Bad, Bad Food

I love fried dough.

I love pouring powdered sugar all over the fried dough.

Eating it on a windy day, is just not sexy.

I was with D and his date and our friend Kat the other night at a small town waterfront carnival.

There are assuringly unsafe rides administered by sketchy carnies with sketchy tats and no teeth.

Seriously. All of them.

Believe me, I looked.

But D’s date took it all in stride. He wanted us to meet the guy and I have to say, in the few years of hanging with D, I have never met one of his dates.

Possibly because they have never turned into a relationship, but this one, he liked this guy. Kat and I did too.

I liked him because he was the only one that would go on the scary ride at the fair with me.

And he was the only one that would eat fried dough.

I called D up this morning and said “I LIKE THIS ONE!”

When we all just had too much carnival, we trooped into a local place and washed it all down with beer and wine. (I had beer, my friends had wine).

I’m just saying…fried dough, washed down with beer…

…IS-NOT-A-FAVORITE-THING.

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My Favorite Things

Some of My Favorite Things

Oprah does it, why can’t I?

Except, you’ll be able to afford the stuff on my list!

1. Dansko Clogs

Okay, I lied. Some of these things are on the pricier side.

But Dansko clogs will last a lifetime. I just bought my first pair last year. They were cheapest at Zappos.com. Then I found a pair of Spring ones on sale at my local shoe store for $30!

2. Cuisenart Coffee Maker

The old Braun from the ol’ wedding registry finally broke down. This “Brew Central” I got on sale for $60 (from the original $79) and THEN I had one of those annoying coupons that come weekly in the mail from Bed Bath and Beyond that I always forget to take with me. And I ended up with a $50 coffee maker that makes the best 12 cups of coffee. I believe the french press or percolator is the best cup of coffee, but this does the deed for me when brewing an entire pot. It comes out hot and stays hot without tasting burned.

3. Glass Ring

I couldn’t find my exact ring anywhere online but I found these are similar. I got mine at our local Aveda Salon and it was on sale for $40. I wore it to an event recently where there was alot of clapping. And my hand and finger are now slightly bruised.

4. Carr’s Ginger Lemon Cremes

I eat them for breakfast sometimes. They are pricey but Trader Joe’s sells them for a fraction of the price. And then Costco, you can buy 4 boxes in a pack for even cheaper. I can’t stop eating them. I have to ration them and hide them so no visitors can eat them. Thankfully the kids don’t like them.

5. Archer Farms Monster Mix from Target.

I resolved the raisin issue. Now I just pick through them and throw them in the trash can underneath my desk when I am working. (because I have the bag at my studio desk). I know, it is a waste and there are starving children everywhere…but I can’t stand raisins. They ruin the mix. I like them only in oatmeal cookies. ONLY, I am saying, in OATMEAL cookies. Not in Monster Mix, amidst peanuts, chocolate chips, m&m’s, and peanut butter chips. I mean really. RAISINS DO NOT GO.

6. Nuvaring (yes, I am posting my birth control)

The best birth control ever. For me anyway. I love it. I don’t gain weight. I don’t have cramps. I barely bleed. I don’t get pregnant. Enough said. I love it. Only have to think about it once a month.

7. Green Tea Mints

Love these. They are strange but yummy. Take some getting used to. I love the container. I love that they are the shapes of green leaves. Like tea, but a mint. They ain’t quite the Altoid, which can cure the whole garlic hummus breath thing, but these are fun and yummy and will hide something subtle like milk.

8. Arches Watercolor Blocks

We have a wholesale art store near me which is where I usually buy these, but when I am lazy in the winter, I often will order these online at Dick Blick’s.

9. Lucky Fish T

They are hard to find. A store sells them one print/design at a time here in our town and they are about $65 or more a piece. Recently, I got one on sale for $35. Printed individually by a woman in Brooklyn. Unique and really cute.

10. Lotte Klaver

This just speaks for itself.

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Meme, I’ve seen you ’round

I have seen this meme around and love it because it delves us into ourselves. How well we know ourselves. I have done this with the highest mode of honesty possible. If you do it, let me know, I like reading people’s responses to the same questions. Oh, and don’t feel like it has to be done in one sitting. It took me a week to write this.

I am: Stronger than I think.

I think: I know how I feel at any given moment.

I know: to trust my instinct, even if I don’t act on it.

I want: to raise my girls to be strong and kind and down to earth, respectable, honest, and real.

I have: A home I love. Children I love. Work that I love.

I wish: I could always remain calm.

I hate: when men color their hair.

I miss: My flat stomach and thin thighs.

I fear: that my children will one day not need or want me.

I feel: Inspired every day creatively with my children, friends, home and work.

I hear: different things, depending on if I have my hearing aids on or not

I smell: fish sticks at 6am because I live near a fish plant.

I crave: really really good Mexican food.

I search: the internet sometimes to see if Byron Page from highs chool was ever found. I randomly saw him on a missing person’s tv show back in the 90s. I didn’t know him very well but he sat behind me in high school English class.

I wonder: if someone will ever come into my studio and buy it all. or at least, most of it.

I regret: not trying harder in school

I love: sleeping next to a man who likes to touch

I ache: to feel safe, always

I am not: unorganized

I believe: in love, believe it or not

I dance: Almost every day with my children in the kitchen, sometimes in our pajamas.

I sing: Every night to my children

I cry: when I tell someone how I feel, because I am scared they will judge me or tell me I am wrong to feel that way.

I don’t always: know how I feel.

I fight: when I am sure my feelings won’t change.

I write: daily

I win: when I am expressing my true self

I lose: when I feel resentful.

I never: go to sleep before ten

I always: shower daily, if not twice a day

I confuse: “affect” and “effect”

I listen: poorly to my children sometimes

I can usually be found: being a mom or working in my studio

I am scared: when I love someone who doesn’t love me back

I need: to get out of the house more often

I am happy: with people who think I am funny and support who I am. And receive the support I give them.

I imagine: the price of gas will have to go down at some point, eh? (yes, that is the correlation between this meme and the image at top. You were wondering, weren’t you?)

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Looking back at red flags

Do I actually think he is an alcoholic? That he has a problem with drinking?

Yes, yes I do.

I didn’t transfer this over from my blogspot hosted blog, but I dated Chef before I dated Steam. And Chef was a recovering alcoholic. I never knew him when he was drinking. But the way he behaved was that of a person drinking sometimes. Selfish. Inconsiderate. Barely hanging on coping in life as he was. I don’t think he wanted to drink, but I think his coping mechanisms for life were out of the ordinary.

Now Steam, on the other hand…if I felt like drinking and I was with him, it was a blast until he got loud and annoying and wouldn’t stop nuzzling my neck and putting his head on my shoulder and getting all sappy and emotional and weird and uncomfortable.

I once had a friend who said “the minute a guy starts to nuzzle me, that’s it.”

And I discovered that there is nothing worse than a guy nuzzling, putting his head on my shoulder and looking up at my with adoration. Call me crazy. I suppose it is because it is a sign of weakness to me and I don’t want my man to be weaker than me. Sorry guys.

I think back to red flags when I was with Steam.

After just over a month of seeing each other, he bought a boat on ebay and drove to Buffalo to get it. I remember him saying “I got this for US, for our FAMILY!” Talk about pressure.

And then, Steam and I had only about three dates and then I had plans with “D” and Kat to go out to the piano bar one night last summer. Steam asked if I would call him when I was home and maybe we could get a drink since I would be done at a reasonable hour. Well, Kat and “D” and I made a change of plans and went to eat at the place next door to the piano bar. When it was time to walk him, I suddenly realized, across the street, walking fast, with a purpose, was Steam. And I saw his car parked. I put myself in between my two friends and pretended not to see him and I am not certain he saw me because I found out later how drunk he already was.

When I got home, I had to decide if I would call him or not. Having him arrive when I was clearly out with friends and we had plans to meet up later (which means, I am going out with my friends alone). The relationship hadn’t quite begun yet, well, I felt he was pushing some boundaries.

But I called him and found out he was down at the piano bar. And he lied to me and told me he had gotten to the area an hour earlier (when it had only been 15 min since i saw him arrive) and he’d eaten dinner there too while waiting for me. I know that was a lie.

So, stupidly, despite the weirdness of it all, I went back out down to the piano bar. And there he was sloshed out of his mind, singing LOUDLY along with the piano man and high-fiving people (or trying to) who were not on equal plane with him in the drink.

And when I sat down next to him, he started swaying with the music, singing loudly, and nuzzling me.

I cringe to think about it, to this day.

One older gentleman looked over at Steam and said tactfully “I think it’s time for you to go home, buddy!”

And that is when I feigned tiredness and got him to leave.

Red flag anyone?

In February, my car was in the shop in New Hampshire and so we drove up to get it, and his son, who lives there with his mother. On the way home, I followed them back in my car. When we got to their place, I noticed Steam carrying three empty beer bottles and he actually told me he drank them ON THE WAY HOME. Did mention it was IN A SNOW STORM. WITH HIS SON IN THE CAR?

So, I brought it up and he agreed that his judgment call on that was a bad one. (ya think?)

It hasn’t really been a problem since then until he invited us out on the boat to the beach with his son. With my children.

That being said, Steam and I haven’t talked since the day I left him the voice mail. In fact, our last conversation was the one that morning when I explained to him my lack of trust in him and his drinking.

I am grateful he didn’t call me and hasn’t called me. I do get emails and text messages on occasion but that I can handle because I can choose to read or respond or not.

Today, I got three emails from him.

I paste them in here:

1) Hi, I still think about you you, love you and miss you. Love, Steam

2) I still think about you all the time. It isn’t important that you reciprocate that sentiment so I hope that by me telling you this, you don’t feel pressure.

Secondly, I miss you. I miss your face, I miss your smile, I miss your laugh, I miss our talks, I miss holding your hand…I miss everything. Again, I am just explaining how I feel and in no way expect the same type of feelings in return so no pressure. I’ve done a lot of thinking and realize now that it was all just a game. A game and I lost for not being all that familiar with your rules or your outlook. I’m sorry for overestimating what you were seeking in a relationship. Lastly, I love you. I love who you are despite your feeling that I didn’t or that I disapproved of you. Also, despite the fact that you don’t want to be with me anymore, that feeling will never change. I’m sorry we didn’t communicate properly so you knew this…I mean really knew this…

Anyway, just some random thoughts that I needed to convey to you. Again, I hope that you are well and that you got a good report today. I hope that you’re happy and feeling like you’re in a good place.

Take care of yourself…

Love always, Steam

3) I have started an eating plan by cutting out flour and sugar and it really seems to have helped my overall mood(s) and sense of well being…it’s a pretty cool feeling…I’ve dropped a lot of weight as I have been exercising regularly and following this plan…The patches didn’t work. I developed a rash, but I still am not smoking or drinking…Just thought you’d like to know that stuff about me and what I’m doing to improve myself and my life…

Love, Steam

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Out of the mouth of my littlest one

Tonight I had showered early and was wearing a white tank top without a bra nd jeans.

My littlest, Blue, points with her little finger and presses it against my breast and says “Mommy??!?!?! What on earth is that POINT?”

In case you are slow, she was speaking of my nipple.

So I had to give her a short anatomy lesson and show her where hers was.

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What’s not good for your hair

I love glue and tape.

I have all kinds here in my studio. I fix stuff with it.

Depending on the problem, depends on the adhesive.

Seriously.

That’s it for me, handbags, glue and tape.

But if you get Gorilla Glue in your hair and don’t realize it until it has expanded and dried, well, let’s hope you look good in a short haircut.

Good thing my hair is kind of on the shorter side, because people, this morning I was fixing some shoes with some Gorilla Glue. And then packed up the beach bag and cooler and shuffled the kids out the door to the beach.

I didn’t realize it until 8 hours later…6 hours were spent on the beach, mostly in the sun (we do have an umbrella) with Gorilla Glue baking into my hair. The last two hours were spent here at home in front of a fan, blowing at the Gorilla Glue in my hair.

I was sitting here, running my fingers through my newly washed hair hair, thinking about writing a new post about how today was such an awesome day at the beach, slushies and all.

And I found myself pulling out dried clumps of Gorilla Glue with my fingers.

The final stage, I had to cut out.

I’m now going with the layered look.

And no, there will be no photos.

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Unsettled transition

Transitioning into summer has been a little rotten.

I didn’t imagine this, but the kids are all out of sorts without some sort of schedule. All the girls want to do is “stay home and be cozy”, but the repercussions of that equals an overdose of “Corey in the House”, alot of ice cream and the eventual meltdown/fighting/spitting on each other and whining for gummy fruit snacks, even though they already ate three bags of them. (yes, I also get more lenient on the food choices in the summer)

I have this whole unsettled feeling this week, probably because I can’t seem to get my act together and finish anything. A half wet/dry load of laundry in the washer that I need to rewash due to the potential mold occurring, 5 new paintings half done, then painted over, then redone and now sitting there while I stare all night trying to figure out what next to do with them. Sand is ALL over the floor, even though my broom is RIGHT THERE, I still can’t get around to sweeping it up.

I haven’t brushed my hair since last week.

I am chalking it all up to a lack of schedule, compared to the daily grind of school.

I find that sitting my ass with fruit and chocolate, some People Magazines and my children playing happily around me on the beach, helps with that.

So, yesterday, I dragged the girls down to the beach with the aforementioned stuff, where we appeared to be one of the only ones that figured out what a nice day it really was going to be.

It was gorgeous.

It was relaxing.

My children were not.

Red refused to wear her bathing suit because she really just wanted to stay home and watch “Suite Life” and learn to sew (which we will do this afternoon). But she ended up in the water anyway, which was fine, but then wanted to change into something else, which ended up being my t-shirt, without underwear…and then some boys from school arrived and so she sat huddled behind my chair with my t-shirt around her knees so her “bum wouldn’t show”.

I do believe she learned her first lesson of the summer.

“Always wear your bathing suit to the beach.”

So, we eventually came home and I got out the Polly Pockets and Barbies.

It’s a surefire way to get them engrossed and calm and such so I can take at least a ten minute shower and drink some water before I have to pull one of them off the other or release one of their clenched fists from a hunk of hair on the other’s, in a fight over a piece of bubble wrap. (yes, it happened)

“I didnt have these when I was growing up”, I reminded them,

My mom didn’t let me have Barbies. I had baby dolls and clothes for them, but no Barbies. My kids have about 20 Barbies because my dad’s lady sent them a box of them from her daughter (who is now 21) and they have been a saving grace for me some days.

And then I let the girls know how lucky they were because there as no such thing as Polly Pockets when I was a kid.

Blue was enthralled. “Mommy, DID YOU LIVE IN THE OLDEN DAYS WHEN THERE WERE NO SUCH THING AS POLLY POCKETS?”

And she is sitting there with her eyes wide, imagining me in hoop skirts and driving behind a horse and buggy like in Little House on the Prairie.

Without Polly Pockets or Barbies.

Without TV.

They should only be so grateful.

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Because I need an “about” page…

Funny things happen.

Like today, I went to the bank to get some cash because here on the island where I live, alot of places only take cash. The fish market being one of them. This is a fishing town, filled with all sorts of types.

Down near the docks, I went with my cash and my 5 year old “Blue” to the fish market. It is warm and beach weather and I am wearing a cute flowing black skirt that I paid $5 for on the sale rack at some boutique in the off season (who needs Old Navy?).

I leaned in to unbuckle Blue’s seatbelt and there were fishermen loading up some fish nearby.

The wind picked up and my beautiful blowy skirt flew up over my head.

Yeah.

There was silence from the fishermen. What gentlemen.

But then I heard a “WOOT!” from a car that had passed.

After my messy divorce, I moved 40 miles north (to the ocean) from Ex-husband. He lives in a suburb I came to despise because I had conformed into a Stepford-like wife. I decided I didn’t like it and when Blue was 2 and Red was 4, I packed up and moved out.

I dated a chef for two years.

And then a clammer.

Yes, random, I know.

And now I decided to take a breather after having some rough times with both. Just be a mom and build my business and have fun with the few friends I have and think about things.

All I know is that I am done with being exhausted.

Both girls will be in school 5 days a week next year, all day. I am trying to figure out what I will do other than paint every day in my studio, alone, with my music blaring.

You may see photos of my work from time to time here and if you want to buy something, you can email me at movindowntheroad@gmail.com.

This is an anonymous blog. I don’t care if you know who I am, my name, whatever. But I care if someone I know finds me here, when I want to be anonymous.

I see the funny stuff happening all around my family of three. Red (7), Blue (5) and me (35).

My mom lives nearby and I try really really hard to NOT be too much like her but on occasion I give my sister a panicked call out in California and scream “I JUST cleaned out the laundry room at midnight, JUST LIKE MOM!” or “I just scolded Red and I sounded JUST LIKE MOM!” Don’t get me wrong, I love her, the kids love her and she is the only babysitter I trust with my children and she is awesome. (except for the time she almost gave Blue a cookie that OBVIOUSLY had tree nuts in it. And recently we became aware that Blue is intensely allergic to tree nuts).

Sis and Dad live out in the Los Angeles area. Dad is a painter. His sweetheart is a painter too. My sister is not a painter. But she still rocks creatively with her business and everything. I am thankful for the Verizon wireless “in-calling” plan because we can talk for free every day if we want, any time.

Whether I choose to see it and document it and love it, you’ll be reading about me, movin’ on down the road.

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Where I stop taking my mother’s advice…

My dad and his lady are visiting. They called a week ago and said “flights are $300 from LA if we fly on Thursday, we’re coming!” And I’m like, “Um, OKAY!”

So, a quick scramble to clean the house, because “the fur was walking” as my 5 year old says, regarding the dust bunnies blowing across the floor, a big grocery shopping for low sugar, high protein and fruit for alot of pies (dad loves fruit pie), and change the sheets and suddenly they were on my doorstep.

My girls have been angels but are at their dad’s for the weekend so now we have some time to do grown up things until their return on Monday morning.

We spent the day at our biggest beach here on the island, where the waves crash and at low tide we can walk out to a poison ivy infested island. I marvel at the fact that Red is now comfortable picking up dead things. I prefer it to be dead things with a shell and not the sting ray I had to bribe her with Twizzlers, NOT to touch, poke or prod.

Because for the first time I was not their sole caretakers on the beach, there were two other pairs of eyes on them and offers to take them on a walk up the beach while I sat and relaxed a bit, I took advantage of rolling over.

As a single mother at the beach, I generally sit facing forward, eyes glued to my children while they dig in the sand, boogie boarding and romping around. In other words, I have to make sure they don’t fight or throw sand into each other’s eyes, drown, or get picked up by the ferocious seagulls that will actually steal your beach bag if you leave it unattended with a crumb of food in it.

So, I gratefully turned over and got some sun on my very white backside.

And now I have a burned ass. Scorched back of the legs.

My mother arrived and took one look at me and said “You need some sunscreen” and I shook my head and said “no, I just need a little sun here and then I will turn over.”

I can’t tell you, having grown up on the beach in southern California, how many times I heard that from my mother, “you need sunscreen” and I ignored her and then I was limping around with soft cashmere outfits because everything else felt like I was being sanded by an electric sander with #10 sandpaper.

So, now my ass hurts.

The moral of the story is that I never listen to my mother and I hope my kids don’t follow suit.

So far it isn’t looking good, considering that Red came back from her walk carrying an armload of what I suspect was disease infested seagull feathers and clamshells with dead meat still sticking to the insides.

At least they DO let me put their sunscreen on them.

I wonder how many of us still do things our parents warned us not to do when we were kids.

postscript: this picture above is not me. nor am I burned that much. but for some reason, I thought i was crazily funny.

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Brainless and easy. I finally get it.

Ending things with Steam was easy when doing it over voicemail.

Actually, no, that would have been heartless.

A while ago, I left him a voicemail while he was at his son’s Boy Scout thing, just saying “No, I am not coming tonight, let’s talk later.” And he took it as “Never gonna see you again.”

He assumed right. But I didn’t SAY that on the voicemail. I was going to say it in that phone conversation LATER.

What drew me to the point of feeling confident this time that I will stick to this?

Well, my children’s faces.

He’d invited us out on his boat for the day, go out, check the lobster traps, anchor at the beach and spend the day. The girls were so excited as was his 9 year old son. It was a gorgeous day.

And I am not sure what I was hoping for.

But he cracked the first beer at 2pm on the beach. And by the time 5pm rolled around, we were packing up and I opened the cooler and saw eight empty beer bottles. I also knew he didn’t eat anything since earlier that morning.

When we arrived back at his place, he cracked open another beer.

And then we all went to dinner (I walked directly to my car and got in and said “I’ll drive”) and there, he had more beer.

He can tolerate his alcohol pretty well. But watching someone drink it like water on a hot day at the beach, well, that is a little disconcerting. Especially since he was driving a boat. Especially since he had a woman and three children with him.

His behavior changes after a few so you can imagine what an extra few will do. He’s mostly a “happy drunk” but any sort of drunk around my children or in a situation that could be dangerous or illegal is not okay, happy or not.

Blue had a hard week that week and was throwing little fits here and there. On the beach, she was doing a few things that were instigating fights with her big sister and I had asked her to stop. But she didn’t. I picked her up and asked her to sit on her towel. She would not. I tried to gently push her down and Steam stood up and picked her up and sat her on the towel. She got up and ran away while he yelled (yes, yelled, only I yell at my kids) “You had better stop this behavior or you will NEVER come on my boat again, EVER!”

Now, that is something a thirteen year old would say to an annoying younger sibling. Not a forty year old man to the five year old daughter of the woman you presumably love.

The harshness in his tone and words was not okay. During the day there were little things like “Would you PLEASE move out of the way so I can get by?” (to the children loudly and in a frustrated and angry tone) and “Why don’t you just STOP it?” And then he would take another swig of beer.

When we were driving the boat home, I stood next to him, ready to take on the wheel if something were to happen. All the while, he is waving and yelling at passersby about the beautiful day, how many lobsters he brought up, and swearing at boats that were going to slow for his liking.

When we docked, I climbed out of the boat and stood there waiting for him to go get his trailer. The kids sat in the boat, waiting and he grabbed me and started to (try) to make out with me and pushed up against me and then pulled at my skirt (almost off) and looked at me as if he was going to take me right there in front of the kids and the dock master. He was not happy when I pushed him away.

In town, we walked into a pizza place for dinner and their air conditioning wasn’t working properly and he yells “How could you NOT have your air conditioning working? We’re leaving. SORRY!” and he stormed out. We went to another place that had ac and sat down to eat. The whole time, he was the loudest in the place (and it was a noisy place) and people were looking at us and looking at me and looking at him and the children and although I could care less what people think usually, I was completely embarrassed and afraid.

And then the real winner was when at the local Dairy Queen. We were in line with the rest of the townspeople and placed the order for the kids and I made a comment about how I don’t care for soft serve. And at the top of his voice he yells “yeah, you like it HARD!”

It was like a whip had cracked and there was complete silence. I turned around and walked over to the car and got in and sat and waited for him. We dropped he and his son off at home and I haven’t seen him since.

I don’t mind drinking. And in fact, going out to eat and drinking with him or heading to a bar for a while is really fun, but we walk there and moderate it with food and time and do not have the children with us in a situation that could be dangerous, even without the alcohol.

But months before, I had been following him home in my car from New Hampshire in my car, in a snowstorm. His son was in his car with him. When we arrived home a brutally long hour and a half later, he carried three empty bottles with him from his car and upon questioning him about it, he admitted to drinking them while driving home. In the car. In a snowstorm. With his son in the back seat.

He said it would never happen again.

When we talked after the boating incident, he promised, it would never happen again and I suddenly realized that he doesn’t get it.

He said he was anxious about us and the day and so he drank.

And then he said that all I needed to do was stop him after his second beer and “suggest” he has some water or a coke and some food. And my response is “I can’t be with someone who can’t make that decision himself.” And it was especially clear when I asked him “had I not been there, would you have drunk the same amount if it were just you and your son?” And he said “yeah, probably.”

What strikes me funny is that he was always talking about wanting to be a family and helping me with the kids, babysitting them if I need to work. And the truth of the matter is that I don’t trust him with my children. I spent an entire day wrapped up in trying to protect them from his behavior, from seeing him drink from the brown bottle, from reassuring them that the things he said to them, he was “just kidding”.

(note: As a rule, I never drink in front of my children or when they are in my care. With “D” after they are asleep, I may have a glass of wine with dinner, but that is it)

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