My mother has taught me many lessons.

Lessons like riding my bike, how to cook, how to count and multiply x by b to get c, and how to choose the perfect outfit.

She’s taught me other important lessons, too.

Never say “Can’t” or “Try”, because I can, and if I want to do something, I will do it, I will not try.

Crying is okay, and a bad day is just a learning day, not a bad life.

My mother taught me to flip life over to look at the bright side, and I’m more grateful for that now more than ever.

But she taught me something else, too, something I could never have learned unless I went through it myself, and here we are. My mother has been my mother, she’s been my father, she’s been my counselor, my best friend, and my safe place. I appreciate her more every year of my life.

This is a letter for her.

Dear Mom,

I have never been more appreciative nor have I been more in awe of you than I am today. Growing up, I never realized or processed that you were anything more than my mother.

I never realized that you are also a beautiful woman who has goals and dreams of her own. A woman who is passionate and loving, giving and understanding, and so completely patient with and accepting of others.

You are a daughter, too.  A daughter who takes such wonderful care of her mother and truly appreciates the life that she’s given you. You make sacrifices and have no regrets.

You are a sister with siblings who love and care for you in a way only siblings can. You are the baby in your family, just like me, and are cared for by your brothers unlike anything I’ve witnessed. You three are inseparable, even by thousands of miles.

You wear so many hats, mom, or in your case, shoes. You are a hard worker, an intelligent and diligent student of life and of books, a master of gardening and home.

I took you for granted. You gave me so much, and I never realized, until now, how much.

I’m a single mom now, a role I never wished to play, and I’m finally understanding how damn hard you worked.

I finally get it.

This job is not for sissies.

It’s not for the weak willed nor the quitter.

Thank you, mom.

Thank you for passing up opportunities because you had to take me to soccer practice, instead of my dad.

Thank you for being lonely sometimes and for holding back those tears so I wouldn’t know you were upset, for making me believe that you are a super hero.

Thank you for sharing your late night nachos with me, when you could have shooed me back to bed.

Thank you for listening to real music instead of making me listen to kids’ songs all the way to day care. Wild, Wild West will always be one of our songs, and Pink Floyd our band.

Thank you for going to school and showing me that it can be done with toddlers while working full time.

Thank you for never taking your anger and frustration out on me as a child, especially when I was being selfish and unreasonable.

Thank you for sacrificing your social life so that I could have one.

Thank you for being my single mother.

The BEST mother.

I am strong and capable because you taught me strength and perseverance.

I have wisdom and faith because you have shown me the power of positive thinking and knowledge.

I am beautiful, inside and out, because you raised me to be a soul rather than a model.

I am so indebted to you.

I hope that I can be as fantastic of a single mother to my girls as you were and are to me.

I love you so very much, Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day! 

Your Very Proud Daughter,

Kallay

Linking up with Mama Kat’s Losin’ It and Writer’s Workshop. 

April showers have brought May flowers, in so many ways.

Flower #1: I have officially secured employment! Yes, I *finally* got some good news!! Ask (and ask and ask and ask) and ye shall receive!

Flower #2: After my echocardiogram next week, I should be done with doctors for a few months. THAT’S good news.

Flower #3: I have a whole garden of pink Gerbera daisies planned that are going to be outrageously gorgeous. (Thank you, Tom!)

Flower #4: Relaxation.

Flower #5: May Flowers!

Five flowers! That’s a bouquet! And it’s only May 2nd!

Link up with a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog and Taming Insanity for some iPhone (or any phone) Photo Phun!

After coffee, an excitement has settled in.

I figured it out.

The past week has been an energy draining and emotional eye opener. I think I hit on something Friday and Saturday when I said that there was a gaping hole that I had to fill. When Ryan left, so did my role. I was no longer someone’s wife. In the past three months, that has never occurred to me. I was no longer going to have to wash his clothing, cook his meals, greet him with a hug at the door, or remind him to do this, that, or the other thing. I lost a few other roles, too. I’m no longer a grown man’s babysitter. I don’t have to worry about what he’s doing, where he’s going, what he’s hiding, where he’s hiding it, if he’s lying, why he sleeps all the time, why he doesn’t want to spend time with me, or any of the other crazy. I won’t have to be his counselor, his driver, or his anything, really. Suddenly, I have time on my hands. I have a burden lifted, and frankly, I don’t know what to do with myself.

That’s the problem.

All this time, I’ve squeezed my to do list around what he was doing. When he was home, I was on high alert, and there was never any real down time. It was exhausting, but that was my daily life. When I told him about my Happiness Project, he didn’t get it. He thought it was silly to have a list of things to accomplish that had nothing to do with making money. Personal growth was completely beyond his level of understanding. I did it anyway, and I’m glad that I did, but it was still something I had to work around him.

I happened to pick up my planner this morning and for the first time all month, I wanted to make a list. That’s when I had my light bulb Aha! moment of clarity epiphany!  DUH, Kallay. You have no focus. When I look back at the past few weeks, even though they were busy, there was no purpose. I didn’t have a list, and even though I have THE list, I hadn’t made any real effort to accomplish one damned thing. Apparently, all of that uselessness caught up to me and I began to feel lonely and purposeless and basically, bored. Too much time to think, too much time to wallow. You know what they say about idle hands, right?

I’ve got all this crap swirling around, all of this bad news coming my way, and on top of it, I’ve lost my focus. So, now I have a list. I have goals I want to accomplish this week. I have goals for the month. I have adjusted my focus again.

This feels so good, like a warm, comforting bath. All of the unknown will reveal itself when God decides the time is right, but until then, I can focus on something else. So, I will.

~*~*~*~

This was my 5 (ish) minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post at all.things.fadra.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

In an effort to be “real” while life is handing me a platter of Spam, I bring you my Random Musings.

* Ryan’s been missing again for two weeks now. My over active imagination plays his current existence out in three scenes. The one where he’s hiding in the woods watching me is the most disturbing and sleep interrupting. I don’t even like to take the dog out there, but the dude’s gotta pee, so we do it during the daylight hours, which are thankfully longer right now. The other scenes are: 1) He’s holed up in a house with some other woman while she tends to his every need, including but not limited to cocaine, meth, alcohol, and the occasional hot wing. 2) He’s homeless, cold, miserable, sad, and lonely. He’s high, drunk, hungry, and desperate. At least in these two scenarios, he’s not harming me. So, there’s that. I pray for him everyday, and while I wholeheartedly believe in the power of prayer, I feel a little bit pathetic. I am unable to physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally help him anymore. That’s a hard pill to swallow when I’ve tried to understand and help him for so long. To continue to pray for him is what feels pathetic, and also helpless. We’ve tried everything else, so now it comes down to his relationship with God and how easily God will be able to touch him and all I can do is move on? It’s sort of like working on a project day and night for years and then being told “Thanks for your help! We’re giving your work to someone else. Go ahead and get back to your regular schedule.” You can’t help but wonder if the project is finished, who’s working on it, if the project was scrapped, etc. You don’t get updates. It’s just gone. And now you get to figure out what to do next and fill this giant gaping hole with something else.

** The girls are chattering a lot lately and are starting to copy everything I do. The other day I was feeding them and I looked over at Lily and she had her arms crossed across her chest. She looked out the window, lifted up her crossed arms, and then sighed and slammed them down across her chest. Then she looked at me and giggled. I realized she’d been watching me look out the window and sigh. It cracked me up laughing and broke the bad mood for a while. They really are my saving grace.

*** My body’s been my stress barometer lately. Mentally and spiritually, I feel strong. Physically and emotionally though, I’m sort of starting to fall apart. My blood pressure is all kinds of everywhere, I get random aches and pains, and now my digestive system is rebelling. I’m doing everything “right” in terms of relaxing. I take time for myself, I’m doing things for others to try and stop focusing on myself, I get out of the house, I get dressed everyday and do my hair and makeup to look good and feel good about myself, and I read my daily devotions. (Today’s tells me to rest in His nurturing presence because my life path has been difficult, draining me of strength. Somehow, the obvious isn’t helpful.) So, mentally and spiritually, I feel okay, but none of this is helping my physiological response to stress. What gives? I don’t feel like there’s anything else I can do. I just need some good news. I need this job to come through, I need some answers, I need to feel better. But the stress just keeps piling up instead. It’s really starting to get to me; try as I might to fight it off, I’m only human.

**** I miss my friends. It’s not that I don’t have friends here, but none of my people are here. If you watch Grey’s Anatomy, you know what I mean. Christina is Meredith’s person, her best friend, the person who gets her. My best friends, the ones who are scattered across the country, these are my people. They know my past, they accept my strange mannerisms and off color jokes, they know my heart. They know if I’m quiet, it’s not because I’m a bitch, I’m just observing; they don’t ask if I’m okay, because they know I am. They know I suck at small talk and don’t expect me to fill the gaps. They don’t judge me or point out my mistakes, they accept who I am and love me unconditionally.  There’s no competition, there’s no rivalry, there’s no “drama”. They’re just good, solid people who support me and treat me like a loving, caring human being with feelings. There’s a certain level of comfort with these people, too. I can hang out in my pajamas with these people and watch movies and never have to utter a word. There are no expectations to be anything other than myself. I miss having a person around that gets me.

*****I feel so out of my element here. I’m a city girl. I like loud noises, lots of cars, people of all colors and backgrounds, and that almost literal vibration of life that hums in a city. I always feel better after visiting Chicago with all of the sidewalks and crowds of people, all the choices of things to do and see. I feel stifled here. I feel this way more when I get in this funk, where I just need a change of scenery. Sitting here with the same walls, the same view, and the same, same, same… It’s boring me to tears. I miss having activity. I’m sure once I get a job, that will improve my mood. A homebody, I am not. And so, we’re back to square one.

I need some good news. My positive attitude and happiness are waning, and that just pisses me off more. I’ve tried so hard to stay positive through this whole thing, but this week broke me and took my spirit with it. There’s nothing more frustrating to me than that. I’m taking the weekend to rejuvenate. I’m going to figure this out, one way or another, because living with this attitude sucks more than living with these circumstances.

The burden is heavy and there’s no real relief in sight, only in promise.

I’m having to dig deep into my faith bucket and to let God provide refuge from this storm.

There are many problems with no immediate solutions.

There are chores, but no energy.

There are questions with no answers.

And then there are these moments:

My very own little care packages of JOY.

Link up with a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog and Taming Insanity!

We all know the anatomy of a rumor. Someone sees or hears information they don’t understand, they make an assumption, and then they tell someone else, then that person tells someone, and then four people later, it comes back to you in a twisted game of telephone gone wrong.

It’s ridiculous. And childish.

I guess when your life becomes a point of interest, everyone wants to know what’s going on. I get it. It’s human nature, curiosity, but to make up your own story for the sake of being involved? That’s adolescent. Even worse, to have information and not go straight to the source, is dangerous in this situation.

One would hope that if a person were curious about someone else’s life situations, they would ask that person (me), rather than asking a third or fourth party.  Especially if they had information that would be important for me to know. My children are the most important people in my life, and for someone to hear information and not relay it in a responsible and adult manner puts my children at risk, which infuriates me.

It’s uncomfortable for me to know that the rumor mill has started churning its ugly wheel. It hurts my feelings and makes me very angry, considering the source. I’m also disappointed. I thought I knew who my inner circle people were, but apparently I was dead wrong. And that’s okay. I do have other people that I can trust. Two weeks is not an acceptable time period for information to be relayed, and I definitely shouldn’t be the last to know about something that concerns my safety. Shame on you.

And spying on me through another page on Facebook? That’s also immature. If you’d like to be a part of my life and you’d like to know what’s going on, you should ask me. How cruel of you to fool me. Not that I’m surprised.

I’m angry and frustrated. I don’t think this situation warrants people making it worse than it already is. What I’m going through, it’s shitty, and I shouldn’t have to hear about people talking about me behind my back or even have to waste my already spent energy on the anger and disappointment that it brings. I should have your support, you should come to me with information that you have, and by not doing so, you are essentially choosing his side, protecting him, and putting me at risk. What is wrong with you!?

Exodus 23:1 “You shall not spread a false report. You shall not join hands with a wicked man to be a malicious witness.”

Proverbs 11: 13-14 “Whoever goes about slandering reveals secrets, but he who is trustworthy in spirit keeps a thing covered. Where there is no guidance, a people falls, but in an abundance of counselors there is safety.”

I sincerely pray that you haven’t put me in danger.

Enjoy your perfect, mistake free lives.

I hope you’ve had a good hardy laugh.

~*~*~

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post at all.things.fadra.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Group 1 Crew – He Said

So your life feels like it don’t make sense
And you think to yourself, ‘I’m a good person’
So why do these things keep happening?
Why you gotta deal with them?

You may be knocked down now
but don’t forget what He said, He said

I won’t give you more, more than you can take
and I might let you bend, but I won’t let you break
and No-o-o-o-o, I’ll never ever let you go-o-o-o-o
Don’t you forget what He said

Who you are ain’t what you’re going through
So don’t let it get the best of you
Cause God knows everything you need,
so you ain’t gotta worry

You may be knocked down now
but just believe what He said, He said

I won’t give you more, more than you can take
and I might let you bend, but I won’t let you break
and No-o-o-o-o, I’ll never ever let you go-o-o-o-o
Don’t you forget what He said

Don’t fear when you go through the fire
Hang on when it’s down to the wire
Stand tall and remember what He said

I won’t give you more, more then you can take
and I might let you bend, but I won’t let you break…

I won’t give you more, more than you can take
and I might let you bend, but I won’t let you break
and Nooooo, I’ll never ever let you goooooo
Don’t you forget what He said

Isn’t it wonderful that we can go through trials and hardships, look back, and go, “Yeah, I survived that.”? It’s been really important to me, throughout this divorce process and Ryan’s departure, that I not focus on all of the negative. Of course, sometimes evil has a say in things and last Thursday and Friday really hit me between the eyes with some powerful emotions, namely sadness and anger. I just couldn’t stop crying, and I couldn’t figure out why! I wasn’t crying all day or anything dramatic, but I would be minding my business and all of a sudden the tears would come and wouldn’t stop. I wasn’t weeping in my garden, but my eyes were literally leaking.

For example: I took this picture of Hercules, and tears hit me like a ton of bricks.

Perhaps I’m just hormonal and PMSing, lucky me, or maybe it’s the final stage of the grieving process or rather the final three stages all in one heavy dose. (Upturn, reconstruction, and acceptance.) Regardless, I feel very much like I’m turning a new leaf, but for some reason the leaf is heavy and I feel like a tiny bug turning it all by myself, which is a great thing. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t feel like I’ve handled past hardships as well as I have handled this one. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I succumbed to whatever emotion was taking hold of me at any given moment. I let my emotions dictate how I treated others, how I treated myself, and how I went about daily life. I feel like it’s an accomplishment in itself to be able to decide that today is going to be a good day when I wake up the morning after a bad one. Until this happiness project came along, I guess I never really fully grasped how in control of our emotions we actually are.

Like the song mentions, I’m bent but not broken. Leaning on God to make it through this has made it so much easier than any trials I’ve been through in the past. I have a strong support system that encourages that as well. This past Thursday and Friday, my house was feeling like a torture chamber. Everywhere I looked, there he was; there went another memory, there’s another house issue he was going to fix, there’s an empty spot on the wall where our family picture hung, there’s a book he read, there’s a card he wrote, etc. It was nonstop. I was surrounded by reminders of his absence. It was finally sinking in that he was gone for real and never coming back. I cried for the girls. I cried for myself. I cried for our broken marriage. Then, I was weeding outside with Hercules while the girls napped, and this peace came over me and I knew that everything was going to be alright. I cried some more, but happy tears this time.

I realized something really important: I could have it so much worse. In a lot of divorces, both spouses end up having to completely uproot their lives and re-establish themselves. While I have to find a new normal as far as a  daily routine, nothing much else has changed. I live in the same home, I’m still in contact with Ryan’s family because I’ve grown close with them and it’s important for the girls to know all of their family, my friends are still my friends, I still have a sense of humor, and in a lot of ways, life is actually better. I don’t live in fear of him, for one. I don’t wake up with suspicions that give me knots in my stomach all day. Was he drinking? Why is he all of a sudden in the woods? Where did he get that money? All of these thoughts you never care to wonder about the person you share a bed and a life with. I don’t worry about the girls hearing us fight. I don’t worry about the girls’ safety. I don’t live in hiding anymore. I have friends and am social. I have dreams that can realistically become a reality now. I’m getting back to my old self; the vibrant, fun loving, confident woman I was when I met him.

The girls will be better for this, too. It absolutely stabs at my heart to know that he will probably never be a part of the girls’ lives, but he made the choice, not me, and so now I have to make sure that the girls have everything they need and some of what they want without feeling guilty about being their sole provider. I have to make sure that the girls know what true love is, and by living a Christian lifestyle and exposing them to God’s truths, I believe they will know the love of the Father who will never, ever leave them. It’s the best gift I can give to my girls.

Every day is its own. I have days that start out feeling victorious and productive that end up in complete disarray, and I have days that start out a struggle to rise from the covers that end up being some of the best days. It used to be that every day was a struggle to be positive, to find the happy when it wasn’t obvious. Now? I feel almost guilty when I have a negative thought. The “bad days” feel like failures when I can’t find enough positive thoughts to snap out of it. It’s actually become more of a burden to think negatively than to work on being positive. I didn’t see that coming. Obviously, I’m human, and we all have bad days, but I never thought I’d feel guilty about it. The most important people in my life are looking to me for daily guidance, structure, and consistency, so I’ve never been more thankful than I am now that God is by my side. Who better to teach me how to live so my children will learn how to live?

He bends you, but He doesn’t break you. (unless it’s of a bad habit)

Happy Monday!!

I went to a Cubs game on Saturday with some friends and had a blast. (Even though the Cubbies lost. Again.)

Here are a few shots of that magic:

Cubbies Nails!

Breakfast Reuben? Don’t mind if we do! (I think this is proof positive that I love Reubens, because NOBODY eats sauerkraut before nine a.m. unless they love it.)

Beer.

They never give up. You have to give them credit for that.

After blowing my nose all day, thank you allergies, I mostly felt like death. My heart was racing, my head was pounding, my face was puffy. I think we’ve found the pictorial definition of “Hot Mess”. I could barely open my eyes.

Sunday, we celebrated Easter while I fought off Mother Nature’s wrath. Molly wore her tutu wrong and I don’t care, because how cute is this?

Something is wrong with this picture. How does the small dog get the throne? (Because the large dog is submissive and male, and the small dog is a yippy bitch, that’s how.)

I had an eye appointment Monday to (fiiiiinally) get some contacts, and while waiting for the doc, I came across an article that I really needed to take home with me. I left my thieving days behind after the story of me stealing my grandma’s dishes on my Big Wheel at four years old made its rounds (yeah, that happened), and decided against sticking the magazine in my giant purse. iPhone to the rescue:

I’m a damned genius. Has anyone else ever done this? Taken a pic of an article at the doctor’s office that is, not organized your paper. I’m aware of the 4,523 blogs out there dedicated to organizing, but this was so pretty.

Anyway, my aunt is one of my favorite opponents on Draw Something because her drawings are laugh out loud hysterical. Because I was unaware of the awesome that was going down re: Drawestin, I don’t have a picture of my favorite drawing. She tried over and over to draw Aladdin on his magic carpet and when she grew weary her final attempt simply read: “Fuck It Aladdin”. I’m still laughing.

Here’s another of her drawings. This ended up being a nose ring, but this first attempt? That’s totally a boob.

Happy Wednesday!

I’m linking up with a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog, Taming Insanity, It’s Blogworthy, and Be Awesome Instead!

Linking up with Shana at Fumbling Towards Normalcy! 

* Nobody likes to be wrong, but sometimes it happens and then I, personally, crawl in a hole and hide until the red face wears off. So this week, one of my Facebook friends inquired about grilling. I am not a grilling master by any stretch of the imagination. Can I start a grill? Yes. Can I cook food well on a grill? Yes, I can even cook it medium rare. Do I know everything about the ins and outs of grilling? Not even. My friend asked a question though, and no one had responded, so I gave it my best shot, and this is what transpired…

Facebook Friend: Will someone please tell me the secret to cooking on charcoal? The effin’ coals never stay hot long enough. I think that’s the problem.
Facebook Friend: The coals never look ready! I’m completely open to suggestions. Thanks.
Not The Grill Master (ME): You probably need to use more coals. Don’t be afraid to use lighter fluid to get them to all catch, either, even if you have the “self starting” coals. (They’re ready when they turn white.)
Facebook Friend: I used a lot more coals tonight. I do have the self starters, but think I accidentally bought the “failure to thrivers”. I will definitely use lighter fluid next time. Just afraid of my fancy burgers tasting like lighter fluid. Thanks, Not The Grill Master!
Not The Grill Master (ME): Haha! They won’t. That’s the beauty of charcoal! The lighter fluid all burns off before you start cooking. You’re welcome!
Facebook Friend’s Friend: we have one of those cylinder coal starter containers. Fill the bottom with some newspaper I think…..then coals…..light it and set it on the grill and it gets them all done faster/easier/more evenly. We ALWAYS use this and you can get it at Ace.
Facebook Friend’s Friend: I forgot to mention to pour in bottom when ready but I’m sure I didn’t need to tell you that.
And the climax of our story…….
The King of Coal: Sorry Kallay but DON’T use lighter fluid or self starting coal. It can affect the flavor of the meat. Use a coal chimney and when you can not hold your hand over the coals its ready to cook. Keep the coals to 1 side of the grill. This gives you a cool spot so you can slow cook if needing. You can always add more coal while cooking if needed. I recommend natural chuck coal from GFS.
Not The Grill Master (ME): Don’t apologize! If I’m wrong, I’m wrong! I’ve just never noticed a difference.
Facebook Friend I have a charcoal chimney, which you’re not supposed to use with the failure to thrivers. I really think my burger tastes a little like lighter fluid. I’ll try the charcoal chimney again next time.
Facebook Friend’s Friend: season with Greek seasoning!! Da bestest!
Facebook Friend: Could it have something to do with the size of my grill? I have a little “on top of old smokey” or some such nonsense.
Facebook Friend’s Friend: is it a reg Webber type or table top type?
Facebook Friend: table top
The King of Coals: You may need to put two rounds of paper under it. Sometimes once doesn’t get the coals going.

And it continued….

So many jokes, so little time, 56 comments later, I’m pretty sure those coals are good and ready, and e’erybody’s an expert. I really hate Facebook sometimes. Next time? No advice for you. Figure it out yourself. It’s “da bestest!”

** My allergies are back, thankyouverymuch, pregnancy, for the new medical condition. I was hoping this one would go away with time, but alas. So, off to Claritin I go.

*** I’m finally getting my contacts fitted on Monday, good timing with the allergy interruptus, no? I’m still excited though. I’ve really missed wearing sunglasses. My eye wrinkles will thank me. I’m also getting new glasses. Can I get a “YAY!”?

**** This just in! It’s official: The entire WORLD is now Rickrolling me. It started out as a humorous gesture from my group of friends. In the interest of Rickrolling me in public, they Rickrolled an entire bar via Jukebox. Twice. It then evolved into my internet friends posting Rick Astley posters on my Facebook wall. Now? Even the evening news is taking part and at the end of last night’s broadcast? Both anchors sang a lovely rendition of “Never Gonna Give You Up” complete with asinine dancing. I. mean. really.

***** Yesterday was opening day for the Cubbies! They lost. *heavy sigh* Hopefully tomorrow they’ll have better luck because I’m going to my first Cubs game of the season tomorrow! Take me out to the baaaaaall gaaaame…. I haven’t been to Wrigley Field in quite a few years, but I remember going when I was little and always having to leave before the 7th Inning Stretch, which was just bullshit. Isn’t that the pinnacle of a game? (When your team never wins, that is.) Anyway, tomorrow will be fun. I plan on gluing my ass to the seat though, just in case, because I WILL sing the song. Rumor is, we might be stopping by Garrett’s popcorn, too. If you’ve never had the pleasure, well, then, you’d never had pleasure.

****** Finally, it’s Good Friday. A holiday to reflect on the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, if you’re a Christian, and I am. I thank God nearly every day for the sacrifices He’s made and for the blessed life He’s given me. We all have struggles and pain and frustrations and we all make mistakes, but God provides us with comfort, peace, forgiveness, and happiness if we’re willing to grasp it and take His promise into our hearts. He sacrificed His only son so that we could have this freedom, and I am filled with gratitude. As a mother, I can not imagine loving others more than my own children enough to sacrifice one to save a planet full of selfish, egomaniacal, thankless humans. I am in awe of His love today. Purely amazed.

I hope you have a fantastic three day weekend!

HAPPY Good Friday! 

You know those foods that you just know you’ll hate? Those foods that, when you try them, quickly run up the favorites list to the top five, because you mistakenly misjudged? For as long as I can remember, I’ve skimmed menus, always quickly skipping over the Reuben sandwich because, “Ew!, sauerkraut?”

I used to do this with the French Dip Sandwich as well. Something about bread sopping in meat juice just turned. me. off.  Until I tried it. Now? It’s my all time favorite sandwich, hands down, everywhere.  My favorite still lives at a place called Street Meet in Hilton Head Island, SC, a play on words of “street meat”, they serve delicious hot dogs and other fabulous food, including the BEST French Dip I’ve ever had my mouth around. I never tried their Reuben. So, the question remained, could I really overcome my fear of sauerkraut?

Color me surprised, when I was huge and pregnant, I discovered that I actually *do* enjoy a whole pile of cooked sour cabbage, and while you’re at it, throw some roasted pork in there, will you please?  I thought perhaps this was just a pregnancy thing, but as it turns out, I really do like sauerkraut. In fact, I love sauerkraut, and eat it heartily, when given the chance.

Even after this monumental discovery, I was still afraid of the Reuben.

So when Kelly and I decided to embark on this culinary journey, I was nervous, and it doesn’t make any damned sense why. I love rye bread. I like good corned beef. I, apparently, love sauerkraut. Thousand Island dressing is just dressed up mayonnaise, and who doesn’t like mayonnaise? (Except for those who don’t?) Plus, cheese. Lord knows I have nothing whatsoever against cheese. This sandwich should not be scary; this sandwich, for all intents and purposes, should make my mouth water, but it was, and it didn’t.

And then I tried it.

The Shoreline Brewery in Michigan City, IN, was rumored by a friend to have a fantastic Reuben. A must eat, if you will. I’d had an interview in that area the same day that went very well, so I decided, that was the day. Let’s try a Celebratory Reuben! When it finally made it to the table, I was a little bit apprehensive. It was time to face my fear and dive in. So I removed the toothpick, held the weighty package in my hand, and took my first bite.

And then my second.

And my third.

And before long, the sandwich was gone.

It’s safe to say that the once feared Reuben is now a favorite.

The corned beef was so juicy and the cheese was perfectly matched and lent a fantastic creaminess. The sauerkraut and thousand island really made the whole thing just meld together in my mouth for the perfect bite, with a little crunch, and a little tang. So divine. Even heaven agreed.

VERDICT: I love Reuben sandwiches. Who. Knew?

Check out Kelly’s take on The Reuben here!

Have you ever hated a food for no sensible reason?