Long day

Yeah... a very long day.  They cut my food stamps.  Well, they cut everyone's food stamps. I lost about $40.  Huge inconvenience! I don't know how I'm going to survive!! This is a travesty!!  Did that last bit make my sarcasm stink too much? :-)

I'm a food hoarder.  I will always have food in my house 90% of it will be the ingredients to make something from scratch.  I don't do pre-made unless it's one of my exceptions... like spam.  I love spam.  You will never take my spam away from me.

So no cutting my stamps isn't going to kill me.

I have an irk that never fails to happen when I go grocery shopping.  See I go shopping by the month since I pretty much HATE doing the weekly and bi-weekly thing.  What never fails to happen is, when I am in the store with two heavy carts or a heavy cart and my moms cart heavy someone never ever fails to say "Wow, your cupboards must be bare!" or "You must be shopping for a football team!" Or even something to that effect.  Sometimes I smile, sometimes I explain about monthly shopping, and still sometimes, I just nod and keep at my business. Today, it happened in the store and in the parking lot.  Why can't people mind their own business??  I mean if I see a cute guy who has a case of beer in the store, I might say, "Oh, I'm going to your house, you have the beer!" I don't expect an answer, only a smile from said cute guy.  More often than not, I get a small explanation of why he has the case of beer and a nice smile and we go our separate ways.  But to make a statement like I must be shopping for a football team or my cupboards must be bare.... admittedly the second one pissed me off more than the first... ugh.  The lady in the parking lot that stopped and said I must have bare cupboards actually stopped like she expected an answer.  Well not like she expected it.  She stood there until I told her I do my shopping by the month.  Then she gave me a sad little upper class looking down on the serfs smile and walked on.

Left me thinking WTF?  But I said nothing.  I always try to say nothing.  I don't like being that angry black person.  I hate being perceived that way.

Yes, I care about what others think about me.  I worry about my public image.  I try hard not to worry about my weight because that's a serious problem with me.  When I'm happy I don't eat, I lose weight.  When my life kinda sucks I eat too much or I eat the wrong things and I blow up. This causes me to get depressed and I don't eat and I lose weight.  This causes my mom to notice and nag at me or throw out her ninja star weapon "I'm worried about you." so I start to eat and I don't know when to stop or what to put in my mouth and the cycle starts all over again conveniently skipping the I'm happy stage.

When I was first married, I didn't eat for hours but I was having sex so when I lost weight, I was losing it in the right places.  If I was hungry I had a salad or a plate of dinner half the size or what I normally ate.  It was all good.  When my divorce was upon me, I didn't eat because eating reminded me I was alive.  No sex meant for a minute there I looked like a bag of skin.

When I moved to Jersey and was marginally happy, I walked everywhere I could, I ran, I played with my kids, I didn't spend my time eating.  I'm trying to get back to that happy place but I have one roadblock and it's hell jumping over it.

Remember that crush I mentioned a month or so or more ago?  The one that I said i had no idea where it came from and I don't really understand it all.  And it's not that we are two different races, it's that we are two different people at ends of the spectrum so polar to each other that if we stood in our spots, I'm not sure we could see each other.  He's a little bit country, I pretend to be a little bit rock and roll.  He's stoic and knows his course, and I'm as flappable as the wind.  If it says go this way, I breeze that way.  He drives slow enough down the road to see the scenery and I drive fast enough that I can barely see the people I pass flipping me off...  But I can't shake it.  I can't shake him.  I refuse to delete his texts because in my low moment, I sit and read every single one of them and smile like an idiot.  For a moment I feel great and then I realize it'll likely never be and I don't get sad, I get confused as to why.

I just don't understand.  I have dreamed of my future husband for years.  The man I've dreamed about is an architect.  He has a huge family and above all, he's  got a Texas Drawl.  I think...  The man in my dreams that has been there for years has fuzzed over into the crush I can't do anything about.

I don't wish I could change things because truth be told, I've wished on so many stars that space is full of my whispering.  Wherever birthday wishes go is full of them too.  But it's okay because my wishes keep me warm at night, I guess.  (Hey gutter mind.... no! uh uh!  I'm shaking my finger at you in a school marm fashion.)

Sigh.  I tanked my left elbow somewhere and it's killing me.  Nothing I have has helped and moving it is becoming torture.  It's been hurting for a few days but today is the first time I let out that it hurt.  Probably because I was lifting the groceries.  Does anyone else hear a electric guitar play a really loud bad chord when they get a pain?  It can't be just me.

I'm forgetting something... oh right... Wildacre...

I didn't get very far between last night and today because I was busy all day but I did read this morning.  Bea had the baby, her husband came home and saw that he was a full term baby, not a month early baby.  She lied and said that some brigand forced her.  husband got piss freaking drunk and while she was in the parlor with brother, he begged her for a little booty.  Well actually he begged her for the room of pain (This is fifty shades of grey's red room of pain circa 1700's England) but she refused  and told him that he could have her there in the parlor.  In the middle of it all, Mommy walks in and her heart fails her.  They get her to her bed and she's mumbling in her delirium and Bea knows it's a matter of time.  They wake the doc hubby who says to give her a dose of laudanum  every four hours but Bea lies and says that he said to give her the whole freaking vial of it.  Moms dead.  They bury her but the hubs has figured out what his mother in laws ramblings meant and now he gets drunk every night.  Bea has threatened to spread word that he was so drunk he told them the wrong does resulting in the death of her mom.  So now he has to keep quiet.  Oh and Ralph the gamekeepers son is back.  No leg but he's back.  He's burning down farms.  Bea is scared now.

I didn't know Phillipa Gregory could write such twisted ish like this... Damn...

So I'm gonna log off and go to sleep.  I have a big day ahead of me.  I'm going to try and bake the cupcakes and brownies for the church ladies tomorrow.  At the moment, I'm making Apple oat bread and it smells so good.  I'm not going to eat it because I don't really do Oatmeal,  but the smell is making my mouth water.

I love the holiday season!  I love being at home and baking and tidying!  I just wish I could decorate and do the whole happy homemaker thing.  I could do Donna Reed better than Donna herself did it.  And I would enjoy it. Heh.

Okay, breads done, I'm going to get it out of the pan while it's still warm and put it in the bag.  I'm sure the girls will tear into it, it the morning.

Goodnight, guys!

Oh and I was actually tempted to go on facebook today but I resisted it.  I'm proud of myself in that.