Why Starch Is No Longer My BFF...

Or, Sweet-Baby-Jesus-Don't-Make-Me-Eat-Anymore-Starchy-Foods...

Take your pick. Anyway you cut it, boil it, bake it, fry it, whatev, I am DONE.

My beloved husband is considering divorcing my ass if I continue to eat starch. Not really. But I would not blame him one bit if he did. I am, how shall I put it, a bit gaseous. And, um, slightly stinky. Well, hell. If I can't talk about it to you guys, who do I tell? Anyhoo. It's pretty bad. Really bad.

I don't really have any idea how to broach the subject with Mummy Dearest. She has always prided herself on being a good cook. And she is. Truly. But if I eat another potato I may throw myself off the deck. The thing is? My Diddy will only eat certain veggies. Potato's being one of them. I know. It makes me nuts.

Why don't I cook, you ask? Because my Diddy doesn't really care for what I cook. He doesn't say so in so many words, but I can sorta tell. I use a lot of olive oil and fresh garlic in my cooking. I also make a lot of things he will not eat. Things involving turkey sausage, fresh veggies, whole wheat pasta, etc. We generally eat healthier food. We like lots of fresh fruits and veggies. I fry nothing. I am the opposite of my mother in the kitchen in every way. The one night I did cook? Was okay. The boys loved it. But I didn't feel like it would be something I would be doing again while we were here.

Which really sucks. I miss cooking. Very much. I am already planning the things I will be making the first week in our new place. And the good news is that that looks like it will be happening sooner than we thought. Like maybe in the next few weeks. We are going to look next weekend. If everything goes as planned, we will be moving at the end of the month.

Keep your fingers crossed. And maybe your toes, too.

Forkaphobia...

I don't actually know if that is a real phobia, but we will pretend it is. I've tried looking it up to no avail. Does anyone know if it is a phobia? Anyone? Bueller?

It is another one of my "family jokes". I know. I have a lot of 'em. What can I say. We are a funny family. Don't be haters. Back to the story...

My father loves to run things in to the ground. And stomp on them. And then maybe jump up and down on 'em for good measure. When that happens and we no longer feel like humoring him we say " Okay, you're done. Stick a fork in it". This has been going on for years. Last night I decided to take it one step further. He was rambling on about something that was so no longer funny. I got up, walked in to the kitchen and grabbed a fork from the siverware drawer. Then I walked back in to the living room and stood by the couch until I had his attention. And handed him the fork. The look on his face was priceless. He later told me that he could not believe his only daughter would be so cruel. To which I replied that he was just jealous that he had never thought of it. Which was true. Which then led to the discussion of phobias( see why I never explain my stories?!).

Since I also love running things in to the ground I decided that I needed to make him a t-shirt with the definition of forkaphobia on it! Wouldn't that be the funniest thing ever? I need to come up with a better name first. Anyone got any ideas? Lemme know. I'm off tomorrow and plan on heading up to Michael's.

Because I also plan on making one for my Bubba. Hee hee. But I can't write what I'm going to put on it because his girlfriend reads my blog. But it is FUNNY! After I make the t-shirts I will try to post a picture of them.

The Bitch Is REALLY Back!!

So. I know I have said it before, but now it is really true. I am BACK! HA!

Due to some slightly weird circumstances completely beyond my control, I am now living with my parents.

Again.

Well, I should say "WE" are living with my parents. In my old bedroom. Swell times.

I promise to deliver a lengthy post tomorrow to explain it all.

In the meantime- I AM BACK!!!

As you were...

Relax...

I have changed the template on my blog. If you don't see your name in my People I love... don't be alarmed. Those were the links I could remember off the top of my head. I will be adding everyone else shortly.

Right now I need to go see a woman about a crock pot!! SQUEEEEEEE! My mama bought me a crock pot!

Sadly, I am really excited about that. I may need to get out more...

Man, I Wish I Was Beautiful...

For almost all of my life, I was told I was "fat". I was a "heavy girl". I would have to be careful of my weight. My mother started harping on me at an early age that weight=beauty. I don't honestly do not feel she realized she had done so. Because she was overweight as a child. And had already known the price.

Fast forward several years. I do not ever remember my own mother telling me I was beautiful. Ever. My teenage years where I needed to know about make-up and girly things, she didn't know that. She never had that life. She was always second fiddle to her sister. My Aunt Joni. Who was the most fun person ever.

And the reason my parent's met. And the person I most resemble. We have the same color eyes. She introduced my parent's. She was actually my Dad's blind date. And she told my Mom that "she would be stupid to let a guy like that go." So my Mom asked him out for coffee. He accepted. And that was that. They married and began their life together. And then...

She was killed in a motorcycle accident after I was born.

It is difficult to live with that, but made even more so when you resemble her.

I am not her. I am me. I remember her, barely.

I am Jenny. Just Jenny. I am your daughter and your friend. I am just me.

Will that ever be enough? Can that ever be enough?