A Ripple of Distortion – Poem

It’s so weird. Tax day came and went, the three month mark of my grandmother’s death is today, I need to talk to Jersey Boy about coming back to work, Covid-19 has taken it’s toll on the country. I fight against my body. My sugars dropping every day as I become more and more like my father. Menopause makes me moody. I forgot that when I talked to Nathan this last week and mentioned I was moody on Easter. I forget that I can go from bright and cheery to gray cloud and teary in a flash. As fast as my sugar falls. Hostess Extraodinaire, I need Pepsi, stat!  No, I just need normal.

I combined all thoughts and it kind of flowed into this poem that while not perfect, has it’s points. We all feel a little indecisive. And poet Susan Wooldridge challenged me last year to write a poem about lettuce. I never got around to having anything that worked, until adding it into this gem today. So much is in here, unpacked, emotional. I know Christa would understand. Dona and Mels too.

And for a chuckle, watch this bit from an old NBC show called  Ed. It explains a line from this poem.

Photo by Jordan McDonald on Unsplash

A Ripple of Distortion

It’s tax day, but taxes aren’t due.

Overcast — the sky is more subdued
less spangle sparkle bright — perfect.

I wake up praying. Things are so uncertain.

A line of wobbly silver reflection run down the page
a mosaic of reflection as effective as a rippling pool
distortion is only as good as the subject known
A cow could be a boulder
a tree turns to a feather

What if I’m not who I seem to be?
Maybe I’m not who you’ve ever known

Plant lettuce seed, it looks like a weed
until it has three fourfivesix leaves
say it funny, Le-toose, it’s not what it seems till it is.

What have I become? Where do I fit in ?
I bite, snarl, fall apart into a puddle of razor blade teeth.
Sugar coat me and I’ll be as sweet as the sun is fierce.
Take me out in the rain, I melt
you see the rust hiding under a silk exterior

I’m a heartbeat of uncertainty
a weight of indecision
my feet slap the pavement
I’ve walked more miles than you could imagine
wearing a hole in the asphalt,
a groove runs down my pat
parallel to the imaginary yellow lines.

I’m wobbly two faced in the tiled reflection
Two things at war.
Let me get back to the thick of things.
Or let me sit in the sun and take in all the sky has to pour down on me.

Chaos, Panic Attacks and Memories

The notebook of memories

I was flipping through a notebook I started early on when working at my restaurant. I found it in a stack of things I was going through. I’m not sure why I stopped writing in it other than for the reason of insane frustration that started being recorded in another book titled ‘Night Shift Notes’. My nights have never been that crazy, but if something of note comes along that is important, I record it.

There were some absolutely lovely and funny moments I wrote down in this glittery notebook, and I honestly need to pick it up again.

This is from July 2018:
“The days are calmer with less stress on everyone, so it seems. Nickelle is still a nutcase and is having too many issues, so she freaks out, and doesn’t know what the fat she is doing most of the time. Poor Chef is like at his wits end with her.

I can do the tart dough just fine. The roulade cake alludes me still.”

Ah Nickelle, she was an interesting one. And Coffeeman came into a world of crazy at the beginning. Her, Lucifer, Wildflower. These were the days before Will Turner and me up on pizza. I was a lowly prep chef. Tackling desserts, but the gopher. Golden Oldie has moved up to pantry, out of dish, and now he’s the new gopher. I don’t envy his job. Laughing.

Here’s another gem from July 2018:
“But I must go back to Saturday. Dinner service was starting and Chef, Twin C, and I were busy with Sunday Prep. I think NY Lady (she is our everything manager) was in and out. Then Lucifer called for all of his squirt bottles to be filled and he was impatient and I was rushing to try and fill them. One I started filling with white wine vinegar instead of white wine and the Chef had to stop me, thank goodness. But Lucifer was super impatient and went and got a bottle himself. Then I went to fill his saffron bottle and said I had to go get the saffron on Chef’s desk, and Lucifer snapped at me that it just needed Hot water!
I went back to the prep sing and slammed the top on the sink and must have let out an exasperated sigh because Chef turned to me and told me to tell him “mise en place!”
“Take the bottle back to him and say ‘The Chef says mise en place mother f*cker!”
“I can’t say that to him.”
“Yes you can.”
“But he’ll come back at me.”
“No he won’t. Fill the bottle and I’ll be right behind you.”

So I fill the bottle and walk back up to Lucifer and present it with both hands and say, “Lucifer, Chef says mise en place, mother f*cker.” Lucifer looks at me, then glances behind me and says, “Yes Chef.”

And that was that. I didn’t know till later that Coffeeman had stood behind me crossing his arms where his favorite statement “Mise En Place” is tattooed across both arms so they connect when he crosses his arms. ”

To this day, we still all remind each other to “mise en place!” It’s probably the highlight of one of my memories of working with Coffeeman. I may have talked about it in the past, but I can’t remember. I’m just glad I wrote it down.

Those first months were probably the best time of my job, though this last year’s July and August with Coffeeman on pizza were a dream.

Photo by Jesson Mata on Unsplash

For some reason all of these memories had me remembering my panic attacks that were happening later that year when suddenly I went from being behind the scenes to being out in front. And just the overwhelming feeling of not getting it all done in time. I had a sugar crash yesterday while making lunch, and I’m freaking out because my brain is on zero function, and I’m thinking “Gosh, I do this all the time with the added stress of not being able to get something to eat because I have ten tickets up on my board.” I needed my Hostess Extraordinaire with her glass of Pepsi for me!

I miss work like crazy right now. I have not accomplished half of what I wanted while home, but I’ve got a start. If I could just not collect books…. as I consider ordering a couple I wish I had right now. I need help people.

These are just some musings from pulling out a notebook. I have some good poetry to type up here too, I just haven’t taken the time to post it.

Whoops, I went back and started reading other posts about work. They all make me smile a little ruefully, tear up a little cause I still miss Coffeeman too much, and roll my eyes at myself. At least I can laugh at myself.


When Control Does Not Abound

This, this right here above is the only controlled part of my life. And that was taken yesterday. Today, it’s not. Chaos, overwhelming everything, threatening storms are in the air. August is always an unstable month. The hot weather threatens to overload us, yet the nights are cool, and the winds begin. Storms may float in, wildfires start. Unsettled moments. It’s all very nerve wracking.

I feel out of sorts these days. The transition of a new boss is taking it’s toll on my mental and physical being. I’m tired already to begin with, but learning a new person’s flow, it can be exhausting. Especially, if at times, you don’t agree.

“Keep your head up, stay strong, keep working hard.” — Coffeeman

I’m losing Coffeeman. I might sound quite cavalier at times about it. I’m not. Far from it. I can’t go one moment talking or thinking about it that it doesn’t make me want to cry. I never, never thought that I would be this affected by it. I’m trying to suck down as much time with him I can get my hands on. Which currently is about 10 minutes when I get into work before he’s leaving. I actually got a whole half hour last week on one day. I don’t want him to go. I really don’t want him to go.  And this not wanting him to go has started making me rethink things and changes, and changes I might or could make in my life. It’s nothing even definite, but it’s realizing that when things change, sometimes you have to as well.

“When it comes to things you can’t control, keep your head down.” —Coffeeman

I’m not ready for the summer to end. That’s not even fair to ask, but I feel like it just started. I’m not ready for fall. I am enjoying this interim period of late summer, not fall, when the berries are ripening, or are loaded ripe, and everything is just slowly creeping it’s way to fall.  It’s rather lovely. They sky and light, clouds, moon, stars. It’s all so rather pretty.

There are a lot of changes that are going to happen this fall. I know it. Some good, like next week I take my driver’s written test. I have never driven, had a license… But life changes, and I have to move with the times. It’s been a 20 year journey in the making, this driving thing. I’m slightly apprehensive about the test. I’m excited about the driving.

I’m gonna repeat it because this is kind of where the post all started in my head. I’m gonna miss Coffeeman so much. I wish I could pause time. Pause this moment right now where I have one of the best coworkers of my life. Sure, I liked him as my boss, but meeting up with him each work day and going over the mise en place is the highlight of my day. It is the very best part of my work day. And I can’t control a single other thing right now.

“If it’s not affecting you, don’t get involved.” — Coffeeman

So, uncontrolled me, overwhelmed, transitioning, and trying to not get involved with anything that doesn’t affect me. Yeah, this is gonna be a hard fall.


Personal Hells

This post is coming after a thing happened with a writing thing with a work thing, with a too personal thing, with well, being a writer just isn’t always an excuse. It kind of all relates to my personality, a lot of which people don’t always get. Heck, even I am still figuring myself out daily.

The first part of my job with my restaurant was hell. A personal hell. Oh sure, there were good moments, and the opportunity was something amazing, but chef #1 and Lucifer were personal hells. They each had their moments that left me crying most of my time after or prior to work. It was because of #1 that I quit one month in and was hesitant to come back, but I liked the job. Lucifer, while a charmer in his own way, became another personal hell.  I doubt myself a lot. Even now with the support of come amazing people, I spend my time doubting myself and selling myself short and worrying that I am disappointing people and always ready to wince and take the blame. In the words of Topenga, or maybe it was Shawn, on Boy Meets World directed at Cory… I want people to like me. It is a fault. It is why I am not always assertive. It gets me into trouble.  And I doubt myself a lot. Even now.

The first six months of my job did not encourage me to have confidence, so when the new boss came on, I think I became this slightly over exuberant puppy. I am a people pleaser. So  I tend to come off as reeaaaalllly exuberant about certain things. I don’t always think about consequences and I would say, what you see is what you get, a lot of the time. Crushed easily, excited easily, a bit neurotic, oh very, very blonde… (“what are you smoking?” ‘Nothing, Chef, I’m blonde. That pretty much answers it.”) <—- true conversation. If I think of something at 3am, I will text you even if you are asleep because, I am awake, why aren’t you? I know I will forget it by morning. I forget other people have lives that do not include my weirdass sleeping schedule.

People think I’m flirting when I’m being nice. I am uber nice. I am the “Oh Kate will do that,” person. (Even when I don’t want to obligation fills me with grief if I don’t do it.) Guys have thought I was flirting with them when I was just being nice. Trust me, I’m not. I do the stupid hair twirl thing when I’m flirting, which I don’t flirt, because I don’t know how to flirt as I never understood what the hell it was supposed to be like. (That’s another long ramble not for here)

It makes life rather frustrating at times. And currently, I can cry at the drop of a hat. You would laugh if you heard me say I love my job and am relatively happy but then say I can cry that easily.  While I love my job, I have not necessarily dealt super well with my role in my job. I stress about coworkers, I stress about coworkers lives, how it’s affecting my life, whether or not things are getting done at work, to my standards, to Chef’s standards, worrying, micro managing, and just all around stressing. It’s made me tired and prone to crying. Just ask three people tonight that I was talking to, oh, pardon, four; and I couldn’t keep the tears in check.

Part of that comes off of removing my piece of flash fiction from earlier. It was just taken the wrong way, for which I am crushed that I might have jeopardized anything within the weird, close, family structure of a restaurant. As Sassy Girl said tonight, kitchen life is stressful. We find our outlets, be it alcohol, crying, snarling, writing, hanging out with friends. It’s a stressful life, and I am not always sure what outlet to use. Writing is an outlet that I like to use, but also like to share, but also forget how public it can be. I haven’t written a lot lately because I have been so busy and my little flash piece was this utter excitement that I had written something fun for a change instead of Night Shift Notes on what was or wasn’t done in the kitchen (goddammit!) I forget that it isn’t always a private thing to ‘share’ your writing. So I hadn’t thought when I pushed the publish button.

I might take a step back from writing so much about kitchen life for a while. I’m not sure. I am trying to figure out the best outlet at the end of the night when the adrenaline is still high. I haven’t figured it out. I don’t know what to do. I want to bounce around walls, and drink coffee, and drink a glass of something buzzworthy and write and sing and do who knows what. I am having a hard time finding the outlet. Hey, anyone with restaurant experience want to give me some ideas of outlets. (Exercise is not one I want to do, so don’t suggest it.)

Anyways. Exuberant puppy me probably needs to tone it down. Writer me needs to tone it down. And hopefully life will continue on without any speedbumps. Today was a detour. Now let’s get back to the main road.


It’s Not So Simple – Let’s Get Personal

Photo by Xan Griffin on Unsplash

People seem to think they understand my health and what is going on, probably because I don’t talk about it much in the scope of my life. I try not to let it bog me down and I don’t like people to have to worry (though secretly it is rather nice when they notice and actually help me out).  But because I act all toughy tough and try to be a strong woman (which I am clearly not) I can’t seem to make some people understand that it isn’t just so simple as they make it sound.

I have reactive hypoglycemia.  Which means not only does my blood sugar go down, but when I eat, be it protein, carbs, or fat, my body shoots out insulin and I can be up at a normal sugar range, but then just dive rapidly back down to low are dangerous territory.  In fact, more often than not, I eat and my sugar will dive right again after I have eaten. So I have to constantly monitor my diet and pay attention and drink plenty of water and not to overdue anything, or get in stressful situations which have a tendency to make my sugar wonky. (a very scientific term there.)

Working in a kitchen is in fact, probably the worst place for me to keep a handle on my sugar. Ironic, isn’t it? I have access to food all the time, but I don’t have the time to always eat. And when I do, I never know what my sugar is going to do. And people think, ok, her sugar dropped, just go eat something. Haha. What they don’t realize is that once my sugar has dropped there is this cycle of things that happen.  First off, my sugar drops and I won’t even feel it or know about it till it’s too late. By too late, I mean, when I feel it going down, it’s way too late. Like down in the mid 60s- upper 70s. Most doctors would say no big deal, but that’s because the stupid guidelines have changed. My doctor is fortunately old school.  I get fuzzy, my mind blanks out, I get shaky, my vision blurs, I might have tunnel vision, my hearing goes, MY MIND BLANKS!  I should stress that last part again. My mind blanks. There is no rational thought.  So people tell me, “oh communicate that you need a break.” I. CAN’T. I can’t communicate anything because I really don’t have the ability to voice it. I will go onto autopilot and continue the tasks I’m doing and try to get some quick sugar in me.  Oh, all while trying desperately not to cry and not to snap at someone. Because it really makes me cry like a watering pot.

Ask Lucifer, Wildflower, Miss Holly.  They’ve all seen me do it. I have cried more times at work than I care to admit. Currently my sugars are all wonky. Stress and lack of sleep and not eating right at work have messed me up. And it’s not super simple to just get it back up to snuff. And Tomcat, it is not something where I can just say “Oh I need a break”.  By the time I realize it has happened, it’s too late.  And I try to eat when I’m not hungry, but working in a restaurant, it’s not that simple to just eat because you smell food all day long and just don’t really want whatever it is that there is to eat. It’s a catch 22 situation.

Then throw in menopause.  Oh that’s a real trip because out of nowhere literally my mind can blank because of what’s going on. Not to mention the emotional roller coaster of hormone fluctuation going on. (Don’t even get me started on the emotional roller coaster of not being able to have kids. I still have not dealt with that one yet. There is so much to that one that I just haven’t dealt. Even now it makes me weepy for no apparent reason) Not to mention I’m still a fully functioning 28 day female… So the PMS/Menopause thing gets wonky as well.

Throw in a blood disorder that makes me have to stay anemic. Hemochromatosis, or Celtic Curse, or the Rusting Disease.  Basically my body takes iron and stores it. Not in my blood, but in my organs. Hence my blood sugars going wonky (pancreas) or the menopause, or oh, the thyroid that’s low.  I have to donate blood to keep the iron stores down, but to keep them down, I have to stay semi anemic. Out of breath. Tired.

Photo by Heather Schwartz on Unsplash

Basically, I shouldn’t work. Coffeeman, this is not saying I am going to cut back on work. I love, LOVE, LOVE my job, so don’t you dare. I’m just explaining.

Add in another genetic disorder that makes it so I don’t absorb B12 vitamins or Folate properly, and an adrenal issue…. the inability to heal well (bruises, cuts, scrapes, burns take forever to heal)  Okay, so yes, it is so simple to just take a break and ask for a few minutes to collect myself at work.

Not gonna happen so simply. In fact, I bet it doesn’t even cross my mind because like I said, my mind blanks.

Life is screwy. I’m tired because of most of this. It makes me exhausted, so does stress. So do ridiculous relationships that make me want to cry. Which stresses me out and blank, there goes rational thought.

I’m blonde, I’m a writer, I’m a female. I have a lot of things working against me. I’m not cavalier about anything. You think I might just be willy nilly making decisions, but I stress about decisions and hurting people all the time. It’s not so simple.

So, now that I’ve vented about personal matters, I hope it helps anyone else going through crazy health. And I hope, dear reader/coworker, you can understand that you can’t just expect it to be so simple.


Lack of Tact makes me Bite Back

Photo by Mitchell Orr on Unsplash Stupid uphill climb…

Just as I think I’ve made progress in one area of my life, something else seems to derail everything and I feel like I’ve slid back down the ever upward climbing slope. Sisyphus and his boulder. This was a very stress induced week; pardon, the last two to three weeks have been stress induced weeks, where I feel exhausted beyond belief and unable to make any rational decisions. In fact, I’ve made several rash decisions that have made the stress even higher. Mr. T (renaming  Tomcat for personal reasons) and I went through a whirlwind of a thing that created family problems and drama that made me take a step back from it all and reevaluate some decisions and life choices.

It’s never easy to have to deny what you want for the better good. I really, really hate doing that. Mrs. B said that you can’t always do what you want, but what is right. I really hate that sometimes as well, because she’s right. What I want isn’t always what’s good for me. I want to stay up late. But I should go to bed. I want to drink numerous cups of coffee, but I need to drink water. I want to date so and so. But who do I want to end up with in life.

Tomcat and I are in this weird work/coworker relationship that was closer than that. Lucifer and I had the same issue. Don’t date coworkers. It will screw you up. It’s all too personal. And now we are clashing with each other. I don’t think it helps that Tomcat and Lucifer are friends. I think they feed off of each other too much. And currently, after a run-in with Lucifer, I have my feisty nature exposed. I’m tired of being pushed. I’m tired of people telling me I’m lacking passion, that I don’t know anything, that I’m too distracted, that they can whip me into shape. It’s not that I even disagree with all of that, but I’m just tired of the arrogant boys, boys 10-15 years younger than me, thinking they are God’s gift to the human race and they can teach me a thing or two. Honey, just because I have some naivete and haven’t been out in the world sleeping around, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. Push me so far and I might just snap and then like hurricanes wreaking havoc, you won’t like the end result. You will get burned, stabbed, eviscerated, yes, Mels, I know if someone was ever murdered with a knife, I’m the first suspect…..

Tomcat and I clash when he tries to boss me around, this boy, and I say it with complete and total snark and sarcasm and stabby looks in my eyes, thinking he’s my boss. He’s not. Lacking tact, trying to act like he’s the new sous chef (Lucifer is no longer with us) and just being an all around a**hole at times, I could easily slap him so hard. Last night was one of those nights where I wasn’t going to be pushed. He’s been doing it for the past month since he joined and I had it. I outright defied him and ignored his bossy tone. So he went and got Coffeeman. Fine, I don’t care if Chef has to come in and deal with it. I’m tired of being pushed around by people who think they know everything. This goes back to even a few of my even younger coworkers who are half my age. Children. They are children. I may not have kids of my own, but whatever happened to respect your elders and superiors?  It’s like it just doesn’t exist.

Lucifer was 10 years younger than me and my boss. I get that he got to boss me around, but still, it can really irk when ‘children’ are bossing you around. Because they have no tact. Tact, Tomcat. You have no tact. No diplomatic skills. Brag about you being a person with manners and all, but seriously with me,  you have zip. And you are getting even less. You want to see me bite back, well, honey, there is how I will start fighting. Even if it isn’t for a good, valid reason, I will bite back if you are rude.

Clearly the drama and issues are not out of the water. Clearly I haven’t simmered down. It probably doesn’t help that Tomcat and I had a private message late last night and it still irked me. I still feel he thinks he’s in charge of me in the kitchen. I could use Coffeeman’s advice. I just hate to bother him now that he’s having to take on more with Lucifer gone. I’d really like to be his girl Friday, but I’m so tired right now, I feel I can’t take on any more than he’s already put on me. Not that I’m complaining, I’m looking forward to it. A lone kitchen and baking and experimenting. Now that’s kind of fun. I hope.

Pardon my vent. I had plan to talk about making and baking and experimenting but the issues of the kitchen have clearly frustrated me more than enough.

Bare with me. I might be able to tone down a little today. I had some good advice from various things and people in life and now it’s just applying them.


When A Writer Becomes a Chef de Partie


Photo by Bank Phrom on Unsplash

My life went from ordinary to whirlwind in moments. An application, an acceptance, and suddenly my simple life of get up, run the house, and write when I could, went to get up and be a prep chef in a brand new restaurant.

My days, and nights (the dreams oh the dreams!) are filled with working in a kitchen for the first time in my life. Writing has definitely taken a backseat, but like you know your kids are there, you still have to pay attention to them. I still write. Poems here and there, and a new story started on Sunday with a boom. A Hallmark-esqe thingy. I have three pages. Whoo-ee! I laugh because I’m notorious for starting things.

Being a prep chef is interesting. I’m learning a lot, I’m in charge of a walkin cooler, can you imagine? I make pizza dough by the pounds (40 yesterday) and I direct traffic. I yell at waitstaff, I find things, I’m a gopher. I have too many bosses and not enough time. I’m getting up early, I’m working late, I’m feeling exhausted all the time. And oh wow, where did some of those muscles come from? I have no idea, but my collegue and I compare bruises all the time. Or where we nicked ourselves with the very sharp knives.

I’ve cut up 20+ chickens and sous vide just as many. I’ve helped prepare for an 80+ person Christmas Party. I’ve joked with the chef, and the staff, and the bartender, and made myself the brunt of jokes. I’m blonde, what do you expect.

It’s been good, it’s been bad, and it’s been strange. But that’s what comes when you go from writing to cooking.

So if I’m a little lax on writing here on this blog, part of that is due to just being busy all the time and my life is cooking, not writing. But I have learned one thing, a kitchen is like a pirate ship. Now that’s a prompt I’m working on.


Let’s Get Personal – I’m Going Through What?!

hormones1Let’s get personal about me. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to talk about this, but maybe it will apply to other ladies out there.

First off, let me start with this by saying I have had two boyfriends and I have kissed three guys. One of those guys being a lovely man I met and within an hour of meeting him, I had the best kiss of my life.  I still get flushed thinking about it…….. now, speaking of flushing….

Drum roll please.  I am 33 and I am going through menopause. I’m 33 and I’ve had two boyfriends, and I’m going through menopause.  How is this possible?  How could I not even be partway through my early life and my body is saying, “No, I quit!”?  How is it that I still feel like I’m in my twenties, but my body says, no, you are in your 50s? How is it that all of this is happening?

Well, genetics has a lot to play with it. My sister, DB, who has Downs Syndrome, went through it when she was 30. Mrs. B went through it in her thirties. SO clearly genetics has a lot to play with this.  But it’s also because I carry some genetic mutations I received from both of my parents, specifically, my father.  I have one of the genes that makes up hemochromatosis, which I inherited from Mr. B who has the disorder.  I carry a lot of the problems, and with new research, I might even actually have the disorder. I’ll let the doctors sort that out.

All of this is a factor in why my body is saying, that’s it.

053459bf9f6cb569023ee4ec211193cbBut it’s a strange feeling to know that technically, your childbearing years are over, and you’re not even out of your childbearing years. That being said, I have struggled for years with not really wanting children, but feeling somewhat obligated that I should have children because that’s what Christian women do…. Not really a good reason.  Honestly, children scare the crap out of me. I’ve yet to meet a lot of kids that I actually like, though there are a couple. I just never know what to do with them. And the thought of homeschooling them, which would have been a preference because that’s what worked for me… and raising kids for 18+ years….. Yep,  that always scared me so much. And even the thought of marrying a man who has children already, scares me.

I like to think I would be a great aunt that could hand the kids back after an afternoon. Or if I married an older man who had grown kids…. the really cool, hip grandma. It’s possible. But honestly, that’s the only way I can see myself with kids.

But back to my body. I’m finding that now that the hot flashes have abated, God, thank you for HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy) and I’m sleeping at night, now I’m more affected by my emotions. My emotions are through the roof. I’m irritated by everything. People are driving me nuts. I’m about ready to knock off my entire family. (Not really, but they are grouchy enough as it is, but my temper is not handling their moods along with my own.)  Part of this is my issue with the fact that I’m sitting here repeating over and over in my head…. I am not married, I’ve never ‘been’ with a guy….. I know, TMI, ……but my body’s physical aspects are changing and well, is a guy going to want a young woman who’s hormonal imbalance has changed?

Maybe that’s just a little too much to worry about, but these are the changes a woman goes through when she’s been married for years, the kids are gone… and heck, even the sex may have changed. It isn’t supposed to happen when a woman is still young. When a woman is still thinking about all of that.  Not that older women don’t think about it, but from what I’ve heard, the desire tamps down a bit.

I kind of want to rail and cry and vent over it. It didn’t bother me much when I got the tests back a couple months ago. Mrs. B asked me if it did bother me, and I really took it in stride because it explained the hot flashes I had been having for several years. Because honestly, I have been going through this for at least 3+ years, but it wasn’t figured out until the numbers really went off and out of whack. But after thinking about whether or not it bothered me, I found that it did. I do blame Mrs. B to some degree because she put the bug of being bothered in my head. I’m not mad at her, but maybe it just got me to admit that yeah, I am bothered. I’m not even really sure how to deal with it.

Surprisingly, I think finally making it to the Writing Circle of local writers in this area and reading one of the writer’s books, I’m dealing in some ways.  The author, Melinda Field wrote the book True, which she gave me a signed copy almost a year ago. It’s been in my ‘To Read’ pile and I finally pulled it out about three weeks ago. While I’ve yet to finish it, one character within the story has hit me. Briar is a 35 year old woman who is diagnosed with breast cancer and well, I don’t think I’m giving that much away by saying it’s really serious.  Now, I’m fortunate, I don’t have that problem, but Briar hit me because here is a young woman that has her world turned upside down at a young age.  These things aren’t supposed to happen to us. Is it? And yet, the world says differently.

Life rarely turns out how you have planned. Okay, fine, it never turns out how you plan. But shouldn’t some things turn out status quo? Or like how everyone else lives? Right?  Apparently not.

So here I am, a couple months from my 34th birthday with my body saying, “Honey, I’m going to be older than you think.”

I can honestly say that I haven’t totally dealt, and it’s probably going to take a while, but I wanted to share. Does this need to be said? No. Do I need to share my woes with all of you? Definitely not. Is this a too much of a selfie world? Most definitely, but I felt inspired to share in the hopes that others won’t feel alone if their life has changed in ways they weren’t expecting.



Let’s Get Personal – Why Aren’t You Married

12250144_401158516759945_3998860343872336222_nLet’s get personal.

I’m thinking of making this a new segment, or category for my blog. Basically, it’s me just rambling on about more personal things in my life. Things that make me tick.

So here is the subject of today. Being 30+ and not married.

The idea for this post came after Mrs. B was at the hospital for a procedure and met her tech who is 35, not married, and as Mrs. B put it, “cute as a button.” She asked her what she does when people ask the proverbial, ‘why aren’t you married, are you going to get married, and what about kids? questions.” The tech replied that she’s had to get creative and sometimes a bit rude when going to answer that question.

I happen to understand that completely. Ever since I turned 18, or moved to North Northern CA, to this very little town where ‘Everybody knows your name’….. and your business, and your life, and feels like it’s perfectly acceptable to butt into every little detail of your life. And the mothers are always, and I stress always, asking why you aren’t married. And “don’t you want to be married?” and “Oh, you should meet my son/nephew/ friend’s son/ grandson/ my neighbor’s son….. and so on and so on. The men that are 50+ and up pretty much ask the same thing, or versions of, “Why don’t you meet some nice boy” or “I can’t believe some guy hasn’t snatched you up.”


It’s not so much that I mind that they want to set me up, find out why, or whatever, never mind, it does get old, and they don’t understand when you say, “There really aren’t any available men that are good men in this area.” No, seriously, there really are not any good men, that I know of, in this area. I live in a logging, ranching, meth, marijuana, strange area. So the guys are……. well not my type. I come from a city mentality. I come from city life and living and I know it even though I am a ‘farm girl’ in some ways.

So, I’m left trying to figure out how to politely tell these people to mind their own business. In a good girl way. And it happens a lot. Maybe not weekly, but it happens enough that I mentally sigh when someone asks me that. It’s about as bad as when I get asked by all these people when I’m going back to school. IE college. Even though I’m 33. And they knew me when I was 18. Like I said, strange area.

I have yet to figure out a more rude method of diplomacy. That’s an oxymoron. Sorry. There is no way to be politely rude. But sometimes you just really want to tell people to go fly a kite. And then there is the whole ‘haven’t you tried online dating? Because my so-and-so met so-and-so on match.com, you should try it….”   blah blah blah. Yep, I’ve tried online dating. It’s been a real party. Not. I have tried it a couple times, just recently I spent a year on one site without much luck and a lot of hassle. Online dating has the issue of not always being able to meet the person right away. I live in a far off north place and a lot of guys do not want to come meet me. And I expect that, partly because I do not drive. And I don’t think a woman should have to go meet the man. That’s just now how I believe it should be. So yes, I have standards.

So, online dating is tricky. That being said, the tech Mrs. B met, recommended OKcupid. So, well, I might try it. Why not. She said she has heard of more luck there.

See, cause I actually do want to be married. I am not running from marriage, but honestly, it certainly seems like I should have been married 10 times over with how often I get bugged about it. But honestly, it’s not my fault when ……’My dear partner, when what’s left of you gets around to what’s left to be gotten, what’s left to be gotten won’t be worth getting, whatever it is you’ve got left”. …….is what the guys are like these days. (for you good guys, never mind) And for those that are wondering, this quote comes from White Christmas.

Prince Charming in a treeThe guys are waiting around, it seems till they have had thir fun, and then they will settle down. So, pardon me if I decide to go have a life. But then there is a caveat. If a girl doesn’t sit around waiting to have Prince Charming fall into her lap, then she’s “Too busy to find a guy and it’s her fault if no guy is interested.” But if she sits around doing nothing, then she’s not out looking hard enough or she’s too picky… You really can’t win. It is incredibly frustrating.

So, the teck is not waiting around to meet a guy. She is living a very full life. My cousin is living her life. I am still in limbo because I’m kind of waiting around for my guy, but that being said, I don’t just not live. My life is just a little less active, but that’s how I roll.

But I’m curious…. Single ladies and men out there. How do you deal with the rude question of why aren’t you married? Do you politely change the subject, or do you tell the people to butt out?

I’d love to know.