Good Advices

You two fill my holes… no. wait.

2026-01-28T19:20:00Z

these boys own me

So, let’s talk Heated Rivalry because I cannot get it out of my head.

I have been so good about not watching the show on repeat because whenever I have watched it, it gets my full attention. Kind of hard to put it on in the background and do stuff… I’m also kind of annoyed with it. I found my original Drarry plot / sketch notebook and it’s like Tierney and Reid went through it page by page. There are just too many hockey tropes that writers - me included - lean on, but they did it better. Yeah. I’ve been fighting with the Drarry hockey disaster for years so now I’m on draft three. I’m trying to get away from the tropes, yet still fit in the framework that people find familiar.

Honestly, as annoying as it is to start fresh, the writing is better this time around. Or, at least, I like it better.

I finished all the books and I’m also very annoyed at the people on Facebook who are asking stupid questions about things that happen in the books, but say that they refuse to read them. OR they only read the two books that center on Hollanov, and miss the subtle things woven throughout the six books. Like Ilya colllecting gay people… It’s this whole thing that you don’t really catch on to, but it’s there. REALLY subtle and nicely done.

I’m also annoyed by the Skip haters who, well, skip their episode because they ‘don’t like it’. My siblings in Christ, if it wasn’t for Skip, WE WOULD NEVER GO TO THE COTTAGE. I think the show did the book dirty because the relationship was weird and angsty and kind of beautiful in it’s own way. I have to say that during every reheat I yell “SKIPPY” every time I see them on screen, I like them that much.

The cats are starting to worry about my mental health.

They don’t even know the amount of crazy I can bring to the party.

I could go on, but let’s talk about the title of this entry. Which, oddly enough, has nothing to do with the two hockey players.

I’ve been in a weird place lately. Not quite depressed, not quite manic, but definitely not normal. I’d say I’m cycling but it doesn’t feel like that, either. I’m stuck in this weird off-center bipolar limbo. Even my shrink picked up on it when we met this week. I don’t know. It is what it is and nothing is fixing it. I’m just going to ride it out and hope I come out the other side soon. I thought I’ve experienced everything the bipolar could possibly throw at me, but this is new. And I don’t like it.

This weird little place my brain is residing in led to me to texting Mr. First Guy and telling him I wish we were watching the BOS-MTL game together. We’re both huge Bruins fans and our favourite player is Andy Moog, a goalie. He shares a birthday with Moog and I share a birthday with Bobby Orr, so it’s like we were meant to be. We have, however, in the years since high school become friends. Good friends. Besties. It’s not outside the realm of possibility for us to go to a game together, or even watch a game on TV. More importantly, it’s a completely valid emotional response to watching the biggest rivalry in hockey. (Which, OK. Fine. The rivalry in Heated Rivalry is also BOS-MTL, which lead a bunch of fangirls to watch that game. Whatever. It’s weird, but, you do you, boo.)

During this conversation, I brought up Mr. FNFTF and said how the two of them have really helped me survive through the years. Like they filled two holes in me. Which, thankfully, didn’t go anywhere further than ‘shared trauma’ being the glue keeping them in my life. They were both around when my mother died and they were there when my dad died, too. I know my dad’s death affected Mr. FNFTF because they used to hang out without me. Which is weird, but gives me the warm fuzzies. I’m just fortunate that I still have people around from that time period because I don’t have a lot of people left who were there. A lot of people only saw the fallout from my mother’s death or they saw me hit rock bottom after my dad died. The people that came in and out of my life in the 10 years between just don’t get me. Neither do the ones that came in after my dad. I don’t know how to describe it. I mean, those are life changing events and they really form the basis of who I am. To not see the whole picture…

When Mr. First Time told me he loved me in that text conversation, I broke down and bawled. Ugly cried. It was so good to hear it - unprovoked and knowing exactly where it was coming from. I didn’t realise how alone I’d been feeling until he reminded me that I still have some worth to people. (Depression lies. Period.)

Everybody is fascinated by how easily I walked away from a relationship of 30 years, married for 26, but after all those years of riding the bipolar roller coaster with me, he still didn’t understand what I needed. And I wanted to move back to New England. Neither was something we could compromise on and I’d go so far as to state that keeping that relationship going was a compromise, but I wasn’t willing to continue doing it any more. We haven’t spoken in any way, shape, or form since his text asking how the drive to Maine was. I certainly didn’t go out of my way to text him on his birthday - I didn’t feel the need to. Unlike the other two, I don’t need him in my life and more importantly, I don’t want him there, either.

So. Yeah. It’s nice to be understood. It’s nice to be wanted. It’s nice to have, um, holes filled.

And on a completely random note, the breeder we got G-Man from has a new litter of puppies. I’ve wanted a dog, but I’ve been flip flopping over what breed to get. For $3,800 I can get an amazing German Shepherd. Good temperament, breed to be gorgeous, and smart as fuck. BUT that is a lot of cash I don’t really have unless I dig into my savings and my house really needs to have the vinyl siding replaced. Decisions, decisions. I think I’d rather spend the money on a dog, tbh. Not sure the cats will agree, though. The breeder hasn’t asked for a deposit, so I’m just going to wait and see if I make it to the reservation list or the wait list. I haven’t heard back.

Even more random, Fandom Running Club is doing it’s first Rumble of the year. I’m on a team (Razoom’s Back!) that’s fundraising for Razom for Ukraine. The race has three different groups with different caps (5K, 10K, 10 miles) to make it more competitive. My dumb ass has consistently been doing 10 miles since we started 16 days ago. I could drop to a lower level. I want to drop to a lower level, but I also want to win and doing 10 a day will keep us competitive. I mean, I can’t bitch about my teammates. We all have things going on and it’s easier to do lower miles. I’m not that busy. I can spend 4 hours on a treadmill, no problem. My feet don’t want me to - I have blisters EVERYWHERE. My toes are killing me and since 10 different blisters in that area wasn’t enough, they’ve moved onto my heel. I don’t care. I can live with the pain. Ukrainians are dealing with a lot worse than blistered feet.

Even even more random, I have FINALLY moved into the kitchen. I ended up ripping out one of the lazy susans and finding some pull out drawers on clearance at Home Depot. The cabinets are much more functional now. Every thing I can’t fit is in the dining room. That was on my agenda to clean this weekend, but I tore the living room apart instead. I needed more light and I needed more space between the couch, pellet stove, and treadmill. The good news is that the living room is spotless and the kitchen is finally livable. I’ll get to the dining room soon. I do need the house as clean as possible ASAP. I’m tired of living like this. It just sucks that my time is so limited. (Also, the puppies will be ready to go home in March, so I have extra motivation.)

Speaking of things to do… I should probably get to my to-do list. I’m hopping on the treadmill for the Stupid Bowl if only because I want to see how Green Day and Bad Bunny comment on the current state of the union…. which only leaves me 5 hours to try to do eleventy gazillion things.

I’m coming to the cottage

2026-01-13T03:17:00Z

This fucking scene broke me in all the right ways…

Jesus fucking Christ. Do you people even know me?

I love hockey.

I love MM relationships.

I love porn.

So, OF COURSE, I will absolutely lose my mind for MM hockey porn.

I had no idea that was a secret.

It’s not like I’ve hidden my love for MM fiction nor talk about writing it (including the absolutely frustrating Drarry Hockey Disaster. I swear to fucking god, if I ever finish it that will be the title because it is fighting me every step of the way. )

I’m published on AO3 for fuck’s sake and all of them are focused on MM relationships.

Imagine my surprise when my phone, email, and DMs started BLOWING THE FUCK UP with people asking me if I’d heard of Heated Rivalry and if I’ve read the book or watched the show.

The Game Changers series has been on my TBR forever; I was a little burned out on hockey but I decided to start reading them if only to get everyone to shut the fuck up.

Holy. Mother. Of. Fucking. Fuckity. Fuck.

I really enjoyed the first two and then I stopped to watch the show since it only covered the first two books.

Did I say Holy. Mother. Of. Fucking. Fuckity. Fuck. already?

How about Motherfucking Jumping Jesus Fucking Christ on a Motherfucking Pogo Stick.?

Fuck.

That show really needs to come with a warning because it took everything that was amazing in the book and…

Fuck.

“Will you come to my cottage this summer? Don’t go to Russia. Come to my house. We’ll have so much fun. It’s so private. No one will know.” absolutely shattered me.

SHATTERED.

I AM BROKEN.

I AM IN PIECES.

I swear, MM hockey porn is going to be the fucking death of me.

What a way to go.

EDIT: I had to change the title because I kept getting shit for “misquoting” the line. No. I wasn’t quoting it…but whatever. Ya’ll are some psychos.

Stop the ride! I want to get off!

2025-11-27T15:53:00Z

I have no idea how this was downloaded and placed on my desktop, I swear! #dopey2027

Holy shit, has it been a crazy few months.

The day job was sold on the 30th of September, but the high level conversations started back in July.

In my role as Controller, I was called on constantly to provide financial statements, proofread legal documents, and literally carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I had scared coworkers calling me non-stop, some crying, some digging for details I wanted to provide, but couldn’t. The stress got so bad that the owner freaked out on me during a meeting with the CPAs and basically told me I didn’t know what I was talking about.

I threatened to quit. And I meant it. Even though I didn’t have a backup plan.

I’d given the owner so much grace and let so much roll off my back, but to be talked to like that in front of my peers… It literally took two people to talk me into staying.

And through all of this, I’d been terrified that I was getting fired, too. The purchasers don’t need another accountant; they already have a huge staff (although one did quit just as the sale was going through.)

Apparently, I’m keeping my job - for now - because they think I’m ‘capable’. What a glowing commentary on my 20 years of experience.

I’m also being micromanaged. A meeting every Friday that can LITERALLY be emails.

I fucking hate meetings.

So yeah, there’s been a lot and putting it into writing like that definitely downplays the amount of stress and the absolute mess that the sale was.

In happier news, I finally moved into my home office. I still have a box of two in here that needs to be sorted. I’m so happy I pulled the carpet in here. Yeah, the floor is damaged in some spots to the point where I was ready to grab my sander and refinish it myself. I decided to wait until I pull the remaining carpet in the house.

My living room is set up (including a honking huge treadmill to replace the one that got STOLEN BY THE MOVERS.) The bathroom is a bathroom. The kitchen / dining room is a shitshow because I emptied out all the cabinets and drawers and still can’t figure out where everything should live. The room that was supposed to be my craft room is still full of boxes and needs to be painted. My bedroom is finally emptied of all the shit, I have curtains, and a closet!

And what a fucking adventure that closet was.

It absolutely stunk like smoke and the shelf / closet rod were sticky with nicotine. There was wood paneling on the walls that seem to absorb it all, too.

I ended up covering all the seams in the paneling and giving it SEVERAL coats of a shellac based primer. Then, once I finally couldn’t smell smoke and the nicotine stopped bleeding through, I gave it several coats of a boring white paint. I even installed a closet kit. I mostly did it right. The one rod wasn’t cut short enough, so it’s really wedged in there. The other one is a little slanted, despite being measured three different times. I also checked that it was level. It’s a later problem. I just needed the closet to be functional.

All of my appliances have finally been installed, which was also an adventure. Despite measuring the fridge several times, the damn door kept getting stuck on the wall trim. If we pulled the fridge out, it blocked the doorway. I decided that I needed a smaller, back ordered fridge. (Because, of course, it’s back ordered.) The kitchen was installed in June. The fridge came after Labor Day. I *barely* got my rebate because of the delay and the fact that I screwed up the rebate form because I already filled out the form with the old fridge’s information, with the exception of the fridge serial number. The new serial number didn’t match the old fridge’s model number, so there were a couple of conversations with the rebate support team.

I had to replace the garage door and opener, which was $2,500 I wasn’t expecting to pay out of pocket. The one-size-fits-all door opener I picked up is not one-size-fits-all and I really wanted an opener. Once I started using the garage door more frequently, I realised that the door was popping out of the track and was really damaged. Like backed into it several times and possibly dropped on the hood of a car damaged. With winter coming, there was no way I was leaving the car on the driveway. So… yeah. Merry fucking Christmas, Wendell.

All this to say, HOLY FUCK DO I LOVE TECHNOLOGY.

My fridge beeps at me if I leave the door open too long. The microwave tells me when it’s done. The stove tells me when it’s preheated. The washer and dryer alert me when the cycles end. And the coolest thing of all? I can open the garage door from my phone!!! (Now if only I could get a remote car starter… the one downside of driving a stick shift.)

Speaking of Christmas, my house is half ass decorated. I put up a nekkid tree BEFORE THANKSGIVING and I’ve putting shit around the house as it comes from Amazon and Etsy. (The tree will continue to be nekkid until the cats stop climbing it… so probably until I take it down. At least it’s a cheap ass fake tree.)

This is noteworthy because

1) I’ve never liked Christmas. The whole gift giving thing makes me uncomfortable - like, here! I barely know you, but society says I have to buy you something. Or, thanks for the scarf. I’ve only knitted fourteen thousand of them for myself.

2) Empty chairs at empty tables.

So yeah, no Christmas music, no Christmas decorations, until long after Thanksgiving. And that only happened because of the ex.

However, we used to go to Universal for Grinchmas and the Christmas parade every year - and the fucking story resonated with me so much that now, my first Non-Grinchmas Christmas, I have Grinch shit EVERYWHERE.

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow,
stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so?
It came without ribbons. It came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes or bags.
And he puzzled and puzzled ‘till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.
What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.
What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

So yeah. Happy Turkey Day - or if you’re like me, happy first day of a much needed four day vacation where some turkey may or may not be consumed.

The Amazing Adventures of BeFri and StEnds

2025-08-13T22:24:00Z

for the longest time there were two of us and we were inseparable

Ya’ll know I hold on to shit.

So, let’s visit some ancient history, shall we?

Back in preschool, I met this girl. We stayed friends all the way through until a stupid argument in our freshman year of college. I didn’t like her girlfriend and didn’t want to hang out with her (and the girlfriend) the one night we were able to hang out. She thought it was because I didn’t like that she was gay. Me? Have a problem with gay people? Haaaaaaave you met me? Thanks, T, for the 30-ish year disruption in our bestie-ness.

Asshole.

We reconnected over MySpace and moved it over to FB but we don’t live in each other’s orbits any more and well… we just never made an effort to see each other after we cleared the air.

Why am I friends with so many introverts who never want to hang out?

That’s rhetorical. Like calls to like.

N’s mother died after a long illness. I was so far out of the loop that I didn’t even know she’d been sick. When I saw the obit, I gave it a day or two before I popped into her DMs and was like, I know we haven’t been friends since college, but if you need to talk about losing a parent, I’m here.

The floodgates didn’t open. It wasn’t like we started partying like it was 1993. But it opened a line of conversation we hadn’t had in years.

The wake and service were three hours south, but this is a woman I would have flown back to honour. No matter what cost.

Yeah.

I decided to go to the wake and the service and the burial.

It was amazing to see N again, even if the situation was uncomfortable. We made plans to hang out, but who knows. It was enough just to see her and be there for her.

Plus, the wife? I want someone to love me as much as E loves N. No shovel talk necessary. She’s good people. I approve.

I was talking to one of our mutual friends and we were talking about how we had distilled our high school clique into two long lasting friendships. N had S and Soulmate Boy (!), I have two ex-boyfriends as my high school era besties.

God, that is soooo weird to say.

My First Boy (that means exactly what you think it means) and Mr. We’re Better As Friends With Benefits Than We Are Boyfriend and Girlfriend.

But, I still love both dearly. Although not with that heart eyed teenage love nonsense. More like the we have lived through hell and survived, I couldn’t do it without you, sort of love. Platonic-ish? I have no idea… Gratitude + respect + familiarity. Whatever that equals. Platonic love is probably the best description, but there is something more to how I feel about them.

And I’m definitely not interested in falling back into bed with either of them.

Everyone tells me how weird it is that I’m friends with both of them. I don’t know why everyone thinks it’s so strange. Friends are friends are friends. It doesn’t matter how they enter your life, only that they stay around when the shit hits the fan. Both of them stayed.

Mr. FNFTF and I got together a bazillion years ago at our old stomping grounds and it WAS weird to think that we were able to get past our rough breakup and then screw around and then remain friends when it fizzled out. (That’s a sentence I never want an English teacher to see.)

I think some people are really meant to fulfill a certain purpose in your life… and sometimes, that purpose changes. FNFTF was a halfway decent boyfriend and then scratched an itch when it needed to be scratched and then he became someone to lean on.

The First Boy was a great boyfriend the first time. Kind of OK the second time. Friendzoned since before my father died.

It’s my understanding that I’m the reason he reconnected with his father and that side of the family.

Yup.

Besties for life.

My ride or dies.

But I don’t describe them as ex-boyfriends often. It’s just that S and I were in the same clique as the two boys and she knew both of them. She knew I slept with both of them… it wasn’t like I could reshape the narrative.

Anywhoo…

It’s a thousand fucking degrees up in northern Maine and it’s impossible to find fans any where. I could get a window unit (Air Con), but those are a pain in the ass.

It’s even humid enough that I had to buy a dehumidifier.

I even slept on the couch last night so I didn’t have to try and hit the fan into my over crowded bedroom.

Side note: that cheap little couch is comfy as fuck.

Definitely doing that again tonight.

It’s too hot to think and it’s definitely too hot to sit in front of the computer… I have more to say (don’t I always?) but that’s a post for a later date.

The war on… Choose Your Own Adventure

2025-06-22T14:25:00Z

At this rate, I’ve cared about more people that I can count…

I’ve struggled with the idea that I’m running out of time on this Earth. I’ve outlived my mother by four years, and in six, I will have outlived my father.

So, hearing the news that Chicken Taco (is that redundant?) decided to bomb Iran put that fear into overtime.

We can’t help Ukraine, but we can get involved in the Middle East? Wait, the orange turd has business deals over there so this will probably help his business prospects. You know, using his public office for personal gain. Which is, of course, illegal. But when you’re surrounded by psychopaths and sycophants it’s a lot easier to do whatever the hell you want. God, the amount of lies he and his staff have told alone would have gotten a Democrat removed from office in their first week… but the people who voted for him fell for every single lie on the campaign trail and every lie since then. It honestly makes me sick that people are that fucking stupid.

I didn’t like Harris, but I voted for her (and would have voted for Biden who I liked even less) because I didn’t want the tangerine twatwaffle’s Project 2025 plans to come into fruition.

And we’re watching them cross off every single item on that list.

But, he didn’t know anything about P2025.

BULLSHIT.

And then there’s the war on women - pick your flavour: trans, cis, masc facing cis, pregnant, infertile, dead.

Let’s talk about that last one, shall we?

ADRIANA SMITH

The story goes that this woman was having headaches and went to the hospital. She sought care and instead she was sent home with meds. That’s it.

No CT scans, no overnight observations.

I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t run to the hospital for just a headache. They had to be pretty severe, no?

The next morning, she was finally admitted to the hospital, got her CT scans, got her diagnosis, and died. She was declared brain dead. In FEBRUARY.

And this is where the story goes all Handmaid’s Tale.

Apparently, there was some “confusion” in interpreting Georgia’s anti-abortion laws.

So… The family says that doctors told them they had to keep Smith on life support until the fetus was viable. The family did not have a choice in that matter. They won’t say what they would have chosen as a family, but the end result is that the hospital kept this dead woman on life support so that she could serve as an incubator. They just performed a C-Section (abortion, autopsy… it’s been described a dozen ways.) to remove the baby from her. It is June 22nd. Do you know why they had to remove the baby? Because after four months and three days on life support, her body was starting to decompose. Supposedly, but I wouldn’t doubt it. Also… how can that be good for the baby? It’s getting pumped full of chemicals and shit.

The reason the doctors kept the corpse as an incubator: Georgia abortion law. Specifically the LIFE Act. You cannot have an abortion after the heartbeats become detectable. That’s around six weeks. She was eight or nine weeks pregnant when she died. There’s also the small matter of 2007’s law that doctors can’t remove life support from a pregnant woman unless the child isn’t viable or there was the pregnancy equivalent of a DNR…

We need to get rid of the fetal personhood laws at a fucking minimum. A fetus is a fucking parasite. (Vocab lesson: Parasites are organisms that depend on a host to survive.) Until that baby comes out it has absolutely zero fucking rights. I’m sorry. Taking her off of life support would not have been an abortion… like, what would have happened if she didn’t make it to the hospital and died at home? If the host dies, the parasite dies, too. That’s the way it should be. That’s the way nature works.

But no.

Now we have a one pound baby in the NICU who may or may not make it. And if they make it, what’s that going to look like in terms of care required? You can’t tell me that this kid is going to be 100% OK. There has to be some sort of issues. They already thought the kid might have fluid on the brain and might be blind, assuming that the baby was even viable.

In the meantime, do you know who’s paying all these hospital bills? Not the state. Not the hospital. The fucking family. Again, nobody knows what they would have done, given the choice. Especially them, but they deserved the right to choose.

It’s absolutely ridiculous how the hospital and the state handled this. It’s cruel. It’s unfathomable. It’s immoral. It’s a law written by men for men.

Nobody fucking cares about the women involved.

And the kicker in all of this?

She was black. Black women already have less access to health care… if she were white, would the hospital have taken her concerns seriously during her first trip? Honestly? I think so.

The end result out of all of this:

Who would have thought you need to declare that you don’t want to be kept alive as an incubator if you should die while pregnant? (Apparently, that was the way out of this mess. Again, it had to be declared ahead of time, like a DNR or organ donation.) WHO THE FUCK WOULD THINK ABOUT THAT?

(Also, this exact situation was an episode of the Handmaid’s Tale. If you really want to understand how little women are valued in the US today, just watch that. It’s on Hulu. I’ll gift you a subscription.)

So yeah. I’m all worked up and pissed off. It’s also pouring so I can’t take all my trash outside… I can’t even go to the garage and get the ceiling fan without getting soaked. I guess I’ll tear up the carpet and worry about the electrical later? I have to call someone in about the closet in that room anyway. Since I’m hiring a handy man, maybe they can finish swapping out the fixtures, switches, and outlets???

Well, I’m starving and I still haven’t found a pizza place, so I guess the frozen one in the fridge will have to do.

I got a line on the new America

2025-06-15T16:42:00Z

You know what? The punchlines write themselves.

It’s very clear you’re being unfair, King. No matter what you say, we won’t obey.
Gonna hold a revolution now, King. And we’re gonna run it all our way.

I wish I went to No Kings Day, but there were a couple of reasons why I chose not to, and the biggest one is where I live.

I’m brand new here and one of the cashiers at Hannaford already knows me. Some random guy asked me if I bought [somebody’s] house.

Like what the actual fuck?

Life in tiny town America, right? This is exactly what I signed up for, but damn… the realities are a little much some times. Did you know Amazon delivers in about four business days? That I’ve been reduced to shopping at fucking WALMART because everything else is an hour away? Yeah. I don’t even know where I can get a pizza. The two local places that I can find online closed during covid. There’s one Chinese place, but every time I drive by it, it looks closed. Guess it’s a good thing I’ve finally learned how to cook.

My town has a Tractor Supply, a Hannaford, a McDonald’s, a Subway, and a Dunks.

That’s it for the big time brand names. Everything else is locally owned and operated.

Like I said. Life in tiny town America.

At any rate, strange things are afoot at the Circle K and I need to get the bookkeeping business rocking and rolling yesterday. It’s bad enough that I’m the new girl. It’s bad enough that I’m From Away. I don’t need to have my political affiliation out there just yet. And I’m not at all happy I felt that way, but in a crowd of 25-ish? I definitely would have stood out and since there are things happening that I absolutely cannot talk about, I didn’t want to take the risk of pissing off potential customers just because I lean blue.

Instead, I went to the Whoopie Pie Festival. You read that right. A WHOOPIE PIE FESTIVAL. I have died and gone to New England heaven. I love a good whoopie pie and I have missed them. Oddly enough, a New England treat cannot be found anywhere in South Florida despite the large number of snowbirds.

It was about an hour away, but it was a great drive through some of the prettiest backroads I have ever driven. It didn’t hurt that the entry fee was super cheap and that samples were a quarter each. There were about 20 bakeries and I stopped at every. single. one. The only one I wanted to sample but didn’t was Moxie flavoured. Mind you, Moxie is one of those things you either absolutely love or hate beyond belief. There’s pretty much no in between and I am on the yuk side of the spectrum, but I bought a full sized one because I wanted to try it so badly. You can’t go to Maine and not sample a Moxie something, even if you don’t like the soda.

There was a cotton candy one at the same bakery that had the Moxie one and that? That was absolutely orgasmic. It was just sweet enough and I swear it melted in my mouth like real cotton candy. It was so good, I went back and bought a full sized one… and a Moxie one. That one is still sitting on my counter. I’m afraid to eat it.

Because Moxie.

At any rate… my 26 hour drive (assuming non-stop) was actually 37. (THIRTY SEVEN) I napped a couple of times at rest stops and the cats were relatively well behaved. I couldn’t get them to eat, sleep, or use the litter box, but they did at least eat some of their sticks and pee in their carriers. The soft ones because, of course, I got rid of the hard plastic ones. It was too hard to put the cats in them by myself. I’ve washed my car a few times and used a ton of febreeze, but the great thing about cat pee smell is that it doesn’t go away.

Oh, well. That was the worst thing that happened the entire trip, so I’m OK with it.

Got here in plenty of time to meet the furniture guys. I have all new appliances. And a bunch of things the movers broke - like my brand new TV stand AND the TV. I ended up having to order a TV because a) I can’t carry one that big by myself and 2) it wouldn’t fit in my car. When it finally arrived, I was so excited to set it up and… the screen was shattered.

I started to paint my office, and I was supposed to finish it today, but I fell asleep on the couch last night and didn’t take one of my bipolar meds. I woke up feeling pretty sick, headachy and feverish, in a way I only do when I forget to take that particular pill. Probably not a good idea to play with electricity and inhale paint fumes. Instead, I’m blogging and about to take a nap. In my defense, I did go grocery shopping and made brunch and that was more than enough for the way I feel right now.

Fun fact: I used to be able to forecast rain about a half hour to an hour before it actually started, and if I woke up gross and sinusy, it was going to rain. Sinus migraine? We were in for a serious downpour. Hurricane season almost killed me. I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO FORECAST RAIN ONCE SINCE I MOVED HERE. I am broken… but in a good way?

I don’t know… I have a lot of stuff going on.

I’m very happy here, though, so that’s enough.

Now, if I could only find a fucking pizza place.

Not So Berry Challenge, Gen 1

2025-05-17T15:39:00Z

Am I the only one that gets that reference?

Fun facts about buying a house in a dying small town an hour from civilization:

1) Furniture only gets delivered there every two weeks. I either move heaven and earth to get there Friday or wait until July because all the June slots are booked. I had been planning on keeping my IKEA furniture, but I have two pieces that are so old that they are not interested in moving AGAIN. Plus, they’re heavy-ish and at the end of the day, they’re at least 10 years old and I don’t feel like paying to move them to Maine as temporary furniture. So, because I decided to chuck everything and furnish the whole house with new things, I leave Wednesday, as soon as the movers do. 26 hour drive with 2 cats. Fun times.

2) UMaine Hockey has a waiting list. I just dropped $50 to put my name on a waiting list for hockey tickets. They had a really good season, so my timing totally sucks. Plus, it’s MAINE. They’ve always had a good team and I’m not surprised that they’re sold out, but damn.

3) New Englander’s have long memories. I signed up for internet and cable. When I gave the girl my address, she says, “Oh you’re in the new development.”

The. NEW. Development.

My house was built in 1962.

This doesn’t surprise me - I’m used to hearing directions like take the left at Yoken’s. Yoken’s went out of business in 2004 and the building had been torn down forever ago. The sign, however, lived at it’s spot for years after that. When the ex and I lived in New Hampshire, I once told him to turn left at Yoken’s. He looked at me like I was insane. The sign was no longer there and he had no idea what I was talking about. Also, in a different small town in Maine, my dad was getting directions to a church, and his aunt told him to take the right at the old [whatever the hell their name was] place. You know, the white house. Well, dad had no idea who the fuck they were talking about and the house was no longer white. It’s hard to get lost in a town with one traffic light, but we did.

The movers come Wednesday and I am this very strange mixture of nervous, scared, and feeling settled. I still have a few things to finish packing, so I’m going to do that as soon as I finish lunch. I’ll be living on take out until then because I want everything packed before the work week starts again.

Next I post, I’ll be out of here!!! Wooooo!!

strong desire to be treated as the other gender…

2025-04-26T14:26:00Z

Why no. No, I don’t look butch when I leave the house. Not at all.

Here’s the thing: I have gotten a metric fuck ton of shit on Facebook recently because I’m LOUD about trans rights. In comments on news stories. In my Facebook DMs. I even had a friend threaten to not refer someone to my little bookkeeping business because I was “pro-mentally ill people”.

That last one? OMG.

Hey, fuckface (yes, you. I know you stalk my little blog. HI!!!!), I don’t know if you know anything about me even though we’ve been friendly for decades now… to be honest, despite the multiple visits here, I don’t think you’ve ever read a word I’ve ever posted.

If you did, you would know that I am pro-mentally ill people. BECAUSE I AM ONE, YOU DUMB FUCK.

Social anxiety? Check
Bipolar? Check
General Anxiety? Check
A touch of OCD? Check
Seasonal Affective Disorder? Well, more like annual, but there’s a cure for that and it’s called MAINE.
Gender dysphoria? Never diagnosed, but I know I have it. I’ve had more luck controlling that than the OCD, anxiety, or bipolar combined, though.

When I was younger, I couldn’t leave the house without a baseball cap. A practice my mother tried to literally beat out of me.

My dad used to call me “his son, [name]” in a joking fashion, but it felt right in a way my real name never has.

I used to live in men’s clothes - another habit that mother tried to beat out of me. Literally. I did so right up until my boobs got too big. (Hi again! I know you love my double Ds. You once wrote a very… interesting… poem about them one night when you were drunk off your face.) Anyways, my boobs don’t fit in men’s shirts any more unless I buy them a tad too big. Don’t even get me started on my breeder’s hips. Men’s pants are a thing of my past as well.

All the trappings of being born in a female body bother me. They always have, but I’ve learned to live with it because living my life as a man wasn’t a thing when I was at my lowest point. I know I talked about my fencing buddy, Phyl, before and how she transitioned after her wife died and her kids were grown.

I’ve been thinking about her a lot.

About how brave she was to transition so late in life. If I had the balls (HA!) to do it now that I’m fifty.

But it doesn’t matter because nobody cares about FTM trans people.

What they do care about is MTF, but not for the reasons you think they do. It’s not about bathrooms and it’s not about men genetically being better than women in sports. It goes deeper than that and to be honest, I’m not even sure they know why they need to force a gender binary.

May I remind you that Felon 47 was recorded saying he grabbed women by the pussy? YET HE WAS VOTED INTO OFFICE. TWICE.

I’d rather take my chances with the trans women than with a cis man.

Anyhoo… Did you know, they’re so worried about “perverted” men accosting girls / women in locker rooms, that they want to do gender checks? They are literally talking about checking female athletes for men’s genitalia.

Um, no.

I’m loving the backlash that’s coming out of the trans community, though. There are some trans men I follow that - if they didn’t announce they transitioned - I would never have guessed. Yet, our politicians think they belong in a women’s restroom. Because they have what I assume are grabbable pussies… I mean, who’s the real pervert here?

Seriously. What it is about conservatives / magats that make them so obsessed with penises? Peni?

Schlongs. Let’s go with schlongs.

It doesn’t end there, though.

This culture of fear about the different? It’s affecting cis women.

Read that again.

IT IS AFFECTING CIS WOMEN. THE VERY WOMEN THEY WANT TO ‘PROTECT’.

People are actually accosting cis women in bathrooms because they look masculine. That’s if they even get in in the first place.

There are videos and news stories. Blog posts. TikToks. Facebook posts. Instagram posts.

They’re out there if you care to look.

Now, despite hating my female body, when I was untreated for the bipolar, I was um… shall we say, unbothered by getting nekkid with men when I was manic. (Do you remember that night? I’m sure you do… since you were the recipient of a - and I quote - “million dollar blow job”. Too bad you couldn’t afford it.) I’d regret it, sure, once the mania passed. But during those manic periods, I was too busy trying to get off, to make my body behave in ways it wasn’t built for.

I faked every. single. one.

EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

(Yup. You, too, asshole. Especially with you, whisky dick.)

Looking back, it’s easy to think I was a sex-repulsed asexual, even though that term wasn’t well known back then. Now, hindsight being 20/20 and all, I think I’m just repulsed by anything that focuses on what’s below my waist.

Any way… you want to know why I say the quiet things out loud? Why I’m spending money supporting trans rights groups?

Because I could be one of “them”.

Because I want to be one of “them”.

I’m just too damned scared.

I know I have roots there even if I don’t know where the trees are.

2025-04-05T20:24:00Z

Hail! to the victors valiant / Hail! to the conqu’ring heroes / Hail! Hail! to Michigan / I forgot the words / GO BLUE!

A while back, I had this crazy plan to fly in and out of Boston - go see my friends’ band in Albany-adjacent cities and then catch a Bruins game. A nice, low-key, all-me, 50th birthday long weekend.

Yeah. That did not go as planned.

It became fly into Albany, see the two BMS shows, go to Boston and watch them lose to BUFFALO (BUFFALO! ACK!), drive to Maine and buy a house.

Dude, I bought a fucking house.

It’s the third one I’ve owned outright and the fifth house I’ve bought. Buying a house doesn’t get any less stressful the fifth time around, let me tell you.

But, let’s start in Albany. Future me is going to wish I wrote this somewhere, so why not here? I share everything else important here. (This may be a long one. Strap in! (Strap on? Whatever works!))

I get to Albany to find out they’re charging me a $200 one way rental fee for the car. Not only that, they’ve decided me to give me a Hyundai Elantra. The Elantras are REALLY low to the ground. Like, really, really, low. Hated that car since the moment he gave me the keys. Grrr. Glad I didn’t get a nicer car - that fucking $200 would have made the car way too expensive and I was already pushing my budget.

(I bet this is the most expensive vacation I’ll ever take in my entire life. Altogther, I spent roughly $203,000.)

I have always had good luck with Super 8s in Upstate NY. I am sad to say that the original hotel in Cobleskill fucking sucked. It seems minor, but the room had a broken safe. (I had a laptop. I didn’t want to bring it to a bar in an unknown neighbourhood.) They tried to put me in a different room. Broken safe. Third room? So moldy, I couldn’t even walk in the door. I walked out of the hotel in full Karen mode. (Well, they must have thought that. I thought I was being nice about almost dying. Mold has become something I’m super allergic to. So, yeah, no thanks. You can poison someone else.)

So, I went ALL THE FUCK THE WAY BACK TO THE AIRPORT and stayed at the Tru by Hilton. That was ah-mazing. I’m only staying at Trus from this point forward.

Black Mountain Symphony killed it during that first show. I sat back and let the songs roll over me. It felt like the first time I could breathe in ages. All the stress. POOF! Gone. So nice to be home, surrounded by friends, and the best music ever. Oh, it was amazing.

I left the Tru to stay a little family run hotel closer to BMS’ second show of the weekend. It was a nice room. Nothing too fancy. (The BMS show was great, as expected, and I bonded with Bill’s mom a bit. Love her!) The absolute worst part of the night was when I was woken up by something. The bed was shaking. Literally shaking. Like someone was fucking with the mattress. And then, once the bed stopped moving, it felt like something got on the bed with me. (It could have been Guinness or the ex for the way the bed sunk.) The room got cold and I could feel someone in the room with me. This started at about 3AM and lasted until 3:30. I barely moved a muscle except to breathe and cracked my eye to look at the time.

Turns out there is a cemetery across the street from the hotel.

I guess someone just wanted to say hi.

From there, it was Boston. Battery Wharf Hotel. Eh. It was hard to find and they had valet parking. (I hate valet parking!) The restaurant didn’t serve me the first morning and I had waited for over fifteen minutes, made contact with three different people and was not acknowledged once. Grrrr. It was just… eh. It poured all day Monday so I didn’t leave the room except to go to the Bruins game. It was so weird being back in the Garden. Everything changed from how you get into the arena vs where the trains are. Bruins stank it up, but UConn and BU had boys on Buffalo. It didn’t help that Sweeney traded Marchy and Coyle right at the fucking trade deadline. Bastard.

From Boston, I headed to Maine.

Fell in love with a house in Dover-Foxcroft. $230K, 1.25 acres, river front, a she shed that was livable. I also fell through the floorboards. Too much work for that sort of money.

Ate at Bob’s Clam Shack, spent a good hour staring at the Nubble Lighthouse, and spent the night in a hotel at Long Sands Beach. Nice to reconnect with my memories of my father, even if I didn’t make it to Ogunquit.

Made my home base in Bangor. Millinocket’s about an hour north, but I had some rewards points to use and I didn’t see any Hiltons up there. Spent the next two days looking at houses. FIFTEEN HOUSES.

It was toss up between the emotional choice and the smart choice. The emotional choice had a beautiful view of Mt. Kathadin, but needed a lot of work. They were asking almost $200K for it, and I really doubted it would appraise at $150K. I offered a fair amount and they countered at basically what they were asking. Yeah, that’s a no. The view is BEAUTIFUL and well worth $200K, but a house with dated appliances and asbestos shingles is not.

I ended up going with the smart choice. A little three bedroom ranch, in move in condition, with a garage and a basement I can finish.

We close on May 9th. Movers come May 21st.

Had Chinese for lunch and my fortune was perfect: Trust in the journey of self-discovery; you are evolving.

I’ve never been so ashamed

2025-03-02T20:18:00Z

becoming a Ukrainian citizen means renouncing my us citizenship… not sure that’s a bad thing.

I don’t even know where to start.

I’ve been profoundly depressed since the coup began and things are getting worse.

trump seems to think he can delete a whole bunch of people by forcing a gender binary on them. People are misgendering trans people on the daily and calling them by their dead names. Calling transwomen men.

It makes me sick to think that a Maine politician doxxed a trans teenager and became a maga darling, while the Governor is fighting for ALL of her citizens. mr. trump seems to think that his executive orders are the law. Gov. Mills was correct in saying that she follows FEDERAL LAW which is something that an executive order cannot override. But, you know, he doesn’t need to abide by the laws of this country because he’s the king or some shit. (btw, that article is unlocked if you care to read it.)

As someone who has struggled with being a cis female at various points in my life, this… is devastating to me.

However, I guess there’s a little bit of a silver lining for me? Everyone’s so concerned about ‘men’ playing women’s sports, they’re not paying attention to the women playing men’s sports. Dude, gender is not defined by what’s in between your legs. Gender is a societal framework that puts you in a pink box or a blue box. By reducing a transwoman to what equipment they were born with / gender assigned at birth, they’re completely missing the point. Most transwomen just want to be left alone to live their lives in the pink box, just like I want to be left alone to live my life in the blue one. (I guess mine is sort of purple since I’m a tomboy / butch?) It’s the CIS MEN who are the problem.

Just look at our felon-in-chief. He said that he liked to grab women by the pussies. I’d rather share a bathroom with a transwoman than that fine piece of work. At least that way, I know I’d be safe.

Remember man vs bear? I’d take my chances with a bear any. fucking. day.

For the record - I narrowly escaped being raped in high school by a member of the wrestling team. I was raped by a guy I thought was a friend in college. #metoo isn’t just some hashtag.

Do you know I carried pepper spray AND a personal alarm when I ran laps around a track at a public park last year? Even when it was crowded? I prefer treadmills for various reasons, but it was moving into the apartment that made me quit running. I just don’t feel safe. Maybe part of that is Florida - I was never this paranoid in New England. It’s hard to say, but I’ll find out soon.

So, yeah. I’m conflicted about that.

Add to that the whole putin’s bitch attacking Zelenskyy during a televised conference.

I. Have. FEELINGS.

I don’t have the words, however.

Yeah, the girl who writes non-stop, doesn’t have the fucking words to describe how shitty the current administration has made her feel in roughly a month.

I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and pretending I’m OK, when all I want to do is hide in my apartment and cry.

Speaking of - I HAVE RESERVED A MOVING TRUCK! I leave this cesspool of a state in May.

I cannot fucking wait to be out of here - both the apartment and the state.

Did my dad quote CONFUCIUS?!? Dude…

2025-01-11T00:02:00Z

I’m in this picture and I don’t like it?

During my reread of Walden, I came across this:
All change is a miracle to contemplate but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant. Confucius said, “To know that we know what we know, and that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge.”

As Chuck was fond of saying, “I don’t know what I don’t know until I know I don’t know it.”

Similar? Way off the mark?

OK. So… let’s get to the point of this entry.

I gave my ‘notice’ today.

I say ‘notice’ because the plan is to consider working remotely. In 5 months, 2 weeks, 4 hours, 7 minutes, my lease expires and I’ll be long gone. Somewhere anywhere between Stephen King and Canada. I’m not fussy - it’s wherever I can find what I want in my price range.

The owner took it relatively well.

I want to post the details, I want to scream them into the universe, but it’s probably not the right thing to do… EVERYBODY SHOULD WORK FOR A GUY LIKE THIS.

Speaking of owners and work…

My little side hustle is live! If you’re interested in hiring a remote bookkeeper, shoot me an email at wendell gee 1985 at g mail dot com and I’ll point you in the right direction. If you’re friends with me on the book of faces, it’s a pinned post. Thanks!

OH!

I found a house I really love on Zillow, and it’s been on the market for a while. Fingies crossed that it’s still on the market when I get up to Maine. I would really be surprised if it is, but hey! It’s near Stephen King, so that means… UMAINE ICE HOCKEY!!!

I’m so excited to be moving back to New England that I can barely stand it.

Life is good.

I find it wholesome to be alone in the greater part of the time. - Thoreau

2024-12-29T14:07:00Z

I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. - also Thoreau

Hmmm… I haven’t read Walden and Civil Disobedience in forever. The fact that he’s top of mind today might mean it’s time for a reread. I mean, I still have my copy from high school. I’m surprised it’s held together this long.

The blue book in the background was an Xmas gift from the X, (Ha!) but I haven’t read it yet.

(Also, running around my head is R.E.M.‘s Finest Worksong, where we throw Thoreau and rearrange. Whatever that means. Michael, if you’re reading this, please explain yourself.)

Wow. THAT was the tangent to end all tangents. (Today at least.)

And now I’ve forgotten what…

Nope, I remember.

Can I just say what a bitch it is to start a company? Especially when you’re into tech and have a creative / marketing background? I spent a ton on software templates and social media posts in an effort to cut corners. The social media stuff may be well worth it and the two software tutorials / templates seem to be worth their money as well.

I spent last night branding the social media posts and building out the recommended schedule for them. I launch January 1st, so it’s coming up quick.

I just had a five day vacay from the day job and didn’t accomplish as much as I wanted to on the side hustle… but I also relaxed a lot. Burnout has been my constant companion for months and dealing with seasonal depression and obsessing about my move to Maine isn’t helping matters.

I have to work on day job stuff today because I don’t want to close November in January, but that’s a choice I’m making. Not the best one, but it’s a choice.

In the meantime, I’ll throw up a crappy home page with a link to my Calendly, Facebook, and Instagram pages. It’s at least something while I work on the back end.

Is it bad I’m buying shit from Amazon instead of leaving the house and going to Target just because I want the boxes? Yeah, it’s probably pretty bad…

In other news, I gave into the hype and saw Wicked. I broke much sooner than I did with Hamilton, and I’m just as disappointed. Hamilton’s soundtrack won me over, but I can’t say the same for Wicked’s. I don’t know why I can’t see these and obsess over them like my friends do. I want to love them that much, but they’re just… bleh.

So yeah, about that move.

I am constantly pissed off that I’m spending as much on a 700 sq ft apartment as I did on a 2K+ sq ft house. I can’t afford this on my salary, but none of the less expensive ones were as nice and after all their add ons (especially the cat charges), they were just as expensive. Florida real estate is stupid.

I can get decent houses in Maine for $100K - $200K. With a nice deposit, my mortgage will be more than reasonable. AND if I’m spending $2K a month on a place to live, I’d rather create equity than line some landlord’s pockets.

I’m moving in May / June and I will be working remotely with some support in Florida. At least that’s the plan. The boss already knows that I’m moving so it’s been discussed; he just doesn’t know the timeline. I’m saving that for after the holidays.

We’ll see.

Alright, I should stop stalling. The sooner I get the day job shit done, the sooner I can get back to doing nothing.

Reflections on retirement and the ADA

2024-11-24T15:13:00Z

I’m in that picture and I don’t like it.

My way cool, super sexy Logitech keyboard has a loose key and it is driving me nuts. Like seriously. It’s the comma key. Used for… commas and playing the Sims. Do you know how much I write?!? To have a comma key that bounces all over the place makes me want to hulk smash the damn thing.

Logitech also doesn’t sell spare parts (supposedly. I haven’t looked too hard), so if I can’t find what I need, I’m buying a new keyboard… this pisses me off so badly, you have no idea. I have a much, much, much older Logitech keyboard that I absolutely love. Love it so much that I had one purchased for me at the day job. This new one felt more Mac-like and since I live in two worlds - I go both ways - this was a perfect bridge. That bridge is falling down.

Let’s see… what else is new?

My buttermilk pancakes are AMAZING. I used to buy pints of buttermilk, but I wasn’t using it up before it went bad. (And do you know hard it is to find a pint of buttermilk? Cooking for one sucks!) I ended up searching the web and ended up buying some buttermilk powder that was recommended by America’s Test Kitchen.

OK. Enough stalling.

We have an employee who is disabled per the ADA guidelines. This employee is replacing one that is retiring (retired now). We were planning on terminating their employment because they were doing so poorly during training, but their disability made itself known at work and we weren’t sure what to do. It’s not a potion where we could work around any attendance issues caused by this disability - it’s a department of one and usually very busy. The company I work for is deadline driven, so if there isn’t someone at that position, everyone else has to chip in to cover and it leads to a host of problems.

Lucky for them, I am both HR and an expert on the ADA. That’s what happens when you get fired in direct response for asking for a reasonable accommodation. And it was reasonable. The fact that they then decided to throw all kinds of performance issues at me - without a single discussion - and send me to their shrink… yeah. I had a very good case against them and still decided it wasn’t worth trying to sue.

Anyhoo. We’re not big enough to have to abide by the ADA, FL is an at-will state, and we have documented meetings where we actually have pointed out the performance issues and the continued absences. So termination it was, but we gave them two more weeks to prove themselves. They spent one of those weeks in the hospital, as a no-call, no show so we had another justifiable reason to term.

When they got back from the hospital, the owner pulled them in and had a chat. Then I got pulled in for the update… somehow during that discussion, I talked about the Cats and how I got fired. How I job hop because I either get fired for being bipolar or I quit when I can’t keep it under control. (I also find really shitty jobs and / or bosses which help trigger a manic cycle…) He point blank told me that he thought for sure I was going to tell him I was leaving when I told him about the divorce.

My dumb ass said yes, I am moving, but I don’t have a timeline yet. (Liar, liar, pants on fire…)

Dude, the look on his face - we’ve had someone retire, we’re probably going to fire their replacement, and someone else wants to go to part-time. There’s a rumor that someone is moving to Puerto Rico to live near family because they don’t feel safe in the States anymore. We’re twelve people - that’s a lot of loss in two months. For a place that never had any turnover. Of course, people age out and nobody really thought that Trump would win a second term…

I told him I wanted to stay on, remotely, and he looked so relieved. He offered to hire someone that could support me if I needed someone in Florida. I then continued to blab on and on about how he’s the best boss I’ve ever had and how hard it is to want to move home when I just found my forever job… but I need to move home. I can’t continue to live in FL.

So, then we had the retirement party.

Jesus motherfucking crispy Christ on a fucking cracker.

All my emotions came pouring out - we really are such a tightly knit family and it really sucks to leave that behind (even if I work remotely, I won’t be physically based in FL). I know I don’t belong here, but I belong there. Some of my friends think that I should leave now and not look back and the other half think that because I’m agonizing over this decision that I’m not ready to move home. That second half is wrong. SO. VERY. WRONG. I just can’t figure out the timing yet. I just can’t walk away from the best boss I’ve ever had.

I’m spending today working on the layout of my business website. I’ve been looking at some books I bought on WordPress, and the more I read the more I hate the idea of using it. I just can’t wrap my head around how it works. ExpressionEngine is so much easier and now that it’s on version 7, a little better on the back end, too.

OK… I should probably get going. That code’s not going to write itself. *sigh*

Adventures in cooking

2024-11-17T00:47:00Z

Well… Millinocket is closer to really good college hockey, but Presque Isle is more fun to say

That’s probably not the best way to make a decision on where I’m moving to, but fuck it.

I’m watching UMaine vs Boston University right now on ESPN+. I’d rather be at Alfond Pond, seeing it in person. *sigh*

I got to see BU play Maine in Maine almost a decade ago and it was an experience. You know me… nothing says Wendell Gee like arguing with the ex about the semantics of going down (on someone) just as a bunch of college hockey players walk onto the elevator.

Yup.

Hey, they got a good chuckle out of it.

Speaking of chuckling, I’m loving listening to the announcer say “Bangor”. It’s pronounced Bang-or (more or less) but dad always pronounced it like Bang-ah and I do, too. Either that or Bang-her. (Banger? I hardly knew her!)

And… we’re finally where this entry was supposed to start: My dad.

Good old Chuck. He tried. He tried so hard - and failed consistently - to cook my entire life.

Exhibit #1: Super Duper Eggs

My success in the kitchen has mostly been limited to things I can bake. Baking is easy - you pop a bunch of flour and some shit into a hot box and let it sit until it tells you it’s done.

I grew up cooking on a gas stove. I am front row on the struggle bus when it comes to judging temp on the cooktop. For example, I watched my potato sit on a black piece of glass for 20 minutes before the water decided to start boiling. I never once saw that thing turn red. (But, surprise! A watched pot will boil. Eventually.) You throw a pot on a burner with an open flame under it and you can tell that your food is cooking. You know how you can tell?

THERE IS A FUCKING VISIBLE HEAT SOURCE.

But I digress.

I’ve been living off recipes from America’s Test Kitchen. Mostly the Cooking for One cookbook this week, but I’ve spent a lot of time with the Cooking for Two cookbook in the past. (ATK seems write the only recipes that I cannot fuck up.)

This one is the best thing I’ve made so far. BY FAR. (Chicken Lettuce Wraps with Hoisin Barbecue Sauce for One)

Because. Dude.

I made edible rice.

EDIBLE RICE.

Now, my dad had this hatred of rice. He never ate it unless it was fried with pork, and even then, he didn’t eat a lot of it. If I thought I had weird food issues, white rice triggered my father’s PTSD. (Rice paddies in VietNam, I guess. He never talked much about the war.)

I’ve heard that it’s impossible for someone like me to make rice successfully.

I didn’t even have a lid for my small saucepan, so I was positive that this was going to be an unmitigated disaster. Proof that, despite the five months of practice I’ve had, the lack of cooking skill in the Gee DNA is real.

Well.

Thursday night, I made this chicken dish but I opted to eat it in flour tortillas. I couldn’t justify a head of lettuce for this, but I had the tortillas on hand.

BECAUSE I MADE TACOS!

Wait… let’s finish the chicken story. Yes, the chicken. We must finish the chicken.

So. Tortillas. I wasn’t brave enough for the rice. Not when I had a banger (HA!) of a headache. It was good. Edible.

Decent enough so that I used the other half of the chicken to make the same exact thing last night.

But I tried to make rice for it to sit on.

No. Not tried.

SUCCEEDED.

I made that rice like I was Jamie Fucking Oliver.

No. Wait.

It was better. (Granted, it was just white rice, but… I bet Uncle Roger would have approved.)

Context:

I guess there’s hope for me after all.

I also guess I owe you the taco story.

My dad once made this Super Bowl Chili with ground beef that was a day past the sell by date.

We both got food poisoning so bad that I’m surprised we survived it. After that experience, I swore off eating ground beef unless I purchased it that day.

But, dude I have been CRAVING tacos. Mostly because I can’t have them.

I can’t buy the ground beef in the store because it’s sold in pounds and I refuse to save the leftover beef for another day. I need about a half pound, and I’ve always been afraid to ask the butcher to cut the package in half. (Not that I can even find someone working at 7AM on Sunday morning, but I digress.)

Well, there was someone working there last Sunday… and I got my meat.

Then there was the matter of finding the smallest amount of taco shells because who knows if I’ll ever be able to get ground beef again.

I ended up getting a dinner kit with six hard and six soft taco shells. I had the tortillas left over, so… chicken!

Speaking of chicken, I need to do some meal planning so…

poke poke

2024-11-09T20:54:00Z

wands up…

OK.

That only took three tries and a panicked email to an EE developer I know… but I finally managed to upgrade the backend of my little blog. Finally.

So…

Detroit.

That was a trip and a half. So glad I went!

For as much fun as I had, there were a lot of bad things, but let’s start with the good:

Shannon picking me up and giving me Faygo pop (It’s a Detroit thing.) and promising to leave both my kidneys. It is fun to get picked up at the airport by internet strangers!!!

Going to the Red Wings game with Heather. The Wings lost and it was a shit game, but I was pleased to see a lot of familiar names on the Rangers’ roster. It was nice to be at a pro hockey game again. I am finally healing. Not healed, it will still be a long time for that, but healing…

THE SPIRITED FISTING WALKING TOUR!!! There’s a very famous statue called the Spirit of Detroit and a random statue of a fist. So… yeah. A bunch of us got bored and went on a trek so that we could get fisted. (God, even my pocket friends are weird!)

I ended up walking the 1 mile and 5K with Heather. It was nice to have the company, but the walk itself was odd. Instead of combining both races, like they’ve done at every one 1/5 I’ve gone to, you had to do each race SEPARATELY. Two bibs and about two minutes to change them out, if you were as slow as we were. It was nice, though. I can’t remember the last time I did a race with a friend.

The half marathon was the best experience of my entire racing career. It was cold as fuck that morning and walking up the Ambassador Bridge will forever live on in my nightmares. I’m kind of disappointed I didn’t get pulled over by the Border Patrols, because that would have made it even better. The sunrise over Detroit, the views from the bridge, doing the world’s only underwater mile… it was definitely a once in a lifetime experience.

Then, like idiots, we went on a ghost tour. Because after doing a half (or in one case, a full) marathon, the one thing we should do is go on a walking ghost tour. It was horrible. Absolutely fucking horrible. I’ve been thinking about sending a review myself. The girl didn’t know any of the good stories and it was… you know it’s bad when the highlight of the entire tour is a ghost cow. (Don’t ask.)

As for the bad (?): I cried as we approached Detroit. Like I didn’t even know how badly I missed the fall foliage until I saw it.

I was so energized by the cold that it was sort of terrifying. I know I miss the cold, but I didn’t realize I missed it that much.

I didn’t wake up with a barometric pressure induced headache the entire time I was there. Not a single headache all weekend, which is really rare for me during Hurricane Season.

I had the uber driver from hell. He asked how much the trip cost me (a 5AM trip to the airport) and I stupidly told him $80. HE BITCHED THE ENTIRE TRIP THAT HE WASN’T GETTING PAID ENOUGH. Like, dude, that is not my fucking problem. I tipped him too well - and got charged twice for the damn thing - and decided, yeah, never taking an uber again. Once was enough.

And… not only was I miserable to get off the plane in Fort Lauderdale, MY CAR BATTERY DIED. I waited three hours for AAA to get there and replace it. The guy was great, though. We had a really inappropriate conversation (Titties and a stick shift? I LOVE YOU!), but the test he did on the battery answered a lot of questions I’d been having. I’m due for an oil change, and was going to wait until then. But, my luck is shit.

I didn’t have much company during the half, so I spent probably ten miles of it deep in my head.

I decided that I was moving sooner rather than later, but now that I’m back in my shitty Florida life, I’m not sure I can speed run the move home. There’s absolutely no reason to stay, but I’m also very loyal to my boss. The man is a saint and I don’t want to hurt him. I can probably manage my job remotely, but I don’t even want to say that to him yet. There’s stuff and things going on at the day job and I’m not sure the timing is right for my exit. My lease is up on 6/25 so I have some time to think about it.

Oh well, like I told my shrinky dink, I need to break the cycle of staying in Florida for men who treat me well. But it’s not that easy and it’s causing me a lot of mental turmoil. She thinks I should leave now, but… She also thinks I should move back to New Hampshire or Connecticut, but Maine is calling my name. And, yeah, I am looking at Presque Isle which is about as far north as I can get. Which would mean I’m “isolated” again and working remotely won’t make the “loneliness” better. But she doesn’t understand. I like being “isolated” and I’m not lonely. The big thing she’s missing is that Presque Isle is only like 6 hours from Boston. Will it suck to still be a decent distance from my friends? Yes. But I’d rather be a car ride away than have to deal with airports and that stupidity.

I don’t know. I still have a lot to think about and a ticket to Epic Universe on Labor Day. So, maybe I wait until the fall to move home - it depends on my lease. If I have to renew it for a year, I will, but I won’t be happy about it. I don’t like renting and I definitely don’t like this place. I’d rather see if I can do a six month lease.

I don’t know. There’s too much going on right now and I just need to take a step back and breathe.

Trump won the election. Four more years of hell on earth and that’s all I’m going to say on that.