You Say You Want A Resolution...Well You Know...

This is normally the time of year where I am (big) ass deep in self-conflict. Know why? Girl Scout Cookie Time. Those pretty petite pastry pimps are at the mouth of every damn store begging for me to buy their wares in hopes of winning a trip to some place I've probably never even been to....except, don't they have to do that shit in a tent? Yeah, screw that. Anyway, I usually pretend for a moment that I shouldn't buy them, even though I knew I was buying cookies the minute I saw their dimpled cheeks. Awwww, what the hell, give me two boxes of Samoas, two Thin Mints (ain't NOTHIN' thin about those mints), and a box of Tagalongs. Then I go home and have a cookie orgy and I wash it all down with an ice cold glass of shame. Little bitches. They get me every time. After the cookies, it's Valentine's Day goodies. Then OMG....Easter candy! With all of the genetic food crap they are doing, I DEMAND to know why science hasn't produced a hen that lays Cadbury Mini-Eggs.

Seriously. The first quarter of the year is a ridiculous time to try to start caring about how fat your ass is. To me. If you got it like that, go on witcha. I'll see you in May when you are still paying $35 a month for a gym membership you aren't using anymore. Oh what? If it wasn't like that you wouldn't HAVE to make the same damn resolution this year. Now sit your ass down and have a Cadbury Egg.

Although my thighs might have a gravitational pull of their own, my resolutions do not revolve around them this year. As I mentioned in my previous post, I want to write more. For me. I do have a personal goal to be published in some sort of fashion before I die. It's pretty high on the bucket list. I don't have a map to get to that goal yet. It's something I need to explore. I figure the best way to find my vehicle is to write when I feel like it. Here. Or there. Private. Or public. I believe that the process is more organic than organizational. Get the words out. The rest will follow. Or some such hippie crap.

Another resolution I have is to read more. This also goes with my first resolution. The best way to learn how to write better is to read. This one might be especially challenging. Since I've started college again, I should have my nose buried in a textbook most of the time. However, after failing miserably on some Literature category on Jeopardy a few months ago, I realized I really need to get around the block, especially hopping in bed with some classic authors. It's not that I've never ready any of them. I have, but it's been years. I guess I would say I'm somewhat well-read, if someone asked. But I am nowhere near that smug level of well-read the comes with a pipe and elbow patches on my tweed jacket whereby I raise my brandy snifter at you with one eyebrow cocked. I want to be able to make Alex Trebek piss his pants with intimidation. Somehow, I don't think that Sookie Stackhouse novels are going to cut it anymore. 

My last two resolutions are pretty simple in execution. 

The first one is to take my DAMN pills. I'm on metformin for my PCOS, iron pills because I'm chronically anemic, Vitamin D to combat my SAD and because I'm deficient, and also my thyroid pills since I guess that part of me doesn't want to play nice either. When my doctor and I finally got this whole cocktail together, I felt really good. Like....normal. I felt good mentally and physically. I wasn't ass-dragging tired all the time and I actually had a bit of motivation! That was this summer. 

Every winter though, the SAD rolls over me like a melancholy fog and I go into self-destruct mode. It's SO ridiculous. I can even stand on the outside of me, looking in and want to slap me for being so deranged. One of the self-destruct methods I use is not taking my DAMN pills. Even though I know they will make me feel better, I don't take them. It's not hard. Doesn't take long. I can swallow them all at once even. Cuz I have mad pillz skillz. Jealous? But for some reason, my brain rebels. I couldn't tell you why. So, I resolve to work through that and to take my DAMN pills. I've done most excellently on this one so far. Party on.

The last resolution. Good grief. I got hit with the aging stick this year. No, it's more like someone went to town on me like a fucking middle aged pinata. I'm starting to get gray hair at my temples. I'm starting to get stiff black hairs randomly sprouting from my chin. I mean come on! As if I haven't been cursed enough by some evil, magic bigfoot? I'm turning into the witch that eats children in the woods. House of candy....mmmmmmm. 

But let's not even talk about my face. Ok, let's do, but pretend we didn't. I've had more zits this year than previous years combined. Not those pop 'em and be done in 48 hours kind. The under your skin "I'm gonna camp out here like a scout on her cookie vacation" kind that leave a red mark on your skin indefinitely. The zits are in some sort of turf war over my face with all of the fine lines I'm starting to see. My eyes are starting to get crepey (not to be confused with creepy, which is nothing new). Skin so flaky, it stays crunchy in milk. I look flat but at the same time blotchy. I can't even see my youth anymore, no matter how hard I squint into the mirror. 

My skin's been so good to me until now, and I've been all Ike Turner with it. So after years of neglecting and abusing my skin - because really, it didn't need much attention - I've vowed to take better care of it before it's too late. I'd like to put off the Desperate Housewife blank, stony stare for as long as I possibly can before I go under the needles and knives. My first mission is to give her a good washing every day. Do you have a Clarisonic? You should. I'm not paid to say this. You're welcome, Clarisonic. What Sonicare toothbrushes do for your mouth, this does to your face. It. Looks. So. CLEAN! And feels so much softer. And my blackheads are gone. My fine lines...I look like I did in my early 30s rather than my late 30s. I've only been using it for 2 weeks. I mean if I'm erasing 5 years every two weeks, I should look 18 again in no time! I say get one. I guess Dr. Oz says so too. But you can trust me more, I think. Cuz he probably got paid to say that. One thing I'm still in the process of doing is getting a good anti-aging cream. So if you have any recs that don't cost one BEEELLION dollars, let me know. 

So yeah, this year I'm going to be a younger looking, better feeling, reading writer. While I eat all the damn thin mints I want, no self-loathing involved. You know you want one.

Why I Stopped Blogging (And Why I Want To Write Again)

I haven't touched my blog for over a year.

It's like my blog and I became this old married couple. I was just too busy and tired to be bothered. Sometimes I would try, but it would seem so forced. I tried less frequently. Then it became awkward. The longer I waited, the more apparent the awkwardness became. So I just stopped trying altogether. For awhile, I pretended nothing was out of the ordinary...but the shame. Poor neglected blog. I thought about giving my blog $100 for a hooker or a lap dance or something to keep it happy. All my blog could do is weep lonely tears that reflected my guilty face back at me.

I blamed the lack of passion on a lot of things. At first, it was writer's block. I felt like I didn't have anything else to say; all of my interesting stories had been told. Nevermind that I build stories around me everyday just by existing. I'm not so arrogant as to think that the minutiae of my daily routine is blog-worthy, but dude, after a year, shit did happen that was certainly interesting, funny, and/or strange.

Next, I blamed it on the fact that I was far too busy to write anything. I mean before, I was *just* a stay at home mom. But since we last left our heroine (that's with an "e", not to be confused with the drug. Because really? I don't leave my heroin anywhere. That shit is just too damn expensive)...anyway, since we last left me, I have started college. Again. Because I am out of my fucking mind. Being behind on the housework and neglecting the kids and my husband wasn't enough for me. I needed something else to stress and fret and get new anti-anxiety meds over. Since True Blood is in its off-season, I decided that college was the next best thing to get my panties in a wad over.

In addition to the two previous scapegoats, I also blamed myself. Woe is me. I'm not a good enough blogger. There are a million other people out there just like me. There are a million people out there better than me. I can't rise above the din of those incessant collective keyboard taps to get MY damn voice heard. If I was good enough, I would have caught on by now anyway. Even if this is the (likely) truth, it shouldn't matter.

My self-pity was just the bacony wrapping on a bigger piece of meat: the blogging community. (This is where I get crucified). I admit, I got sucked into the blogging "thing", particularly the women's blogging "thing". I was blinded by the dazzling lights of ads and sponsors. I was titillated at the thought of going to blog conferences and networking with like-minded bloggers. The fact that some of my peers were getting to travel and do conferencey things for free...or hell, even paid to do so was deliciously tempting. How could I get a piece of that pie? It took awhile before I realized that pie was just a big old slice of High School Pie. It was nothing more than a popularity contest. I've tasted that pie before and it tastes like cherry lipgloss and turds. Some of the "most popular" blogs were less than stellar writers. Bland, boring, blaaahhhhgs. While there certainly, CERTAINLY, are bloggers out there who are worthy of such notoriety, there are far more who are nothing but ad and product whores. Yup. I said it. Whores.

It was sometime in the last few months when I realized the real reason I stopped blogging was because I was no longer writing for me. I was no longer writing for my audience, even. I was rubbing my blog's tits on the soapy shower door of the internet in hopes of becoming a whore. I'm not even sure why. *GASP* They put peer pressure in that High School Pie! I came to this realization last semester when I had to take a writing course. I loved every fucking minute of it. You know why? Well, for one, because I am a huge nerd. But mostly because I was not writing with an ulterior motive. I was fine tuning some mechanics and learning different ways to write using different (but always my own) voices. Even though I was being graded on it, I was once again writing for myself. It felt good, especially since I was so nervous going into the class having written so very informally for years. I mean, let's face it, this shit ain't even CLOSE to grammatically correct; it's barely coherent. However, I exceeded my own expectations in the class and more importantly, it sparked my passion for writing once again. I felt it. Writer's High. How I had missed that feeling. So, one of the things I keep seeing over and over again regarding writing is to tell the truth. This shit may not be Pulitzer, but it's the truth. I want it to stay that way before I run it into a commercialized ditch filled with blinking 125x125 ads and miracle product click-throughs.

Ok. So, if you are still reading this and haven't set your laptop on fire because I've pissed you the hell off since you are a whor...I mean blogger who I have deeply offended...or if you are one of my groupies who just loves me because....um....wait, why the hell do you love me? Please know that one of my New Year's Resolutions this year is to start writing again. It might be f-bomb infused mind vomit here, it might be in a personal journal, it might be something formal somewhere that you may never see, or it might be your number on the bathroom wall, Jenny. I love writing and I'm going to do it. So there. Someone give my damn blog some Viagra so I can get this party started.

Birthdays: Side Effects Include....

Today is my 36th birthday. Also, today I discovered my bladder has a 4 sneeze limit before I wet my pants.

By Popular Demand - There Is A Reason This Isn't A Cooking Blog

*I've been getting requests and messages for this link. I thought I would repost from last year for my new readers. And also so you guys will stop interrupting my Family Feud games on Facebook for the recipe because you don't know how to use a search function. Enjoy!

That reason would be that I'm not very kitcheny. But when I find something simple, fun and appealing to look at, that I'm also able to say tastes good, I like to pass it along.

I'm not sure the origin of this recipe, so I can't give proper credit. Suffice it to say, it's not my idea and if the real Slim Shady will please stand up, I would love to give credit where it is due.

These treats are highly popular in my circle of friends...er...friend. They are super easy and the kids can help. They love to help! My friends call them Crack Pretzels, because they are highly addictive. But that's not very Christmasy now is it? Nothing seasonal about hittin' the pipe. But my middle child called them Santa Buttons last year. Isn't that so clever? And more colorful and charming than the thought of the local crack ho eatin' my treats?

So, to make Santa Buttons you need:

- waffle pretzels
- Hershey Kisses
- Hershey Hugs
- holiday color M&Ms
- a cookie sheet

Preheat your oven to about 175-200 degrees. I don't know how to make the degrees circle on my keyboard.

Place unbroken waffle pretzels on your cookie sheet. Feed the broken pieces to your dog, your toddler and/or your husband. Put one Kiss on the center of each pretzel. Unwrapped of course. Duh.

Put in the oven. You want them to get soft and melty but not runny. So check after about 3 minutes and every minute after that. I usually check one with a mixing spoon by squooshing it down gently to see if they are ready. You don't want them to be hard in the middle.

When they are squooshable, pull the sheet out of the oven and gently press one M&M into each melty kiss. Not all the way, just a bit. Then put them in the fridge to set....about 10 minutes.

Repeat the steps above with the Hugs but please be warned, the Hugs melt faster than the Kisses.

See how festive they look all mingling together on a tray? These are AWESOME to bag up in holiday treat bags and to give to the neighbors, teachers, coworkers and even that local crack ho. 

I Could Probably Get Away With It

Instead of buying a shitload of toys for Christmas this year, I could probably just buy batteries for the eleventy hundred toys we already have that are sitting around lifeless on shelves and in toy boxes.

Just sayin'.