I Want Butterflies

For those who read my blog on a daily basis, I haven’t NOT been writing, I just haven’t posted some of the latest articles live because they’ve been really deep and really personal, and I’m just not ready to share those particular stories in a public forum. All my posts are always deep and personal, but those are just a little bit more than I’d like the world to see – for now. As you all know, I’m very open with my thoughts – but even I had a hard time with writing those. I still write them, I write almost every day, because it’s cathartic for me.

Today’s post won’t be much different, but I think it’ll be okay to share this one, at least I hope it will be. I only have a small idea of what’s going to pour out – because I just let it flow when my fingers touch the keys.

As my close friends know, I’ve been trying to re-enter the dating realm. Back in April of this year was the first time I dabbled with online dating sites. I had a wild mix of experiences with it, but I can say I have met some really nice men, one in particular that I believe will be a life-long friend. Some of the men… well, let’s just say, “God have mercy on them, for they know not what they do – and they’re too damned dumb to ever figure it out.”

Saying that… brings me to my post this morning. I felt a deep cut from a few remarks I received last night from someone I deeply love and highly regard. When I first heard their words, I simply brushed them away, but throughout the night they kept haunting me, I kept hearing them over and over. They didn’t say anything really bad in and of themselves individually, but collectively I didn’t like the picture they made or the picture of how I’m perceived. It actually hurts quite a lot that someone I care about so deeply thinks of me the way they do. It hurts to disappoint someone or realize they think so little of you.

I say all the time that our biggest deceiver is often ourselves. I don’t exclude myself in that quote. Honestly, I’m the main culprit. I KNOW I deceive myself. I try really hard to examine my thoughts, my motives, my actions, my words – seeking the truth – because I know that only in truth - real changes and healing can occur. NOTHING can come from remaining in deception. So, I question myself this morning – am I really the way I was described last night? I hope not.

How was I perceived? Judgmental, a snob, and with my heads in the clouds believing in fairy tales. Are they wrong? I think so, but then maybe I’ve deceived myself. I don’t know, but I do know something is wrong, something’s off… I just don’t know what it is or how to change it. I’ve been on several dates the last few weeks and honestly, I feel nothing. Don’t get me wrong, most of them have been nice guys, just not the right guys for me. When I sit across from them, I often see a lifestyle that has no room for me – or that I would have to change in order to fit. I’m never going to change for anyone, ever again. I sacrificed me to be what someone else wanted the last time, and lost me in the process. It took me a very long time to find me – and I won’t lose me again.

I want butterflies. I want lightning. I know it exists, I’ve felt twice before. I want to wake up in the morning and be excited about a ‘good morning’ text. I want to smile through the day from receiving random messages, knowing I brushed across his thoughts. I want to get nervous so bad before a date I can’t eat and I’ve tried on 20 outfits to go back and settle for the first one I pulled out. I want to talk for hours about nothing and everything. I want to have a hard time keeping my hands to myself. I want to steal kisses, hold hands, make love, cook together, chase waterfalls, encourage one another, push each other to eat healthier and stay fit, to share my stories, to listen to them talk about their dreams. I want to fall asleep in a set of strong arms.

I don’t want money, jewelry, houses, success, cars, expensive things or anything at all. All the things I want and desire are intangible, beautiful moments. I don’t want to have sex, I want to make love. Maybe my friend is right, maybe it’s all just a fairy tale. Maybe I’ve lied to myself so much that I’ve convinced myself I deserve it. When I love someone, I love them completely… faults and all. I see them, I see their scars, I see the impurities, but I love them - all of them. I just want that for me. I’ve got my own scars. I’ve got my own impurities, weaknesses, and faults. Can no one ever love me as I am? Will I never be good enough?

I have many offers, sometimes it’s ridiculous at how many, from men to be a sexual partner. Many are beautiful, sexy men that I’m sure have left a long string of broken hearts in their wake. I’m not for want, if I was a casual kind of girl, for companionship. Literally, I receive an offer every day. But I’m a stupid girl that wants something real. I’m disheartened at how many people out there would rather have a meaningless hookup than love. So when I look into the eyes sitting across from me and I see they want to play a game, but haven’t bothered to take the time to even see me, I smile until the dance is over and then go home. Does it make me cruel and cold that I want butterflies? Does it make me a snob when I walk away because they’re looking for something I’m not? Does it make me judgmental when I see someone sitting across from me who’s physique and habits sound warning bells inside my mind that their lifestyle would be detrimental to the life goals of health, fitness, and adventure I’ve set for myself?

Perhaps I do think too highly of myself, and my foolishness will keep me alone. I don’t know. I just know that I feel broken, almost dead inside. I hold tightly to hope – hope that I’ll find my butterflies, hope that someday someone will think I’m worth fighting for, that I’m worth loving. Maybe someday I’ll meet someone who also believes in fairy tales and I’ll be awakened from my cursed sleep with true love’s kiss. Just maybe. Or else I’ll just die and wither in my glass coffin.

Till Next Time,



Fairy Tale Princess

Etching Scars Upon Our Souls

There’s something inside me, a certain flickering flame, one that for a brief period of time burned really bright. So bright, in fact, it threatened to consume everything inside and around me. With both feet, I surrendered to it. It was magnificent, wonderful, and greater than anything I could ever imagine. But it was only for a moment. Over the past year it’s been dying. I felt it slipping away from me. Every day it grew smaller, colder, and darker. Every once in a while It would flare, just for a second, before it dimmed even more. The difference is that I’m not doing anything to stop it, now. I’ve done everything I could. I don’t understand why it has to be this way, but I’m praying it will hurry and die completely.

I can close my eyes, hear a particular song, or come across a familiar scent and instantly be transported back to that particular moment when that flame burned it’s hottest. I can still feel myself shaking as I stood on that curb, and in the background heard the sound of jet engines. It’s like an adrenaline sting - ice and fire at the same time. I’ve tried to hang onto that feeling for as long as I could, but I’ve finally reached a point - to let it go.

Recently, I’ve sought to see if another flame could be lit in its place. For a brief moment, the band-aid held. While there were definite sparks, there was also something missing inside. I’ve felt this emptiness before. It’s familiar. It’s the same numbness and void I felt standing in a little restaurant many years ago staring down at a set of dog tags. I can still hear the sound of those tags clanging against one another, reflecting the sunlight off their dented faces, sliding around along the riveted chain that held them. They made a distinct sound. Even to this day I can’t breathe when I think of that moment. What I find odd, I pass that little restaurant almost every day now – and though it’s closed, I can still feel the pain of that moment as if it were yesterday.

There are some moments in our lives that create these shadows, imprints, rifts in the universe, etching scars upon our souls. They never go away. Some are good, some are bad, all are significant. This is yet another scar. But as I have survived the others of my past, so too will I rise above this one. This latest burned brighter than all the ones before. Perhaps the next one will consume me completely.

Till next time,



~Scarred Soul

My Own Insanity

I understand the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting a different result. However, it seems like as humans we are predisposed to exhibit bouts of insanity. I’m learning sanity is sometimes a bit over-rated, but I can’t help and continue to wonder why we have such insane tendencies.

I’m not an expert at anything, unless you call doing the unexpected, hoping against all odds, or loving the unlovable technical skills. In which case, I’m a master. The only way I can rationalize this chaos and hope to change it is to identify and modify the formula that keeps sending me into these spirals.

I find I’m drawn to people who have very defined ideas and philosophies; men who tend to believe they understand the world and why we do the stupid shit we do. Like a magnet, the polarity of the possibility of understanding and enlightenment pulls me. (Love the alliteration.) Yet, there’s this voice deep inside my head, my inner sarcastic realist, who rolls her eyes and shakes her head and grumbles, “They’re full of shit and don’t even believe their own lies – because they deceive themselves more than anyone else.” I can’t help it, though. I’m still attracted to the possibility of their truth, even if their own assured confidence is false.

Why do I feel the need to understand? Why can’t I wear blinders and be happy with them? Why can’t I just submit to the bit in my mouth and follow the leads that direct me? Won’t this wildness within me ever be tamed? Life would be so much easier. So many are bent on breaking me. They jab me in the ribs with their spurs, they pull hard against the bit in my mouth, they snatch the leads, twisting my head in every direction, and they securely grip my mane as they ride. To be broken, life would be so much more simple. I’d have purpose. I’d be useful. Maybe I’d be loved. I’d be fed, groomed, sheltered, and my needs would be met. So, why must I fight to be free, to remain wild?

This is my own insanity. I keep fighting over and over and over, yet the truth is… I’ve never been free. I was born into captivity. Freedom is the illusion. Wildness is an excuse for rebellion. Perhaps I fight because that’s all I know how to do. It’s also probably the same reason why I grant freedom with no resistance, not because I don’t care, but because I care too much. Believe me, it has hurt me deeply to watch those I love disappear into the wilderness … only to never return. Set them free… and if they love you they will make their way back to you. *Sigh* It’s all insane.

I live in a mad world, and it’s insane to expect it to make sense. Yet I continue in my insanity – taking chance after chance, hoping against all hope, waiting for no one.

Till next time,



~Insane Wild Woman

Black-Fonted Friends

What does it say about a person when their friends are nothing but strings of black font flying across a computer screen? At least the only friends that are relatable. Are they my friends because I can’t see their faces? I can’t look into their eyes and see the lies? I can’t feel the coldness in the room when deception is present?

Long lines of masked faces surround me and have followed me my whole life, coming in and out, dancing the same familiar dance of destruction. I learned to detect those masks at a very early age as I walked through the flames of hell, probably before I could even talk. Yet, how naïve can a person be? How long must I continue to hope? How long must I continue to believe I will one day see something real? It doesn’t exist. Nobody knows how to be real, how to be honest, how to lift their mask, and share their real faces.

Fantasies and fairy tales. Promises mean nothing. Love means nothing. I can’t even fucking define it. I’m just a dumb mother-fuckers grasping at a straw not realizing they’re all burned, they’re all short, the game is rigged, and the words – the black font - is nothing more than another pixilated mask.

My black-fonted friends can type all the hope they want, share all the lies they eat, tell all the stories they can imagine – but they can’t see my reality – they’re not here. I cut off the machine and they go away. They don’t have to look into my eyes, and they can’t touch me. They can’t help me. Black font can’t hold me or lift me off the floor, or look into my eyes or push my hair out of my tear-stained face.

I wish I couldn’t see the masks, the plastic edges digging into pallid flesh, and the smell of the rotting disease beneath it, or the blink of the curser.

My fingers tremble as I hold my mask in my hand. For so long I just wanted to be free, to let the world see the real me. I thought, maybe if it saw my face, not my mask, it would love me. I was so fucking stupid.

What does it say about a person when all their friends are nothing but black font across a cold, empty, screen? Is it yet another self-inflicted cut? Another form of self-destruction? It’s not that there aren’t real people behind the fonts, because there are – just like there are real people behind the masks. It’s because it’s another wall to blame instead of focusing on where the real blame lives – in me. I’m the broken one.

I’m still that scared little girl facing a demon and he’s laughing at me for being daring. Why didn’t I just stay in my comfortable prison? At least I was surrounded by other inmates. My warden was right when he told me that what I sought was just a fantasy, it didn’t exist. Now I’m not even welcome back into the prison.

I close my eyes as I slip my mask onto my tear-stained face, my cheeks pressed against its smooth surface, and I turn it off. I turn it all off, like a power button.

As the music starts, I dance. Watch me as I twirl and dazzle the whole room with my eloquence. I am now the Azoth of life– the elixir, the first principle, the universal remedy, but don’t get too close because I’m also a toxic poison. My direct touch will burn you. I am quicksilver. Don’t get too close, because then you will see your reflection within my eyes.

~Azoth of Life



BTW – this has got NOTHING to do with that lying piece of shit. That person doesn’t deserve one second of my thoughts, not one tap of the keys to spell their name, false or real. I give them not a second thought. I hope they rot in their self-made prison.

Liars and Thieves

The world if full of liars and thieves,

Wearing masks of deception,

Hearts beating with corruption,

Sowing seeds of reprobation,

With no concern for the diseased harvest they produce.

Selfish!

In their drunkenness,

They don’t see the faces full of hunger,

The sallow skin,

The hollow eyes,

The need for somebody to rise up and give a fuck,

To have the courage to speak the truth.

The game is full of liars and thieves,

Rolling shaved dice,

Dealing marked cards,

All the while holding loaded guns beneath the table.

Indifferent!

The poisoned food is eaten by the children,

The bullets fly stray,

Landing in the hearts of the hopeful.

Fuck you, World.  You’re nothing but a liar and a thief.

Till next time,

~Disillusioned No More

Waiting for Lightning

Talking with one of my girlfriends last night, she was trying to convince me to get back out into the dating world. Keep in mind, this advice came from someone who hasn’t even dipped her toes into the dating realm for years. As much as I love my friend, I can’t live my life for her enjoyment.

Dating in the twenty-first century is a hard game to play. I found it just as challenging, if not even more so, than a good game of chess (which I’ve recently started replaying). Unlike the board game, the rules of dating often change in mid-play. It’s impossible to plan three or four moves ahead, because the possible moves are infinite from one to the next. A knight may turn out to be a bishop, or a king a simple pawn. I can strategize all I want, but the game unfolds as it wills, not as I plan. Being a queen, and able to move in so many different ways, only presents more frustration than freedom, more consequences than choices.

Some of the pieces (players) are easy to identify and I know the game to which they play, but I have to keep telling myself – we’re all humans. Even the Playa’s have a soul. One of the things I’ve learned about humanity is that it’s always unpredictable and ever changing. The moment I think I’ve figured it out and assign a label or a box (I’m highly organized and try to put everything in a place), I’m proved wrong. Humanity – it’s so beautiful yet so dark, and thus so are relationships.

To play this game I have to know who I am and what I want to achieve. It’s the only way I have a chance to win. As with the game of chess – I have to keep my focus on my ultimate goal, else I’ll get distracted by the most recent or obvious move – and therefore lose sight of my objective and get trapped by a more keen player. I have to be slow to respond because impulsive moves leads to traps and defeats. What looks good at the moment and as an opportunity to capture an opponent’s piece, could lead me into a defeat and I lose more than I wanted. I’m so tired of losing and being blind-sided. Letting my passion and heart lead – doesn’t win the game.

I’m not satisfied with just capturing a pawn, a bishop, a knight, or a rook. I want the king. Only with the king does lightning strike. I’ve only felt the lightning twice in my life, but they were both in a game I lost. I got close to the kings, but I also didn’t know how to play the game. I know the feeling of defeat; of loss. And the scars makes me reluctant to play.

The game board is set. The pieces are all aligned, and I’ve been playing this game for a while now. While my girlfriend wants me to move, I’ve paused, and am carefully identifying the pieces left on the board.

I’m tired of pawns; I need a man who knows what he wants and can move more than just forward and strike from an angle. I’m so tired of angles. I want original, authentic, compassionate.

I’m am also tired of Bishops and their haphazard way of striking. They’re never straight-forward, talking out both sides of their mouths. They present themselves one way, but after peeling back the layers you find their piety as false as their declarations. Let them keep their titles, their money, their success. They look good on the outside, but empty shells on the inside. Assholes.

The same goes for those damned Rooks, still stuck in their patterns, only able to move back and forward, and side to side – a life filled with certainties, boxes and traditions. They’re not versatile and can’t break from their patterns. They live by their philosophies and expectations, and are not flexible, most often self-centered and selfish. I’m versatile. I need versatility.

While knights are extremely interesting and brave, and can move back and forth and side to side in their complicated patterns, they often leave me to fight the cause. I admire their bravery and respect their sacrifices. They’re true soldiers of honor and dignity. Their mission always comes first. I will only come first if I’m the mission.

So, here I stand, waiting. What am I waiting for? I’m waiting for lightning; a fire that can only come from a king and put an end to this game.

There are a lot of pawns, a couple of rooks, knights and bishops… but there’s only one king to conquer. But how do I capture him? He eludes me. He hides. He dances. He doesn’t want to be captured. He plays his own game.

In this game… it is the king that must be captured, not the queen. I can’t just sit and wait for him to find me. I’m the most powerful piece, the most versatile, the most valuable. My mission is to capture a king, but it’s also to protect one.

Come storm clouds, gather above me. Thunder, I long to feel your rumble beneath my feet. Wind, whip through my existence. Rain, pelt me with your cleansing drops. Lightning… strike true.

Checkmate.

Till next time,



~The White Queen

Portent Princess

Such a regal elegance.

See how she radiates and shines,

Sparkling like the tiara sitting upon her  head?

She’s magnetic.

Surprised at how she draws them to  her,

Slowly falling beneath her spell?

Look closer.

Listen, can you hear her words,

Lulling and guiding them into her dream?

Lady, they call her.

Lord, can you hear the pain,

Lingering beneath her colorful mask?

Forget the loneliness.

Feel the vastness of emptiness,

Frowning behind those bright eyes?

Forever she searches.

For how long can she last,

Feigning hope in a hopeless world?

Pretend no more.

Pray, can’t you see her true face?

Prodigious mess.

Please, won’t you help her,

Protecting the marvel of her soul?

Pride is her weakness.

Prince, why have you not

Pranced to her rescue?

Portent Princess.

Make It Work

I’m not an expert at anything I do. But, when I put my mind to do something, I do it to the best of my ability, and a lot of times it turns out pretty good. I make it work. I’m not afraid of hard work, because it’s always hard work. I don’t want anyone to think that all of the things I’ve accomplished in my life were easy or just fell into my lap. On the contrary, each one of them often pushed me to a breaking point before I finally saw a result I could live with. It doesn’t help I’m a perfectionist, but that’s just how the cookie crumbled.

I don’t want the struggle to be hard for you, too, but before you decide to do anything , you need to settle in your mind that some things are just going to be hard. You’re going to have to be determined to do whatever it takes to make it work. THIS is really the single most powerful element that separates winners from losers, from those who succeed and those who fail. Successful winners never give up. That’s not saying you can bitch, whine, gripe or pitch fits – by all means have at it. But, if we only accomplished the easy stuff in our lives, we’d really be pathetic people. I’ll let you think about that for a while.

While there are so many subjects I could tackle, because I’m a multi-talented diva, I’m going to stick to health and fitness for the time being. I want to give a few little tips, a few guidelines, that I use in my daily battle. These things really work. I challenge you to give them a try – for one week or one month – I promise that if you’re faithful to them (there are no short cuts) you’ll see a difference almost immediately.

Grocery Shopping/Healthy Eating –

· Clean house. Go through your refrigeration, cabinet, and pantry and get rid of everything that is processed, canned, boxed, or bagged that isn’t an ingredient meant to cook with (flour, sugar, spices, rice, dry beans, etc). Get rid of the temptation. Learn to love natural food – not manufactured. You be the creator, the manufacturer, the chef.

o Think about this: (Tip #1) if there’s a preservative in it, it’s meant to stick around, and it’s designed to do just that… stick around in your arteries, on your hips, in your heart valves, etc.

· Shop on the outside lanes of the grocery store. Avoid (other than cooking supplies like cooking oil, flour, sugar, spices, etc).

o (Tip #2) If you divided your weekly/monthly groceries into outside lanes vs. inside lanes - the ratio should be 80/20 in favor of outside lanes.. and that 20% of inside lanes should mostly be for cooking ingredients.

o The outside lanes usually consists of Bread, Produce, Seafood, Meat, Dairy, Wine/Alchohol, etc. Most of everything you need for healthy eating can be found in these sections – and yes… a glass of wine with dinner is a great ingredient – it’s good to cook with as well.

o (Tip #3) If you can, avoid the Bakery altogether. Don’t eat a lot of breads, and when you do try to make your own – breads, pastries, sweets, etc. That way you can still enjoy them without all the preservatives the manufacturers adds to them so they ship and last on the shelf. But, moderation is key. Try to get only ONE bakery item a week/month.

o (Tip #4) Stay away from the canned foods, boxed foods, prepared meals and frozen sections. All (even the diet foods) are filled with carbohydrates and preservatives. Remember: Preservatives… preserve – and our goal is to lose, to burn, to use up. Can foods, even canned vegetables, usually have a preservative in them (purposed to preserve for a long shelf life).

· Cook with fresh fruits, proteins, and vegetables. The more fresh an item, the better it is because it’s still rich in nutrients and vitamins. Also, the taste is better.

o (Tip #4) If you MOSTLY cook using fresh fruits and vegetables, you can use the real stuff that tastes good in your preparations– like real butter, real sugar, fatty meats (though try to use leaner meats), salt, etc.

o More people would eat healthier foods if they tasted good. Most health nuts have went to extremes and cut out everything good so that the food is bland and tasteless. Guess how long you’re going to continue eating bland food? The first time you pass a pizza parlor or burger joint.. and you’re done for. But, if you build a lifestyle of eating fresh fruits, vegetables and lean meats, you make them taste great – the little ‘flavorful’ things you do are small compared to the amount of healthy stuff you do – and you win in the long run – because you won’t STOP eating the healthier, tastier food. Use bacon grease, salted butter, salt, real cheese, etc… if it makes you like broccoli/peas/Brussel sprouts/ asparagus/cauliflower/ snap peas/pole beans/peppers/etc.

o Food should make your mouth smile and make you sigh with enjoyment, not be a chore. Just think with rational common sense – and operate in moderation. Unless you have allergies, don’t ever say “NO”. Research your ingredient and figure out how to use it in a smart, sensible way.

· Watch your portion size. Get rid of your big plates, bowls and platters. ONLY use small dishes, even utensils. If you can, use chopsticks. It doesn’t have to only be when you enjoy Asian-inspired dishes. The key is to slowly eat small portions. Do whatever it takes to moderate your portions size.

o It’s a mind game. When you think there’s hardly any food on your plate and you woof it down in two or three bites without taking a breath – YOU’RE STILL GOING TO BE HUNGRY. Slow down, talk at the table (that always helps me).. if you’re alone (which I am most of the time) read something, text with your friends online, or Skype with someone while you’re having dinner – and TAKE YOUR TIME.

o (Tip #5) Set your table, even if you’re eating for one. Plate your food, make it a pretty display. Sit down at your table (not your couch) and use your utensils, make a pretty display, use a cloth napkin, and show your dinner respect. (It’s a mind game, remember). Sitting down at a set table (or a single place setting) tells the mind that it’s time to have dinner. Then CHOOSE to take your time, take small bites, really chew your food. Think about the tastes, the flavors, the smells, the colors, the textures. Really take the time to smell, taste and see your food. You’re going to have to make it a habit… but after a week or so – you’ll start to love your food – instead of just using it to feed your body or emotions.

That’s it for today. Have fun. Enjoy your food. Be smart about what you eat. Learn to be in control and love it – not resent it for the way you abuse it. Think about that – food isn’t the enemy – how you use and treat is your biggest obstacle. Food doesn’t jump down your throat… you open your mouth and insert. Now take charge. Be the master of your temple, of your wants, of your desires, and of your discipline.

Till next time,

~Friend and Lover of Food

It's Better to Give

Peace Corp Volunteer Michael Solano with students at St. Denis

There are a lot of charities out there in the world. It takes money to do anything. There used to be a time when money wasn’t more important than having a skill or a commodity to trade. While there are many things we are capable of doing with our hands, it’s sometimes even impossible to do the simplest of things without the proper tools.

Those who’ve followed my blogs for any amount of time know that I’m not an activist in any sense. I only endorse those projects, books, music, games, or causes that I feel a personal passion. I’ve worked really hard to build this platform and I refuse to allow it to become a wasteland.

I’m a giver, and most of the time my support is done quietly. For nearly 18 years I supported a child in a 3rd world country, I’ve supported various missions, medical research, shelters, food distribution centers, programs at nursing facilities, etc. I’m not saying these things now for myself, only that I’m not new to the world of giving or working quietly in a volunteer service. I fully understand the value of the selfless act. I also understand and believe in the concept that if we want good things to happen in our lives, we need to sow some good into someone else’ life. Karma, sowing and reaping, whatever phrase or philosophy you want to apply, will always come back full circle. Who you are isn’t about what you do when you have the world at your feet or if everyone is watching you, but what you choose often to do with the last piece of bread you have as you stand in the shadows.

This morning I share a new cause, a new project, a new opportunity. It’s not something that will change the world or start a new movement like the latest Ice Bucket Challenge, but to the students of St. Denis it will make all the difference in the world. Giving to this cause will not offer any spotlight, you won’t receive a nice video message, you won’t get to do a crazy stunt, you won’t need to make a video, and you won’t even get a chance to tag a few of your friends. However, you can take those same concepts and apply them to this cause. I DARE you to send this to a few of your friends, to give them the same chance. I loved the Ice Bucket Challenge. It made my heart smile to see the world giving, no matter the inspiration.

The cause: There’s this little, insignificant school in Lesotho, South Africa that needs a kitchen. The staff and students at St. Denis prepare all their meals outside in three big pots, in the wind, the rain, the cold, the heat, etc. They don’t need millions for research, they just need a few thousand dollars for the equipment and materials to build a simple kitchen. Check out this video my good friend and Peace Corps volunteer and teacher, Michael Solano, made.



http://www.gofundme.com/ews3qk

Give what you can, even if all you can give is just a few dollars, because you’re down to your last piece of bread. For those who can give a lot, do what you can. If several of us could give a little, we can make the lives of these beautiful students just a tad better. No, we can’t solve all their problems with one opportunity, with one project, but it will make those who are out there every day, just a little bit more sanitary, a little more comfortable, and a little brighter.

Till next time,

~Gracious Giver

Sweater Weather

I couldn’t believe it when I woke up this morning and threw the covers back, to find my warm hibernation had been invaded by a frosty chill. I nearly let out a yelp, jumped up, and quickly wrapped in my plush house coat, not the thin silky one. I needed warmth. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I checked the thermostat in the hallway to make sure I didn’t knock the air-conditioning down to a low temp, mistaking having thought I cut it completely off the morning before. The temperature was set to 75, yet it felt so much colder. I hoped I wasn’t getting sick.

A huge smile crossed my face when I trundled back to my bedroom and picked up my cell phone and shining across my screen was a digital display reading 52 degrees. Below that sat a forecast for sunny skies and an expected high of just 75. Yeah, Baby, it was Sweater Weather!

Now I understood why I had slept so good and yet felt so cold… it was cold. It’s the type of weather you open the windows during the day, snuggle in the covers at night, and set the furnace to warm you in the mornings. So, that’s exactly what I did, I flipped the switch to heat and set the temperature to 68. A few minutes later after all the burners fired up in the furnace, I had to pull the batteries from my smoke detectors and open the back door as the first fire of the season cleared the dust from a long Spring and Summer. Don’t worry, I put the batteries back in as the dust disappeared.

The first waves of Autumn have arrived. This is my favorite time of year.

Other than a few cultural prejudices, the Georgia summer heat is one of the main reasons why I have this strong desire to move. Another reason is simply that I’m an explorer, a rambler, a curious cat that wants to see the world. However, a Georgia Autumn is one of the best and most prettiest I’ve seen in the many places I’ve already travelled. I absolutely LOVE this state when the nights and mornings drop to a frosty temp, the skies are clear, the days are mild, the leaves on the trees are changing, and the autumn flowers are blooming. It means it’s time to get back to the woods and explore more hidden trails, beautiful waterfalls, breathe in some fresh air, and climb some Georgia mountains. It’s the perfect balance.

The seasons are not the only thing changing. I’ve been feeling …different lately. I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s a mixture, much like the heat of summer fighting to linger as the cool air of Autumn fights to claim its dominance. My past and my future selves are fighting for dominance of my present. My passions are fighting within themselves, changing from a burning hot excitement to a more mellow, content state of being. Don’t get me wrong – I love to burn hot, but if I’m burning hot all the time, I’ll eventually burn out.

I’ve recently walked away from a relationship that was just… quite frankly, all wrong for me. Though this man made me laugh quite often, which was a wonderful thing, and he had a lot to offer, he also frustrated me in a sense that he lacked a fire burning in him to match the fire burning in me. I had all this passion bottled up inside me, but instead of providing a valve to help me release it, he became a stopper – dousing it with cold water. I found myself compromising often, pushing my desires and plans to the side, to accommodate a lifestyle I had already chosen to leave behind. I knew I could play this particular game, but I didn’t want to play it. I’ve been there, done that, and knew it would never make me truly happy because it’s not a lifestyle that accommodates who I truly am.

I also faced another relationship, another form of passion, another game, but found it too is not really the game I wanted to play. Unlike the above mentioned relationship, this one actually burned really hot, too hot. Instead of dousing me with cold water and smoldering my own flames, it threatened to overwhelm me completely, leaving me nothing but ashes. I’ve been there before too, and got burned. I still feel the licking flames and carry those scars. I don’t want to get burned again, so I found myself walking away from that relationship too.

The change that’s happening is that the relationship I’m choosing, the one that fulfills me most, that balances me, that pushes me into those new adventures, allowing me to experience many of the things I’ve always wanted to do and see, is the one that has the right mixture of hot and cold, excitement and calm, adventure and responsibility – it’s the relationship I’m developing with myself. Simply put – I want to date me. It’s sweater weather, and I want to cloak myself with the right kind of sweater, appropriate for the right temperature, to maximize the right level of comfort. Maybe someday I’ll meet a man that will bring the right balance for me, but until that time comes… I already have the right garment for these changing times.

Till next time,



~The Perfect Sweater

Understanding Humanity

One of the biggest themes in my current WIP is an archangel experiencing and learning about the complexities of humanity. I’m really curious what he discovers in the end (I haven’t written the ending yet), because the thing that confuses me most is humanity, or more specific - human emotion and the way we sometimes treat one another. I’m a human, I should understand it, but I don’t. People confuse the hell out of me. They’re unpredictable, and quite frankly, disappoint me often.

One of my good friends really loves to ‘tell me like it is’ and sometimes makes a comment that I’m too hard on people and hold them to too high a standard; that I make people feel like they can never please me because I expect too much. What am I supposed to do with that? Apologize that I expect people to be decent, to act with goodness and kindness, to make reasonable decisions, to expect them to do and try their best? Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps I do hold people to a higher standard, but not something that I don’t hold myself to first.

Some people are just assholes - self-centered egotists, who can’t get their head’s out of their asses long enough to think about other people. They’re often miserable in their quest for success or domination, but it only makes them end up alone or surrounded with people just as shallow as they are – now, that I find very sad. Most of the time they don’t understand why they feel empty or like shit, because they’re not thinking about what they’re pouring into themselves or into the lives of the people that come into their circle. What you eat, what you read, what you watch, what you participate in, what your habits are – that’s what makes you who you are, determines how you feel, and creates the atmosphere in which you live. If you only consider yourself and what YOU want – you’re not sharing yourself with the people around you, therefore you won’t enjoy the fruits of their true friendship. You get the semblance of a friendship. But a true friendship is an invaluable treasure. All those fake friends don’t mean shit and will scatter like the wind if you actually ever needed any of them.

I love my friends and I have some of the best friends in the world because they genuinely care about me. They love me, and I love them more than I could ever express to them. They share their fears, hopes, complaints, and aspirations with me, and provide an ear and support for me to share mine. That’s what friendship is – and exchange of who we are as human beings. It can’t be all give or take – or else it’s not a real friendship.

I’d rather have one true friend than a thousand acquaintances. I do truly believe in the golden rule – that we should treat others as we want to be treated. But think about that – would you want to be treated the way you treat others? Would you want to be treated with disrespect, indifference, arrogance, selfishness, contempt, prejudice, etc. Would you want to be played, lied to, cheated on, hurt, abused, or used? Would you want to be ignored, bullied, or just thrown away?

Be careful how you treat others. Try to understand humanity. Karma is a bitch. You want friends, be a friend. You want love, love. You want happiness, spread happiness. You want life – live. And for those cancers that come into your life and try to drag you down with their negativity, prejudice, arrogance, and selfishness – give them an opportunity to change, but if they don’t, cut them out like a cancerous tumor lest they kill you both.

I’m a very rich woman because I have a few true great friends.

Till next time,

~A Grateful Friend

Think Before You PM

Instead of my typical blog post this morning, I’ve decided to make a plea.  This is something that’s been bothering me for some time now, but I’ve hesitated saying anything – because I don’t want to upset, hurt, or anger anyone.  There’s this other part of me on the inside screaming, “You just broke out of a box where you were told what to think, what to believe, how to dress, how to act, how to talk, and almost on a daily basis reminded to watch what you do and say because others are watching you.  God forbid I should cause another to stumble.”  That was a heavy burden to carry.  I refuse to ever carry it again.

I will start by saying - I am responsible for what I do and say.  I will one day give an account for ME.  I am NOT however responsible for YOUR response, YOUR behavior, YOUR thoughts, YOUR actions, or for YOUR stumble.  YOU are.

Now that that’s out of the way, let me begin.

YES, I’m single.  YES, I’m a natural flirt.  I flirt with everyone, men and women.  I’m a witty person.  Sometimes I hear or see something and a corresponding phrase will pop into my head.  Sometimes that response is funny, sometimes serious, sometimes witty, sometimes stupid as hell, sometimes it’s brilliant, and sometimes a little perverted.  I have no filter.  Those who know me, know I ALWAYS speak my mind.  That’s not to say my mind always has the appropriate or perfect answer.  On the contrary – it’s usually just as messed up and jumbled as I am.  However, it’s always the truth and always authentic - to me.

Having said that, being single, cute, and naturally flirtatious has led to a few complications.  One of those complications – receiving very inappropriate PM’s.

I apologize if I’ve given the impression that I would enjoy receiving those types of correspondences.  I don’t.  Don’t get me wrong, I love when people are just as open and  flirtatious as I am.  By all means… flirt.  But, there IS a difference between being fun and flirty and being an inappropriate pervert.

I’m not a party girl. I’m not looking for a hookup.  I will NEVER be the ‘other’ woman.  (BTW – tell your wives and your girlfriends they can quit messaging me too.  I’m not responsible for your behavior. ) I respect relationships.  If you have a girlfriend or a wife, you have NO business sending me a PM  for any reason, except perhaps on writing related business. Quit sending me your phone numbers or inappropriate pictures.  I will never call and am not impressed.  NO, I will not send you a naked picture. I don’t take those kinds of pictures and I’ll never send one even if I do.  Grow up.  You want to see a naked woman (other than your wives/girlfriends), they’ve got magazines and websites for that.

My Facebook is not a dating site.  My children and family are on here.  My closest friends are on here too.  I also have friends, work colleagues, and fans here too.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am the SAME on Facebook as I am in person.  My family and friends know who I am, they know I’m flirtatious, they know I’m a little batty, funny, have a serious side, can get confrontational on a dime, and passionate about everything I do.  I don’t censor what I say or do online. I’ve learned to be very open and honest about who I am.  But that’s not a license for YOU to be inappropriate with me or disrespect me.

If you’re interested in being my friend, in dating, in getting to know me better, then interact with me in public until we reach a point in our interaction to take things on a more private level.  People, it’s just like if we met in person.  Interact with me the same way you would if I were standing right in front of you.  Just because you’re behind a computer screen doesn’t mean you skip right to the bedroom.  Also, if you’re in a ‘situation’ where public interaction with me will cause ‘problems’… that’s YOUR problem, not mine. If you interact with me, expect it to be public until we enter into an actual relationship – then I will keep your privacy.  I have several friends who are just private people, and I respect their privacy.  That’s a different ballgame.

Think before you PM me.  If you’re interested in me, get to know me.  I’m an opened book.  Have a little bit of understanding and respect.  I just came out of a 20 year marriage.  My heart has been shredded and I’m doing my best to put it back together.  My life has been turned upside down, and I’m doing all I can to set it upright and move into a brighter direction.  I’ve had some hit and misses on the dating front, but this whole dating thing is a new beast for me. Have patience as I find my way.  But don’t misunderstand my situation.  I’m not a desperate little girl seeking the attention and admiration from just anybody.  I’m a beautiful, confident, independent, strong as hell grown woman, kicking life’s ass. I know what I want and don’t want, and I don’t compromise.  I seek crowns, not gum unworthy to stick to the bottom of my shoes.  I’ve tried to be nice and polite, but my middle  finger has no problem hitting the ‘unfriend’ button.

Till next time,

~Frustrated with Perverts

Life is an Adventure

Not every moment in our lives are monumental, yet each moment is pertinent to every event.  You can be living, but not be alive.  You can be awake, and asleep, at the same time.  You can go through the motions of life, yet be detached, and essentially be the walking dead.  I know, I’m an expert.

Wake up!

Life is an adventure.  That’s not to say that life is only full of good things.  Adventures are not just good experiences.  Every adventure I’ve ever been a part of has usually been fraught with roadblocks, detours, obstacles, ups, downs, good times and bad.  If calculated, it’s more than likely filled with more bad than good, but that really doesn’t matter.  The point of the matter is that I’m awake and I’m living.  I’m feeling everything.

There was a time I felt nothing.  I had closed everything off so much I could literally feel nothing.  By every societal expectation, my life looked almost perfect. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years went by in a routine, doing the same empty things day after day, and was praised for it.  I wish I could blame anyone else, but the only blame lay at my own feet.

I blinked.

Now this is where the story is supposed to turn around and all the good things in life are to come rushing in and overwhelm me, and Karma pays me back for all the good I’ve done to balance out all the bad I’ve experienced.  I don’t live in a fairy tale.  Things changed all right – I  opened my eyes to find I had created a place of desolation.  The only difference now, I could see and feel everything – and everything crumbled around me.

But, this isn’t a sad story by any measure.  It’s about an adventure, remember.

Walking out of a place of desolation takes time.  Your atrophied muscles have to get used to moving, your lungs have to get used to breathing in and out, and your heart has to get used to pumping blood, and they protest and hurt and ache, yet you can’t stop.  Staying still only puts you back to sleep.  Putting one step in front of the other you will eventually make progress.

You can’t take the desolation with you, you have to leave it behind, keep your eyes forward, keep your feet moving no matter how much it hurts, and the ground below you will eventually turn from burned ash to a barren desert, to a budding meadow, and eventually to a lush paradise.

Life is beautiful – all of it – the good, the bad, and even the ugly is beautiful – because life is movement, it’s precious, it’s unique, it’s individual, it’s a gift, it’s an adventure.

We think we  have no control over the adventures we experience in this life, but that’s not entirely true.  While there are obstacles we have to face as our life’s adventure crosses the adventures of other lives, we are the Captains of our own souls.  We must learn to overcome and adapt, to know when to defend and when to attack, when to fight and when to help.  We will get knocked down, but our only true choice is to get back up.

Be grateful for your life.  Get excited about your adventure.  Breathe. I can’t say it will always be alright, but I can say that living as loud as you can is worth it.  You are worth it, even if no one else in this world can see that.

Till next time,

Life Adventurer

North Star Literary Agency: Jeff Suwak - Working Class People - The Prague Rev...

North Star Literary Agency: Jeff Suwak - Working Class People - The Prague Rev...: Check out the latest excellent article by North Star author Jeff Suwak in The Prague Review "Working Class People Are Not Sitcom Cha...

Lover of Words

I love words.  I love reading them, hearing them, saying them, texting them, receiving them, having them whispered to me, etc.  Most of all, I love learning new ones.  I love long ones, short ones, scientific ones, poetic ones, sexy ones, big ones, small ones, complicated to pronounce words, especially beautiful words.

Learning words is exciting, but it’s not a race.  Don’t get into a hurry. It’s not about how many words you can memorize, but really learning the one’s you come across.  Research them, apply them, say them, hear them, and use them in a sentence; try them out.  Some of them work and become part of your vocabulary, they steal a piece of your heart.  But then some of them just don’t feel right, just don’t click, so let them go – having enjoyed them for that moment, but move on to the next word that comes along. 

Words turn my head much the way a good-lookin’ body catches my eye.  Don’t get me wrong, a beautiful pair of eyes, a sexy smile, and a healthy fit body turns my head and I enjoy the moment.  But, I’m such a dork for a beautifully constructed word.  I melt when a term is applied in an exciting, adventurous manner. 

Satisfying the body is easy, ridiculously too easy.  But satiating the mind?  I don’t know if it’s just the times in which we live, or perhaps it’s because I live in the present, therefore pay more attention to my surroundings, it seems the world is filled with a bunch of zombies – brainless idiots following base desires to fulfill single lusts and needs.   Maybe it’s just regional, because I might meet 1 in 10 that seem to have a spark of genuine intelligence, a sense of seeking, a smidge of knowing, or an appearance of life and a thirst for knowledge. 

Don’t you find it funny that the thing zombies crave most are brains and life, things they’re not using.  They don’t go after the brains of other zombies, only the gray matter of those who are awake. (Don’t laugh… I know you’ve had those same nerdy thoughts.)

Want to impress me or catch my attention?  Introduce me to a new word.  If you want to seduce my body, you’ll first have to seduce my mind.  Society has it backwards – they are so focused on satisfying the flesh, usually ignoring the mind, thinking the mind and heart will follow if they can first satisfy the body and the eyes.  Just so you know – the eye is NEVER satisfied, so said King Solomon in Proverbs.  Maybe physical attraction is most important for the general populace, but I’m not an average, general, regular, or common woman.  I’m strange; peculiar.  The only way you could ever satisfy me physically is to have first intrigued me intellectually and touched me emotionally. 

So, learn a new word today.  Ponder a mystery.  Think outside your box.  Share that word.  Feed your brain. Expand your mind.  Who knows …you might like it.

Till next time,

~Lover of Words

This post reminds me of a poem I wrote once called ‘My Muse, My Master, My Lover’

My Muse, My Master, My Lover

Swirling dreams and vain imaginations fill my mind, pierce my heart and tease my senses. When I think I have enough inspiration to dip my pen into the ethereal ink, my Muse assaults me.  I call it an assault, because it comes violently, suddenly, and overwhelms my sanity. My pen forgotten, my ink spilled.  I’m lost …yet I’m found.

Like warm hands on a cold night, my Muse reaches out and runs his fingers over my shoulder and down my arm, leaving a line of prickled goose bumps, and sending a shivering jolt through my center; my being.  No matter my intent, my will, my choice, my body betrays me and submits to the call of my Master.

Like a ray of sunshine after a torrential rain, my Muse kisses my brow, the tip of my nose, and then brushes my lips with his own, stirring my desires and inflaming my passions.  What once made rational sense, now seemed as compost; and the words of my Muse like a new dawn, a new day.

Like the birth of a brand new babe, after hours of hard labor, my Muse makes love to me, impregnates me and I conceive, giving new life to his gift. Plain black font transforms into golden swirls of tantalizing beauty; Words - the offspring of my Lover.

The dream clears and I pick up my pen, dipping into the remnants of spilled ink, place the sharpened tip to parchment and release the gift of my Muse, my Master, and my Lover.  I smile, for all is right in the world, and vain imaginations are now full of divine revelation. I write.

The Gray Lady

I never claim to have all the answers.  In fact, I often proclaim, quite loudly, that I don’t really know anything.  Because every time I think I begin to understand something, become confident of a certain outcome, get comfortable with  believing something will not change – it up and changes on me, disrupts my life, and messes with every piece of security I’ve tightly gripped.

I used to be so certain of things when I lived in my black and white box and held tightly to my concrete beliefs.  As long as I kept my eyes shut, I could pretend that I lived in a picture-perfect world.  As long as I shut my feelings off, I didn’t have to care.  I could continue to spend my time telling everyone else how they’re supposed to believe, react, and live.  As long as I led a crusade to save the world, no one could see me.  As long as I put duty and responsibility first, I’d be accepted, praised for my efforts,  and hailed a model of respect and dignity.  Never let them touch me. Never let them see my weaknesses, my fears, and especially my tears – not my real ones. That’s doubt.  There is no room for doubt in a black and white world, only certainty.

But I opened my eyes, and I pulled out the cotton from my ears, and then stepped out of the box and into a gray world. All I had known and had been certain crumbled along with the box I left behind.  There’s no going back.  With no sun to guide me, no signs to lead me, no mile markers to measure my distance as I wander aimlessly within this gray world.  Each step I take, I shed another layer of the disguise I had once worn.  I now walk naked, exposed, gray like the world that surrounds me.

I pass by many other boxes and peek inside them from time to time, witnessing the occupants like rats scurrying around as if they believed they were on a mission.  They’re hungry and they search for food, but they only have the four walls in which to explore. Their food is fed to them in a daily portion, yet they believe they found it through their own exploration and skill.   I’m hungry too, but within my gray world, I wonder if it’s truly open or just a bigger box?

I wish I had all the answers.  I wish those I’ve come to care for deeply didn’t vanish with the wind.  I wish families loved one another.  I wish people meant what they said, and did what they meant.  I wish fear didn’t rule so many lives. I wish there were no boxes. In this Gray land,  it strips us down to our essential selves, to our honest selves, to bone.  My skin melts away and I’ve exposed my heart and all that is on the inside.    From dust I was made, and unto dust I shall soon return.  Maybe then I’ll understand.  Maybe then God can breathe life into these dry bones



~Till next time,

The Gray Lady

North Star Literary Agency: Jeff Suwak - Drabble: The Howling Terror of Cadill...

North Star Literary Agency: Jeff Suwak - Drabble: The Howling Terror of Cadill...: Check out the new Drabble publication " The Howling Terror of Cadillac 9 " by North Star author, Jeff Suwak at Specklit.com ...

North Star Literary Agency: Hear Me Scream - R.M. James - Barnes & Nobel

North Star Literary Agency: Hear Me Scream - R.M. James - Barnes & Nobel: If you haven't had a chance to pick up a copy of this amazing post-apocalyptic tale by North Star author R.M. James - you can get a ...

Melancholic Optimist

My emotions are all over the place today.  Perhaps it’s because my hormones are running rampant - my baby girl turned twenty, a budding relationship seems to have withered, I work all the time and it doesn’t seem I get anywhere, yet at the same time appreciated and admired for my abilities, talent, inspiration, and professionalism. I miss my kids like crazy. So many things have changed, yet some things still remain the same.  At the same time I’m excited and energetic this morning.  I had a GREAT workout, pushed myself a little further, a little harder (having gained over 2 lbs this week – I’m thinking because of the crepes), one of my writers are about to launch their first book, got a lot of editing done on another writer’s manuscript, my collaboration on my own current WIP is still going strong, and my prospects for the future are wide-open.

I suppose this emotional roller coaster has been coming on for the last few days.  It always happens when I’ve been with the “family”.  Friday night, I helped my daughter celebrate her upcoming 20th birthday with my ‘former’ family.  I’m beginning to hate those gatherings, because they remind me of what I left behind, what I left to pursue, and what I’ve not yet obtained.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret for one second my decision to leave, but there are some things my decision cost me that hurts me to the deepest part of my soul.  For a brief moment in time, I had my family back. Then as we all climbed in our cars and went our separate ways, I’m reminded I don’t have a family anymore.

My children love me and I will always have a relationship with them, and they will always be my family.  But when I decided to separate from my husband, I lost something that was very precious to me – all the rest of the family I had. Having been estranged from my parents and siblings, my husband’s family became mine.  So, when I left him, I lost them too.  Their lives continue on without me.  They still all gather together to celebrate every birthday, holiday, and special event.  I wasn’t invited to the last two – because they didn’t involve my children.  That’s okay, I know I’m not part of the family anymore, and that was my choice.  They have their Thursday night dinners and their Sunday brunches.  They’re there for each other, see each other almost on a daily basis, take vacations together, their lives keep moving forward, without skipping a beat, not falling apart without me, not even missing me for that matter.  I go home alone, eat alone, sleep alone, work out alone, vacation alone, go on my adventures alone, celebrate my victories alone, and mourn my failures alone.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself or even sad that I do everything alone. I’m actually growing fond of being alone.  It was new for me, having never been alone in my whole life.  It’s taken some getting used to, but I am, and there are lots of things about it that I’m learning to enjoy, especially the part where other people’s decisions no longer keep me from doing things I truly enjoy.  But, I’m angry that I haven’t reached many of the emotional goals I’ve set for myself.  I’ve accomplished a lot in these last few years – done some amazing things that I’m so proud for accomplishing.  I know, without any doubt, there’s nothing I can’t do.  It doesn’t matter what it is, I’ll find a way.  It’s those things that I can’t obtain by sheer determination and hard work that continue to allude me. Those things that depend on someone else.  Will I ever trust someone else again? I don’t know if I can.

I want what everyone wants – to matter, to be loved.  Being with my former family is a reminder that I didn’t matter.  I’m not needed, not wanted, and their lives continue on without me.  Even to my close friends I have now, who happen to all live in separate parts of the world very far away from me, I essentially don’t matter.  Should I disappear tomorrow, they may miss my drama, but their lives will continue on without missing a step, because I’m not an integral part of their world.  I couldn’t have made it these last couple of years without them, but they in turn have never needed me.  So, what happens when I don’t need them as much anymore?  Will they just disappear from my lives too? It’s what I feel happening all the time.  I hear from them less and less every day. That’s what I fear. Yet, at the same time, know that if they do – I will survive.

I had a friend ask me lately why I let people so easily walk out of my life, why I don’t fight to keep them in it?  It’s simple really.  Holding onto someone that doesn’t love you and want to stay in your life doesn’t help you – it only hurts worse.  The pain of losing someone breaks your heart, but it’s not as destructive as much as loving someone that doesn’t love you back.  That destroys your soul.  I’ve already had to restore my soul from death a few times before – I don’t want to do it again.

So, on this Monday morning filled with emotional madness, I smile, and I cry, and I breathe.  I tell myself it’ll get better.  I take a moment to be thankful for all that I have been given.  I wish my daughter a happy birthday and try to impart a few words of wisdom. I exercise.  I go to work, and I live one moment at a time – and I choose to live the best I know how.  It’s all I can do. Who knows what will happen in the next moment.

Till next time,

~The Melancholic Optimist

On the Road to MasterChef - Day 2

Well, my crepes turned out better than I could hope for.  After the third crepe hit the hot pan, I was learning to roll it round and produce a golden, paper-thin, delicious piece of art.  It wasn’t long before I had nearly 20 beautiful crepes from my first mix of batter.

I felt really overwhelmed, yet bubbled with excitement. Of course, having a plate full of delicious crepes, I needed something to go in them and on them.  I hadn’t got that far.  I had convinced myself I was going to spend a full weekend making crepes.  But, I found myself ahead of the game. 

I had some fresh raspberries, sugar, butter, and white wine… so I began to mix and stir, over a medium heat.  I worried it would be too tart or just not work, but when I dipped my spoon into that beautiful concoction and tasted it, my eyes nearly rolled back into my head it tasted so good.

But, by this point, I knew I still needed something else.  I had some baker’s chocolate and dropped a couple squares, butter, sugar, and a few tablespoons of water into a small pot, and within a few minutes I had a heavenly molten batch of chocolate. 

It was delicious.  I had to taste it a few times. 

Well, plating is something I’m going to have to practice a bit. For this turn, I decided to roll my crepes after filling them with cream cheese and raspberry glaze, then drizzled them with chocolate, more raspberry glaze, whipped cream and a fresh raspberry.  I thought my plate looked very, very, very yummy.

No good story can be told without a few tears. I cried when I had to toss the five crepes I plated. But couldn’t stop smiling when I brought in a handful to my co-workers.  They loved them, because they didn’t leave a single bite on their plates. I hope none of them are on any diets, because for the next few weeks, they’re going to become my taste testers.

It was a great first try.  I’m so looking forward to how things turn out in the end.

Till next time,

~Crepe Queen