I Am Crazywoman, Here Me Staple!


I believe I am going crazy, as evidenced by the fact I have begun stapling floral upholstery fabric to everything. Our apartment looks like an eighty year old woman who was once a gardener, tried her hand at interior decorating.

Flowers in prints, fabrics and sketches are slowly overtaking. I think I need to learn how to self-edit. Especially because most of them tend to be clashing and in shades of yellow and orange that were popular over thirty years ago.

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What is the difference between selfishness and emotional abuse? Are they the same? Or varying degrees of one another?



I just finished this tasty read. I stumbled upon it while purusing the bookstore. The Husband had taken me there as a consolation prize after he had fallen ill on our "date day". He knew that giving me something fun to read would console me and keep me indoors to tend his fevered brow.

I found his book fascinating, a bit long winded in passages pertaining to the (super) ancienct history of some sushi ingredient. But it was so informative. As a lover of sushi and someone who declares they could consume it three times a day (I so could) this book was full of tons of interesting tidbits. (Did you know soy sauce used to be the condiment of only the rich and wealthy?) Not just about sushi in general, but the culture of sushi, how it was brought to the United States and bastardized in the process.
Hooray! Bastardization! Nothing reads better than a good tale of Americans who like mayonaise and how the incorporate it into everything. Mmmm. Mayonaise.

This book really encourages me to try to discover authentic sushi chefs. And while I may not completely forsake my incorrect sushi habits, because being a sushi purist is quite a bit of work from the looks of it, at least I'll be conciencious of them.

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The Politics Of Stir Fry


Growing up, there were two sides of food taste in our family. There were those that sided with my mother, that meant you liked stir-fry, ethnic food and lots of vegetables. There was my father's side, where you liked meat and potatoes, meat and potatoes or MORE meat and potatoes. I resided firmly in my father's camp. Feed my boiled potatoes and baked chicken for weeks on end and I was a happy, happy girl. Feed me stir-fry and I wanted to curl up in a sobbing little ball. I could never understand WHY we couldn't eat potatoes and meat every night. It was so TASTY! And heck, it was so CHEAP. This was a slight source of tension to my parents when my father would sit down to a meal he considered to be "rabbit food". I would not so quietly side with my father.

Somewhere in life, where I am not exactly sure, I crossed over to the dark side. I became a lover of sprouts, weird vegetables and trying strange and mysterious foods. Of course, I married someone in the opposing camp. He's getting to be quite good at trying new things, but is at first glance, quite opposed to all things new. Let me be fair, it isn't so much the trying of new things as it is change. My dearest darling husband loathes change, paticularly in food.

While at first I found it beyond frustrating, I now find it exceedingly amusing. Things do come full circle. And all the grief I gave my mother, I am almost regretting. But not quite, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't be so prepared to deal with him.

Compromise is a beautiful thing.

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Is interesting.


a word the the universe


sometimes i believe it would be wholly refreshing to scream "fuck you" to the universe. but i don't for fear karma will come nipping at the heels of said rantings and give me what for. however, i have never been more tempted to wield a guttural string of curses towards the sky.

the charmingness of living in a small town, particularly a small town where you grow up, quickly wears off. particularly when the unpleasant past (though, you didn't think it THAT awful) and the contented present collide. when fate arranges that a disgruntled ex meets the present someone. unfortunately, it's of all the ex's the one that apparently bears the most bitterness--for what i am completely unsure, since he is the one that broke it off.

it's actually quite humorous. a man who got no more than a few chaste kisses and many good times is posting the banner of my scarlet letterhood. perhaps he feels jilted because i have not grown old clinging to the hope of his return? or maybe it is a streak of unhappiness because he's really just an unhappy person? or perhaps he just had the sudden realization he really was a very bad kisser.

to think of the nice things i've said of him since.

well, universe, you owe me royally is all i can say.

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having lost fourteen pounds and narrowed my rather large arse down a size, i find my waistline expanding as i settle comfortably in the routine of a relationship. this must be stopped.

i haven't forced myself to find the time to go out and find things to do, so i've been burying myself in heaps of books and achieving massive amounts of reading. recommendations for the list are highly welcome.

i've observed that the cost of eating out in salisbury is comporable to that of in pittsburgh. i find this fascinating and puzzling.

this is truly the godforsaken midwest--i don't care what anyone else tells me. people here have horrible hair, bad clothes and eat vast amounts of pork. even with said expanding ass, my eating habits are considered "healthy".

when it snows, and i refuse to go outside for six months straight--i fully intend on weighing four hundred pounds by spring, from toast and tea alone.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.


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