The Constant Struggle

I was a single mother of Chelsea and Cameron for quite awhile before Adrian rode in on his white horse (with Jordan in tow) and our blended family was created.  There was that time it was just the three of us though, and I often think of the things I did or said as their only parental figure that I wish I could change.  I don't have any regrets, really, because they both turned out to be incredible human beings.  I think so much of that has to do with the one constant they have had their entire life together:  each other.  From the time Chelsea was 16-months old and Cameron came into the world, they have been together through thick and thin.  

No matter who they were with, no matter where they were, they were always together and were there to protect each other.

There was one time - Chelsea was in the fifth grade and Cameron was in the fourth - there was a bully that had been picking on Cameron and was meeting him after school to beat him up...turns out the bully was a jy-nor-mus young lady (of sorts).  According to legend, Chelsea saw the crowd gathering and went to see what was going on.  Seeing the victim was her little brother, she stopped the bully cold, (using methods we will save for another story) and when she looked around to see if her brother was okay.............he had hidden himself under a bush (he says it's because he was told never to hit a girl, and we "believe him").

To help Cameron save face, I will tell you that years later we had moved into a new house during the summer months, so the kids weren't in school.  Chelsea and Cameron were old enough to stay home by themselves, and were playing a board game when they heard a noise outside.  Cameron looked out the window and saw a man on the side of the house.  He shuffled his sister into the closet, telling her not to move and to cover herself up with a blanket, picked up one of Adrian's golf clubs, called Adrian, and proceeded to tell him in a whisper that Chelsea was safely concealed in the closet and he had a golf club and he was ready to use it - he was 11.  Turns out he protected Chelsea from the man that was turning our water on for us.  What would he have done had it been a real predator??  I shudder to think how helpless a golf club-wielding 11-year-old would have fared, but the point is he was protecting his older sister from any harm at all costs.

Don't get me wrong, they have fought like cats and dogs most of their life and even said terrible things to one another, but let anyone ELSE say something out of sorts and it's AWN.

Last July, Chelsea got married.  We all dealt with it differently.  Cameron loves Sam (we all do!) and he was so happy to welcome an older brother into the family.  He never once said he was sad to see his sister move out (he was thrilled to move into her room).  But the wedding photographer caught the truth in his heart when she took the following picture that was taken at the end of the reception when Sam and Chelsea rode off into the sunset together...

Goodwill Toward Men

I've always been aware that I will be an eccentric old lady.  Even when I was young (er) I knew that.  I'll be the one who has dyed her hair way too black, and it will go way past my hairline on my forehead.  My red lipstick will look stained and overdone and go far too much outside the lip line.  My eyebrows will be black as coal, and drawn on to make me look like I'm surprised all the time.  I will wear gold lamé track suits and canvas sneakers with flowers all over them.  And I will smell good...like any respectable eccentric old lady should.  These things are expected of me, and I will own it.

I'm already well on my way.  I dress a little outside the box most days, but at 41 I know exactly who I am without question and my sense of style or fashion (I use those words loosely!)goes along with that.  But at 41 I also know the value of a dollar, and I've found a way to beat the system: Goodwill.

Some of you may frown upon the thought of second-hand, or shudder when it comes to wearing what someone else has worn.  Understood.  And I warn you to stop reading here if that is you.  I wouldn't want your skin to crawl at the thought of the red linen Versace shirt I bought Cameron with the $80 tag still on it for $3.99.  Or the $200 couture suit that Adrian still says is the best one he owns for $13.  Or even the $26 Prada knock-off purse I bought for myself for exactly $ .99 (that's ninety nine CENTS, Ladies and Gents).

For those of you who don't mind saving money, then read on because there is a method to the madness.  Some Goodwills are VERY proud of their stuff; by this, I mean that the pricing is left to each Goodwill's discretion.  I found a really cute wooden salad bowl I was going to get that I THOUGHT was $1.99.  It turned out to be $11.99 when I got to the register.  When I inquired what made this bowl so special, they couldn't tell me and I abandoned the purchase.  I found a cuter wooden bowl at Target (pronounced "Tar-jzay") for half that.  So definitely be cautious - just because it's Goodwill doesn't mean it's automatically a good deal.

And ya gotta be willing to DIG.  You can't just peruse...you must find your arm strength to be able to move the hangers as you look because they pack those clothes in there like cattle and you may miss the perfect bargain find if you ridicule the practicality of digging.

Look, I already know that Goodwill is mostly the place that people go when they're looking for a Halloween  costume cheap, or to just drop off the stuff they wouldn't be caught dead in when they want to feel charitable.  But don't count it out for help with your everyday wardrobe.  It makes up about 98% of what we wear and saves us money that we can use for lots of other things.

Be careful to wash  or dry clean the clothes and to get those dreaded plastic tags off before heading out of the house.  I've been caught with one sticking out of the shoulder of a dress and though I'm not ashamed of where I shop, it was not one of my finer moments.

I don't have to dye my hair yet, but I will do so proudly when the time comes.  My lipstick has always been and will always be far too red and outside the lip line, and I draw on my eyebrows with careful precision (for now).  I don't own a gold lamé track suit, but am on the lookout for one all the time...and I always smell good, like any respectable ANY-aged person should!  And I am a proud thrift store shopper who wishes you all peace on earth and Goodwill toward men (women, and children).

Smoke & Mirrors

He came to my apartment to pick me up and I was NERVOUS.  I was a single mother at the time so I made sure the kids were with a trustworthy babysitter...because I was going on my first 'official' date with Adrian Garcia. (I could have SWORN he said Garza the night I met him, but who cares?  HE WAS HOT)

I don't even remember where we went to dinner.  I'm sure it was nice, but apparently uneventful.  I know we were enjoying each other's company, though, because when we got back to my place we decided to go upstairs and play cards with my ex-roommate, who is now Adrian's step-sister.  (Yea, I know, but that's a story for another blog so stay tuned)  
Now at the time, I was a smoker.  (GASP!)  Smoking is HORRIBLE for you - I get it - and I no longer do it.  But I like to think while I was a smoker, I was a very cool smoker, because I smoked those really long (for the purpose of the story, you must know they were REALLY long), super-thin cigarettes called Capris.  So Adrian sits on my little futon in my little apartment next to my friend while I decide to 'have a ciggy'.  I was being cool, after all, and had to impress this hot guy on our first official date.

I lived upstairs and had a balcony, and as a responsible mother, I dutifully headed for that balcony to smoke so as not to allow smoke in the apartment where two small children lived.  
I opened the sliding glass door.  I put the cigarette in my red-lipstick-covered mouth (just trying to impress, Ladies and Gentlemen), and lit it - I was so sexy!  I turned toward the balcony to step outside, in a very cool and sexy manner, of course.  There's no other way to tell you what happened next except just to tell you.  I had forgotten to open the sliding screen after the glass door and with the cigarette (sexily) in my mouth I walked right into it.  Now, that's embarrassing enough on it's own, but not too bad.  HOWEVER COMMA, when I walked into the screen the (very long, skinny) cigarette was pushed straight up and the lit end landed on my forehead direct-center.  And it BURNED.  You could even hear the singe of skin.  My date and my friend had no recourse but to laugh, which left ME no recourse but to (fight through the pain) and laugh with them.

Now hang tight here, Folks, because it's just getting good.

I fall back onto the futon between the two giggling hyenas, trying to be the cute girl on the first date who can laugh at myself, too.  As I am laughing (and my forehead is smoking), I PASS GAS.  Well, we all know flatulence is funny at every corner unless you're stuck in an elevator with a big guy who ate beans and cabbage for dinner.  Adrian looked at me, eyes widened and lookin' like an owl, pointed right at me, and proceeds to laugh so hard I thought he would wet himself.  Of course, my friend joined him.  And I just sat there, with my burned forehead, holding a broken cigarette, in my own pew.

Luckily, the story doesn't end there...that was part of the beginning.  He called me again for a second date.   But that's a story for a different day.  

BE YOURSELF TODAY.  Look in the mirror and remember you're human like everyone else...and SOMEONE is gonna love you for it.

A Yolk with No Punchline

My friend came over this morning to have a lovely cup of organic coffee and a veggie frittata I made for us to share.  I hardly ever get to see her or talk to her.  (There's a ton of you out there that share a similar relationship with me, and for that I apologize.  You know who you are)  But when I do see her it's like we were never apart, and that's a good friend.
We hugged, prayed, had some small talk, laughed, and then shared some interesting conversation.   She shared about how her  pregnancy is coming along (she is radiant)  and also how her husband is doing.  He suffers from sleep paralysis and a benign tumor on his pituitary gland and has been working very hard to get his health in a good place. 
Recently, I had a dear friend lose her husband in the military.  They have a small child.  She is one of the strongest people I've ever known - and so graceful in her mourning, but of course, struggles as a now-single mother to get their life in a good place.
Here I sit, sometimes feeling so sorry for myself with all the attack we've been under, and yet I hear these things and I am reminded that someone else is always going to carry a greater or heavier burden and I should be grateful for what I do have - because our health or even our life could be taken from us at any time.
We are so strong and so delicate at the very same time.  For Cameron to have the accident he had and still be alive shows the strength in us; and the friends I've mentioned who suffer in very different ways show how fragile we are as well.
It's like the eggs I used to make the frittata this morning.  They break so easily, like us.  But as I cooked them, they got stronger - harder to break.  I think when we suffer, it's God's way of 'cooking' us and making us stronger.
How eggsellent!! (Couldn't help myself)
PS: Quick & Easy Frittata for Two
6 sliced mushrooms
1/2 yellow bell pepper, rough chopped
1/2 seeded and finely chopped jalapeno
About 1/2 cup parsley, rough chopped
4 eggs
1 slice cheddar cheese
Pour about 1 tbs (you can just eyeball this measurement) extra virgin olive oil into a small pan.  (I use my cast-iron skillet because it's non-stick and oven friendly and also makes for a really cute presentation, but you can use any small frying pan and just put foil over the handle when the time comes to put it in the oven)  heat the oil over medium heat and then put all the veggies into the pan.  cook them for about 5 minutes or until just soft.  While the veggies are cooking through, take the four eggs and whisk them in a small bowl.  Add about a tbs of water and put aside.  (Slightly) salt and pepper the veggies and stir (wait until this part to salt so the moisture doesn't come out of the mushrooms), then add the eggs.  Lower the heat to medium-low and let the eggs and veggies cook together for about 2 minutes.  Meanwhile, turn the oven on to 350 degrees.  Break up your slice of cheddar and carefully place the pieces on top of the egg mixture and do not stir.  Pop your frying pan in the oven for about 5-10 minutes, checking it to make sure it doesn't over-cook.  Take it out and let it sit for about a minute or two.
I sprinkled a little fresh thyme over it, sliced an apple and put a few pieces on each plate, and served the frittata by cutting it in half at the table.
It was nummy and that's no yolk.  HAAA!

I Heart Leftovers

Some people think leftovers are the thing to avoid.  They just can't do leftovers.  I've never been that person, but I do get it.  I grew up with meager means, to say the least so my personal panic button is thinking about wasting food.  With the boat we're in now, in order to make sure it doesn't sink, I have to find a way to make leftovers appealing and not like leftovers at all.
So there are the chicken teriyaki skewers I made the other night.  They were DELICIOUS and easy and super inexpensive.  I just took chicken tenderloins and marinated them in soy sauce, hoisin, and a little bit of sesame oil.  (Now these are all things I have on hand minus the chicken pieces so that was all I had to buy.  To me, if you've got a little Asian salad dressing in the fridge, just use that!)  I then soaked my skewers while the chicken marinated.  So I sprinkle a little Kosher salt and some pepper on both sides and pop them in a 350 degree oven for around 20 -25 minutes.  A simple salad on the side and you've got an inexpensive, healthy meal!  
Now...on to the leftover part.  I've got enough chicken skewers left to send with Adrian (AND Cameron) for lunch and then some.  So he's had them for supper.  He's had them for lunch.  LAST thing he wants is to have them for supper again!
What to do??  
I took some flour (unbleached organic for us for health purposes, but any kind of all-purpose will do), yeast, olive oil, honey, warm water and a little salt (all lying around the house dying to be used!)  I made pizza crust from scratch (SO easy, recipe to follow), and poured some barbecue sauce we had in the cabinet (organic, thanks for the gift, Karen Merritt!) over it, and sprinkled the leftover chicken on top.  I sprinkled a little shredded cheddar we had lying around on top and popped it in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes.  VOILA!  Barbecued chicken pizza!  (Adrian and Cameron both took the pizza for lunch the next day!)
Let's talk this through: Two packages of the chicken came to about $8 and I used pantry items and staples for the rest.  I made dinner and lunch and dinner and lunch again, two different ways.  I fed three people.  So four meals and three people comes to roughly (and for all my math OCDs out there, I do mean ROUGHLY) a dollar per meal per person!  
Every morning I get to wake up, I remember I'm leftover from the day before.  I try to remember that when it comes to my food and fuel, and the respect it deserves for the role it plays in mine and my family's life.
(Getting past the serious stuff and moral of the story...here's the quick and easy pizza crust recipe!)
2 cups flour
1 pkg (or 1 tbsp dry active yeast)
3/4(ish) tsp salt
1 cup WARM water
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp honey
Pour flour into a large mixing bowl.  Add yeast and salt.  mix well.  Add water, oil, and honey and mix well.  Cover and place in a warm spot for 10 - 15 minutes to rise.
Punch down and press into a greased 14-inch pizza pan (or 10-inch for thicker crust)  Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes or until crust is golden brown and cheese is melted.
YUM.

Races, Hammers, & Snowballs

When you're running a race and you get to that place - you know that place, the one where you get a sharp pain in your neck and your side as though someone is shankin' ya - and you wonder should you stop, slow down, or just plow through it?  But at the very same moment it goes away, and you decide to push harder - all because you felt that breakthrough.

You have a hammer and you're pounding a nail into the wall, determined to hang that picture, and you hit a beam - or stud, if you will - and it feels like you can't go any further or the nail will just bend or break.  You wonder, "Should I just keep hitting the nail harder or try to take the nail out and hang this somewhere else?"  Just as you're wondering this, the hammer hits the nail in a little further so you decide to hit harder - because you felt that breakthrough.

You probably think this is going to be all cheese and lollipops about persevering and to keep going until you hit that breakthrough.  Well Folks, it isn't.  (Well, it KIND of is)  I am comparing it to constant trials in our lives. Being whacked over and over with the devil's proverbial snowballs.  He keeps pounding and pounding while you try to stand firm until he finds himself wondering if he should slow down or even stop.  Just as he is wondering if you're too strong for him, he feels a little crack in your igloo armor (staying with the snowball analogy here) and decides to plow through and hit harder.  I know this for a fact.  Today felt a little like I was abdicating my igloo. But now that I've come to the realization that the enemy looks for that breakthrough moment I've decided I won't give him his shining moment - not today, anyway.