Thursday, October 23, 2014

31 Days Writing Challenge: Day 23~How I Met My Husband

Charlie and I had actually known each other since I was in the fourth grade and he was in the sixth grade. He picked on me and my friends on the playground during recess but whenever his friends weren't looking he'd play jump rope with me or talk to me at the water fountain. But only when his friends weren't around. For my part, I mooned over him. Heart fluttering whenever we crossed paths. Daydreaming about him during class. I wrote about him in my little diary, the way only ten-year-old girls can.

We were never more than friends, though. I "went with" other boys and he had girlfriends. He offered to kick one boy's butt for me when I found out he'd cheated on me. It was all very sweet.

My friends hated him, though. And honestly, he wasn't all that nice to them. I think he sort of hated them, too. He had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide and he was only ever truly nice to me. Things were tough for him at home. His parents had split up and his mom remarried a man with two sons of his own who weren't all that easy on him. Not that that made his attitude okay, but the tenderheart that I am, I gave him a pass and defended him to my friends.

He played baseball in high school and I went to all of his games. My friends and I huddled under blankets in the cold night games and I'd cheer until my throat hurt and lungs ached.  He looked so good in those tight uniform pants and since he was the catcher for our team, I'd always make sure to sit in the bleachers behind him.

Kinda pervy, right?

Everyone thought we were an item since he'd walk me to my first class every morning and sit with me during 2nd period gym class. He'd let me babysit his baseball card collection while he played basketball and then we'd walk back to the main building together, him all sweaty and victorious from the game. When he could sneak away from his friends at lunch, he'd end up at my table. But we never dated. Never kissed. Never even held hands. And when he saw a notebook where I'd stupidly written "Jana Loves Charlie" he freaked and hardly spoke to me for a week.

Yes. I was one of those girls who shouted her love from the cover of her notebooks. Didn't we all.

He moved away when I was fourteen. For a few weeks after we wrote to each other (actual letters!) and he sent me his school photo with "Love, Charlie" inscribed on the back. I poured over that photograph for days trying to decide if he meant the inscription and trying to decide if I should send him a photo of myself. This was all pre-internet, pre-social media, pre-everything modern when sharing photographs was a big deal--if I even had one to share.

In the end, it didn't matter because he stopped writing me back. I tucked his photo away in the back of an old photo album and tried to forget him.

I succeeded for a while in the sense that I fell in love with another boy and dated him all through the rest of high school. Then I met a guy in college who I fell in love with when my high school boyfriend and I broke up. I dated my college boyfriend, Andy, for several years until he took a job in another city after graduation and didn't ask me to go with him. By that time, I had established my career at the library and rented a sweet little house by the lake. As much as I loved Andy, I let him go because I was young and wasn't ready to be married anyway.

Six years passed and I dated here and there. Mostly first dates. Mostly because it was expected of me. I'd pretty much decided that I didn't want to marry. At 29, I really enjoyed my freedom. And if the men I dated didn't inspire me to fall in love, I was okay with that.

Until I ran into Charlie again.

I'm not going to lie and say I'd never thought of him during the years since we lost touch. Every now and then I'd pulled out his photo and thought about what might have been. If he hadn't moved away. If we hadn't lost touch. If we'd ever cemented anything other the chaste friendship we'd shared. So when he ran over my foot with his shopping cart at the grocery store, I wasn't entirely surprised that my heart gave a little blip.

Of course he looked different. His hair was speckled with strands of gray and there were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there when they'd take that long ago school photograph. But he still looked like him. Same dark blue eyes. Same mischievous grin. Of course he'd run over my foot on purpose to get my attention, much like he'd done in elementary school--teasing me and my friends just to get me to notice him.

I sort of panicked. My tongue felt as though it were glued to my the roof of my mouth and I'm pretty sure I yelped when he spontaneously hugged me in the middle of the frozen foods section. To this day he teases that I was struck dumb with love but what I was really struck with was sheer terror.

Standing in front of me was the boy I'd long pined over. The boy who's image had lingered in the back of mind all these years even as I forgot about him and fell in love with others. The boy who I realized in that moment I had held every other man up to and found them lacking. It was ridiculous how much I feared the crushing disappointment of having all those fantasies ruined in the face of the flesh and blood man standing in front of me, gushing about how great it was to see me and could he take me to lunch.

Of course I said yes and then bolted from the store before we could settle on a place to meet. I was home, car parked in the driveway, ice cream melting when I realized what I'd done. I'd essentially ran out on him in a blind panic.

I felt stupid, yes, but I also felt such relief. I'd dodged that bullet thus protecting my childish memories of my first young love.

It was two weeks before I ran into him again. Two weeks to kick myself as I congratulated myself. Two weeks of wondering if I'd ever see him again and wishing I never would while praying that I wouldn't get my wish. What can I say? It was confusing! I wanted my Charlie back in my life, of course I did. I wanted all those what if's to result in romantic love story. Even as I feared that I'd be crushed in disappointment.

The second time we ran into each other was at a church. Not my church but the church my sister's family attended. My niece and nephew were participating in a little church play and of course I went. My sister had neglected to tell me that Charlie had been attending the same church for several weeks so imagine my surprise during the fellowship greeting ritual to find Charlie grinning at me as he approached my pew.

I swear I almost cried with the relief in seeing him and realizing that he wasn't angry that I'd basically ditched him. He reached for me in what I'm certain was meant to be a friendly church greeting hug but when our bodies met and his arms wrapped around me, I lost all sense of place and time and clung to him. I don't know how long we stood there like that, wrapped up in that hug but I'm pretty sure a couple of hymns were sung.

After that morning Charlie and I were inseparable.  We talked every day and saw each other nearly as often. We talked on the phone into the wee hours of the morning about everything and nothing. For months this went on and just as in elementary and high school, we never kissed. Never held hands. We weren't dating. He introduced me as his friend and the only time he ever touched me was whenever we were about to part--he'd hug me. Not the same clinging hug we'd shared in church that morning but just a brief tight hold before letting me go.

It drove me crazy. The relationship that wasn't. I loved him. I was in love with him. I saw my future with him in it. Marriage, kids, house, dogs, the whole enchilada. I craved a physical relationship with him and longed to hear him say the words I feared he never would. My family kept pestering me about it. "When were you getting married? You're turning thirty this year, the ol' clock is ticking. What are you waiting for?"

Of course they didn't know that we weren't an 'us.' They saw Charlie and me as a unit. Joined at the hip. It never dawned on them that they'd never seen us demonstrate any physical affection. They assumed that what Charlie and I had was a romance.

I never pressured him about it, though. Never even said the words aloud to him, though I thought them every time I saw him, spoke to him or was anywhere near him. I knew if I made the first move it'd be the high school freak out redox. For two years, I waited. Waited for him to make a move. To open his heart to me. To realize that we could be everything to each other.

And then one day it happened. I came home from work and he was waiting for me on my front porch, back braced against the front columns, one knee drawn up with an arm resting on top of it. For all the world, he seemed relaxed but as I approached him I sensed his tension. Something was up.

I smiled at him as I made my way to the porch and he smiled back as I sat on the porch beside him. We didn't speak for several moments and with each tick of silence I felt the breath in my chest still.

"I'm in love, Jana-girl."

And just like that all my dreams imploded. He had finally used the "L" word and my name in the same sentence but I knew he didn't mean with me. I felt the tears well in my eyes and I looked away from him, trying desperately to blink them away.

Her name was Marcia. They had been seeing each other for a several weeks and he wanted me to meet her. I didn't ask why  he'd never mentioned her before. I already knew. He'd known how I felt and he'd been trying to spare my feelings. It dawned on me then that he had probably been seeing women the entire past two years. The whole time I was waiting on  him, he was giving away the affection I craved to women who would never love him like I had. I wanted to scream at him. To rip his hair out by the roots. Mostly I just wanted to be alone to cry in private. The marriage, the kids, the house the dogs--all those things I'd seen in my future--those were dead and I had the urgent need to grieve.

Of course I agreed to meet Marcia. If he was telling me about her there must be something special about her and I wanted--no, needed--to know who this woman was who had managed to do the one thing I'd never been able to do. Make Charlie love me.

Of course she was wonderful. Beautiful, gracious, intelligent. And of course she knew. She knew that I had loved him all this time. The sympathy in her eyes, the careful way she spoke to me about him gave it away. She knew and she understood how hard it was for me. And I couldn't hate her. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't.

They were married six months later, a tiny little baby bump barely noticeable beneath the layers of white silk and lace. My heart, fragile thing that it was, sat in the audience with a clear view of them as they made their vows together and I thought I might never find a glue strong enough to keep the fractured pieces of myself together.

Almost a year to the day, I met the man who would accomplish that very task. I was crouched in the hardware aisle of Wal-Mart searching for a wrench to loosen the pipes of my bathroom sink and he offered to help me. At first I thought he worked there so I told him all about the clogged sink and my refusal to pay a plumber to do something I should be able to tackle myself and how I'd watched countless youtube videos and felt confident but had no idea what sized wrench I needed.

He helped me pick out a wrench and then offered to help me use it. To this day I don't know what made me accept his offer because, hello--he could have been an ax murder! But it's been three years since that first day he rescued me and he hasn't killed me yet. Not to say that he probably hasn't wanted to at times.  We are both human, after all, and nothing in life is ever easy. But he is exactly the future I always dreamed of--better, even. We fight, we make up and we make each other better people for the struggle. And this time next year we'll be bouncing our very first baby on our knees.

Thank God, for knowing who and what we need better than we do.

Of course the above is a total work of fiction. No husband here and while Charlie and Andy are both real people--both boys who meant something to me--my relationships with them were never all that intense and most of the described events are entirely made up. But it was fun imagining "What might have been."

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Finished Desk

Before:

Um. No thank you Rival Team's colors. 


After:

Hellos, breath of fresh air!


This desk is one Mama picked up for her "room" and had me paint to match the dude table I did a while back. 

I have another desk to paint for Alyssa...if I can ever get Mama to come get hers outta the way. 

31 Days Writing Challenge: Day 22~Out of Control

I'm spinning. Spinning my wheels and spinning out of control. Each day I wake up and I feel as though I'm scheduled to face the firing squad and it's really showing. Showing in my waistline. Showing in my credit card debt. Showing in the amount of work that's piling up on my desk. Showing up in the disastrous state of my home. Heck, it's even showing up in my relationships with other people.

Stress is a hell of a thing. It ruins you. Or maybe that's just me. It ruins me. And I'm not sure what to do about it. I've taken all the long hard looks at my life. I've recognized the problems. I've searched for alternatives. I've prayed. I've angsted. I've made promises to myself and others. I've cried and fussed and made myself miserable. I reach for happiness and maybe feel it for a day and then it's gone. I don't even remember, really, what it felt like to have my shit together. To wake up and not feel like crying because I have to get out of bed.

I have this very deeply rooted fantasy that someday I'm going to meet someone who will sweep me off my feet and whisk me away from all the crap that has taken away my joy. He'll be financially secure and beg me to stay at home and pursue things that make me happy because he doesn't like the things that are happening to me where I am  . And then magically I'll lose all the weight I've gained and then some. I'll stop driving myself into credit card debt. I'll bake and write and get serious about photography and I'll be insanely happy. 

A true pipe dream. But some nights, it's the only way I can get myself to sleep. Or the only way I can talk myself into getting out of bed in the morning. We probably all have our own version of this fantasy. Sometimes mine alters into me being independently wealthy and being able to quit my job but I kinda like the whole "sweeping me off my feet" scenario because it means that for once I don't have to do it all myself. Which, don't get me wrong--I'm thankful for my independence. I'm so thankful that I, for the most part, can take care of myself and am not fully reliant on another person. But sometimes it would be nice to not HAVE to handle it all myself.

Anyway, ya'll, I'm just about at my breaking point with no solution in sight. And if it were just me experiencing this level of misery I might think that I'm just creating problems for myself. That maybe I am the problem. But I'm not alone in this frustration boat. I have co-passengers and we are all paddling upstream against a strong current and taking on water. If something doesn't give soon, I fear we are all doomed.

For my part, I do all these self-destructive things in an effort to sooth or distract myself. I eat to feel better. Which only makes me feel worse because, hello. Fat! I shop to distract myself. But then I get my credit card statement and want to cry. I say ugly things about people to other people and spread the misery. But then I feel like crap because, you know. It isn't kind or Godly to say ugly things about people. I snap at the people I love and then hate myself for being hateful. I go home and instead of cleaning the kitchen or straightening up the house, I sit on my ass and watch mind numbing TV or play on my phone. And then I feel like a lazy failure because my house is in shambles and I have no clean forks to eat my feelings with. And it's all just this vicious cycle because the harder I try to find something to me feel better, the worse I feel because it's all so self-destructive. And even knowing this--understanding what's happening, I can't seem to shake myself out of it because there is NOTHING that is making me happy. Not deep down where it counts. I'm becoming a bitter, mean spirited, joyless old hag.

Something has got to change in my life because if it doesn't? I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up. And that isn't a cryptic way of saying anything. That's just straight up, "I don't know what the hell to do to make this better before I explode." I can't seem to get a grip on anything and it's driving me insane and I hate it.

Monday, October 20, 2014

31 Days Writing Challenge: Day 20-On Being Sick and Loving It

While I hate that being sick derailed me from my writing challenge, I must admit--blowing my nose, hocking up a lung and sleeping off a night-time cold medicine hangover was a small price to pay for a few days to stay home and refresh my mind as well as my body. In case you've any questions about my mental state where work is concerned...have you been reading the short story I've been posting here? haha It's a lot of wishful thinking in the category of what I'd say if I didn't want to keep my job. 

Sure, it's fiction but they say, "Write what you know," so...Uh-huh. Now, if only George Montgomery were real...

Anyway, yeah. I stayed at home and nursed a (literally) bloody cold. Watched a lot of daytime television. Went through a lot of tissues. Took plenty of naps. Ate a LOT of KitKats. (Comfort chocolate at it's finest.) Put in plenty of snuggle time with the DP and relished the fact that I had a very valid excuse to ignore all the crap on my desk.

But alas, I am feeling better. Physically, anyway. Back to work and back to stress. Dreading an upcoming meeting (in 30 minutes) because I already know what's going to be asked of me and while I could say no, it wouldn't score me any points with a person who already mostly dislikes me. Rock? Meet Hard Place.

Bleh.

I  had a glorious weekend, though. The weather was fantastic, I felt well enough to work on a furniture project for Mama. I read Kristin Higgins' newest book and flipped through the three new cookbooks I received in the mail Saturday. I went to a church homecoming where I sang two solos (and miraculously didn't cough through them) and ate a lot of yummy church potluck food. In essence, it was exactly the perfect conclusion to an unplanned break.

Now I'm off to face the firing squad. As we used to write on our notes in high school, Longer letter later!

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Sick

I'm battling a bit of a cold right now, complete with nose bleeds. Yuck. Been at home today, doped up in cold meds, trying to recouperate. So no writing today. :-(

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

31 Day Writing Challenge: Day 14--A Cookbook/Recipe Contributing Fool

Don't let me mislead you. I am not writing a cookbook. However, our library is putting together a cookbook to sell in support of our "Friends of the Library" program and the editor is currently taking submissions. It's a little embarrassing how many recipes I've sent her. I want to send them all! It is, after all, the closest I'll ever come to actually publishing a cookbook--or anything, really!

I think it's going to be a neat cookbook, though. Unlike a lot of the "contributed by" fundraiser type cookbooks I've seen--You know the ones put out by churches or other organizations--our editor has insisted that we include notes about our experiences with the recipes we contribute. And she has also insisted that whatever we contribute be something we've actually cooked as opposed to simply copying recipes we think are interesting but haven't ever made for ourselves. I'm excited about being a part of it. For once, I get to share my cooking experiences in a medium that might actually care!

That being said, I know I'm no expert. There are still cooking techniques I've never tried and I fail more often than I succeed when it comes to creating my own recipes. I'm no food blogger. But I do enjoy cooking things that I think will be delicious because, you know, I like to eat.

Here's what I've been making lately:

I made the filling from Pioneer Woman's Chocolate Pie and it was delicious and not all that complicated. I shared it with the folks and they seemed to enjoy it, too.

Then, of course there were the paw print sugar cookies. That recipe really does make the best rolled out and cut sugar cookies.

Then there were the jalapeno poppers I made and ate for supper Saturday night. Like these, but brushed with BBQ sauce prior to baking.

And then there was last night. *swoon*

On the way home from work as we outran the giant thunderstorm that moved through the area last night, I dreamed up the following concoction based on my desire for cream cheese, the mushrooms I needed to use ASAP and the fact that for once I had some yummy Italian sausage in my fridge.

Cream Cheese Sausage Mushroom Casserole

1 8oz block cream cheese, softened
½ cup mayonnaise
½ cup sour cream (I used fat free)
8 oz. shredded Mozzarella, divided (I used part skim)
4 sweet Italian Turkey sausage links, removed from casings
1 carton white button mushrooms, sliced.

Preheat oven to 400*

Crumble and cook sausage in medium skillet until just starting to brown before adding mushrooms. Cook until sausage is cooked through and mushrooms are lightly browned.

Soften cream cheese in the microwave for just a couple of seconds until it is creamy enough to stir with a spoon but not melted. Mix mayonnaise, sour cream and half the mozzarella with cream cheese. Once sausage and mushrooms are done, stir into cheese mixture. Pour into an oven safe casserole dish and cover the top with remaining mozzarella and bake for 15-20 minutes, switching to broil for 3-5 minutes or until the cheese topping is brown and bubbly. Allow to rest for a few minutes before serving.

 
Jana’s Notes:

This recipe is actually based on a recipe for baked spinach dip that my sister uses.  I just used sausage and mushrooms instead of frozen creamed spinach. For a lighter/healthier version, you could use fat free cream cheese and light mayo and reduce the amount of mozzarella cheese mixed in. You could also add whatever spices you like to flavor this up to taste. I liked it with just the sausage for flavor. You could also add whatever other veggies you wanted—bell pepper, jalapeno, spinach, artichokes, or onions for example. And of course, if you’re not into turkey sausage, you could use sweet pork Italian sausage or even go spicy. Breakfast sausage would also be good. Let your palate (and your fridge/pantry) be your guide here.

For submission purposes I doubled the recipe from what I actually made last night but let me tell you...next time? I will be making a giant full on version of this because oh my cheesy sausage goodness was this stuff scrumptious. And I'm not even bragging on myself because, hello, how difficult is it to mess up sausage and cream cheese? But this stuff was soooooo good that I ate a little more than half of the small casserole dish's worth for supper and then when I went to pack up the rest of it I stood there and ate a good half of what was left. Tiny portion for me at lunch today. Sad.

I wish every day was filled with cream cheese inspired goodness. Just think how scrumptious life would be.

In totally somewhat unrelated news, I was just informed via email that I have THREE new cookbooks shipping from Amazon. Jessica Merchant's Seriously Delish (How Sweet It Is), Joy the Baker's Homemade Decadence, and Martina McBride's Around Table. I am a cookbook buying (and contributing) fool. And I can't WAIT to drool over these things. ;-)

Monday, October 13, 2014

31 Day Writing Challenge: Day 13--Part Two of A Short Story

Lunch with George Montgomery, Aria mused as she returned her purse to her desk drawer. They had gone to a small little hole in the wall bar-b-que place--not at all what she had ever pictured in association with Mr. Sexiest Former Governor Alive in any context. Appearance proved to be deceiving, indeed.

Not that I'm disappointed, she smiled at the memory of his toned forearms. He had literally rolled up his shirt sleeves and dug into his large pull pork sandwich--extra sauce, extra coleslaw--with as much enthusiasm and vigor as any of the blue collar men who took up the booths around them. The sight of him giving serious attention to his messy, drippy sandwich relieved some of the mortification of having dribbled sauce down the front of her blouse.

"It's all in the elbow placement," he'd coached her, his eyes sparkling with a touch of amusement when he had noticed her dabbing her blouse in dismay. And she couldn't argue with his direction, seeing as how his shirt had come away pristine.

As it turns out, George--as he'd directed her to call him--was as down to earth and kind as he was deliciously hot. A fact that inevitably made the widower even hotter.

"I'm glad Mr. Montgomery was so understanding about your having lost his contract."

Blech. The troll.

Shoving her tasty memories of the delicious George to the back of her brain to enjoy later, Aria clicked her computer screen back to life and nodded.

"He's very kind," was all she offered in response, her eyes still on her computer screen as she called up her email. She feared that if she spoke further she'd say more than what was acceptable and still manage to keep her job.

"I, however, expect it on my desk before you leave today. It is unacceptable and embarrassing to have a donor realize that we are so careless that we can't even manage to keep up with a simple contract.

Aria gritted her teeth and mentally shoved the troll into a wood chipper. Or would a wood chipper be too kind a death for him?

"Ms. Jamison," his voice raised, he grabbed her shoulder and swiveled her chair around to face him.

"Excuse me? Did you really just touch me?"

Anger skittered dangerously down her spine and her belly flopped. Gosh, she hated, loathed and despised confrontation but she feared this was it. The end of her straw had been reached and someone--HIM--was about to catch her in all her Irish Temper glory.

"I do not appreciate being ignored, Ms. Jamison. Don't think I haven't noticed your apathy towards me since I've been here. I have to wonder if perhaps you didn't deliberately lose Mr. Montgomery's contract in an effort to embarrass me."

Shoving to her feet, Aria felt her body compel itself toward him, her face mere inches from his, every ounce of restraint and hesitation sliding from her like water off a duck's back.

"First of all, Mr. Dually, you do a pretty damn good job of embarrassing yourself and thus need no help whatsoever from me. Second of all, if you've felt any apathy from me at all it's because you are a two-bit, micromanaging, condescending troll who has done nothing but nitpick and make me and the rest of our team miserable since you stepped through the door. And as much as I'd like--No, love--to see you tossed out on your ear for your incompetency, I am a professional who loves this library and has given the last thirteen years of  my life to seeing our library program succeed and flourish and therefor would slit my own wrists before doing something that might jeopardize our standing with our donors, sponsors or patrons. I will find that contract and when I do it will be the last thing I ever do for you because you can consider this my two week's notice."

She didn't know if it was the fact that he could likely smell the spicy bar-be-que sauce on her breath or the fact that she'd never once raised her voice or batted an eye, but his face paled and he staggered backward a few steps. Probably the breath thing because he wasn't smart enough to realize the danger in her even tone. Had to be the breath or he wouldn't be opening his mouth right now.

"I'd warn you to not bother responding," she told him cooly, "But seeing as how you are quite possibly the stupidest man I've ever met I doubt you'd heed my warning."

"Ms. Jamison--" He barked, his face practically dripping with outrage and condescension. A string of ignorance no doubt forming on his lips.

"That's what I thought," she muttered under her breath and pretended to lung at him. He jumped back so quickly that the back of his head smacked loudly against the door jamb.

"Mr. Dually," his assistant, Mary called softly, her lips twitching. She'd no doubt heard Aria's speech and the answering thwack of her boss's head. "Are you alright?"

He rubbed the back of his head, his eyes narrowed on Aria as he nodded.

"Thick skull and all," Aria snickered and crossed her arms over her chest. He would not be seeing her docile professional side again. She was done with a capital D-U-N.

Mary coughed around her laugh before extending a folder towards the still glowering little troll. "I, um, found the contract you were looking for?" she explained tentatively, her statement sounding more like a question. "It was, um, filed in your completed contracts drawer?"

Before Dually could take the file from Mary, Aria snatched it from the poor girl's fingers and flipped it open. Her vision blurred and her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she registered the name and contents of the contract.

I'm going to have a stroke right here in this tiny office with that son of a bitch watching and I'll never get to see him fall into a vat of lye and boil.

As her vision cleared and she lifted her head in his general direction, she noted that his face was stained in crimson and for a moment she thought perhaps she really had killed him. But no, it was his shame covering his face.

"You slimy son of biscuit eating toad. You want to talk about setting someone up to fail? How long would it have taken you to find this file after you fired me or I quit?"

He threw his hands up defensively, his back once more against the wall. "Now, Ms. Jamison," he placated. "Clearly this was a simple misunderstanding."

"Oh clearly," her voice dripped in sarcasm. "So the contract just walked itself from my desk and put itself away in a drawer in your office." She mimed slapping herself on the forehead.  "How silly of me to think that you'd have actually had the nerve to do it yourself." Slapping the file onto her desk loud enough that Mary and Dually both jumped, Aria advanced toward him again. "You seem to keep forgetting one vital detail, Mr. Dually. I'm not the idiot in this scenario."

He pulled himself up into his full five foot three inches. She would have given him points for bravery if he hadn't just won the idiot of the year award.

"When you are calm enough to see reason, please come see me in my office," he snapped before fleeing down the hall, his office door slamming behind him.

With him no longer standing in front of her to hurl her anger and insults at, her knees buckled and she would have hit the floor if Dorinda and Mary hadn't rushed to shove her chair close enough to catch her. Every part of her seemed to suddenly be shivering and her lungs were trying to hold her breath hostage.

Damn. The aftershocks of Irish temper were a bitch.

"You do know you have valid cause to report him to the board and have him removed as director, right?" Dorinda, having witnessed the temper more than once, handed her a glass of icy water. Aria gulped it down as Dorinda continued, "Mary and I will both back you up."

"Of course we will?" Mary added, her face a bit pale. She was still farely new and hadn't ever witnessed the temper and it's aftershocks before.

"I want  his blood," Aria growled moments before irrational laughter bubbled up her chest and out of her mouth.

To Be Continued 

31 Day Writing Challenge: Days 11 and 12--Weekend News and Events

Who could have ever predicted that someday I'd give two figs about football? It's a totally foreign concept to me and I'm not sure if I like this side of myself. Me and Sports have never been a happy couple. We don't canoodle in dark rooms and share intimate secrets with each other. We don't go out and play together. Heck, we don't even really speak each other's language!

The closest relationship I've EVER had with ANY sport, sport teams or whatever was in the early 90's when the guy I was crushing on played baseball on our high school team. I went to EVERY STINKING GAME, huddled under a blanket in the cold, cheered obnoxiously (to the point that said crush stopped speaking to me for a while) and pretty much lost all my brain cells. The crush also got me into the Atlanta Braves and I watched them religiously for a few years. Unfortunately, I was just as obnoxious with cheering for them as I was with cheering for my crush. FORTUNATELY, it was just me and Sis2 in our parent's bedroom watching their television and she and I were equally obnoxious so nobody got mad at me about that.

 


But yeah. I'm not a sportsy person. I don't understand football enough to even really know when to cheer! And yet...AND YET...twice this season I found myself parked in front of my television watching the Dawgs roll around like puppies and whoop a couple of tigers. (LSU and Auburn, respectively.) I smack talked on Facebook! I #hailstate-ed all over the place and whooped and hollered along with the rest of the crazed football fans in front of the ESPN College Game Day bus Friday afternoon.  I have not yet clanged my cowbell in excitement but that's more about having a dog who is spooked by loud noises.




I baked cookies in the shape of paw prints!


 I even bought a scarf for the Devil Pup to show her State Pride!

 
I don't know what's wrong with me! It's like I don't even know myself anymore!

So yeah. Mississippi is alllllllll up in some football right now. Even those of us who normally couldn't care less. And...WE'RE NUMBER ONE IN THE NATION!!!

Whew! Glad I got that out there. It was eating me up inside.

ANYhoo...

So besides forgetting who I am, I also spent some time Saturday with Sis1. Her Premiere Jewelry party went well. I was somewhat fairly miserable because, you know, social interaction an all that. But at least I did know many of the people there. And she made a ton of sales, so there's that. But she didn't stick around for any sort of "sister time." She got to my  house just in time to go set up for the party and then dropped me off when it was over. *shrugs* Probably won't see her again until Christmas, if then. (She and BIL are debating spending Thanksgiving AND Christmas with his mom.)

By the time I got home, I had a killer headache. Party hostess was burning three different candles in her house throughout the party and they KILLED my  head. I'm sensitive to fragrances on a good day. Prolonged exposure does not a fun time make. So I ditched the idea of laundry and dishes in favor of vegging on the couch with the last two episodes of last season's Vampire Diaries on DVD. Damon, if you're listening...I love you. Can we make out? Call me.

Speaking of making out...I'm thinking I should probably just marry my iPhone. I stayed on it in between naps Sunday. Social Media exploded with all the hype over our boys being no. 1 in the nation and I had lots of bragging and liking of various FB meme's to do. I'm ashamed to admit that I'm related to a fan of the "school up north" and I had to rub it in just a tad. I'm mean like that.

But heck, I'm not as vicious as the fans of the school up north. The like call us "toothless, cow herding, idiots"...and that's just one of the kinder descriptions I've read. Oh, but the best was the bitter Auburn fan who called us out as "fat, stupid, toothless, bigots who don't deserve to live, much less play football."  Or something to that effect. Every other comment on that thread was her spewing that same kind of hate. I think they finally blocked her. I mean, there's smack talk in all rivalries but there's a difference between rooting for and supporting your team and spewing hate.

I also got caught up on the first episode of American Horror Story: Freak Show. I'm not sure how long I can hang with AHS this time because, well, I spent most of the episode with my eyes (and sometimes ears!) closed. It's deteriorated the level of horror that you find in movies like Texas Chainsaw and that ilk. Not scary so much as just plain gross. I can do scary but gross? Soooooooo not my thing. Plus, clowns. *runs screaming*

I will try to stick with it because I generally love the twisted storylines of AHS. Just wish they weren't so gross.

And of course last night was Once Upon a Time time. I'm loving the participation of Elsa and the gang (but where's Olaf?) and how they are fitting into and with the central story line and regular characters on the show. Of course, I'm pretty sure I saw more commercial than actual programming. Is it just me or does it feel like we're watching commercials with three minute programming spots instead of programming with three minute commercial spots?

Anyhoo, that's all the coverage I got of the weekend.