Yup. This is a post about bread. You got a problem with that?

As some of you know (or maybe none of you (as you can see I don't know who even reads this)), food/cooking/baking is and was a big part of my life. Like most little tots I started with the basics, Campbell's soup and mac and cheese (In fact there is a story floating somewhere around our family tree about a furious four year old me (or maybe it was my sister...) that called parental units on a babysitter because she was trying to convince either me (or my sister) that you didn't need to add water to Campbell's soup) and from there, inched my way slowly into the world or real food one parent supervised vegetable chopping, pot stirring, ingredient pouring session at a time. Eventually we came to a point where, and I believe it was around the sophomore year, I began to plan and cook many of the meals that graced our family table. Now mind you, this little diatribe isn't relevant to the topic, ok maybe the food part, but the rest of it is really just what I think is interesting background that really none of you (if YOU even exist) would ever want or care to know. Anywho, this little background story provides the beginnings of a very important conclusion that I came to yesterday.

While munching on a slice of french baguette left over from the staff luncheon I came to the beautiful, and somewhat obvious realization, that bread is possibly the most whole, beautiful, and completely satisfying food ever to grace the human palette. Now, I can hear some of you anti-carb, gluten-free, superhero diet, raw foodists gasp and splutter over the lack of nutritional value, stomach clogging, blah, blah, blah... *snore*...I don't care. If those of us really took time to think about the bread we have eaten, good, bad, sweet, sourdough, or wonder, and try and remember what it tasted like, how we felt when we ate it, and what it meant to us at the time I think we could remember how multifaceted and satisfying a piece of bread is.

I mean, just the components of bread itself are simply beautiful. The rich, soft flours, the fragrant yeast, and all the glorious and unending accouterments that can be added to it. Bread it of the earth, simple and delicious, and in many ways bread is like people. And no, I am not going all Soilent Green on you trying to say that bread is people, or made from people, because that is, well its just gross, and creepy, and lets face it Soilent Green is not longer very relevant in terms of it's social commentary.

Sorry.

Back on track...

Bread is inherently like people. Flour is our heart and body, yeast is our blood, etc, etc. My real point is that this bread is creative and unending in its differences and constant in its similarities, just like human kind. There are sweet breads, savory breads, plain breads, breads with seeds, breads with nuts, bread with berries and fruit, bread with vegetables, the list goes on and on. I believe that the infinite combinations of ingredients you could make a different type of bread to individually represent each single person that lives on this earth (you could probably throw some animals in there too, but we don't want to push it).

I don't know why it was important to me, or why this conclusion decided to remain with me through my commute home, making dinner, working-out, sleeping, waking up....Oh. What were we talking about?

Oh right.

Bread.

It's delicious, it's easy, it's filling, it's versatile, it's nutritious, and you can't really ever go wrong with bread. Bread is awesome.

I think we should all go by a baguette and stop fighting.

That is it. Bread is the key to happiness. Bread is the key to world peace. Bread is the key to ending hunger and poverty. Bread is life.

Bread is the answer to all life's problems.

I am a genius and I think I should call the bank about a possible small business loan.

Or maybe I could just shut up and have a slice of bread.

Next time you are having a bad day, or a mediocre day, or heck, even a good day. Have a slice of bread and just see how it makes you feel.

Awesome, right?

yeah....I knew it.

Zombies, Maltese dogs, and change.

Do you know what I wish?

I wish I was better. Not necessarily at something specific (although, that is kind of an automatic duh) I just wish I was better at being a human. Ok, maybe that came out wrong. No I am not an alien, or a cyborg, or a republican (I kid, kinda). I just kind of suck at being alive sometimes (kind of like zombies, but without all the brains).

I think we all have times when we just feel like we trudge from thing to thing, not really expecting, well, anything. I just wish I created a more vibrant tapestry for myself in life, or more change (hey, vibrant tapestry makes me sound fancier, and I need to use this college degree for something dammit). I mean, it's not like I want a snake to show up in my shower every 4th day or a gopher to bite my toes at the park when I take the dog out, because those thing would be, well, mostly horrifying and painful. I suppose my needs are based on the envy that I feel for others in my life. I know, I know, envy is a bad thing, we should be content with the happiness that we are given (blah, blah, bla....ZzZzZz. Oh, sorry I dozed off from all your judgemental, judginess). This may be true but, is it wrong to want a little of the spice back?

You know what would be a lot easier, if you could just by spice of life at the store, but not to one of those specialty stores that make you drive out in the the middle of nowhere strip mall land where you feel like you are suddenly going to be ambushed by a mess of dateline cameras accused of talking online with a 12 year old boy where the store employees give you weird looks because they just KNOW you're not from around here and its really hard to find what your looking for and your afraid to ask because of the suspicious employees and your a little creeped out by how sticky the floors are kind of places, because that would so NOT be worth it. You know what I'm saying though? Just walk into the grocery store and pick up a bottle of Spice of Life *Now made with 30% more sunshine and edible glitter!* with your necessary milk and apples or soy milk and frozen pizza or Rolaids and laxatives (You know, the usual).

So yeah. We should get on that. You know what? Since now all those wicked smart NASA people are going to all be out of jobs we should get them a grant to develop stuff like this. It is after all, science, right? Or maybe its voodoo or perhaps it would be the job of those America's Test Kitchen people. I'll do some research....


Anyway, I need some change, but like most Americans I fear change.

Oh wait. No I don't, well I do, but I don't mostly. But come on! Sometimes change is scary. Have you ever cut like 5 inches off your hair with a new stylist who half way through cutting your hair tells you that she just graduated from beauty school and you are her first customer. That, my friends, is pure fear. The fear that your need for a "new spring look" will wind up making you look like a half-rabid Maltese with a skin condition is enough to set you off of change for a good 5 years, along with giving you a startling fear or salon chairs and Maltese dogs.

What were we talking about?

I am so lost.

What to do when hate is no longer a four letter word but rather an endless string of crazy ramblings, run on sentences, commas, and other nonsense.

Today I'm a little hateful. I know that hate is a strong word, but, on my honor, I swear I'm not hating people, or even actions really, just situations and things (and stuff and junk). For instance, I hate that this grogginess will not leave my head, no matter how positive I am about a good day, no matter how much healthy tea I drink, no matter how much I wish (hope, pray, do a mythical rain dance for, etc.) I was back in bed sleeping peacefully with my dog and husband (oops, I think I'm supposed to put the one I love more before the other, or maybe that's what I did (*wink*), just kidding....kinda). I am hateful of the stack of dishes that seems to follow me from home to work (staring at me with it's googly plate/cup/bowl eyes) and the stack of laundry that isn't far behind. I am hateful of the insecurity that plagues my morning routine, of knowing the strength that insecurity will gain when I arrive at my office filled with marathon running, rock climbing, eating lentils and kale everyday (sweet, thoughtful, encouraging) co-workers. Most of all, I am hateful of all the little things that seem insignificant that I would love to obliterate from my list, my ever growing (festering seems like a better word) list of to-dos, will-dos, don't dos, don't want to dos. 8 million, no, 800 million little things to hate, to loathe, to detest, to scorn, to stomp on, scream at, sneer at, pout at, kick, punch, and karate chop all ninja style with the furry of a thousand blazing little hateful dagger filled suns while yelling indiscriminate things posing as witty repartee...at.

See? It's a problem right? Its not just in my head, oh wait, yes it is, and THAT is the problem right? Its all in my head, which, biologically speaking, is nothing more than slimy, pinkish/whitish tinged coils shoved into my skull sending tiny electrical signals and releasing chemicals and hormones and other sciencey, fancy doing stuff, stuff. BUT to me (cause that what you really want to know right? oh... you don't? well...to bad) it is like a constant elementary school game of red rover when your 1st grade class is playing against the far bigger, far stronger 5th graders and you just keep sending over kid after kid after kid and one by one BAM! each of those kids is close lined, knocked to the ground, birds and stars adorning their vision unable to regain their reasoning behind participating in this ludicrous game (seriously people there is a reason why schools won't allow it to be played anymore, its brutal, I believe in my day there were broken bones and concussions involved), and that ladies and gentlemen is what it feels like to be a thought in my head. It's a pretty picture huh?

So maybe I should see a therapist (*scoff*), or maybe an exorcist (*giggle*), or maybe, just maybe I should buy a million dollars worth of chocolate pudding and fill an Olympic sized pool with it an swim around all day, wait, that wasn't relevant (or was it...). I don't know, maybe its the pessimist in me that daily beats up the optimist nerd and takes his lunch money(I'm thinking about buying the optimist a gym membership, he really needs to bulk up) or maybe its just the fact that I take things way to seriously, or maybe I just need to shut up. What I do know is that being a little hateful can ruin your day, even when its only 10am, and that my friends is no fun, because this day barely had a chance, I mean it is Monday and we all know that this guarantees an automatic day fail, but the hatefulness, that just makes it worse and I've got to find a way to fix that, or channel it, or...something. I'm open to suggestions.

As long as they don't involve snakes. Or tomatoes.

You have to draw the line somewhere.

(You might not realize this but I am actually kind of normal. I swear.)

Happy Monday!

It wednesday and that, well, that's just sad.

If this blog is any indication ( I say indication you might say "red flag"), I obviously try much to hard at, well, pretty much everything. So I'm a bit dramatic and I probably think too much of myself (or maybe I think so little of myself that I have confidence in my lack of confidence)? Who says that's a crime? Ok, it might lead to crime considering they are traits in 2/3 of serial killers but hey, who doesn't like Dexter right? I love Dexter, and if you don't well then you probably just aren't as cool as me and therefore should be going about your business continuing to not read my patheic/manic ramblings about Dexter. Anyway the result of this um, epiphany, is that I am now going to try and not take myself so seriously (if I hear you laughing I might cry, and my tears are tiny ninjas so watch it). Here is a list of recent discoveries/events in my life;



*I really like laughing cow Swiss cheese wedges, even though I hate Swiss cheese (don't judge me, someday a tiny snake will pop out of one of the holes and bite your lip and then who will be judging who, huh? )

* Canada is a great country and they make the best hash browns ever. Ever.

* I ran a 5k, which was hard and it hurt, signed up for an 8k and didn't do it. Take that consistency and follow through!

* My husband started cooking dinner. This makes me happy, and sad because, well, I don't know it just makes me sad.

* I started watching Dexter ( are you bored by this list yet? Oh, you already stopped reading. Oh. Well. Um. Yeah.)

* I started reading a strange melange of blogs and as you can see I have also started using fancy french words that mean ordinary things. Pamplemousse!

* I really like coffee, and tea, but not together cause that would just be weird.



and then there are these,



And.....I'm done.

Hoping to be more clever tomorrow, or at least less, needy...


But don't hold out much hope.

Just working the cobwebs out.

The clouds a rumble, they seethe and storm, as through the mist they come in form. The horsemen, baring steely down their gazed affixed against my rooted ground. Pull up sharp; the pain in my chest beats wildly, madly, a beast to be let, a gaze is locked, an iced chill slides melting betwixt the fire in our eyes. I strain against the bonds held fast by the wishes and wants that have long since past and in that mirror reflected back a reel plays the highlight into the sputtering blackness of tears that bred the storming seas of wanton love and un-chased dreams, of boats that were built and never sailed, on friendships grown but left to stale. A catch in my throat, my sad scream dies, his hand reaches forth to grasp my prize. A battle rages, to fight or to lose, to relinquish the pain which deepens the bruise or to hold it fast to my heaving breast and endure the abuse and in that battle I'm transported again to the carefree memories of childhood games, a moment of light, a glint and flash, the coin of choice spins bright and fast loaded with promise and decision we stare, each silently hoping that triumph is theirs. And with a jolt my eyes fling wide, a gasp escapes as hope returns, the reel flickers black and the calm is churned. My head is lifted, the beast is at rest, as the horseman's hand retreats to his chest. A breath and a nod are all that's left as into the torrent they ride abreast, with a lightning streak and a thunder clap the four dark figures ride into the dwindling gap. A shudder is brought as the gray retreats as through the clouds the sun now peaks. Weakness overcomes as I fall to my knees my eyes are raised as with the sky I beg and please for the blessing and beauty of another day. To see through the darkness the light that shines beyond the scope of yours and mine, to find favor with the ones you love and beg forgiveness from the ultimate above. To see in ourselves not failure or pain but to abide in the innate goodness that exists once again.

Breaking the Bone To Set it In Place.

There are just days where the contemplations of life bring your body and your mind to the breaking point. The living conception that there are things present in the world today; feelings, emotions, events, that can bring so much pain and suffering to a person that they will to make their heart stop from the agony of it all. There are days when my heart hurts, when I observe the terror and hate that we inflict upon humanity for the good of ourselves and my eyes want to burst with tears and I must my clench my fists and tighten my mouth to keep from my own anger and pain form adding insult to injury. Each day I see the drawn faces of parents who will never know the joy of dancing at their childs wedding, or holding their grandchildren, I see them struggle to understand why, why their child can't hold a pencil or blow bubbles, why they can't will their child to speak so that they can understand their wants and needs more clearly. I see their disappointment in themselves, their wonder of what they did. I walk the steps to my cozy home and see the disgruntled men and women wandering, picking up cans, trying to find what little hope of a meal or comfort in the few dollars they can scrounge and I hear the snearing and jearing from society wondering why they can't better themselves for the good of "respectable people", why they can't sober up, why they can't pull themselves up out of their situation, and yet those same "respectable people" can't see their own friends struggling with the loss of jobs, scrimping and saving to buy their children schools clothes or this weeks groceries, selling the car to pay the morgage and putting on a smiling face so know one will know that their just not making it. It makes me wonder how more people don't just break-down and cry from it all. The feeling of helplessness, the charge of ingnorance and intolerence, the enormity of the problem and lack of awarness, the wish to solve the worlds problems and the complete and crushing knowledge that you will never, ever, be able to.

But, then I remember the joy of a wathing child running around a darkned room without abandon, smile blazing, because of the shining glow stick you just handed them, or the parent laughing with tears in their eyes because their child just said a 6 word sentance for the first time in their lives. The simple joy of seeing the smiles of others when you open a door for them or just say hello on your morning walk. Small, unabrtusive things that bring my heart back from the brink and remind me that joy and kindess in small amounts infinatly trump the pain that humans create for ourselves. This is what my conception of life has become, what reminds me of my own wish to brighten the lives of others. Life is not seeing the good through the bad, it isn't the light at the end of a tunnel. Light is ever present, it doesn't come after the dark, it is the dark. Beauty is not conceptualized in a leafy tree blowing in a summer breeze, or a painted sunset. Its in a city scape darkened by rain clouds. I feel as though our lives are puncuated by waiting, waiting for something we want to happen, and we become so wrapped up in waiting that we forget that life is not created by the signs or the actions of what is around us, it created by us. Only we can act for ourselves, only we can create the life we want, waiting for others to act for you will create a life of wishing, and as beautiful and perfect as wishes can be, they will never taste or sweet or feel as wonderful as the truth and being of reality.

And so I charge myself, and you, to remember what it is to stop living through vision and perception and start taking action to create the life we want, here and now, with our hands and bodies instead of with our minds.

A simple cache of empty poetic sentances, arranged artfully.

Oh, but I am a slave to my own eternal mediocrity, try to fail and fail to try to see where good intensions lie. Why a shooting star falls short, revealing unknow the distance of its course. tales and debris. Or what we could only see, is only what we make and the drastic measures tha we take, to ends of luxury, rich with comfort, filled with this and that, of sorts. Things to be regretted. Or, all we are and ever, will be, won't be, could and only, should be lonely in a world of placeless pity on those so wholly undeserving, where we become, over and over, not what we're meat, but the measly half of what could be better spent.