Social Experiments

I should be doing training but my head hurts so badly I can barely see.. My eyes are twitching and I am almost sure that if I shake it even slightly my brain will explode and ooze goo all over.
That bad.
So instead of tryin to figure out where I went wrong in the set up of my profile to publish documents for the 2094234 time I will instead write.

I don't know how well you know me. .I dont much care. Not much lately is above the eh level anyway.. when you rescript your dream the stupid little shit kinda falls to the wayside.

Several years ago... I was young. Very young. And somehow, in the effort to do what I thought was helping a family member I took over care of her child.
Zanie was roughly 4 when I first took her. I am sure when I first decided that this would be a good idea some adult (namely momma) told me it wasnt a good idea.
I don't know that it was. I dont know that it wasnt.
I do know that we could have called it project Birth Control.
I do know it was also proof that young women shouldnt be considered responsible parents. I was mature and sure as hell not ready in the slightest.

See.. being responsible for the care and feeding of a child who couldnt express what she wanted (eggs like her momma made .. namely a boiled egg sliced by an egg slicer) and getting said child cute to go wherever.. was reason enough for me to NOT try to have a child on my own. I found out quickly the child was the cute one and I was the haggard, waspish one. I found out that I didn't rate when she had a need or a want. Or I needed or wanted quiet.

We had some simple rules.. I figured if I set expectations she'd end up a well rounded nice girl.
All I can say at this point is I handed over care and feeding of her after the storms when I realized her mother should be the important, primary figure in her life. .
But she shaped me. She molded me. She had a hand in the Nikki you know.

Rule one and the main rule was if you behave you get to go good, fun places. If you embarras me I will embarrass you more and you will never ever see fun or good again.
This rule worked. It has worked on Buster. I figure if you socialize children early and tell them what horrors will befall them you will end up with a well behaved child in public.

I didn't often say no.. but my pocket book wasnt unlimited.. I had a great amount of help in my life.. but we couldnt go whole hog all the time.. in the same effort she rarely heard no. Mostly because if I brought it up I could either afford it or had figured what would NOT happen if we did x, y, or z.

I think this is where I failed. Never did we talk about responsibilty. Never did we talk about poor choices.
Talks about drug use and drinking and smoking were lectured on for hours. Talks about boys and what was acceptable and not.. years.. some of it sunk in.
Oddly enough while doing her makeup the other nite it was " young girls shouldnt wear mascara on their lower lashes"

Where was the honor thyself and remember that boys will always always always come and go?

I thought I'd end up with this responsible, bright, well read, interested and most importantly interesting girl.

I can't say she's "done" or that she's finished.. I can say I stepped away quietly a few years ago.

I hope she comes into a few things on her own.. or by observation.
The one thing I am most thankful of my recent grown spurt is my gratitude of the most simple things.
I hope I remmeber to thank the people who join me.
To appreciate what others do for me.
To not take stuff or life for granted.
To say please. To say thank you. To say I love you.

As I remind Buster: manners!

So the social experiments? In my eyes.. fail. Zanie is an ok kid.. but still needing loads more guidance that I am, due to outside and inside circumstances, unable to provide. I don't think I realized I'd be blamed for everything thats "wrong" with her. I don't think I realized at the time that there was anything wrong with my intent or purpose.

I just wanted a happy. smart. sweet kid.
And who knows.. maybe a switch will flip at 18.

I miss when I ruled the world, set tentative schedules, and ruled with an iron fist. I miss when my disapproval equalled a different behavior because she knew her world would be rocked if something didnt give. I miss the little girl who would talk and question EVERYTHING.

If I had it to do again.. from this standpoint, I'd do almost all of it the same.. but I'd prolly put a lil more investment in the doing the right thing.. for the right reason.. more of the family matters.. yet I know.. I KNOW I did that. I know I know I know I did. So maybe I'd do it all differently.. and maybe, just maybe that failure is reason to not do it again at all.

I'm still holding out hope that my teenage mind wasn't all that off. I'd settle for an effort of appreciation. one day she'll know it matters.. people matter. this matters.

77 wonderful reasons Snowball Rocks

I could prolly compose an entire list but I will forgive myself in advance that I wont even try.

My Granny's 77th birthday was Saturday. Since I celebrate my birthday for different lengths depending on my level of energy (the longest was six weeks, the shortest was two weeks) I figure it's only proper to let her have a long weekend's celebration. She IS 77. WE are very *lucky* that she's here to celebrate with us. There is a vast sense of blessings that we should feel bestowed upon us that she was there to spoil and be entertained by.

This is my Granny. She also goes by Snowball.

It started as a rumor that there would be a brunch. That extended family would be invited.. but the lives got in the way and some of her daughters didn't realize they had plans and other people planned weddings and well.. life isn't fun if the plans aren't messed with a few or six times.

From there we (I) decided that there would be a dinner out. I gave two choices.. one was in Lafayette which would have included a drive to and from but yummy food the other was a closer drive and one of her favorite restaurants. I knew when I made the suggestions which would be the choice. Arrangements were made and I got permission to bring in a cake and the people were great about accomodating me. We all know how much I appreciate getting my own way.
Hissy and Buster and the rest of the family were all invited. Life being what it is we had about a 50% attendance. Acceptable, I suppose.

Hissy, for the first time since she's mobile, behaved beautifully. While getting ready Buster, the bestest kid in the world, searched the toychesttub for the perfect take along toys to put in the magic purse to pull out if we needed distraction.. sometimes our toys are hits.. sometimes huge misses. This time we lucked out. The kid was so good I almost forgot to have a panic attack.

You almost forget for a minute why her nickname is Hissy (and she's even startin to look up when you call her that!)


We had a nice evening with the restaurant being filled with people from our town.



Smoke break escapees without Hissy

From there we had planned a second dinner on her actual birthday after a morning of hair appointments and visits of the different people in different places.. she even drove by my house and assumed (correctly) that I was still sleeping --
side note.. when the phone rings at 818 am I decide to sleep as late as possible and thus ensues the phone and cell ringing more than its rang ever since I moved home. 4 times on the house phone and 6 on the cell not counting texts and ims. I was not amused.

That nite we had crawfish.. Stelly's in Abbeville has been providing some really nice selections and are closer than Kips when we're already home... plus Kbird and I were already in Abbe for some Wally world shoppin.

There are no pics of crawfish. Just know they were perfectly perfect.

When I returned home that nite I started to bake the birthday cake. My Gran has some particular tastes lately.. since her last stroke she's really got a sweet tooth and we've allowed her to pretty much eat anything she could possibly desire. She specifically decided this time that she doesnt like icing (recent thing I swear) and that she wanted a coconut cake.

I remember my Gram making this cake.. it's a simple yellow cake and then while it's cooling you take a can of Ancel Coconut in heavy syrup and warm it with a stick of butter on the stove and pour on top of the cake.. the juice sinks in and life is beautiful again.

I did three layers and managed for them to be beautiful and even and when I went to warm my Ancel I decided to throw in vanilla beans with the butter.. wow. It was flippin amazin.


Monday was her wedding anniversary. Poppa's been gone seven years now. We don't realize how fragile life is ... I so wish for my niece and nephew that they have the opportunity to build a relationship with their great grandmother while they can. I know that Gram was--- for the longest time -- my favorite family member. I know she's not very portable. You have to go to her.. and even if you manage to get her out she does tire easily.. but she's so appreciative of the effort and the attention.. I won't go #3's route and say she's dying.. I am just saying this:
she's here. And she's trying to relax and we need to enjoy her while we can.
She's my granny.. and sometimes she is cross.. and sometimes she curses.. and sometimes she's sad for the people that we've lost.

How can we not honor those who brought us up? Raised us. Covered for us? Stood by us? Cooked for us? Baked german chocolate cakes from scratch for us? How can we forget that she's had a great amount of loss parntered with some really bad runs of poor health?

I guess back when Poppa got sick I decided that nothing is promised and I wanted to live for no regret. And I remember what it was like to not be able to be home for a holiday or birthday and wonder what I was missing. I also remember being far away and not being able to reach home in time. I don't want to live that way.. I can't force anyone else along. But then again I wont be very patient for the pity party when it's too late.

It's all about choices my loves. Live today to not cry tomorrow.

Game Over

I'd like to run hard like I used to.. to avoid this. . . . to sparkle, giggle, laugh, drink, add to the dating roster until spreadsheets are called for and no one can keep track while I make catty comments until I forget that this matters.

I'd like to remind you that my motto is 'fake it til I make it' while making you gasp at the off-the wall, cannot-be-the-way-she-really-thinks/feels comments that could so drip from my tongue like caustic honey.
I'd like to make myself believe that it doesn't matter and it will go away and everything will be sparklie dandy.

However.. somewhere along the last oh.. four years I've managed to acquire an internal aura practicalness that has apparently worn away the patina of "this doesnt matter and I don't care".

It matters.
It counts.
I care.

Somewhere after a 4 or so year recap of my dating adventures Sunday night I was reminded (again) that I am on this continuous loop. This waiting for the next big thing. I knew what it is. I knew who it is. I knew where my mind is. I knew where my leanings have led. I get it. I've ignored it. I've tried to wait myself out. I've played the waiting game and had a decent time and managed to meet some interesting individuals while waiting this out.

Like when you diet and you want chocolate. Or chocolate carmel brownies. Or chocolate scout cake. Or chocolate mocha cake. And you know you shouldnt.. so you do what alllllllllll the professionals say to do. You drink a glass of water. You eat an apple. You find a 100 calorie snack pack of some chemical crap and try to fool yourself.. except.. you want chocolate.

I want what I want until I'm done with it.
Well.. in this case.. I've wanted what I've wanted for far long enough to have gone with out it.

Time. Not time out. Time. Game over. Done. Finis. Finished. Over it.
To borrow a gamer's term.. I think it's apt to say 'Game Over'.. just without the princess at the end being rescued. Tha's a different game and this is a different story.

I've waited. Patience is not a virtue of which I practice. I am damn good at drawing a line in the sand and MAKING someone face me and my battle that I've planned out.
I'm tired.
I can no longer be understanding.
Faking it til I make it is getting old.
So is waiting.
I admit defeat. This is one thing I cannot force. I cannot... I am completely unable to make this come to a head.
All I know is my head hurts from banging it on walls that others have built up. I've used up every bit of the patience I have inside of me and it's left me really tired and worn and mostly short tempered. And sad. I really thought I could wait this out ya know.. ?

I don't know that I'm ready to play the game again. The get to know you, you're so interesting, I want to be nice to you game. I don't know that I am capable of the bullshit that is called for. So it might be slow progress. Or not. But there will not be this waiting on something that *is*not*fuckin*happenin*.

What's it mean? No more planned escapes that fall flat. No more unanswered emails. No more figuring out time differences and taking a chance that someone might be there when you "ding" them. No more sending pictures and updates and pieces of me and my adventures trying to get you to join me in this world.. or any world of your choosing or our making.. asking for input and trying to be sweet when all I want to do is scream.
So.. what's left? Moving on. There's no possessions to split. There's no town to leave or state to divide. It's all mine. There's really nothing to do but stop living life on pause. Join the rest of the world and don't look back.

No more. It's not needed when you let go.

I can't say I gave it my best.. I can say that I tried as long as I could tho.

I am not afraid of the yeast.

Let's see if I can get this right:
I can say it's easily understood, if not documented, I enjoy a well lived life.
I believe that it's understood, but NOT documented, that I've had some ups and downs and numerous challenges..
(the reason that I know it's not documented is because if anyone else tried to write it down it wouldn't be close to as funny as what really happened and I have it on firm faith {yes me faith} that if I did sit down and write it all down it would equate into a huge offering from some Hollywood wheeler and dealer and end with a HUGE paycheck at which point I'd immediately purchase condos in some of my favorite cities and begin my rounds of visits/escapes and have two to three family members kidnapped into white slavery.. tho I am considering other options they may enjoy better.. jus until they learned a real lesson and were sorry.. for everything. Then we'd let them come back.. and put em on a farm. Somewhere else.)
Anyway.
I think it's fair to say that while I have a horrid memory I have some wonderful memories of growing up. I have tear inducing memories of houses that no longer stand and people who are no longer with us physically. I have joy in my soul because of my angels that I know. I know that life will be ok because of faith learned from watching exactly how we came to be. I know where my anchor is. Where my glue is. Where my heart is.
Where the HELL is she goin with all of this you ask?
It began with a "job" --- the task of organizing my momma is no small task.. And if I pull it off without one of us livin in a "Home" it'll be pure miracle.. But part of the job was one that came from my heart.. I wanted her to have an organized place for all of "her" recipes.. the faithful 'go-to's' that you know will work, that you've handed down, that people ask for at every family gathering (or know better than to expect at anytime but holidays) not only for her to know where they are but also for her to be able to pass down.. not jus to me.. I've already made off with those that I am interested in anyway.. but to Libby... to Kel.. to the girls.. to Buster and Hissy when it comes time for them to leave the nest(s).
Then it was followed up by a frantic phone call from my mother when she found out I'd absconded with her recipe folder. Where folder means a bright pank (not pink) folder that she thieved from some Hello Kitty third grader.. it's that pink. THEN it was followed up with a lecture that I'd gotten them out of order.
"there was an order there? I didn't know lumped together was an order" -- nope.. she didn't slap me.
Then she promptly started tearin through the thing.. and finally answered me with what she was lookin for. An old recipe. One that wasn't there. I know. I looked.
The last angelic prompting came in the form of Mattchew, my Granny's favorite. asking on Good Friday..
All of this leads to Libby laughing at me while I (apparently screamed) chanted from the kitchen "I am not afraid of the yeast, I am not afraid of the yeast, I am not afraid of the yeast"

You see.. ever the baker I am afraid of yeast. It's alive. It's finicky. I'm afraid of killing things that don’t need killing (on the other hand.. that there man.. he needed killin I am tellin you~!)

I attempted to recover from my fear back in Atlanta when I made Cinnabon Bread for K'bert and Ale but that wasn't a good startin off recipe I later found through internet research (meaning using Google.) because it said to mix the yeast pieces/particles/beings into warm milk and the magical Google search says:
Yeast doesn't mix well into milk products you nitwit.

Pity the fool who can't access Google, huh?

Yet this recipe.. that I have found by changing the spelling of what I was looking for (PLUCKETTES .. hello, we're French/Acadian.) to PLUCK-ITs.
Duh. Not everyone is French. Cajun. Whatever. Stupid other heritages.

And so with some searching/trolling and near tears I found several things out.
1. I would have to recover from my fear of yeast.
2. I must really love my family and memory of Gram doing this to even think of trying.
3. This was gonna be involved. Messy.
oh but if it was worth it... how nice.

And we're off.. Ready?

First.. you make a Hot Roll Mix.
5 lbs all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cups sugar
4 teaspoons salt
1 cup instant nonfat dry milk powder

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Stir together to distribute evenly. Pat in a large airtight container. Label. Store in a cool, dry place. Use within 6 to 8 months. Makes about 22 cups of Hot Roll Mix.

If you're brave you half that because Margaret would turn purple if you managed to make all of that.. and it's fun to use math skills you don’t possess. (seriously. Math isn't my strong point!)

Then you pull out the following formulation and you proceed with great trepidation and occasional shouts/screams to the livin room where your mother, goddess of all things yeast based (mostly Stollen) sits and ignores the majority of your cries.

Ingredients:
1 tb Active dry or 1; (1/4 packet)
1 1/2 c Lukewarm water; (110F)
2 beaten eggs
1/4 c Veg oil or melted butter
5 c HOT ROLL MIX; (see recipe above)
3 ts Ground cinnamon
3/4 c sugar
1/2 c Melted butter
Instructions:
Makes one large pan of rolls In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in water (I used the digital therm to figure out my water was exactly 108.4 degrees). Blend in eggs and oil or margarine. Add 5 cups of HOT ROLL MIX. Stir well. Add more HOT ROLL MIX to make a soft dough. Knead about 5 minutes, until dough is smooth. Lightly butter bowl. Put dough in bowl and turn to butter top. Cover dough with a damp towel and let rise in a warm place until doubled about 1 hr. punch down dough. Roll dough into walnut size balls. Combine cinnamon and sugar in a bowl. Dip balls into melted butter or margarine and roll in cinnamon-sugar mixture. Layer pecans amongst balls Pile loosely in an ungreased tube pan. Let rise until doubled about 30 min. Preheat oven to 400F. Bake about 10 min. Lower temperature to 350F and continue baking 30 min until golden. Loosen edges with a knife and turn out onto a plate Rolls can be plucked off one at a time.

(Posted to recipelu-digest Volume 01 Number 547 by Midian125 on Jan 17, 19)

Here's what I learned. I used about 2 sticks of butter while rolling balls and pouring what I hadn’t used over the top.. I remember distinctly Gram doing this.. Don't ask why.. but I also found out later that Granny says Gram musta used about a pound of butter.. and I used about half of that.. so next time I'd prolly pour extra butter in with the pecans and cinna sugar layers to make like a tasty caramel stickiness that my memory remembers.. But I must say.. half the butter none of the stickiness equaled a really YUMMY coffee break with half the sisters and a couple cousins on a Sunday afternoon. Matthew was happy. Granny said I can keep practicin since they were so good she'd eat the outcomes.. The people at work gobbled up what I brought them.

Life is good. Even if I don't have a screen play in negotiations.. yet.. I still need some time to research how you have someone kidnapped ... or other options.


Happy baking.. and happy memories.
~Much

The man in the moon

So in my gathering of worlds and people and places I've neglected some of the funnier Nikki aspects of my life.

• I've not shared bath time with Layla being the best way to bond with a child that isn't such a snugglebunny.
• I've not shared baking failures -- as best as I can explain it, it was a twice baked fruit quiche with blueberrys called Clafloutis or something silly that didnt really taste that great but had a good idea behind it.
• I've avoided -- for the most part -- climbing on my ever present soapbox to talk about my family and their dramas. I have a stance. I also know I am a grandchild.. functioning as a grown adult since some of the daughters appear unable.
• I haven't shared with you entire escapades of Buster as he asks me the most amazing questions, snuggles with the best of em, and loves all of us enough that there's some left over to grow his world.
• I haven't told you of torturing said nephew with walking the entire French Quarter.. mostly because Keith and I had so I thought it was possible for an energetic 4 year old to do.. especially with his best big cousin and Tantie to help.. right?
• I've not shared the remarkable sunsets with fluffy cotton candy clouds that are perfectly pink or the glorious orange one that when I commented my mother then asked me

  "are you on drugs?"

Sundays have become my own refuge in a way.. I tend to sort of disconnect from the church people and either have Hissy and Buster or one or the either.. or none. The nites that there are none after having either/or are the nicest gift I can imagine. I can resort my weekend.. absorb the lessons I've learned.. figure out that I'm on the right path.. sometimes their behavior only re-enforces the idea that I am not a mother yet for a reason... most of that would be because I am sane.

So one Sunday nite everyone had been over.. and then Buster left with Momma.. and Hissy left with Libbs... and as they drive off I think two things: If this was a nite in Atlanta I'd be on the balcony with a bottle (not glass, bottle) of wine and the candles lit.. it was that perfect quickly followed by -- I don't have to watch Sponge Bob OR the Dino movie on the DVR.. and I decide I'll watch that Robin Williams movie.. and maybe get ready for work.

Part of the country way of life is you put out your own trash. I know ... you're used to it. I'm not.

I had a short walk to a chute that I dropped anything I liked down it and magically I never had to see it again. I didn't have to go back for a barrel.. I jus traipsed down the walkway or conned one of the boys to do it for me.. Jonathan was prolly the best about throwing trash.. Lane the worst..

Anyway. I digress.

On this particular nite, I am feeling lovingly towards mankind in general and decide I'll walk the trash out to the street early.. it was a beautiful day.. breezy.. the sunset was wonderful as well. And I strolled back up to the porch and rethought the balcony idea.. only to find out *once*a*gain* I have managed to lock myself out the GD house.

Not cute. Twice? Seriously? Fk! So.. I am faced with the idea of walking (barefoot) to Granny's where I'll provide entertianment and gain enjoyment from time together -- she's so much fun now that she's loosened up about pesky visits and fingerprints.. Nah. So.. I settle in on the corner of the porch near my room.. If I sit just so I can see the trees and watch them move in the breeze.. And so I do. And in a moment of "I shoulda done this anyway" I realize:

A. I am a klutz.

B. I am horridly stupid that I've locked myself out of my own house twice now.

And I sit there.. and watch the sun go down.. and the stars come out.. and I enjoy the breeze that God knows we wont have much longer.. and I am thankful for a brief moment that it isnt a buggy nite.. And then I see the people come home from church. And I realize MY MOTHER isnt comin straight home.. nooooooo she's goin visit Hissy. Of course.

And yet.. I am ok. Thoughtful. Peaceful. Centered. One with the journey I've started.. the path I've chosen. This place I am in. Who I am with. Who I am without. Even the man in the moon eventually disappears ya know?

And when my momma gets home? She says somethin like.. I thought you'd be outside sitting.. until she realizes I was locked out *again*... Then?

Then she laughs.

No. I haven't hidden a key yet. I think those pauses we're forced to make happen for a reason. That and I don't walk outside without my keys anymore if I am home alone.

Surrounded

Neither a big ole ranty blog nor a pictoral adventure could cover my weekend.

I found out midweek that I'd be visited by a friend from not so far away.. and hoped against hopes that it was true.. but also knew I couldn't put too much of my heart into the spirit of the idea.

Sometimes the idea and intent is there but the follow through falls short. And far too often when this happens you end up with a cranky Nikki and no one and nothing can make me feel better. Add to this that I am on a 24 hour notice of strike duty and you have me on pins and needles and not in a good way.

Happily the fates were smiling upon us. My guest was full of quiet charm and gave me just enough giggles to avoid the tense not so fun Nikki you guys have been blessed with lately.

And on Saturday nite, surrounded by some of my most loved people I had a lovely pizza adventure and a brief outing in a movie theater that was quickly ended due to the scariness and the fact that I am the eldest of a bunch of chickens. We don't need you to give us nightmares... our imaginations are enough to do that!

And sometime around midnite I found out nothing had happened in my world "delivered".. so I went to bed.
And nothing's happened since. Tho if I miss my Easter I'll be ticked.. so best let there be no announcement til after Sunday.. Hell I'm even planning on goin to church!

So.. surround yourself with love. Happiness in the weather and people and places that you love.. bake a batch of something yummy and enjoy your world.. the best is yet to come!

Amazingly simple

I don't know if you've noticed.. but I'm a mouthy bitch.
Less heavy on the bitch part lately.
But it's very simple what makes me happy: home.
These are my people. My people are important to me. No one can complain about my people except me ... punishable by death. My same people can be put to death for displeasing me but generally are allowed to remove themselves from my world til I am no longer displeased only to resurface like a giant lake monster.. where upon I forget why I was displeased in the first place.. unless you are one of the unlucky ones that did whatever so many times I blogged about putting a stop to you.

This week has been filled with some really high highs great laughs and good times and a sense of general peace. Of course.. as with all good things there are bad.. and yet.. today we will focus on the good.
I got to come home from Atlanta on Sunday before dark and managed to squeeze in time with Buster (smiling), Hissy (crying), Snowball (fun), and momma (had no phone service, no internet, no sense of humor when none of it was *really* broken!).
Monday seems filled with something.. but I don't recall..
Then Tuesday was Girl's Nite Out benefitting some booby cancer group.. I am sure they do upstanding wonderful things.. I just didnt pay much attention..
The meat of this is the who. I got to spend time with Sugar. Sugar would be Hissy's other g'ma. She rocks.
And while she rocks.. she doesn't know the power of putting people in their place.. She needs me.
Can't you tell?

What ON earth DO you do when someone asks something totally inappropriate? You respond with something SO over the top they cannot help but wonder.. "did she really just say that?"

Yes, my friends.. it's amazingly simple.. when people try to stick their nose into your business.. be outrageous.
Over the top.
Without boundaries.
Why should you observe being proper when they aren't?

Do not hurt the people I like or love. If you do.. prepare for a response.. sometimes it's slow.. sometimes it's verbal. Sometimes it's a poisoned cookie.
Because.. as they said on the Grey's Anatomy that I missed (dont watch it much anyway unless Libby wins the remote) people are important.. they may be waiting for you to die or fail.. but they are your people and having people is better than having no people.
For me.. my people are the mostest of the most to me. They remind me of where I come from. They remind me of why I am the way I am. They remind me of how come I can't give up. They remind me of why I have the mouth I do.

I am an amazingly simple woman.
I want what I want for as long as I want it until I am done with it.
Is that so hard to understand?

And therefore.. when someone asks me something stupid about not being miserable and married I can answer them sadly something sarcastic -- latest response is something like, "there was a horrible accident" and move along. And one day.. when all is said and done.. and we look back at the amazing times and laughter and tears (many) we had while on this adventure.. I will be able to say that I did it right. Even if it was only right by me.
Simple. Plain & Simple.

No images

Blogger isnt playing fair as far as pictures (again) and I'm tempted to blame it on my lappie here at the office.

I am at work on a call about our upcoming adventures in Dallas.. we were just told 12 hour days with no jeans and no tennis shoes.. the former is an issue.. the later is NOT.
Should I actually be dispatched to Dallas I will have 24 hours to report.. this is going to be interesting. Scary.

We all know I'll make myself known. I am sure I'll make the best of it.

and a dose of reality (family should skip this one)

just as fast as you feel that you cant possibly hit the ground, things are going well and your flight is easy peasy nice and greasy.. you hit the wall called addiction.

and you have yet another failing.
and you have to hold back the morbid thoughts and the ill intended thoughts.
and you try to remember a love for the person that was.. because it sure as hell isnt the person in front of you.

and you wonder how is it that you could have the entire world and not care enough to try.
how on earth he could have everything and piss it away.
how i am going to make nice now.

i am tired. worn. finished. angry. really really angry.


i don't want to think about it. i just want it to stop.

I'd like to ..

I'd like to tell you that everything is perfect and no one gets hurt or is sad in the telling of this story.
I'd like to say that life wont ever offer you disappointments.
I'd like to tell you that every dog has it's day and it'll all be ok.

But being April Fool's day.. And tomorrow being April 2nd.. I can't lie to you or myself.

Being a very grounding date for me, you've won a very serious Nikki.

I had a wonderful trip. My heart is full. It was full the entire time I was there. There's something to be said about being so very lucky as to find another family hundreds of miles away. There's something to be said about walking back into a room and picking up a conversation midsentance.

There's something to be said about closure. About affirmations of the right choices being made.

Wednesday of last week I had a wonderful trip to Atlanta. The flight was bumpy as all get out and I remember breathing a sigh of relief when things finally leveled out. I also mumured a brief curse about Shannon Ceasar ruining take offs and landings for me with his midnight touch and goes all those years ago. (I was so young. Life was so simple.)
I got my hair "did" by the amazing Jack but apparently I flinched when he went to cut my hair into the actual cut he intended.. so he stopped and until Friday I pondered.. and Saturday found me back in his chair for a shorter cut.
Thursday was the office and visiting and flitting and socializing and horrible food and punishments in the form of chicken salad that wasnt and training that didnt.. And then..
The party.
If I could pick my family people from Atlanta would play a major part. The level of comfort just from seeing Steve's face.. Rosa's smile.. Sharon's hair.
Walking into Amsterdam I found home away from home in the sheer prescence of angels. My angels. Matt and Russ both had new friends.. Vicki's had a grandbaby.. Johnnie has a show.. Rosa finally has no house guests.. and in the midst of the laughter.. and gossip and secrets and wonderful food was me.
I had exactly one martini. It wasn't so much the soaking of vodka in my liver as much as my heart being entirely too full and my time being entirely too brief.
Instead? I was me. Toting and fetching and teasing and commenting.. wearing a tiara and vampin it up.. and tryin not to cry and miss a minute.
And it was all too brief. Goodbyes come too soon. Tears on me arent pretty. And suddenly I am worried about Friday's goodbyes. and then Sundays. But I knew that those goodbyes would be easier than being away from here.
Here is what keeps me going.
Friday's training class did more than drag. It was tear inducing and not from sadness.
I finally escaped to go home and nap.. and dreamed of far away people and made a mental note to try and explain to the who's the what's of my dream.. it didnt go well on Monday -- But I tried.
Friday nite.. birthday dinner at Brio with a bottle of twist top Hope wine. A finally answered text from Bob .. a trip to Mee's.. and a displeased Nikki.

I received a scolding on Monday from The Bob. He wasn't pleased with me or my friends. Apparently I was pointed.
Here's a hint. I was goin for pointed.

Oddly enough that was one interaction that made me realize one very important thing: If I'd stayed for that? for him? I'd have died a bored old maid in Atlanta. Period. Right choice. Closure. Affirmation. Entertainnment for days. but still.

Saturday was a day of recutting hair and long drawn out pauses in conversation. It was a reconnection with a very dear piece of my soul and some very necessary understandings hopefully shared. Who knows.... except for this.. I know I tried my very best to be understood.

Dixie does Drag was Saturday nite and once again I found myself honored with an invitation from Amanda Michaels.. And once again I was hit square in the heart when I looked at those faces of some of the most dear people to me. There's lots of words to be found in me.. but I can't express it correctly. All I know is life is good. I am blessed. I know love. I've seen it. I've felt it. I would do almost anything for those people. Ok.. the fact that there was fried chicken livers and peppermint ice cream with chocolate fudge sauce after helps the whole "I love each and every one of you' feeling

Sunday was a cast of characters that either couldnt or wouldnt join the nite before.. a nice rounding out of my weekend. There were gaps. There are things I'd change. There are things I wouldnt.
Perfect bacon should never be questioned.

And as I wandered about the Atlanta airport hours later I found myself singing under my breath something along the lines of .. 'and I could not ask for more.

My loves. The people who know me and sometimes understand me..and the ones who want to understand me but rarely "get" me.. they will share with you that I am not the most easily pleased person. I've heard from a few of all of them that I am spoiled. But really.. the spoiling isn't true .. I love. And I am loved. Deeply.

And when I walked into Erath and found my babies and my snowball awaiting to hear my adventures.. when my momma broke the entire phone system in the 337 so I'd come home.. when I snuggled that little girl on my way out the door.. I knew it.
I'd like to be the one to tell you this first:

I am home. Well travelled. Planning my next adventure.. which is only made possible because I am *home*.