Happy Yellow Friday #4 Daffodils

Near where I live there is a field of daffodils that bloom every year. I wait months for these beautiful flowers to bloom, I drive by, even if it is out of my way, to watch them pop up, fully bloom, slowly fade away.

I look forward to seeing them every year, the time that they are alive and fresh, as if they are smiling, is only a matter of a few days but I stop the car each day and I smile back every time I see them. The are on a hill with bright green, manicured grass and it looks like a perfect photograph. I tried once to photograph them but it was unsuccessful, you must need a wide-angle lens.

Yellow daffodils - floriade canberra

That’s okay, I have loved them for so many years that the picture I have of them lives in my heart. I am grateful for having been able to see this for the last 15 years. I look forward to seeing them again in the  Spring.

Yellow daffodils

 

 

 

 

Mint Chip Ice Cream Does So Taste Like Toothpaste REBLOG

HERE IS THE REBLOG YOU WANTED, ENJOY !

Mint Chip Ice Cream Does So Taste Like Toothpaste…..( A Crazy Foodie Blog)

Crest MultiCare Whitening toothpaste

Image via Wikipedia

Tonight I had left-over pizza for dinner. It was dry, it had that too- long- in -the- refrigerator smell and the fresh tomato, mozzarella and basil disappeared. I warmed it up but nothing changed. I had to make it taste better, we were out of food so I did what I have done since college (yes, I have witnesses) I put jam on my pizza. We only had Dominoes pizza way back then ( don’t worry, Dominoes, I’m sure your pizza is better now.) I was out of luck,I did not have Welchs’ grape jelly at home. I knew there MUST be something to help me out.  Two minutes later, I saw it gleaming and sitting on the side of the refrigerator door practically winking with a come-hither look.  A jar of peach preserves sat unopened. It gave the pizza the texture it needed and if I closed my eyes it was like eating French bread with jam. Thank you for saving my dinner.

There are questions that are just unanswerable: For example: why is it that I love peanut butter but hate peanuts? I don’t like chick peas but I do like hummus.  Could texture be an issue? Keep me far away from raw oysters, mussels or raw tuna. Tuna from a can mixed with celery and mayo does not count since it was YEARS before I associated the canned tuna with  real fish.

I’m s little fussy with my food, I admit it.  I also have the nose of a foxhound and if milk is even contemplating spoiling I sniff it out immediately and throw it away . “Dear Grocery Store Stocker, don’t think you’ll ever fool because I know not to take the product in the front and I check the expiration dates. I am on alert at all times, always saying  out loud “Did you think you could fool me? Amateur!!!!”  So what if I get a couple of weird looks?

I love eggs in any form but if I detect the tiniest bit of egg-shell in my food, crunching in my mouth it takes enormous self-control not to vomit, especially if I am in a restaurant.  IF I have been brave enough to swish it away in my mouth with juice or soda, ( can’t do it with plain water) there is no way that I would eat anymore. Also, if the egg white is not cooked through I can’t eat it (see texture issue). It’s almost as bad as  finding a hair in my food (again, think restaurant) which I think is also appalling. That is why, I sniff and explore my food before my first bite.  I think of myself as having certain food requirements: no egg-shell, spoiled stuff, hair in food, oh, and dead insects.

The last time I had a Greek salad in my favorite tiny Greek restaurant it was served with a dead bee lying right on top. Is it too much to ask that people look at the food before they serve it? I haven’t been back to that restaurant in two years now. I know about the chances of having it happen again but still….This is why when I go to a restaurant I face away from the kitchen. As you can tell,  I did read Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain and it both saved my life and ruined my life at the same time. Blame him.

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6 thoughts on “Mint Chip Ice Cream Does So Taste Like Toothpaste…..( A Crazy Foodie Blog)”

My Dog Lexi And Me

Vanilla custard with raspberries, blueberries and slices of thinly cut kiwi fruit, a small chunk of fresh pineapple, flaky almond crust. Small bites spread over an hour with a blue glass of icy cold milk. A dessert fork, lights dim not glaring. A peaceful Sunday night dessert.

Fresh fruit tart with kiwi, raspberries, and b...

Monday is cold and biting, raining, sleet. No place to go, to rush out the door. My dog is downstairs curled up on the couch, she looks like a sleeping fox. She, apparently, has no energy today either, I try to take her out but she looks at me with disdain.


She will not go. We look at each other wisely, we agree we should all move together to a warmer climate. “Florida?” I ask her. “California she murmurs, less humidity.” I agree immediately.”Someday” we agree.

We sit on the coach as we do every morning. Her body and paws on my lap, my arm around her head softly scratching behind her rusty colored ears, in her favorite place. We talk together.  She tells me if we move she is scared to swim in the ocean, I tell her I totally understand. We will start very slowly until she feels comfortable or if not she can play in the sand. I wouldn’t force her to do anything, I’m not that kind of mom.

I never forced my children to do anything they didn’t want to do either, I just insisted on them having good manners and being respectful. They both are. I am so proud of your siblings, I whisper to the dog,and I am so proud of you.”  I let her in on a secret: “they will be home very soon to visit you.” The dog looks up at me, her eyes brighten with interest. She knows when her brother comes home he will rough house with her, she knows when her sister comes home she will get extra hugs and kisses, mostly in private.

Everybody says we should not feed the dog at the table

but we all do except for dad, he is the strictest of the family. I just need a soft, warm, mushy look and my hand is out. Sister sometimes slips too and gives in not to mention grandma who gives pieces of food all the time, even to the dog’s cousin where it is really NOT allowed. “But it makes him so happy” she says, calling the dogs boys when they are both girls. It’s a language thing.It makes us all laugh.

It is finally time to get out of bed and take a hot shower, whether I want to or not. It is so cold in the house, I am shivering. Nothing motivates me except the amount of days I haven’t showered. I have accepted/relented to Winter because I have no choice. I will stay in as much as possible, that is my coping mechanism. I can’t fight it, I may as well hide from it. I’ve given in.

Time does not stand still, not at all. It breezes past, its bitterness a step away from me. I like it that way. If I don’t have to go out, I won’t. If I can’t live in a warm temperature, I will make the temperature warm in my house. I will only go out when I need to go out. Tomorrow, I need an EKG, just a three-month check-up, no biggie. I will go and I will come back, happy to be home.  I will make a cup of tea with a spoon of honey

and I will appreciate that even more than usual. After that, I will sit once more, with my dog, lying on the bed and we will close our eyes, together. Nap time.

 

#FWF Friday, Kellie Elmore

“I don’t want someone to believe my lies, I need someone to accept my truths.”  ― Kellie Elmore

Lying is a skill, an easy one if you know how to do it correctly. To me, it comes naturally, I don’t have to think about it, I say just what needs to be said. I’m an actor. So, not really hard for me to get into another character.

My best friend, who is a girl,  complains about this all the time. She yells and screams about not knowing “the real me.” I’ve tried to tell her that “there IS NO real me” but she chooses

not to believe me. Don’t you think that’s her problem? I do.

It’s not like I’m lying to her, I am telling her the truth, if she can’t believe that there is nothing more to me then what I have presented she should move on and yes, I have told her that. No, it hasn’t been welcomed kindly but hey, I’m here, locked in between truth and fantasy.

I can only give you what I have.

I told you I have only a small amount of emotional sensitivity and I know you hate me for that. It’s who I am, it’s how I was brought up with my parents who are pretty black and white and no-nonsense. You knew all this from the beginning. Are you trying to change me now? Good luck with that, it’s not happening. I can’t change and I don’t want to change. Listen, this is who I am. An actor, a chameleon, there is no “inner me.”

My truths are my lies, accept them, you can’t change them, nor will you ever succeed. I told you this four years ago when we first met. I was direct. You were gooey-eyed, large blue eyes blinking adorably, it’s as if in your mind there was a cloud bubble saying “I know I can change him, he doesn’t mean that…”

I told you the truth, you decided not to believe me, why is that my fault? You can’t be mad at me, be mad at yourself. Yes, you. You should be disappointed in yourself for thinking you could change someone who was always honest with you. Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone? We were so happy being best friends, I know I was.

If you could have accepted who I was in the beginning our relationship would still be in tact today, but no. You pushed and prodded until all of a sudden we argued about “our relationship” and where we were “heading.”

I didn’t want to head anywhere, I told you that I loved our dear friendship the way it was, always. You refused to believe me and made up excuses all the time, you psychoanalyzed me continuously. When you accused me of being gay because I was not interested in you “in that way” that was the last straw.

You disrespected me on so many levels. I happen not to be gay but what does that matter? You were my friend, I was not interested in you sexually or as my girlfriend. We were best friends, we still could have been best friends but not anymore. You tried to change me when all I wanted was to show you who I was  and love each other for what we were together.

English: group of friends in 1987 wearing the ...

I didn’t end this friendship, you did. You went over the line of trust, I didn’t want to spend time with you alone anymore. I needed you to accept who I was and enjoy that person like you used to. But, that was not enough for you after a while, you kept wanting more and more and as many times as I reminded you this is as much as I could give you, you refused to believe me and after that you always tried to make me feel bad.

It was no longer a friendship, it became a battlefield.Where once there were four best friends, now there are three. I’m sorry for you. I do hope you meet that special person that lives in your head. I hope he will make you happy.

I didn’t end our friendship, what ended our friendship was you and in the end, maybe the actor wasn’t me, I think maybe the actor was you.

Convo With Myself, A (Changeable) Libra

I’m the first one to admit that I have often overlooked that I have options in life because I have been crippled with nervousness or anxiety. (Well, sometimes I have but not always.) Just recently, out of nowhere, the thought that I DO have a choice popped into my head.

(Apparently, this new thought has happened many times before) And, of course, I have written about this choice again and again.(Ad nauseum.)  I will try over and over until I get it right.(It’s not looking too good.)

It’s the toughest lesson for me to learn.( Really? I hadn’t picked up on that yet?)  I know it in a cerebral way it’s just not reaching my body.( oh please, what utter garbage, it hasn’t reached anything, anytime, anywhere.) Let’s face it, take the damn healthy drug.(Was there ever another option that worked?)

This may not be shocking to many but for me, it was an awakening.( yes, again for the umpteenth time.) Circumstances will change that we will have NO control over, that’s a given. How you look at those changes( I could seriously slap myself)

and how you react are things you can (hopefully) control. (slapping harder.)

After endless years of worrying, obsessively worrying, about the future past or present  it came to me in one clear moment,( I really doubt my sanity sometimes) out of the blue, (again) when I was not even thinking about it, that I can choose my reaction (sometimes, probably while medicated) how I look at my reactions given the same situation.

It’s true, I can choose to make something a tragedy or an opportunity, deal with it,  get hysterical or just let it sit for a while. (an amazing amount of bulls–t right here.)

I think meditation (last time I tried I could only do two minutes before I got antsy) and yoga ( during the class) and being aware of my breath has helped me, I try, (emphasis on TRY)  before I panic, to take a few, long, deep breaths. Inhaling slowly, ( now THAT really would relax me, oh just kidding) settling my brain, forcing it to neutral even if it is only for one minute has helped me (this part is true).

Believe me, I’m not saying it will never happen again,( ha, ha, ha) I may slip back into my old sloppy, slovenly ways sometime ( now) when I am deeply overwhelmed (as in half an hour ago) but at least now I know I have the capacity to make a choice, (once in a while) that it is up to me. I am not a victim, I am in charge of my life. (Yes, I should definitely be in charge, and NOT a victim -nice try) A trait known to many but unknown to the same amount of people, the worriers of the world, the anxious, the timid, the frightened.( I’m here, in the left hand corner with my peeps.) I can change my reactions or my ability to perceive the news( As if…) It’s not always easy, I’m the first one to agree with that but we do have potential to try. (Yes, we do have the potential …)

I take a class once a week called”chair yoga” which I absolutely love. It keeps me centered, it gives my body some exercise and gives me something to look forward to every week. Picture something relaxing to you if you need an image, anything that you think is relaxing or beautiful is perfect. It can be of your newborn baby, cheese cake with luscious strawberries on top, flowers, the ocean, anything you love that is peaceful and that brings you happiness:

English: A slice of Strawberry Cheesecake from...

Trust me, if I can do it, ANYBODY can…and

don’t judge me or anybody else…we are in this together.

What’s Up With The Fried Egg On Top Of Everything?

I’m not a formal chef, I basically don’t even like to cook, bake or do anything that requires more than three steps.  Yet, that doesn’t stop me from considering myself a foodie and a fan. So, if we have the money and the opportunity to go out to dinner my husband and I go out to eat, it doesn’t have to be expensive.

It’s our hobby, sport, our most delectable treat and by now as you know, we always order dessert. A meal is not complete without it. Lately, I have observed something absolutely intriguing: the almost fried egg on top of pretty much any entrée. What’s up with that? I don’t have a problem with that except it seems like a foodie fad of the month. Where did it start, and why?

A fried egg, sunny side up.

A fried egg, sunny side up. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Who thought of this? I would clearly love it and would be tempted to order it but every time I have seen it served the egg was undercooked and too “wiggly.” Just my personal idiosyncrasy. Likewise, I do not eat steak tartar, salmonella alert.

Flip this sucker around and make sure it’s cooked properly and I would be most happy to have a fried egg (fried not practically raw) egg on most anything.

I’m open to (some) trends, I even tried kale and quinoa though I was late in the game and did not become obsessed with it like many people I know. Frankly if I never hear those two items again I would be quite happy.

Now, carrot cake and chocolate mousse cake I can hear forever.

I’m fine with this trend though I would specify the egg to be “over medium: there’s something about those loose transparent egg whites that gets my stomach to rumble and I can’t look or eat them. Not a chance.
So, I’m wondering, what will the new trend be? We’ve been through muffins, “cronuts” (I have never tried one or at least the official one) cupcakes, kale and quinoa. I’m happy to try the overcooked fried egg delight but I’m wondering if we could make a new trend happen. One that WE could create just for the fun of it.
PS It does NOT have to be healthy. I pick bite-size homemade jelly doughnuts, with a lot of currant jam.
What would you like? No calories, no fat, no cholesterol guaranteed.

So Raw, Doubled Down.

( I wrote this many days ago but was only able to publish it now.)

 

 

 

 

 

My dad has been dead for a very, long time. He died at the age of 79, he would have been 91 today. He didn’t die after a long illness though he had heart problems for many years. I’m not sure he was ever the same after he had quadruple by-pass surgery when it was a VERY new and rare procedure.

 

He did have the same doctor President Clinton had and I know my dad would have just loved that to pieces. I can see him in my mind saying “Well, the surgeon practiced on me.” That literally would have been a “my dad” kind of saying and he would often laugh at his own jokes. I realize I laugh at my own jokes with the same pleasure, I get the same rolling eyes from my kids that I used to give to my dad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You would think that after such a long time the pain would have dulled, and for the most part it has. But, there are days, like today, that the searing pain is so overwhelming that it feels brand new. It’s as if someone had plunged their hands into a recently healed wound on the outside and ripped it open with callous hands, blood bursting everywhere, red, raw, and then pouring in lemon juice. THAT kind of pain. Car accident pain. Torture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You think you will never get away from the pain, your body, your tears, you are wracked in pain and overwhelming sadness and you feel it will never stop. It does, get better, but you will live with this experience for the rest of your life. When people tell you “time heals all wounds” I say, don’t believe them. Yes, it gets better, day-to-day, but no one can promise you that there won’t be significant days that you will feel your grief with the same intensity.

 

 

 

Every part of me feels breakable and I wait for time to be alone so I can cry in private. A lot of time has been spent in my car just sitting alone. I try to think back and wonder if I am always like this on his birthday but I am sure I have never been this bad. Do I say this every year?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think that my dad missing out on his grandson’s exciting news about getting into medical school is killing me. My father, my son and I are very close in temperament and for that I am incredibly grateful. In my heart, I am sure he knows, but others mock me and I get tired of defending my beliefs. I know, to me, what is true and that’s all that counts. But, I admit living with three atheists and non-believers sometimes gets to me. They may not believe in messages from the afterlife but I do.

I was always like my dad. He is the missing link in the family dynamics and it is a dire loss for me. My mother and my sister can’t possible understand it but how could they, they are exactly the same. My dad was the one who knew me best, knew what I thought and felt instantaneously. I always had support, I always had someone on my side, someone who understood me perfectly. That died 12 years ago.

 

I am going to buy a piece of cake tomorrow and eat it in his memory,

 

angel cake slice yummy

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I got my sweet tooth from him that’s for sure. I am weepy now but I hope when I wake up tomorrow I will feel better.

 

Dad, I would do anything to hear your voice, to have you call me your little mouse, to have a hug only a daddy can give. I know you were suffering and yes, I was glad that you had no pain, you weren’t yourself for the last few years anyway.

 

But, selfishly, I remember my old dad, the way you were in my mind: kind and strong.  If you wanted raspberries that cost five dollars, when they were not in season you would buy them,  as I would, because money didn’t matter, “if you had to have them.”  You were the first foodie, you used to run on the beach in the sixties before “jogger” was even a word. You were so nurturing, optimistic, warm and kind. You live in my heart forever.

 

Happy Birthday Daddy. I miss you. I will always miss you. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much still.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy

Mother and three children, oil on wood, 38.5 x...

Our family’s circumstances stay the same, unemployment, unwell but managing,regular stuff, nothing has changed. There’s been no formal job offer or no magnificent leap in good health.

My husband had skin cancer removed from his eye brow that required several layers scraped off until there no cancer cells were detected.Yes, it was another bump in the road. We both handled that in stride, well done!

 

I guess we are so used to the ups and downs of life that they don’t quite startle us as much as they used to, maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that’s the lesson that we are supposed to be learning. If it is, it has taught us well. I know we can handle anything thrown our way, I’m not asking to be tested again and again but we have been tested and we haven’t fallen apart or broken down. We have stuck together, even stronger in our bond. It’s comforting to know.

 

Which means, parenthetically, that on the very (very) rare occasion we hear good, actually GREAT news, it feels FANTASTIC yet very, very new and foreign. A feeling that we both haven’t felt in such a long time that it feels brand new. And, yes, we certainly appreciate it more, now more than ever.

 

So, when our son called me, breathless, to tell me he got into medical school,

 

 

I was at first, speechless. “What?” I said because I wasn’t sure of what he said. He said it again, slowly, my voice rose two octaves ” WHAT?” I squealed and started shrieking, and felt for the first time that all was good with the world and that I now knew what happiness felt like.

 

 

It was brand new and intense and it was a feeling I was not used to. I remember in my mind thinking ‘  so this is happiness’ like bubbles floating inside my head.

But, it was a feeling that you can’t even imagine or dream about because you can’t wrap your head around that feeling and you certainly don’t remember when you felt like that before.

 

When you are a parent, the size of your joy or sorrow doubles when you have kids. If they hurt, you hurt twice as much. But, hearing the joy in their voice, that is better than anything in the world because you are so much happier for yourself because they are happy. I kept reminding myself of this feeling and still do to remember what happiness felt like. It’s so fleeting like a butterfly dancing by you, a wisp of a thing but if you concentrate, really concentrate you will remember, at least part of the feeling.  HIS joy and your own are inseparable. It’s the mommy quotient.

 

Nothing else has changed; it’s all perspective. I’m trying to remember that. Look at your situation in a different way. Express gratitude. Be happy for all the good things in your life, smile as much as you can even if you don’t feel like it. It makes a difference, I know.

 

 

 

I. Am. A. Junkie.

You saw it coming, I know, I know. I think I did too.But I didn’t want to believe it. Oh, hush, there are things we don’t like to see about ourselves so give me a break.  I believe I have a sugar overload headache now but please don’t make me feel worse than I already do. Have I learned a lesson? I think so. Will it change my eating habits? I’m sure going to try to change them, whether it will work or not I don’t yet know.

 

What? That is too tentative for you? Hey, Sorry, I’m trying. I’m NOT trying? Well for me I am. Admitting that you have a problem, isn’t that the first step?

 

Binging on sugary items is really not good for me, especially (only) at night after dinner. (Shush!)  I had a wonderful rice pudding- crème brûlée dessert

 

Crème brûlée

 

that came with our dinner last night. It was INCLUDED in the price. The heavenly part of this rice pudding was that they carmelized the sugar on top so it had that marvelous crunchy crème brûlée topping of crunchy sugar. If it was up to me or my husband they could have doubled up on that part. Oh, I forgot, there was coconut in the rice pudding too, Mmmm.

 

Delicious. but that to us was like a pre-dessert (yes, “pre-D”.) When we came home we still needed a small scoop of ice cream ( I had frozen yogurt,

 

Frozen dessert - alternative to ice cream

Frozen dessert – alternative to ice cream (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

that should count for effort) and a few tiny pieces of leftover mini Halloween candy. They were as small as the word “small” typed and printed. Really. Not even WORTH mentioning.

 

I did feel that sugar headache rush so I didn’t stop eating I just switched. I needed something to balance the sugar. I ended up eating a small individual sized bag of pretzels, salt definitely being the antidote to sugar. I finished the pretzels with a box of cold Yoo-Hoo to drink (love that beverage) stayed up a while and then went to sleep.

 

I admit, I did go a little overboard with the sweet stuff, the sugar smack, so I will be aware to stop and not continue the sugar habit all night long. Will I give it up completely? Sad to say, I really don’t think so. If someone gave me hundreds of thousands of dollars I probably would but it wouldn’t be worth it to me otherwise. Besides, I can only imagine the headaches I would get.

 

However, I will decrease the amount of sugar I have starting…tonight. Maybe one day I will give up sugar entirely. (Stop laughing) Maybe I will have to because I will get diabetes (heaven forbid) which my mother has. It was always my father’s greatest fear and I understand it now, he liked sugary desserts as much as I do.  My mom cheats a lot, she never orders dessert but orders an extra fork and digs in to all our desserts, she gets the best deal out of all of us! (Enjoy it, mom!)

I was born to a Viennese father and a German/French mother, it’s in my genes, I come by it honestly. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. I’ll try to be better, better, yes, but I am not taking all the sugar out of my diet now. At least not yet. Not until I am forced by three medical doctors to do that. Does anyone understand? We gave up our home-made jelly doughnuts for the third time, it’s been three whole weeks. I think that is progress, great progress. They are our most favorite food. We miss them, we really do. Maybe next week?

Sunday can’t come soon enough for me.