We didn’t start the fire…the nutrients did.

Here’s a fun fact…if you dice up baby carrots and put them in a bowl in the microwave, they will catch on [actual flaming] fire, within about 2 seconds. Apparently, this is because of the nutrients the carrots received from the soil they were grown in, which gives them great arcing abilities. So, lesson here is, put some water [a tablespoon worth is a popular suggestion] in with the carrots, so you don’t explode your kitchen trying to appease sweetpea Beelzebub’s need for “real people food”.

Reading back on what I’ve written previously, I had a sudden realization –

I remembered things better when I was highly committed to recreationally partaking in drugs of varying sorts, shapes, colors and textures.

The egg in the frying pan? That is my brain, now. Which then makes me wonder, sweet mother of everything that is holy, does this just mean that I’m getting crazier as I age? I am going to be a hot mess of an 80 year old woman.

I had another realization earlier today, as well, and it made me mad. I do the best at getting shit done when I am all alone. Seriously, though, the most organized and together my life has ever been [we’re just talking financial and physical health and great feng shui in the living space] was during my time of living alone. That is upsetting to me. It is upsetting to me to realize [or vocalize, because I’m pretty sure the Shadow has known what lurks in the heart of me] that I am so easily sidetracked or derailed by my living situation and the people within it. I am a feminist, dammit! I am an intelligent woman! I read, I write, I study, I enunciate! I am so good at getting things done on a deadline! [Actually, it’s better when I have a deadline, otherwise I am so good at procrastination. Maybe I just love the thrill of pushing the edge to its limit.] Except, suddenly I’m not. I feel like someone just handed me 6 balls and a clown nose and pushed me into the middle of the big ring and told me to start juggling, when I’ve never held that many balls before in my life, much less juggled them. [heh] I feel like, in a few years at most, things will even out. I have to believe this is going to happen. I know this is going to happen. I just have to stay sane on the surface and just keep swimming and eventually, eventually, we’ll pass through [this] fire.

Irene said yesterday [I think] that we were the two funniest people in the office. We are. Not that many [any] of the rest of them know this. Although, our co-worker, Amber, who sits behind/across from me, is fascinatingly kind of out there. I have scraps of paper and saved emails where I’ve written down, or written Irene, about things she has said. I go back and re-read them sometimes if I’m having a bad day and they always make me laugh.

Here are some samples of Amber’s wonderful sayings:

“Oh my god, my roots are showing today! I’ve used so much white out! I mean, not on my actual computer screen….”

or this fun repartee:

Amber: “It’s so pretty outside!”

Me: “Yes, it’s too bad we can’t get more sunlight in here.”

Amber: “Yeah, they should’ve put in a skylight!”

Me: …….

Me: “We’re on the first floor.” [of a 9 story building]

Amber: “Well, yeah, but still.”

 

Poor Honeypie received her first paper cut tonight, at the ripe old age of 4. It was tragic. She was happily reading a book about the Gingerbread Girl and Animal Crackers, and then she went to turn the page, skidded her finger on the edge, gasped and put her finger in her mouth and looked at me, and I had time to say “uh oh” and then the pain hit and the wailing began. It took two Rudolph bandaids to fix the situation. Hopefully, she won’t let this betrayal keep her from being excited about her books.

Sweetpea Beelzebub has discovered stairs, so I am excited [not] to see how many more entries she is going to make into her “how many times can I hit my head on something before I’m one” agenda. We had an entry earlier tonight, wherein she learned [probably not] that one cannot use a ball as a handgrip for standing up with.

On an end note: my husband bought me one of those atrocious “bear cheeks” onesie pajamas for Christmas. See Exhibit A:

Image result for black and white bear cheeks pajamas

Do not tell him, but they are awesomely comfortable. Still hideous, but comfortable. I’m going to get in them now.

  • S.L.
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