Questions

That Damn Expat did a post on December 17, 2008 called, "My Interview". B.E. Earle sent her some personalized questions via email, and then she answered them on her blog. I really liked what she wrote, and I signed up for it. I'm ashamed to admit it has taken me so long to get around to it, but I'm going to try, now.

Here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me." (Please leave your email addy if I don't already have it or you are not a friend on Facebook)
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

I will only offer to send questions to the first and second commenters that ask for them. I'm not very original or creative, and as many of you may know, I'm horribly behind on my blog reading and commenting because I'm just out of time. I'm sorry, I still love you! I'm really trying to go back and read every post and occasionally comment on it. It would take me months to get around to getting back to you if I had to think up questions for more than one or two people.

Here are the questions Expat gave me:

If you could go back and change something about your life would you do it? Explain.

That is a loaded question to me, because there are so many things I would like to change about my life, not the least of which would be to have been born to different parents. If I started back too far, though, it would change the circumstances that led me to have this wonderful child that I have, and I Would Never Give That Up. Quite honestly, my child is possibly the only thing that I have ever done right. Have you ever seen the movie, "The Butterfly Effect"? If not, you probably should, just saying.

Without too much explanation, I would say that I would never have gotten into the last relationship I had that started about 10 years ago. I was a fool, he turned out to be a sociopath, and I've never been the same since. I almost completely destroyed not only my life, but my son's life, also. I ended up losing my job and having to sell our home before it got foreclosed upon. I think the decision I made to stop dating after that was a good one, considering my lousy taste in men.

What is the one thing you would want your child to learn from you, instead of experiencing it for himself?

Again, only ONE? Tough call, but I'm going to go with: Drugs and Alcohol are BAAAAAAAD! Moderation is not an option when addiction is running through every vein in his body. Stay Away, Poison, Danger!

If I got to choose two and three they would be Education and Abstinence.

If you were a movie character which character would you be?

Hmm, which character as I see myself, or which character I would want to be if I had the choice?

As I see myself, probably a cross between Susanna and Lisa in Girl, Interrupted.

As I would want to be, Francis/Baby from Dirty Dancing. Good upbringing, relatively wealthy parents, young and smart, with options wide open. Also, hot lover that teaches her how to dance and gives her a great first experience. "No one puts Baby in the corner"!

In your opinion, what is your best character trait?

Again, so many to choose from! Just kidding. I would have to say that when my first reactions toward hysteria and drama subside, my sense of humor takes over. My sense of humor has saved me from losing my mind more times than I can count. So I'm going to say more times than 20 because that is the amount of fingers and toes that I have to count on. Math has never been my strong suit.

You are a fellow Harry Potter fan. If you went to Hogwarts which house would you be in? Explain.

I would probably be a Hufflepuff. According to Wikipedia, "Hufflepuff values hard work, loyalty, tolerance, and fair play". That's pretty much me. I don't want to be the center of attention, At All. I have trouble acting normal when I'm nervous (name the song). I would much rather be in the background, making sure everything is working the way it is supposed to, everyone has enough to eat and drink, everyone is having a good time, all is running smoothly. I'm the details girl that you can count on to make sure you don't have to worry about anything while you are in the spotlight. Your spotlight will reflect upon me when I do my very best to make you look good.

Thanks, Expat! Those were awesome, thought provoking questions!

Dysfunctional families

I watched the movie Birds of America recently. It is a very dark dramedy about an extremely dysfunctional family and I really enjoyed it! There were twists and turns that even I didn't see coming. The youngest sibling, Jay, in the movie reminded me so much of my little brother, it was uncanny.

If you haven't spent much time poring over my archives, you don't know that I have five siblings: three older sisters, one older brother who died in 1993, and one much younger brother (by 16 years).

My younger brother was born to my father and his second wife. I don't have much to say about that. What I will say is that I wish he had been born to better parents and that he had been given more of a chance at life. They really fucked him up, and then they turned their backs on him.

I hadn't seen him in about 10 years, but had heard bits and pieces of what was going on in his life. I occasionally got an odd message on my answering machine from him, but never with a number to call him back. Last spring, on a Saturday afternoon, someone knocked on my front door. I yelled up to my son, "J, get down here, there is some weird looking guy on the front porch". I opened the door and took in the white dreads and scruffy beard, baggy clothes and colorful Guatamalen sack not unlike the one my niece uses as a purse, and said, "Can I help you?".

The guy just stood there wearing a goofy, lopsided grin until I realized he was my little brother! I'd know that smile anywhere! He spent the afternoon with J, Shouf and I playing catch-up. It was awkward, at times, but I was so happy to see him. He's gone through so very much in his short life.

He told me he was living a healthy raw vegan life style, and was renting a room in a drug-free home. I was very glad to hear that. Quite honestly he'd never been quite right, but after he overdosed on ketamine he was deemed legally disabled.

I'll tell you one thing, he's not dull. He's very easygoing, and has a tendency to giggle. He has intelligent ideas and opinions, even if they may seem a little wacky. He sometimes has trouble articulating them, but he is interesting. He leads a unique existence, and does not conform to anyone's standards. He has a laptop, but will not watch a television. Loud noise and large amounts of people in a confined space make him extremely uncomfortable, although he is trying slowly to acclimate himself.

He has no need for any material possessions, and doesn't even want pictures because of the chemicals used in printing them. If you invite him to something, he may show up and he may not. I had a hard time with that at first, but he is truly the kind of spirit that cannot be contained. He just doesn't work on a calendar or time schedule.

He does like music, and I let him borrow a bunch of cd's to upload to his laptop, with the promise that I would get them back the next time I saw him.

His visits and phone calls grew less frequent, and before I knew it he had given up both his telephone and his car. Late summer saw him living at the drug free home only sporadically, from what I understood. I was very clear with him that if he started using drugs again, I didn't want him in my life or around my son.

I emailed him the link to our Gram's obituary when she passed away last October. I was surprised when I found out he wanted to attend the memorial service. My sister Kouf brought him, and I could hear the whispers going through the church as they walked to the pew where my son, niece and I were sitting. No one had seen him in over 10 years, but he looked as presentable as could be in a button down shirt and cords, you know with the white dreads, scruffy beard, and newly added plugs in his ear lobes.

He had confided to Kouf that he couldn't remember ever having been in a church before. He sat between Kouf and I, and tried very hard to be on his best behavior. Apparently, he kept leaning over to Kouf and whispering, "The dudes up front in the dresses are tripping me out, man". He tried very hard to keep his giggling to a quiet minimum.

When they announced communion, Kouf and I both felt his body trying to rise. I didn't even look over, just put a hand on his arm, not knowing that Kouf was at the same time restraining his other arm and hissing under her breath, "Don't you dare". My son and niece got up to receive communion, and my brother goes, "Bring me back some Jesus, dudes, tee-hee-hee". I couldn't help but crack up completely at that point. Have you ever laughed hysterically at your grandmother's memorial service, trying to be silent? Maybe the people in the pews behind us thought I was crying.

Afterward, at the reception, he spent most of his time outside. It was extremely crowded, and full of the smell of cooking food, and I was relieved that people just seemed to accept him for who and what he is. After the reception, we were invited back to Gram's apartment to please take whatever we wanted. My aunt wanted to make sure that everyone got the opportunity to take away something of our grandmother's. Plus, there was the Hummel collection.

It was poignant, to me at least, that my brother just didn't want anything, not even one of the Hummels. When my aunt pressed him and asked if there wasn't at least one thing in the kitchen that he could use, he said very simply, "I could use a coffee mug". And he seemed extremely happy that he would remember our Gram every time he used it.

Months have gone by since then, with very little contact. He lives 45 minutes away, he doesn't have a car or a phone, and I don't drive at night. Not to mention I have been insanely busy, lately. He doesn't celebrate holidays, especially the ones that surround the gluttonous eating of cooked foods and animals. Those just happen to be the only ones I do celebrate...

I had just about completely given up on the cd's I let him borrow last June, as he forgot to bring them with him every time I saw him after that. I was a little bummed, as some of them were pretty special to me. Last week I had a dream that I should offer to pay the postage to have him just mail them to me. When I woke up I had every intention of emailing him with that suggestion, and then promptly forgot about it. Two days later, the mail man left them on my front porch under my mail box.

Coincidence? I think not. It's like he has ESPN or something, dude.

Things that make me happy

Some of the most simple things in life make me very happy. Getting a good sale on meat at the grocery store and filling my freezer makes me happy. Getting 2-3 meals out of one purchase makes me happy. Cooking and eating good meals makes me happy. Listening to good music and singing and dancing around my kitchen as I cook or do dishes makes me happy.

Unfortunately, that last part does not make my son very happy, at all. I play my music too loud, I sing too loud, I'm embarrassing him by dancing in the privacy of my own home. Whatever. Anyone who's ever been in my home while I'm cooking knows what I'm going to say next: "Get out of my kitchen".

When we were growing up, there were a lot of us to feed. I learned young how to cook for an army, and have had trouble downsizing since then. Now that it's just me and the boy, and money is tight, I've tried really hard to plan for leftovers in a new way. The boy will not readily enjoy the same exact meal 2 nights in a row, so I have started getting creative, especially as we don't always like the same thing.

I made a pork roast on Saturday, and a roast chicken on Sunday. I cut up the leftovers of both, and froze the pork in 3 different baggies. Out of those 2 dinners, I have made: chicken fettuccini alfredo for the boy, chicken scampi with veggies for me, chicken a la king for the boy, red beans and rice with pork burritos, barbeque pulled pork sandwiches, and I still have pork left over for maybe fried rice.

I only made one other dinner from scratch this week, because I thought my nieces were coming for dinner on Tuesday. A snow storm foiled that plan, but this is one of my favorite recipes and I want to share it with you. I adapted it from a Woman's Day Magazine recipe, and I tweeked it to make it my own. Keep in mind, I am not The Pioneer Woman - there will be no pictures attached or step by step directions. The soundtrack that should be playing is Santana's Supernatural. Again, that makes me very happy, and kind of goes with the cilantro theme.

Chicken Breasts with Cilantro Pesto

Ingredients:
6 chicken breasts
2 cups cilantro leaves (one bunch is good - keep in mind leaves only, stalks get tossed!)
1/4 cup walnuts
1/4 cup minced red onion
juice of 2-3 fresh lemons (adjust to how much you like lemon)
1 Tbsp oilive oil
2 cloves garlic (more if you really like garlic)
2 tsp each paprika, curry powder, cumin and salt

*Note: I have never been in possesion of cumin. I've also never noticed it's absence in this recipe. Paprika, curry, kosher salt and fresh ground pepper are my weapons of choice.

Process pesto ingredients in food processor until a smooth paste. (I don't own a food processor. I put the ingredients into my small chopper/mincer thing that I got for less than $10 at a Black & Decker outlet store. I run them through in batches, and them mix them in a bowl. By hand, the old fashioned way.)

Spray roasting pan with cooking spray, add chicken breasts, and then smear the pesto over the top of the breasts. Take a deep breath, boys, we're talking about chicken here, only chicken breasts. Bake one hour at 350 deg.

Here's where I get wacky.

I like to eat the chicken with chunky avocado salsa. This is another recipe in it's own right. And delicious, I might add. I'm going to try to break it down for you in 1-2 serving increments. What you choose to add to it will make the serving size differ. This is good as a very quickly used condiment, larger as a dip served with scoops, or, as my sister Bouf told me, served as a main dish with cooked shrimp mixed in.

Chunky Avocado Salsa

Ingredients:
1 avocado
1/8 cup fresh chopped cilantro
1 lime, freshly juiced
1/4 cup minced red onion
sprinkle kosher salt
*optional*
small fresh tomato, chopped
small jalapeno, minced

Mix and enjoy immediately.

I hope you enjoy this, it was yummy for me, too!

Need advice from my peeps! Part One

I was going to post about two things I'm not quite sure how to react to. However, as I wrote the first one, I realized I couldn't be brief as I had intended. I'm a little long winded, if you haven't already figured that out!

Friday night, after an enjoyable day at the casino, my mother asked me I thought she and I had a good visit. She and I had already discussed in the car on the way home from the casino that she had had a good time, on and on ad nauseam. She cannot stand silence, she has to fill it with chatter. So her asking me this just a fishing trip, the way that I think about it. I answered her honestly by saying that I did enjoy her visit, especially as we get along better a few days at a time.

Later that evening, out of the blue, she asks, "why do you kids hate me?". My reaction was an incredulous, "WHAT?". Where the fuck did that come from? She responded that my sister, Bouf, had said something a couple of years ago, and her daughter Meg always says mean things to her, and that she and I had had a "problem" over the summer, and she wanted to know why we hated her, what was wrong with her. I honestly told her that I do not hate her. I then informed her that I would absolutely not get into it with her and ruin the last night of her visit, nor could I speak for anyone other than myself, anyway! I suggested that maybe I could write her a letter when I would have time to think about what I wanted to say and would be able to articulate myself better. She accepted the brush off and let it go.

Knowing my mother the way that I do, I have to assume that:

A) She really doesn't want to know
B) She will actually forget asking this
C) She'd be happier with her delusions that nothing is wrong
D) I cannot make a leopard change her spots
E) If I actually wrote the letter, And Sent It, she would wonder why I was attacking her

So, looking for advice on problem #1. Should I just write the letter and not send it? Or, should I send it and break an old woman's heart?

Real quick

I'm losing my mind at work, trying to get everything done. I have literally 3 billable days left before we close for not only the month but also the year. If you don't know what I'm talking about, please see the last few posts. I don't even have time to link to them.

I feel like I am losing my mind, trying to compensate my personal life and my work life to make them mesh into something coherent. I wake up in the middle of the night, and if my son's school has a delayed opening then I can fold clothes until I can go to work at 6:45 and then leave to bring the boy to school at 8:30.

Now, at least, the boy is out of school until after the new year, so I can go to work extra early tomorrow, Christmas Eve. All that really means to me is another day that I can bill out work tickets.

Keep in mind that I am saving the whole Service Department's butts by processing this billing in the first place. They are the one's who didn't make certain someone could cover the lady who does the billing... By the way, she's doing much better, thank goodness.

So, Tuesday afternoon, Fancy is busting ass all day trying to do not only her job, but the billing lady's job, also. Fancy has only had time to train the temp to cover the phones and a few other things. Fancy is still issuing purchase orders and getting interrupted every 30 seconds, while trying to bill.

I had to leave early, my sister needed to get to a doctor's appointment. As I was leaving, I threw a folder on the Service Manager's desk of billings he needed to approve so I could post them. He said, "Wait, I have something for you". My direct supervisor had given me a very generous gift card to local restuarant earlier in the day. I don't know why I assumed that the Service Manager, who's ASS I was saving by doing the Service Billings would have given me an equally generous gift...

The service manager pulls out of his bag...a chocolate covered apple, decorated by either his wife or one of his daughters, he doesn't really know.... Um, thanks? I was kind of hoping for a raise or something, but I guess a chocolate covered apple should do it.

While I was telling my son this story, telling him that he is welcome to eat the stupid apple, I made sure to make fun of myself, also. I called out, "Bitter, party of one."

He looked me straight in the eye, and said, "Mom, that's a party of three."

I thought he was being sympathetic until he revealed the three are "Bitter, Bitchy, and PMS".

Um, thanks, baby, for getting my back?

So, what's new with you?

Saturday I put in five hours at work cleaning up my desk so I could start training a temp to replace me while I go up to do Service billing. Saturday night I worked the Holiday Party, and had a really awesome time. Except my car broke down again on the way there. I was able to make it home, and was very lucky that my niece was already at my house and drove me to the party. I kinda had to be there as I had the list of everyone who was supposed to show up, and their meal choices and $300 in gift cards to give away as door prizes. The president and his new girlfriend drove me home. Which was a bonus - since I didn't have to drive, I took advantage of the open bar.

I not only got a filet mignon dinner out of the deal, I got an additional 3 hours of overtime. I consider that a win-win situation.

My landlord jumped my car yesterday, and I thought maybe it was a fluke that I had so much trouble Saturday night. Maybe I had left the lights on and that was why the battery drained while I was driving. I didn't make sense to me though. I don't think I even had the lights on during the day on Saturday, and why would it start, but then power down while I was driving?

Anyway, I started my baking yesterday, and periodically went out and started the car, with no problems. It started right up this morning, but it was dark and foggy and as soon as I turned the headlights on, it started having problems again. I was able to drop my son off at school, but barely made it out of the parking lot. Going 20 miles per hour, then 15, then 10 as it just kept dying. I made it around a corner where I knew I could pull off the road, put it in drive and it just died. I'm thinking maybe it's the alternator, as the battery is brand new less than a year ago. I have no idea, I don't know cars. I only know I had to walk to the nearest gas station and they didn't have a pay phone, so I had to beg to use their phone to call work and have someone come get me.

I had the car towed again to my mechanic, they'll let me know when they know what the problem is. I cannot stand the idea of another car bill the week before Christmas, but what choice do I have? Again, I'm very lucky that my company had a vehicle I can borrow until I sort out the car situation.

In the meantime, I'm keeping busy at work and at home. So far, I've made 2 batches of cashew brittle, 3 dozen chocolate chip cookies, 5 dozen black & white cookies, and about 100 chocolate peanut butter cups. I refuse to let anything knock me down. I'm like a punching bag, hit me and I'll keep getting up, saying "Is that the best you've got? Really, is that all? Cause I can take you. C'mon, let's go...".