As Seen Today

I was driving to meet a friend for some scrapbooking fun today and on the back of an Explorer's window I read: "I'm not mean, you're a pussy." Here I think it's a man driving, nope, a woman. At that moment, I think I fell in love with a total stranger and her attitude.

Friendships Old And New

When I cranked up my computer this morning I do the first thing I do every day, I check my email. I respond to the things in my inbox and I do a quick check of the junk mail just to make sure there's nothing important that got dumped in there. Sure enough, there was an email from an old friend, an old best friend to be exact.

Lori and I used to work together and when you work with sex offenders and low life scum you tend to form bonds with your coworkers. Lori and I were no different. We weren't just coworkers we became best friends. We were inseparable in and out of work. We used to commiserate about all the weird stuff that would happen at work over a lunch date or weekend shopping trips. She practically lived with us on the weekends and we didn't care. We made her a part of our family. I loved her like the sister I never had. At one point, Roman and I played match maker and she dated one of Roman's good friends for a couple of years. When that relationship hit the skids, we then set her up with one of Roman's cousins. We were determined to make her a permanent part of the family we loved her so much! After a year of dating Roman's cousin that relationship ended and she felt the need to move away and start fresh.

Lori took a job in Austin to make a fresh start. San Antonio hadn't been good place for her, too many bad memories, she said. As the months ticked by she made new friends and didn't really have the time for her old ones. When she called it was to talk about her man problems or how great her new friends were and all the things she was doing. I admit, it stung and we felt left out. Her excuse, "Well, ya'll don't live here." I couldn't make her understand just because we were an hour away didn't mean we didn't want to be part of her life anymore. I guess we were one of those bad memories she was running from. Soon, the visits were less frequent then non existent, same with the calls. To make a long story short our friendship changed, she changed and it just wasn't the same. We didn't feel like we fit in with her new life. For my mental health, I made the decision to move on. I dropped her as a friend and never looked back. I hadn't heard from her in 5 years, until today.

I've never truly forgiven her for dumping us. I'm still very hurt by it. Sitting on the sidelines and watching her slip away was totally gut wrenching for both Roman and I and the pain of loosing a good friend like that hurts, even 5 years later. It made us both question the kind of friends we were. What had we done wrong to make her not like us anymore? After Lori, I swore I'd never become that emotionally involved with a friend again and for years I never let myself get close to anyone.

Time has gone by and I've been working on expanding my social circle. The girls I scrapbook with are my closest companions. A lot of us are at the same place in our lives and we really get each other, not to mention we share an amazing love of a fun hobby. I'm still very reserved with my love but one person in particular had managed to break my icy facade. Cindy is the first woman in years that I can say is my best friend.

All of you were asked to read my blog for a reason. It wasn't some random selection of people by any means. Each of you reading were chosen because, in some small way, you inspire me. You inspire me to be a better person, a more balance individual, to see the world from a different point of view, to have faith in God, or just laugh at the silliness we call life. Each of you is very special to me whether you know it or not. Thank you, but most importantly, thank you for letting me call you friend.

Just Sayin' Is All

I read this just now:

"Can I refill your eggnog for you? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead?"

I'm sitting here at my desk, giggling like a mad woman. Either it's funny or I've lost my marbles.

Really!?! That happens?!?

Evidentially it does and it happens often. What am I speaking of you ask? Recipes. More importantly, people that won't give up their recipes when asked. I had no idea that such a creature roamed the plant. When people like a dish I make and they ask me for the recipe, I gladly give up the goods. To me, it's a huge compliment.

There is a scrapbook website that I frequent. It's called www.twopeasinabucket.com and there is a message board where we talk about anything and everything not scrapbook related. A topic the other day was people who don't give up recipes. A woman was hurt because her neighbor wouldn't give up her fudge recipe for the church newsletter. She told her flat out NO. Others jumped on the bandwagon and chimed in with why they won't share. I was shocked, I was horrified at some of the snotty responses.

Of course in true big mouth fashion I chimed in with, "Listen ladies, the Russians aren't asking for your recipes so they can screw you in the next Pillsbury Bake Off. It's a RECIPE for pete's sake!" evidentially, I'm much funnier when I blog. Alone.

Anyway, so ask me for a recipe and I'll hand it over. My peanut brittle recipe, well, that you'll have to pry from my cold dead hands or either pay me for it. Your choice.

And with this season of sharing I'm going to share with you my version of:

Mock Toffee

2 sticks butter (1 cup)
1 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1 cup finely chopped pecans
1 teaspoon vanilla
40 saltine crackers
12 oz. bag of milk chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line, with foil, a jelly roll pan. Cover the bottom with saltines. Bring to a boil butter, vanilla and sugar. Cook for 3 minutes. Pour mixture over crackers and coat thoroughly. Put pan in oven and bake for 7 minutes till bubbly. Remove from oven and sprinkle chocolate chips over crackers and let melt. Spread with spatula to cover crackers. Sprinkle with nuts. Let cool and break into pieces. Keep in air tight container.

My girlfriend Yvette made this last year and it was so good. She made me a batch this year as well and it was gone within days. I snarled at Roman when he tried to take a piece from me. Good stuff. Share worthy.

I Have Failed

You want a Breeder update, c'mon admit it, you do. During this season of holly and jolly we all like to take a break and take a gander at the disgusting underbelly of humanity. My neighbors will have to fit that bill.

There is good news and there is bad news and even more bad news. The good news, their house is for sale. The bad news, they've priced it $20,000 above the appraised value and in this neighborhood, with houses being put on the market daily due to the large military population and most pricing them at appraised value or less to move them OR a willingness to lease, I don't foresee those two fuckwits across the street moving any time soon. It's been on the market 6 months, I'm guessing it'll be on the market 6 years from now at this rate. Word on the street, it's pretty "used" on the inside. I did see them lug in gallons of paint and they did have to replace the entire back yard lawn, which they let die this summer. So, there might be hope. We'll see.

Now the really bad news. Earlier this week I had an actually verbal confrontation with Mr. Breeder. In my defense this is only the 3rd time I've spoken with the man. 3rd time to talk and only one verbal confrontation is a new record for me. Really, it is!

Sunday, the Husband, here to for, now referred to as Roman, was blowing the leaves from the yard, side walks and front porch. We were having a PAR-TAY and needed to spiff up. He came in ranting and raving about all the cigarette butts littering our yard and lining our side of the street. Now people, I don't smoke and neither does Roman and to my knowledge none of my neighbors do either, except one. Mr. Breeder.

He smokes outside and talks on the phone and drinks his Bud Lights. That's his current job since loosing his paying gig with the USPS. Yeah, evidentially you CAN get fired from the post office, who knew?

So back to the ranting and raving of Roman. He's not disgusted by much but someone else's nasty cigarette butts in our yard tend to tee him off a bit. I tried be the voice of reason and give Mr. Breeder the benefit of the doubt saying, "Maybe he emptied an ash tray into the trash can and the trashmen accidentally dumped some of it out on the street? It happens, they aren't always really careful. We always end up with packing peanuts on the street." He insisted that he's seen Mr. Breeder out front smoking and tossing his butts into the gutter. "Bah!" I say, "We're looking for additional reason to dislike them." Never a truer statement has been uttered.

So Monday afternoon I'm sitting here at my desk, in my office, and I see with my own two eyes Mr. Breeder take that last long drag of a Marlboro and toss the butt into the street. That jackhole! And here I was willing to give that idiot the benefit of the doubt! So I go out onto my front porch and yell across the street, "Hey! Quit throwing your nasty cigarette butts in the street, they end up in my yard when the wind blows!" To which he says, "Kiss my ass!" Did you catch that people? He invited me to kiss his ass. I threw up a little in my mouth just now. The thought totally and completely repulses me. The only retort I could muster was, "Oh go FUCK YOURSELF!" Merry Christmas.

That's it. That's all I had. After all the years of going to the Matilda Pottymouth School of Sarcasm and Whit that's all I could say. People, do you realize the golden damn opportunity I missed!?!?

I came inside and slammed the door in a huff. Not because I was angry at that fuckstick telling me to kiss his ass but I was truly and genuinely pissed at myself for not coming up with something more cleaver. I failed. I want a do over.