After a quiet morning of me and my chores I couldn't help but wonder what to do. I was still getting over last night's traumatic thing of the day. It felt too soon for something else big. Rainy, dreary, grey gross days are not such good mood lifters. I ran for the weekend section of the paper. Not one but TWO of the movies I had hoped to see were playing at the local cinema. I have barely watched one movie without endless guilt...but TWO?!? Now you are talking crazy.
Another Year and The King's Speech were both wonderful films. They left me entertained, inspired and downright jolly. Between the weather and the accent I even pretended for a few moments that I was indeed in England and not just little East Stroudsburg. My accents are horrible and turn from English to Jamaican to gibberish but it doesn't stop me. Usually someone else has to.
I think back in my childhood days I MIGHT have been permitted to see a double feature just once and though I can't fully remember the movies I fear they had something to do with Rick Springfield, break dancing or ice pirates. I know for sure there were neither brilliant English accents nor Oscar buzz so I think I am safe in my theme for the day. Now forgive me for such a short post but I must get back to my tea and kipper snacks.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Delete my virtual farms
We had the power go out at my house a while back. When that happens we not only have no heat/air but we lose the water as well. It becomes tricky. My Mom called to report the outage and complain and I couldn't help but crack up as I heard her speaking of farmtown. I had joked with her just a bit earlier that my newly planted grapes would rot if nobody was there to harvest them. The power outage was taking out my bumper crop... forget that we would lose a fridge full of food.
It was that bad. I would time the plantings of seeds and the harvesting as well so as to optimize the crop production. I knew the busy times for getting hired and the tricks to get to the levels faster. I had friends that gave me work as far away as Singapore and England. I actually defended it once by saying it brought our huge world just a little bit closer...
Then the second farm came. It seems as if Farmville was a bit brighter and had cooler facilities. Don't think I didn't notice that the two farms began to compete. One was constantly trying to top the other and I profited from their battle. Flowers, animals, rivers full of fish, new tools to use and factories. Plus I got to hire workers and sell my crops and make sushi, apple pies and llama wool. Oh the endless possibilities.
I haven't been on either farm in months. Life just got too busy. They were sitting there neglected and sad. Heck, they still had their outdated decorations up. I never had the time to properly build my stables let alone grow the plots of land that I had. But they were there...if I needed them...they were there. I've been pondering the deletion for some time. I have dedicated farm buddies who still send me goodies and I have neglected them by not returning the favor. I AM SO SORRY for those of you waiting in vain for a brick, goose or fertilizer. Today was the day but it took me until almost midnight to gather the strength. My earlier attempt actually brought about a pain in my chest and some slight hyperventilation. Let me explain the process of my thinking before you feel I am lost forever...
The farm was a green patch of fresh new land. It started tiny and grew with time, devotion and work. My farm became the one place I had some power. I had COMPLETE control over it and I have to say at the time I had control over nothing in my life. I needed the farm. I would watch tv while doing it and was careful not to neglect real life. Constant overachievers typically get no down time. So my rationale was that in my down time I was actually being productive. Maybe I did not have a painting finished or a book read but damn, my farms had well fed livestock, happy farmers and I was loaded...a millionaire in fact! It was a wonderful distraction of what was going on around me. I looked forward to clean fields and selling bushels of fruit. I could be creative in my placement of things, meet people from all over the world and could see the fruits of my labor (had to go there).
Today as I tried to delete them and the panic set in I wondered what in the world was freaking me out. Go to the root, go to the root, go to the root. I would be erasing it all. All of that hard work, time and energy. The little animals would be abandoned. The factory workers would be unemployed. Oh come on now...it was fake! Then it hit me. I was erasing something I had done for a year or two. Countless hours were spent on those farms. My dedication, my creativity, my hard work all washed away with the click of a button. It was the option to have them there....that would be taken away. I can't go back and visit them. Avatars and animated donkeys broke my heart. The symbolism stirred and as it came to me in full force so did the tears. I was having trouble with a fake reality that took months to create - maybe that would explain the trouble of letting go of the REAL LIFE I seem to be having so much trouble releasing back into the universe. The life that has years and years of my blood, sweat and tears. I had to delete these farms to prove to myself that I had the ability to let go at all...of anything. I am terrified and saddened and I miss them already. I think I will make it though and maybe take this energy to plant some real seeds. I've been threatening a garden for years. For you farmers still producing honey, avocados and potato chips...DO NOT FEEL I AM JUDGING YOU. I understand it can JUST BE a fun game. We all have our time wasters. I am still your pal and will miss the surprise gifts sent to my farms. It is simply time to go.
Yours truly, Chrissyeehaw
It was that bad. I would time the plantings of seeds and the harvesting as well so as to optimize the crop production. I knew the busy times for getting hired and the tricks to get to the levels faster. I had friends that gave me work as far away as Singapore and England. I actually defended it once by saying it brought our huge world just a little bit closer...
Then the second farm came. It seems as if Farmville was a bit brighter and had cooler facilities. Don't think I didn't notice that the two farms began to compete. One was constantly trying to top the other and I profited from their battle. Flowers, animals, rivers full of fish, new tools to use and factories. Plus I got to hire workers and sell my crops and make sushi, apple pies and llama wool. Oh the endless possibilities.
I haven't been on either farm in months. Life just got too busy. They were sitting there neglected and sad. Heck, they still had their outdated decorations up. I never had the time to properly build my stables let alone grow the plots of land that I had. But they were there...if I needed them...they were there. I've been pondering the deletion for some time. I have dedicated farm buddies who still send me goodies and I have neglected them by not returning the favor. I AM SO SORRY for those of you waiting in vain for a brick, goose or fertilizer. Today was the day but it took me until almost midnight to gather the strength. My earlier attempt actually brought about a pain in my chest and some slight hyperventilation. Let me explain the process of my thinking before you feel I am lost forever...
The farm was a green patch of fresh new land. It started tiny and grew with time, devotion and work. My farm became the one place I had some power. I had COMPLETE control over it and I have to say at the time I had control over nothing in my life. I needed the farm. I would watch tv while doing it and was careful not to neglect real life. Constant overachievers typically get no down time. So my rationale was that in my down time I was actually being productive. Maybe I did not have a painting finished or a book read but damn, my farms had well fed livestock, happy farmers and I was loaded...a millionaire in fact! It was a wonderful distraction of what was going on around me. I looked forward to clean fields and selling bushels of fruit. I could be creative in my placement of things, meet people from all over the world and could see the fruits of my labor (had to go there).
Today as I tried to delete them and the panic set in I wondered what in the world was freaking me out. Go to the root, go to the root, go to the root. I would be erasing it all. All of that hard work, time and energy. The little animals would be abandoned. The factory workers would be unemployed. Oh come on now...it was fake! Then it hit me. I was erasing something I had done for a year or two. Countless hours were spent on those farms. My dedication, my creativity, my hard work all washed away with the click of a button. It was the option to have them there....that would be taken away. I can't go back and visit them. Avatars and animated donkeys broke my heart. The symbolism stirred and as it came to me in full force so did the tears. I was having trouble with a fake reality that took months to create - maybe that would explain the trouble of letting go of the REAL LIFE I seem to be having so much trouble releasing back into the universe. The life that has years and years of my blood, sweat and tears. I had to delete these farms to prove to myself that I had the ability to let go at all...of anything. I am terrified and saddened and I miss them already. I think I will make it though and maybe take this energy to plant some real seeds. I've been threatening a garden for years. For you farmers still producing honey, avocados and potato chips...DO NOT FEEL I AM JUDGING YOU. I understand it can JUST BE a fun game. We all have our time wasters. I am still your pal and will miss the surprise gifts sent to my farms. It is simply time to go.
Yours truly, Chrissyeehaw
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Take a journal to therapy
I love therapy. I feel as though it should be a law that all people attend a certain amount of sessions per year. Annually. Everyone has something that messes them up...big or small. We take vitamins, exercise, diet, etc but we leave the most complex part of our body, the brain a tad bit neglected.
I was able to talk to my Mom about some stuff but unfortunately a great deal of it turned into "it's all my fault isn't it?" and that was not usually even the case. My Dad doesn't understand anything at all upsetting people so it only goes so deep with him. I've lost my husband and friend of almost 18 years and it was hard enough to get him to stand in one place long enough to hear the whines before, so we know it ain't happening now. My friends are all in tricky places in their lives as well. It's hard to process the changes and losses without some support... so back to my beloved Patty I went after years of being on my own.
I run through my week. I figure and fix as I sit there rambling endlessly without judgments being thrown at me. I look to find the positive, I accept the real for what it is (or at least try) and I set goals for what I need to do next. I treat it as a To Do list for the spirit. What I have truly discovered in the past several months is that I need some sort of permission from people to do things. My Patty signs all of my mental permission slips. Yes, that is one of things I need to fix, I know.
This week I started to journal. I've never been good with them. I start them and they fizzle. If I bore myself enough to not want to read it over again in five years why bog someone else down? But it's different now. I have so many directions that I need to set the road map for the routes that I will be taking. I start off on Sarah Street and end up in Tahiti and that's no way to "fix" a brain. So now when a new feeling hits me or I pin down an old one I run to my green flowered journal and write. My arm will actually hurt because writing is so infrequent at this point in my life.
So today at my appointment I will carry my little book with me. I will read some entries and have a new tactic for deciphering this crazy series of synapses and wires. Maybe I'll be able to stick to one topic eventually or figure out what makes them all merge so mercilessly. Sometimes I might just read about the crazy dream I had the night before complete with rotting food on counters, poker games and tidal waves. In any event the journal is cute and if I bail yet again on the big blank book of pages at least I can rip out the few in the front and give it to my daughter for doodles. The important thing is that I never stop trying. I'm a mess, I'm real and I'm proud!!!
I was able to talk to my Mom about some stuff but unfortunately a great deal of it turned into "it's all my fault isn't it?" and that was not usually even the case. My Dad doesn't understand anything at all upsetting people so it only goes so deep with him. I've lost my husband and friend of almost 18 years and it was hard enough to get him to stand in one place long enough to hear the whines before, so we know it ain't happening now. My friends are all in tricky places in their lives as well. It's hard to process the changes and losses without some support... so back to my beloved Patty I went after years of being on my own.
I run through my week. I figure and fix as I sit there rambling endlessly without judgments being thrown at me. I look to find the positive, I accept the real for what it is (or at least try) and I set goals for what I need to do next. I treat it as a To Do list for the spirit. What I have truly discovered in the past several months is that I need some sort of permission from people to do things. My Patty signs all of my mental permission slips. Yes, that is one of things I need to fix, I know.
This week I started to journal. I've never been good with them. I start them and they fizzle. If I bore myself enough to not want to read it over again in five years why bog someone else down? But it's different now. I have so many directions that I need to set the road map for the routes that I will be taking. I start off on Sarah Street and end up in Tahiti and that's no way to "fix" a brain. So now when a new feeling hits me or I pin down an old one I run to my green flowered journal and write. My arm will actually hurt because writing is so infrequent at this point in my life.
So today at my appointment I will carry my little book with me. I will read some entries and have a new tactic for deciphering this crazy series of synapses and wires. Maybe I'll be able to stick to one topic eventually or figure out what makes them all merge so mercilessly. Sometimes I might just read about the crazy dream I had the night before complete with rotting food on counters, poker games and tidal waves. In any event the journal is cute and if I bail yet again on the big blank book of pages at least I can rip out the few in the front and give it to my daughter for doodles. The important thing is that I never stop trying. I'm a mess, I'm real and I'm proud!!!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Tackle the pile of catalogs in my Mom's name
Apparently my mother was into yoga, hiking, art, decorating and traveling. She liked American Girls, country furniture, polyester and jewelry. She got catalogs for old ladies, young kids, women and every pet under the sun. The more horrible the catalog the more issues of it we seemed to get. If you've ever witnessed the "getting of the mail" you too would know the horror I would experience at the thought of the the acres of trees taken out single handedly by my mother. Perhaps there will be a use for those hiking shoes, new bathing suits, art supplies or carpets. You never know when you will need huge J Lo style hoop earrings, bunion covers, hearth stew pot or crystal chandeliers. Quite possibly at the age of 75 you will decide to go on a safari to Africa, start growing vegetables or turn gay. One never knows. My Mom liked the ability to choose. She couldn't get out much and the catalogs validated that she was indeed still here...especially when there was a SALE. They were one of the windows to the outside world.
So no more guilt trips about the planet and how she was ruining it for her grandchildren. No more talks of the piles of piles of paper that contained everything that she just might need that day. I am emailing those companies and thanking them for their no longer necessary services. I have been at it for hours by the way. Ok, so a few might just make the cut...you never know when I might need reflexology gloves, night vision goggles or a new Women's P-EZ Travel Urinal.
So no more guilt trips about the planet and how she was ruining it for her grandchildren. No more talks of the piles of piles of paper that contained everything that she just might need that day. I am emailing those companies and thanking them for their no longer necessary services. I have been at it for hours by the way. Ok, so a few might just make the cut...you never know when I might need reflexology gloves, night vision goggles or a new Women's P-EZ Travel Urinal.
Make braised short ribs
I've heard of short ribs. I watch cooking shows and they seem to be a staple. Not so long ago to celebrate the baptism of my great niece we went out to an amazing restaurant. Braised short ribs over pasta have not left my head since. I kid not. Then a few weeks ago I captured a few minutes of a cooking show and there they were again whispering to me. So with the impending doom of a storm and a late night visit to the supermarket it hit me...MAKE SHORT RIBS!
Though they are actually quite simple to create the amount of time needed to make them becomes the challenge. Not so on a snow day! I had nowhere to rush off too and so my ingredients hit the Le Creuset with much vigor. The aromatics were just what the house needed on the cold and dreary day. I browned, chopped, simmered, braised and shredded. Hours later and with much salivation I poured the rich goodness over some pasta. It's always a bit sad when food is prepared for HOURS only to be devoured in minutes but this was worth it.
I cook all of the time. It's not always easy with this crew. I can make different meal components come out at the desired "ding" of the bell. I aim to balance textures, nutrients and even color. (My Mom taught me well). I do tend to follow recipes a little too strictly and I rarely make a dish out of inspiration. The new sometimes intimidates me. I went for it and it came out so good that I might actually take on some other new dishes. Maybe now Sally is whispering to me along with the short ribs.
Though they are actually quite simple to create the amount of time needed to make them becomes the challenge. Not so on a snow day! I had nowhere to rush off too and so my ingredients hit the Le Creuset with much vigor. The aromatics were just what the house needed on the cold and dreary day. I browned, chopped, simmered, braised and shredded. Hours later and with much salivation I poured the rich goodness over some pasta. It's always a bit sad when food is prepared for HOURS only to be devoured in minutes but this was worth it.
I cook all of the time. It's not always easy with this crew. I can make different meal components come out at the desired "ding" of the bell. I aim to balance textures, nutrients and even color. (My Mom taught me well). I do tend to follow recipes a little too strictly and I rarely make a dish out of inspiration. The new sometimes intimidates me. I went for it and it came out so good that I might actually take on some other new dishes. Maybe now Sally is whispering to me along with the short ribs.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Sledding party!
I am a city girl at heart. I have never really ridden a sled down a steep hill let alone a tube. I don't like the cold and I think snow is prettiest viewed from the window of my toasty house. I moved to this cold mountain region over half of my life ago hoping to fall in love with winter and all its escapades. I took skiing as a gym class while in college. I tried so hard to fall in love with the idea of the sport. When I was told to remove my earrings so as not to get frostbite on my ears I began to think I was pushing something unnatural. It doesn't stop me from trying though. Through the years I have built snowmen, had snowball fights, shoveled and scraped many a windshield. The photographs in magazines of snowy celebrations always intrigued me. Last night one came to life. A whole photo shoot of the beauty and magic of a winter's night.
The house matched any chalet that we could have driven hours to...the best part of the journey was its short distance of only a few minutes. The house was warm and not just in temperature. Pots full of chili and mugs full of cocoa started the night with excitement. The theme was carried out with the toasty bonfire blazing in the snow while large dogs played amongst the crowd. Hills were groomed for tubing and screams were giggled at as riders flew by at amazing speeds. We toasted marshmallows and ate grilled burgers. Woolen hats, gloves, scarves and boots made photographs with sleds suitable for any catalog or tourist brochure. I was told I had to ride the tube down the steep hill. I'll admit I was quite scared at the thought. I grabbed my tube and made the tricky ascent up the hill. It was one of those moments that define me. I let fear in way too often and this was my chance to miss a fun thrill or experience it for what it was....I took the leap and slid ever so quickly down the hill squealing the entire time.
It was a magical wintry night. Hospitable hosts made it absolutely wonderful. It was cold as proven by my crunchy nostrils but I didn't mind it. It was dark but the fire was gorgeous. It was late but none of us seemed to notice. It was the epitome of the image of winter in the Poconos I had always imagined and I have Croasdale to thank!!!
The house matched any chalet that we could have driven hours to...the best part of the journey was its short distance of only a few minutes. The house was warm and not just in temperature. Pots full of chili and mugs full of cocoa started the night with excitement. The theme was carried out with the toasty bonfire blazing in the snow while large dogs played amongst the crowd. Hills were groomed for tubing and screams were giggled at as riders flew by at amazing speeds. We toasted marshmallows and ate grilled burgers. Woolen hats, gloves, scarves and boots made photographs with sleds suitable for any catalog or tourist brochure. I was told I had to ride the tube down the steep hill. I'll admit I was quite scared at the thought. I grabbed my tube and made the tricky ascent up the hill. It was one of those moments that define me. I let fear in way too often and this was my chance to miss a fun thrill or experience it for what it was....I took the leap and slid ever so quickly down the hill squealing the entire time.
It was a magical wintry night. Hospitable hosts made it absolutely wonderful. It was cold as proven by my crunchy nostrils but I didn't mind it. It was dark but the fire was gorgeous. It was late but none of us seemed to notice. It was the epitome of the image of winter in the Poconos I had always imagined and I have Croasdale to thank!!!
Eat pizza at the White House
I know, it's crazy right?!? Pizza at the White House...what to wear, what to wear??? I actually purchased a new red turtleneck just for the event and if you've seen my collection of hole and stain ridden tops you know this to be an event in itself. It's not everyday you get to eat pizza at the White House. It was a very special occasion!
My nephew and niece were celebrating the third birthday of perhaps one of the cutest children ever born. We were very happy to be a part of it. The Valentine's theme only added to the feeling of love one gets while in their home. My tiny niece with her sweet red and pink dress was more adorable than ever. Foil hearts flowing in the breeze as well as chocolate strawberries and flowers at every turn made the coziest of houses even warmer.
The guests were ample as were the conversations. We discussed Philly sports, legal battles with power companies, the steel of Bethlehem, child rearing tactics and the usual banter of silly family stories. My Father sat back and took it all in. He would've missed this party to stay at home with Mom. The teary eyed old man looked very grateful as we said our goodbyes.
Now, why is it so odd to eat pizza at this house. Well, this is the couple I discuss Top Chef with as well as the latest tapas or amuse-bouche . There are menus at holiday feasts and themed take out nights and many a recipe sans meat paired with just the right wine. My niece is swamped with motherhood, teaching, studying, volunteering and various other facets of life. She tends to her family with the utmost of care and thoughtfulness. This year's Christmas gift to her husband was perhaps the most romantic gesture ever. Quality of life is of the utmost importance for this family...in everything they do. This party was a celebration of the things that count in life...family, friends, milestones and love. Maybe the meal was a scrumptious basil laden pizza and not a 15 ingredient recipe complete with a reduction and a foam but it meant more time to spend with the wonderful people that we went to visit. We felt full as we headed home on the chilly night but not just from the food in our bellies.
My nephew and niece were celebrating the third birthday of perhaps one of the cutest children ever born. We were very happy to be a part of it. The Valentine's theme only added to the feeling of love one gets while in their home. My tiny niece with her sweet red and pink dress was more adorable than ever. Foil hearts flowing in the breeze as well as chocolate strawberries and flowers at every turn made the coziest of houses even warmer.
The guests were ample as were the conversations. We discussed Philly sports, legal battles with power companies, the steel of Bethlehem, child rearing tactics and the usual banter of silly family stories. My Father sat back and took it all in. He would've missed this party to stay at home with Mom. The teary eyed old man looked very grateful as we said our goodbyes.
Now, why is it so odd to eat pizza at this house. Well, this is the couple I discuss Top Chef with as well as the latest tapas or amuse-bouche . There are menus at holiday feasts and themed take out nights and many a recipe sans meat paired with just the right wine. My niece is swamped with motherhood, teaching, studying, volunteering and various other facets of life. She tends to her family with the utmost of care and thoughtfulness. This year's Christmas gift to her husband was perhaps the most romantic gesture ever. Quality of life is of the utmost importance for this family...in everything they do. This party was a celebration of the things that count in life...family, friends, milestones and love. Maybe the meal was a scrumptious basil laden pizza and not a 15 ingredient recipe complete with a reduction and a foam but it meant more time to spend with the wonderful people that we went to visit. We felt full as we headed home on the chilly night but not just from the food in our bellies.
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