I'm not dead, just drugged. Or at least I WAS drugged.
I have always been an introvert, a social-phobe, a hermit. I saw my doctor on a particularly bad day and she prescribed anti-anxiety medication. Other than causing me to gain about 30 pounds, I never noticed a difference in my behavior. Well, maybe some zombie-ism. My imagination dried up and blew away. Hence, no blogging. Also, no cooking (at least nothing to stretch my brain), very little reading and a lot of sleeping. Now, a year later, I am proud to be drug free. I am still shy, still socially awkward and still hyper-vigilant, but I'm here. Biking to try and combat this ridiculous weight and hoping to be back to blogging.
I guide Daisy along. Next to me, Steven prays, preparing to preach. Sweet sunrise, early morning mist on heron lake. The sky on God's Day displays His artful expertise.
Daisy slows. Country church. Big-hearted, white-haired, quick to smile and easy to love. Strong arms and soft shoulders. Funny and wise. We're home.
Steven bought me tickets to see the funniest guy in the galaxy, Mr. Brian Regan, as a Christmas gift. Ain't he sweet?
Last night was The Event.
We started out with dinner at Abuelo's, a new (to us) and very yummy Mexican restaurant. We forced ourselves to stop eating after about 2,000 calories (1,200 of said calories consisting of beans) since we were looking forward to a night of uncontrollable laughs and not being escorted from the Orpheum on account of strange belly activity.
Heading to the show, I regaled Steven (and myself) with snippets from Brian's other shows:
I used to love peanut butter… still do. I saw something in the store the other day that I don’t understand, that peanut butter and jelly in the same jar. Is there a point to that? I mean I’m lazy, but... I wanna meet the guy who needs that. Some guy going, "You know I could go for a sandwich, but uh, I’m not gonna open TWO jars! I can’t be opening and closing all kinds of jars... cleaning, who KNOWS how many knives!?" If you’re that lazy, why not put croutons in there and get the whole sandwich on a spoon. You know, just scoopin’ it out... "Mmm...Oh, scrumptious! I think I’m gonna have another one. Uh, mmmmm... DELECTABLE! As was the first!" Or if you don’t wanna clean the spoon, you put it all in a squeeze bottle. "Mmmm! Lunch and no clean up! Can life get better? I submit that it can NOT!"
ooh, and this one:
They call it softball, makes it sound like it's harmless, you know. You ever take a line shot to the face with a softball? You don't go "Hey, that's Downy Soft. That was like a big ball of cotton! Hey, don't worry about that! That's Blood Light! We're playing softball, we're all going to float around like angels!"
Finally there. Another comedian, Tom Ryan opened up the show. He was funny but...
Here comes the Man. Luckily Steven was able to restrain me before I tossed any of my underthings onto the stage, but it was a close one.
And also? I found myself watching other people reacting to the jokes. People are weird. They laugh and rock back and forth and slap their legs and cry. I'm the type to hold my laughter in (lest I draw attention to myself) and then completely lose control and burst out in hilarity (which sounds an awful lot like a lamb being carried off by a bird of prey and bleating for all it's worth) and laugh and laugh til my cheeks hurt and I have to pee and everyone around is looking at me and somebody asks if I need a doctor and I do but I say no because I just want to keep laughing.
Mmkay, so I'm weird too.
It was funny.
We had a chance to meet him after the show and I said no because what can I possibly say that won't make me sound like a lunatic?
"You're funny, want my undies?" <---most likely to get me divorced
"Ughhhhh." accompanied by drooling. <---most likely to get me committed.
"TAKE LUCK!" or "The big yellow one is the sun!" or "I'm the two-plate guy! Who wants to spot me?!" <---All of which would make sense if you just watch the guy. Youtube is a wonderful place to start, my dears.
So it's the new year. And what have we done? Well, Steven has decided to "simplify his life" by throwing out a lot of stuff. Most of which is mine. Slowly but surely we are working our way through our two-bedroom apartment and sorting out nine years of accumulated life. Who knew I was such a packrat?
Tonight while organizing our room for the day, "my" closet in "Steven's" study, I discovered 17 unfinished yarn projects. Seventeen, my dears. That's a one with a seven standing next to it. I crochet. A little. I knit. An even littler. But I'm still learning! What better way to discover new techniques than to try them, master them and then move on to something else? There are afghans-to-be and almost baby blankets and one sad little dishcloth waiting to be born. I am known far and wide as a project beginner, but a finisher? Not so much. Not anymore!!!
Be it hereby resolved that I will FINISH A PROJECT BEFORE BEGINNING ANOTHER! (Well, at least once.)
"My" closet is also home to my kitchen appliances and gadgets that overflow from the kitchen. I refuse to resolve to stop collecting them. (Whew, what a sentence!) A girl's got to have a hobby, right? Why not 12?
My iPod thinks it's so smart. Just because I listen to Jon Foreman constantly, it's slowly but surely deleting all the other music.
And so...
I will SEARCH FOR NEW MUSIC TO LOVE! Any suggestions? Jon Foreman-like suggestions?
Check him out!
And, since it's a New Year, the obligatory I will LOSE 20 POUNDS! If such a feat is possible while devouring chocolate cupcakes and eating butter by the stick. One of my 12 hobbies is discovering new recipes and then using my co-workers as guinea pigs. And then posting said recipes and pictures to accompany them and hopefully to make other folks drool and try them and then all the world will be fat and happy.
Que Sarah Sarah: Saving the world, one brownie at a time.
for a summary of 2009, here's an excerpt from my Christmas letter:
Oh, what can be said about 2009? We lost a grandpa and two dear members of our church family. We gained a sister and a nephew. We worked and played and traveled and visited family. We cooked and ate and went to church. We got root canals. We saw the real, live Topol in “Fiddler on the Roof” and enjoyed watching “The Wizard of Oz” at the Orpheum. We talked to crazies both near and far away. We gorged ourselves on Memphis barbecue and treats prepared by the church ladies. We blogged and played video games and read books and debated with anyone who’d listen. We played air hockey. We preached and taught Sunday School and visited people in the hospital. We went to a marriage retreat and got completely and utterly spoiled. We got beat up and robbed in a Meijer’s parking lot. But we’re okay! We celebrated nine years as an old, married couple. Nine years! Has is really been that long?
Above all, we’ve been tremendously and overwhelmingly blessed. Thank God for His mercy toward us.
---
The Wizard of Oz was great. We ate delicious salmon beforehand and the singing and acting and effects were very well done. No one beats Judy Garland, but that's beside the point. Happy anniversary to us.
---
I baked cookies and fudge and caramels for the church ladies (and church fellas, too). Fourteen hours in the kitchen yielded enough yumminess to serve the entire church. It was fun. Here's hoping nobody dies of food poisoning and I can do it again next year!
---
We went to Michigan to spend Christmas and New Year's Day with the family. A wet and rainy and slick holiday. A great time. Visiting with old friends, presents galore and bringing in the New Year with noise and food. Lots of food. And a Snuggie!
---
I got my hairs cut! I went from this:
to this:
I highly recommend it. What better way to start a new year than losing a quick couple of pounds?
---
Coming soon:
Brian Regan
and
A roast! Check me out Sunday over at Eddie Bluelights place. Little ole me is getting roasted. Hopefully I can smuggle in some ice cubes...
In preparation for holiday baking (coming soon to a post near you!) I stole this recipe from Joy the Baker.
I skipped the poppy seeds, but only because I didn't have any. They would be extra good with the added texture.
Sea Salt and Poppy Seed Crackers
1 c all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
1 tbsp butter, cold and cut into 6 small chunks
1 tbsp poppy seeds
6 tbsp half and half
For topping the crackers:
sea salt
half and half
Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. Sift together the flour, salt and sugar. Add the butter and, using your fingers, rub the butter into the flour until it is in tiny bits and dispersed throughout the flour mixture. (I used my food processor since I'm lazy.) (Also, please disregard the uber-feminine flannel shirt jacket protruding into the picture. I try to give the darn thing away and it just keeps coming back!)
Stir in the poppy seeds. (Or don't.)
Add the half and half and mix to make a stiff dough. Place on a lightly floured surface and roll out to about 8×10-inches. Cut into 20 squares. (Using a pizza cutter makes this easier.)
Place the dough squares on an ungreased baking sheet lined with parchment or foil. Brush sparingly with half and half and sprinkle with sea salt. (Penzey's. Mmmmm.)
Bake for 30 minutes or until crisp but still pale. Transfer to a wire rack to cool and store in an airtight container.
BONUS!!!
Check out that third picture. See it? The one with hands and a toaster and forks and stuff? There's a yellow-green Nerf ball type object. First one to guess what it is gets 12 billion blog points!!! (Hints forthcoming in a future post!)
I had a crabby day. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Usually leaving the office and getting that first, glorious breath of fresh, non-crazy air is enough to improve my mood by about 120%. Today, however, the crabbiness tried to follow me home. Grumble, grumble, grumble right down the road. Traffic's clogged up, people aren't paying attention, the dj on my radio station won't shut up and play some music.
I stopped at a red light and took a breath. In: calming, life-giving oxygen. Out: negative, stress-inducing baddayatwork.
Made a list of things that bug me:
* People who can't get to the point. You make me resent you because I can't hang up while you ramble.
* Rubber-neckers (church ladies call them "lookie-loos." Folks who clog up traffic because they slow down to stare at accidents, police cars, stray dogs...
* Christmas music. I'll be Scrooge until December 24, just so you know.
And then I started thinking about things to be thankful for.
* Steven. He loves me madly and without explanation. And he buys me pizza after terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days.
* I have a job. As much as it stresses me out, I have an income while many around our country go without.
* God. He accepts me though I don't deserve it and forgives me when I lose sight of what's important.
* My family. One lovely thing about Christmas is time off to see this:
I have always been an introvert, a social-phobe, a hermit. I saw my doctor on a particularly bad day and she prescribed anti-anxiety medication. Other than causing me to gain about 30 pounds, I never noticed a difference in my behavior. Well, maybe some zombie-ism. My imagination dried up and blew away. Hence, no blogging. Also, no cooking (at least nothing to stretch my brain), very little reading and a lot of sleeping. Now, a year later, I am proud to be drug free. I am still shy, still socially awkward and still hyper-vigilant, but I'm here. Biking to try and combat this ridiculous weight and hoping to be back to blogging.
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