from the part where she threw the madeline pan at him.  He still has the scar.  I have the pan with the dent.  However, that WAS the start of the long journey of his getting off coke, soo..).  He gets twitchy around baking, but he loved the show.  It's endearing in a way that US baking shows just seem to miss.

Of course, now I'm getting puppy dog eyes from the guy who claims he doesn't like sweets.  And is scared of bakers.

But never fear..as my frenemie once said "Alicia can make anything out of a box.  I can only make cakes from scratch"  (Evil person.  Yeah, my homemade cake for my then husband's birthday was a total fail after you had done a 5 layer cocoa-mocha  two weeks earlier...that was the BEST way to console me).  But, a friend elsenet talked about making boxed brownies, adding some cinnamon to the mix, and topping with finely minced Hatch chiles.  Spicy brownies!  I'll report back.

Speaking of foodie things, I found out that Carla Hall is coming to the Terra Vita food festival in October.  *bounce*  A ticket gets her talk, the new cookbook, and a meet and greet where you can get your book signed.  I am buying my ticket next payday.  And praying I don't fangirl flail too much.  I've loved her since she lost it when she got to make chicken pot pie on Top Chef.

Kent says I need to bring her some of my 3 can, $5 chicken pot pie.  I made it again this weekend (we're trying to clear out the pantry for the big fall grocery buy.  I also think we are both hoping if we invoke enough cozy comfort foods, this damnable heat and humidity will go away).  I've been tinkering with it, and I think the addition of Penzey's Mural of Flavor made it.

It didn't last long, I'll tell y'all that.  It's simple:  a can of chicken, drained (or shredded rotisserie or leftover chicken would work, too), a can of mixed veggies, drained and rinsed, a can of cream of chicken soup (I guess you could use cream of mushroom if you're weird that way.  I've also used cream of celery and no one has died or required psychiatric treatment).  Mix the whole mess together and pour into a pie plate lined with a refrigerated pie crust (I reccommend Pillsbury, but the Harris Teeter brand isn't bad.  And, of course, you can make your own.  But this is an inelegant and quick recipe).  I've generally sprinkled it with dried rosemary, thyme, and cracked black pepper.  With the cream soup, it is plenty salty on its own.  I'm not sure what is in Penzey's MoF, but it is quite the wow factor.)  Pop the top crust on, crimp the edges, and remember to vent the top  (and, if you're a bit weird like me and having a rough week, your can always use swears as your vents).  Cook at 375F until brown on top.  Wrap aluminium foil or use pie sheilds around the edges unless you like to dip the over browned bits in the gravy.  Which I do.

Before I get too down on myself, I did somethig yesterday. reposted from FB:

Okay, so I just did A Thing.

I was picking up a couple of things from the grocery store (Hatch pepper time comes but once a year! And I think my inner pirate is fearing scurvy, because I need orange juice in the house at all times now).

I hopped the NS home and sat up front, because it was just me and the driver is one who always wants to know what Kent and I are cooking (he and his GF have set a challenge to go a month without ordering in or using pre-made frozen dinners, Hot Pockets, etc).

Cue the next stop. This skinny punk gets on, makes an ugly face and all but spits on the driver. Shaved head. Nazi tats. And we won't even begin to discuss the patches on his backpack. The whole pre-made White Pride wanna be kit.

He sat across from me, tipped his ballcap, and said "Ma'am."

I wanted to throw up.

Something inside me said "No." So I smiled sweetly and leaned forward and said, "So what about that protest in DC this weekend?"

"Yeah. That was cool."

"Certainly for *my* side. Two dozen to HOW many?"

I will not repeat the names he called me (while I'm thinking if he lays a hand on me, he is gonna end up on the wrong end of a can of Raid like the bug he is). He stomps to the back, and I holler "Yep! Go to the back of the bus where you belong, Nazi scum!"

He got off at the next stop. Coward.

After my bus driver friend and I stopped the half-hysterical adrenaline-fueled giggling, he said "You didn't have to do that. That could have gone down really bad."

Yeah, well...if I don't then who is? I'm just disappointed that he's probably too ignorant to get my brilliant back of the bus reference.










so much for THAT plan

Kent woke up early this morning and shut off the alarm so I could sleep in.  He did a good job, too, because I just assumed he was going to the bathroom, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Then opened my eyes, noticed the quality of light in the room and -boom!  Cue shit panic!  It's 6:08!  FUUUUUCK!  I could have *sworn* I turned on that *&^%&* ....

Kent's sitting in front of the computer, doing his fantasy football stuff.  I'm all "Ack!  It's late!  This is bad!"

He calmed my ass down with a minimum of eyerolling and sent me back to bed (I have been *so tired* lately!  This heat just sucks the energy out of me)  I actually managed to fall back to sleep when the phone rang.

Kent's mom.  Again.  (Long story that I don't have the energy to go into, but she's been placed in an assisted living facility)  Three times in the space of an hour.

When I *finally* got back to sleep, the lawn guys started.

I swear, broken sleep is worse than no sleep at all.

so, this is how it went down

Well, that was fast.

Applied for the housekeeping gig Sunday.  Had interview scheduled within 2 hours of hitting send.  Interview yesterday at 2.  Got the job before 9:30 this morning.  I was literally getting ready to walk out the door to catch the bus, but I had to turn around and use the bathroom one more time.  Thank the gods for my tiny bladder!  I was home to get the call.

Okay, those were words I never thought I'd say.  At least in public.

Yesterday at Old Toxic Job was a shitstorm.  If you can't be bothered to actually train someone, you can't get mad (and berate them in front of customers) if they make a mistake.  And I'm sorry that corporate is crawling all over the place because scads of money is missing on a regular basis.  It's not my fault that night crew doesn't do shit and regional called you on the carpet for a filthy dining room.  But we "need to have a little sit down" when I come in today?

Yeah.  Ain't gonna happen.  Normally, I would give two weeks' notice, but....yeeeeah, no.

If that place is still open by the end of the year, I'll be stunned.

So, now I am making $1.25/hr more, have a full benefits package, am full time, and there are regular bonuses, productivity rewards, and tips.  Oh, and an employee appreciation dinner every month.

Did I mention paid sick leave and paid vacation?  And reduced/free hotel stays?

And I will get to work mostly by myself and listen to music/audiobooks/podcasts on my headphones while I do it.

I think I'm gonna like this.  And, oh!  Can you imagine the story fodder cleaning hotel rooms is gonna give me?
Apparently, since my brain has (at least temporarily) shut down the part that churned out dreams about Happy Acres, I am now going to spend every night dealing with my rolodex o'  traumatic themes that are not quite nightmares.

Yippee.

Although I did have one fun "visit" from Granma.  I dreamed we were in the living of the old house, and she was going through scads of cheap candy (she was a total chocoholic) that my ex-SiL had sent her.  She sniffed "You know, for a doctor, you'd think she'd spring for a couple pieces of the good stuff.  Not a ton of the cheap stuff.  But that's her.  No class show off."

I woke myself up, giggling.

That was pure Granma.  Sweet as pie to W's face.  But behind closed doors....!!!  She'd "bless your heart" into oblivion in public.  But when it was the two of us at the kitchen table, cups of instant coffee and a sleeve of off-brand saltines waiting to be devoured with margarine and strawberry jam, the woman LET LOOSE.

I might just be a leeetle bit like her.  Because, ya know, I'm so sweet.  Such a nice girl.  Then you're stupid enough to read my private paper journal.  ;)

Work continues apace.  I'm catching on fairly quickly, which was my biggest worry.

But something is hinky.  I can't quite put my finger on what.  There is a lot of whispering in corners.  Apparently, money AND product are going missing and have been for a while.  We have a manager who doesn't lead.  I'm not getting the hours I was promised and I got hired in at the base pay rate, which I was DEFINITELY told would not be the case (and got blamed on corporate).  And they're talking about cutting store hours.

Er, yeah.  Good thing I haven't been there long enough to build up any sort of blind loyalty...which I tend to do, and has bitten me in the ass more than once.  Like, every single time.

I was going over this with Kent at the bus stop yesterday, expressing my concerns and telling him that, obviously, I'm staying on, but I plan on putting out feelers.  Cue one of the housekeepers from the luxury hotel around the corner.  She loves Kent's garlic parm wings and had been looking forward to meeting me.  Then she hit me with "You know, if you ever get tired of sandwiches, we hire in at [what I was making at HA], plus tips. Not to mention you get to keep any booze left behind after people check out.  We're always looking for good workers.  Just a thought."

Er...I'm thinking.  I'm thinking.  I could work by myself.  Peopling would be kept to a minimum.  It would be a job that doesn't follow me home (not that the current one does, but that is a requirement for me now).  And I could work 7:30 to 3:30 which, let's face it, is my preferred schedule, anyway.

Also, potential for tips and free booze.  And I'd still get to work close to Kent and take the bus there and back together most days.

And speaking of work, time to get moving.  I've been taking the early bus in and hanging out at UNC's Student Union in the AC for about 40 minutes.  It gives me time to write, get to work with time to pop into The Fresh Market for a free coffee sample and kiss from the spousebeast, and still clock in five minutes early.
I bought a bottle of Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap for the first time in *years* today.  My work shirts need it.  I like where I work;  I just don't want my shirts (or my one "work" bra.  After working at Starbucks, lo, so many years ago, I've gotten in the habit of reconciling having one bra that is always going to smell like where I work) smeeling like it.

Especially not in this heat.  Ick.  Bad upon worse.

Kent walked in while I was starting my work laundry and may or may not have been inhaling with my eyes closed in bliss.  He asked me what I was doing, and I cheerfully informed him huffing peppermint castile soap.

His response?  "Well, at least you're not eating Tide pods."

He fled when I said "Funny you should say that, because you can also use that to brush your teeth.  Or wash your hair. Or...or...wait, where are you going?"

I think I scared him.

Back in the saddle

Ah, Foodserviceland!  How I have missed thee!  I had forgotten what a wonderful feeling it is to finally catch your breath at the end of a particularly brutal lunch rush and know you not only survived, you only fucked up and hit the wrong button on the register *once* (on your first day, no less!)  The way it feels to be cleaning the dining room and look over and see an overflowing tip jar.  And how good free food that you made yourself tastes.

Yeah.  I think I'm gonna like it here.

And, let's face it, working just a few doors down from the spousebeast is a *serious* perk.  On the days I work first shift, we can go in together.  It gets me there about 45 minutes early, but there is outdoor seating at his work, so while the weather is still nice, I can sit outside and eat my breakfast.  It's also a good chance to read or write in my notebook.

Speaking on notebooks, I am currently going through the ones from my 19 months at Happy Acres.  I had to Google them to get the status of my check...and found out that they--and the parent company--are being slapped with a $60 million lawsuit for understaffing memory care units and filing fraulent insurance claims that they were fully staffed.

*cue maniacal laughter*

The nice lawyer is verrrry interested in my extensive documentation (read: bitching about) re: understaffing.  So, I am going through my notebooks and flagging relevant entries, then will photocopy them and redact any sensitive, personal stuff.  They also want to talk to the spousebeast about what he witnessed during his time there.

So, yeah.  The idea that my writing habit, which ultimately led me to quit (when that [redacted] tore three pages out of my journal)  may be used to take down a corrupt system?  Priceless.

In other HA news....MAN, that place is falling apart.  I went up yesterday to get my FINAL final paycheck.  In the time it took me to walk to the payroll office door from the bus stop, I was asked SEVEN TIMES if I was coming back (twice being asked "Are coming back to this hellhole?").  Apparently, they are letting everyone come back, even ones who were fired or walked out.

Except the two med techs who were fired last week for a full on fistfight in the common area.

Yeah....resident on employee violence I'm used to.  Employee on employee violence?  I'll take a pass, thanks.

And speaking of work, New Boss just called and asked if I can come in early.  Her boss is coming in and she needs coverage.  Time to shower and check the bus schedule.

Heh.  And the alarm I set when I was planning on sleeping in (yeah, didn't happen) just went off.

Damn.  I'm missing Pierce Brosnan on Today for this.  That's dedication, baby!
Awwwww!  Kent brought dinner and a bottle of rose home last night to celebrate my new job (I start Monday.  I've got my uniform and everything.  Also, I really, really like my new boss).  He was absolutely beaming with pride.  Then he asked out loud why he was so proud that he's picked up food on the way home.

I had to reframe it for him.  "Dude, you MADE all of this.  And got paid while doing it.  And then got a 20% discount.  I'd be telling random people on the street."

So we had garlic-herb roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts, and strawberry cornbread (not something I would have thought of, but it was WONDERFUL this morning.  I pan fried it in margarine and this was one happy Southern gal).  For under $15. And we'll get 2 or more meals out of this.  And stock from the bones.

We're still keeping things super tight financially until I get my first paycheck from New Job, but this little treat was so wonderful.  He also got salad mix and strawberries from the employee free table, so food has been pretty good around here.

ANNNNND I got a call from Santa Pete.  Guess who is going to a 50th anniversary screening of Yellow Submarine tomorrow?  I've never seen it on the big screen.  I remember channel 8 running it pretty regularly on Saturday mornings when I was a kid.  The Blue Meanies scared the hell out of me.  Hopefully, I'm enough of a grownup now that they won't.  We'll see.

The bitch is back

I AM BACK IN FOOD SERVICE, BABY!!!!!!

I got the call from Promising Job Interview (tm).  The background check passed.  Now I'm just waiting on the new hire paperwork to go through.

*thud*  Thank you, Jeebus.

Sometimes, I love my little neighborhood

Of course, I tend to love it more in the summer, when all of the students are away.  ;P

I slept in a bit and let the spousebeast handle packing up the glassware because a) he knew what I wanted to keep, b) I was afraud of getting rid of something that had some hitherto unknown sentimental value, and c) he lives here, too, damnit--why should I have all the fun of completely gutting our kitchen?

He got rid of a huge box of coffee mugs (we still have more than is logical for 2 people) and another of random glassware.  He sat it next to the dumpster.

By noon, it was all gone.  Olivia snagged a bunch for her mosaics (she's a talented artist but, damn, when she starts smashing things on the rare days I try to sleep in, it gets annoying).  Melodie got more stemware she doesn't need (I think she has a wine glass for every day of the year.  I'm not judging, though, because I have a sneaking suspiscion I am well on the road to becoming a sunhat and long floral dress-wearing, chardonnay-swilling, flirting inappropritely with men young enough to be my grandkid crone.  I've already got the hat AND the chardonnay habit).  Everything disappeared to various places.  Yay!

One thing I will say about this place:  for the most part, only garbage goes in the dumpster.  If there is something someone can actually USE, it goes *next* to the dumpster.  I love the unspoken creed "I don't need/want/use this any more, but maybe someone else could."  Wanna be branded the neighborhood asshole?  Get caught pitching something in the dumpster than someone could use.

Quiet day here today...although I don't know if many people would consider a day with a soundtrack by Patti Smith and Iggy Pop "quiet,"  per se.  We're taking a load of books up to Flyleaf for store credit later....which will probably mean we'll be walking back down the hill with more, different books.  Especially since today is the Lifetime Members Sale, which means 20% off damn near everything in the store (plus free mini cupcakes!).

I swear, getting me that membership was one of the best presents Kent has ever gotten me.  Not to mention the fact that we've probably recouped that $20 AT LEAST ten times over.  Probably more.

Other than that, since our kitchen is gutted and I'm trying to use up stuff in the freezer, I'm making a batch of turkey soup with orzo in the crockpot.  That's about all there is to report.

Happy Sunday, y'all!

I never got the hang...

...of one night stands.  Or long weekends.

Kent was supposed to be my one night stand, as many of you know.  That will be 16 years ago in October.  (I still remember the lecture my sister gave me that one night stands do NOT call you the next day.  Or write you poetry.  And wasn't I going to a Holly Near concert for the possibility of hooking up with another woman, NOT Mark's weirdo housemate?)

Ten years ago today, I got up at an unholy hour to make a 6:30 plane from NJ to NC.  It was supposed to be a long weekend with my boyfriend.  I was going to a pig pickin' with his coworkers and we were going to make up for five months of not seeing each other.  Due to incredibly complicated circumstances, I never ended up using that return ticket and ended up rebuilding my life with the contents of my suitcase. (Always pack more than one pair of shoes, y'all.  And more underwear than you think you'll need, especially if you don't plan on wearing much--if any--over the course of four days.  Trust Auntie Al on this one.  An extra crochet project doesn't hurt, either.  And a backup book.  THIS is why I overpack)

Nine years ago today, I came home from work early.  Kent was talking to his mother and got off the phone *really* quickly (which is almost impossible, especially in those days).  There were candles on the kitchen table and he'd made some TRULY atrocious minestrone (never make that from a mix, kids.  And don't fuck around with the seasonings if you do.  Just sayin').

He proposed to me over a candlelight lunch of soup in the heat of summer on the kitchen table we never used (it's now our permanent setup for Munchkin).  After I said yes, he called my grandparents to ask for their blessing, which meant almost more to me than the proposal.

Yeah, today is a pretty big day around here.  Granted, I have spent it mightily annoyed because I cannot get anyone at the payroll office to answer so I can find out how to get my botched up check replaced (uhhhh...kinda need that cash, y'all.  My last message was less than cordial, to say the least.  They REALLY don't want me to go to corporate) and am STILL packing up the kitchen (jaysus!  How much kitchen stuff and nonperishible food can two people own?  Let's put it this way:  in case of the zombie apocalypse, come to NC.)

But right now, I'm taking a moment to sit back and appreciate how far I/we have come.  <3

there's always a silver lining

Cleaning out the kitchen cabinets has had two serious benefits:  1) I am culling the various gadgets that we haven't used in over a year (or at all) and am planning a MASSIVE push to sell them on one of the local yard sale groups and 2)  I found what may be the last two bottles of Flounder Juice on the planet!  Well, those two and the half of one in the fridge that I have been parcelling out like it's made out of gold and saffrom.

Neither of which is involved, nor is flounder.  Back when the spousebeast was head chef at Flying Burrito, they came up with this amazing hot sauce that involved habanero, sweet potatoes, and molasses, among other things.  The executive chef (who mostly spent his time sitting on a stool at the bar, drinking bourbon.  Or snorting coke and banging waitresses in dry storage.  And, no, we are NOT talking about Anthony Bourdain) wanted to try it out and made one of their flounder tacos.  In his addled state, he declared it Flounder Juice, and the name stuck.

This is some seriously good shit.  I like mixing it 50/50 with ketchup and eating it with shoestring oven fries.

I have a feeling a big ol' salad with a side of fries may be what's for supper now.  :)  I've declared a ban on cooking until we eat all of the leftovers in the fridge and make a dent in the three tons of stock in the freezer.  If it's so filled with stock that I can't find room for a pint of ice cream and a bottle of vodka, something's gotta give.
I could get used to having two days in a row off with the spousebeast that we can just hang at home.  We haven't had that for while (like, the last 19 months while I'd been working at Happy Acres).  He also mentioned yesterday that, since I quit, I'm not as "prickly."  I can see that.  I'm not angry and obessed with work all the time any more.

(We'll ignore the fact that I still wake up with a sense of dread in the morning that I have to go back, and I worry about my residents CONSTANTLY)

We went out for lunch yesterday, which was flipping hilarious in its futility.  EVERY place we wanted to eat was closed for the long 4th of July holiday.  We ended up going to Carolina Brewery, where we haven't gone in a decade due to a horrendous hummus related experience when I first came down here (so we're talking almost ten years to the day).  I don't know who they have in that kitchen now, but WOW!  What a change!  I odered the bbq pork sliders as an appetizer.  For $7.95 I got three AND a side of coleslaw (I refuse to put slaw on my BBQ.  I also drink unsweet tea.  I fail as a southern girl).  I ended up taking two of them home.  Kent got the calabash shrimp that came with fries, hush puppies, and coleslaw.  I'm not a fan of hush puppies (proof positive that there is ONE kind of fried dough I won't eat), but he *raved* over how light they were and happened to run into the chef when he was coming out of the restroom and complimented her profusely AND slipped her a fiver.

I love that guy,


Came home to discover a note from Tony, the mafia hitman er, exterminator had been by to do a preliminary sweep (four other apartments are having the same fun we are.  It has NEVER been this bad in the eight years we've lived here).  It would have been nice if he had told us we needed to take EVERYTHING out of the kitchen cabinets.  So he did a quick hit and will be back to do a deep job at a later date.  Glad we're not paying for it.

Do I have to even say what a pain in the ass this is?  Especially since I am hotflashing like a mofo today and having to rob Peter to pay Paul in terms of finding storage containers  (all of my carefully organized yarn has been pitched into garbage bags for temporary storage.  *sob*).  Ah, well.  I'd been wanting to organize the cabints anyway.  Knowing my level of procrastination, it probably wouldn't have gotten done any time soon if *something*  hadn't forced my hand.

Still waiting to hear back from Promising Job Interview.  Of course, again...long holiday weekend.  My timing on interviews SUCKS.  But I feel good that I did all of my new hire paperwork  *fingers crossed*

Leave it to me

Picked up my last check from Happy Acres.  It was more than I'd anticipated (yay!).

It's one of those annoying checks that you have to tear along three sides to get to.  Guess who managed to tear off the routing number and now has to go back and request  new one?

Also, I tripped down the steps of the bank and scraped the hell out of my knee and elcow, bruised my hip, and tore up a pair of jeans.

I am drinking homemade sangria.  And plan to spend the next 48 hours doing so, because I kinda hate life right now.

Jun. 28th, 2018

Is it actually an interview if you fill out the new hire paperwork, are asked if you have black pants and shirt before uniforms come in (as if...), and if you would be willing to open a couple days a week "once [I] get trained."

I've been told I'll hear back in a day or two due to corporate nonsense...but I have a good feeling about this.

And I'd be working seven shops down from the spousebeast.  The manager I interviewed with knows and likes him (and frequently buys lunch from him), and she is amenable to the bus schedule.  So, possibly...no more taxis for me!  (That's at least US$100/month.  Not counting the ones I take from the grocery store when I have to buy all the heavy shit, but THOSE aren't mandatory)

And I would be a register jockey working with food again.  I hate to say it, but I need to go back.  I'm a damn good caregiver, but the last 19 months have destroyed me.  Broken my spirit in ways I could never have imagined...and that was my fucking co-irkers!  Will I go back one day?  Maybe.  But the idea of going home and the worst thing that happened to me all day is the asshole customer who wanted their sandwich remade 3 times?  I'll take it.

Fingers crossed, y'all.
Did I say I was hitting the ground running re: the job search today?

Reader(s), I lied.  I totally forgot that Kent's "weekend" is Sunday/Monday.  I got up a little before 7, thoroughly depressed myself by watching about ten minutes of news, then decided to rub salt in a fresh wound by watching last night's episode of Anthony Bourdain's Parts Unknown.

I ended up going back to bed to snuggle with the spousebeast for a while.  Our schedules had been so different and I had been exhausted for so long...I'm starting to feel like myself again.  I don't hear him complaining.  ;)

When we got up, he made me pancakes and bacon, which he hasn't done in I can't remember how long.  He picked up a box of buttermilk and honey mix at work and....OMG, so good.  I usually fiddle around with boxed pancake mixes (vanilla, a little cinnamon and/or powdered ginger, adding oj for some of the liquid).  this didn't need ANYTHING.  It barely needed syrup.  (It's Kodiack Cakes Flapjack and Waffle mix.  I checked because I know someone will ask and my seive-like brain will forget to respond.  It's a bit pricey in my eyes, but not so bad with his 20% discount.  Especially because a box will last us *months*)

We spent most of the day reading our respective books with Food Network on demand as background noise.  He's reading My Life in France by Julia Child and I'm doing my annual summer re-read of Under the Tuscan Sun.  I see a lot more cooking in our future (as opposed to ripping open a bag of salad, adding some shredded carrot and/or fresh herbs nicked from the faux kitchen garden in front of a local restaurant--seriously, they just plant the stuff and let it die--and trying to top it with some sort of protein, if there happens to be any we feel like taking the trouble to fix).

For tonight, I grilled off the last of the chicken tenders, shredded them, and have them simmering in barbecue sauce with thinly sliced onion and....whatever random things I added to jazz up bottled sauce (I really wasn't paying attention, but it's good).  The coleslaw is chilling in the fridge.  I'm heating up a can of baked beans and calling it supper.  And probably lunch for the next couple of days.

Things are improving by inches.  Now to just find a job.
It finally hit me this morning.  I woke up at four am, despite swearing I was sleeping in today.  I was trying to be quiet so Kent wouldn't wake up (which is beyond silly, because he could probably sleep through a second chair middle school brass band playing the theme from Star Wars in our bedroom).

So I got up, muddled around, made Kent some coffee (I am trying SO HARD to not go back on the bean.  One of his buddies slipped him an abandonded bag of hazelnut French roast, which is NOT HELPING).  and sent him off   I made myself some oatmeal and started watching the coverage of the Ascot races (okay, I'm only in it for the hats).

Then I looked at the time nd realized, on a "normal" Saturday, I'd have finished passing breakfast, started feeding the residents who need assistance, and announced Alicia's Saturday Double Feature.  I already had the movies picked.  I'd bought a bunch of crayons and made coloring pages for the residents who don't like movies.

I lost my shit.  The full on ugly cry.  I feel like I abandonded my people.  This is not a vacation.  This is for good.

I hate this.
Kent took the news better than I thought.  He had the moment of "You did WHAT!?!?!?" and when I told him what had happened, he just hugged me and assured me we'd get through this.

I ended up collapsing in bed before 7 last night, which means my body decided 1am was a perfectly reasonable hour to be up.  It was oddly freeing to think "Well, I can just get up, instead of tossing and turning for the next four hours.  I can take a nap later if I need to."

(Also, I can wake the spousebeast up with coffee and morning sex.  Talk about a win-win)

I'm going to take today (and possibly tomorrow--I think I deserve it) off, then hit the ground running in respect to jobs.  For now, though, it's all coloring, Joni Mitchell, and later I'll be baking a ginger apple pie.  Yes, in this wretched heat.  When Mr. I Don't Realy Like Sweets brings home apples, that's a gentle clue.  And I haven't made one in a while.  Besides, ginger is an appropriate spice for Solstice.

But I really, really want to make a lemon jello ice box pie.  Next week, maybe.  Or a peanut butter pie with a chocolate graham cracker crust.

I don't know what's with us and desserts lately. Of course, the constant stream of slightly damaged fruit coming in the house probably helps.

Ya know, tomorrow is Friday.  Bad day to look for work (but I can always do a million online applications).  Maybe I'll start the process Monday.

Jun. 18th, 2018

Woo-hoo!  Just past ten am, and I've got laundry on the line (no one is going to work naked this week!), the dishes are done, and I swept the floors (it is all hair and glitter, I swear.  Jareth must live here).

I think I'm done adulting for today.  I *was* going to spend the day walking around Carrboro, but with an air advisory AND a heat index in the triple digits?  Uh-uh.  I am heading back to work for a 7 day stretch tomorrow, so it is probably best if I don't get heat stroke.  I'll just settle in and binge watch Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown and work on my shawl.  In my lovely, lovely AC.

(Oh, the man pronounces "Appalachian" correctly.  I'm a warm puddle of goo right now.)

Need to make the stir fry I promised since Saturday.  Now, I think it will be lunches for the week.  The spousebeast has to go get work shoes (his are toast), and he offered to run my Bojangles on the way back.  How can I say no?  I can make and eat stir fry any time.

So, apparently, his disdain for chicken only refers to the rotisserie variety.  Good to know (and makes sense, considering how many of them he makes on any given day at work)  He *did* ask, when we were making our lazy menu plan (it kind of goes "Oh...I'd like this.  We haven't had this in a while.  Is [random protein and/or veg] on sale this week?  Just wanna scrounge food at work on this day?") if I would start doing more veggies (oh, twist my arm!) and fish on the nights I cook.  I think I may be picking up more dinner shifts (you can take the girl out of the kitchen....) because I do MUCH better at light, summery dishes than he does.

Although I'm really wanting beef stew right now.  Hello, PMS cravings!  Maybe a cold roast beef sammich would fix that.  And, gee...who knows someone who works in the deli section at Fresh Market?  I know what I'm requesting for supper tomorrow night.

In totally unrelated news, I saw that zenni is selling Pride-related frames.  I think I need a backup pair of glasses.
You're up at a quarter to five, pouring rose into freezer bags for the cocktails you plan on making when you get home.

In all honesty, I get up at five anyway, but my bladder had other ideas.  So I figured I might as well get the jump on my two days off plans.  I saw a frozen rose cocktail on The Chew, so I figured it would be a pretty way to usher in what is going to qualify as my "weekend" and beat the heat. It's supposed to be 91F today.  Ew.

I got to see Santa Pete's new apartment yesterday.  I am so happy he has a place that is more easily accessible with his mobility issues (he fell AT LEAST 3 times at the old place).  He's thrilled that the majority of his neighbors are college kids, so there is no way to pinpoint where the scent of...certain smokeable substances is coming from.  It's really pretty, if a bit dark for my tastes.  AND it is conveniently located right behind where I do my big grocery shopping, so I have been informed I am never schlepping my stuff on the bus or taking a cab ever again.  <3

I see making lots of baked ziti as thank yous in my future.

I get to start a new paper journal today!  Yay!  This is my 15th one since my ass got dumped in NC a decade ago.  I never thought I'd be able to keep one again.  Too many people who have claimed they loved me have pried into  them, and didn't like the unvarnished me.  And used my own words against me.  I still carry my current notebook with me wherever I go, but now it is because I write whenever I get the chance, not because I'm afraid of someone reading it.  It's kind of a security blanket, knowing I can get the words out whenever and wherever the need hits.

Jaysus.  I sound like a journal junkie, don't I?

Okay...away I go.  Wish me luck, and happy Saturday!