It kind of felt like learning to walk again when I left. I felt exhilarated by my new-found separation from such a shaping relationship and simultaneously a little lost. The good kind of lost. The kind of lost that makes you feel like you are teaching yourself something new. Sure, I had pangs of homesickness, because he was what I considered home for as long as I could remember. But missing familiarity eventually turned into embracing change.
I met new people. I dabbled in new relationships. At first, it felt right. Like making an A on a test makes you feel right. Which felt good. New relationships were accomplishments in moving on, but not much more than that. After all, GPAs don’t matter much in the scheme of life. Nonetheless, the new relationships were fun and easy. I could feign attachment without skipping a beat of my own agenda. I almost fooled myself into thinking I was anything but detached. I liked it that way.
I strategically and forcefully changed all of my radio stations; a subconscious attempt at moving on. It was working splendidly until DJ Heavy Metal decided to throw in a little Tim McGraw for shits and giggles. My new guy quickly reached out at the exact moment as me… only he was reaching out to turn the station, and I was reaching out to turn up the volume. “I never liked country,” he said.
As I looked around, it was as if everything suspended for a brief moment, and in that moment, nothing looked right. Something shattered in me, and I immediately thought of him.
After that, I began to shell up even more. I would steam up the bathroom to mimic the humidity we used to bask in. I would pour a little too much on the rocks. I started cooking those savory meals again, and found myself seeking solace in my headphones, blasting nothing but country. I tried to transfer all of the things I loved about him, into my new relationships.
I’ll never forget the moment we reunited. The radio must have been on our side, because the perfect songs trickled in as we sat on the tailgate together in the damp air. I didn’t say anything, I just breathed him in. I never believed in the saying, “you never know what you have until its gone,” just as I never liked Country. But sometimes you just have to admit you were wrong. And that’s why I went back.
I missed you, Louisiana.
This two part post was inspired by A New Orleans Love Story by Joey Albanese about New Orleans.
Fine. I’ll write a Halloween post.
Actually, this post was sparked by The Roller Giraffe and inspired by Halloween, but is really just about candy in general.
I have never been a candy fanatic. I enjoy chocolate from time to time, and I will have a Twizzlers binge once every five years, sure. In totality though, I always was pretty indifferent towards most of it. I said most of it. The following candies were exceptions to the rule for one reason or another.
Now and Later Candy – This was a typical case of wanting what you can’t have. First of all, eating Now and Laters leave your mouth stained and tasting like the selected flavor for hours (hence the name?). There isn’t enough water in the world to unstickyfy your mouth. Then there is the whole task of removing the pieces that become fused to your molars, which occurs simultaneously upon the slightest contact. They are truly an undesirable candy choice for practicality. Still, upon discovering those small blocks of sugar cement, I was always overcome with desire simply because I was forbidden to eat them. You should have gone with a little reverse psychology on that one Mom.
Werther’s Originals – I once befriended a neighbor kid because her mom kept Werther’s Originals in full stock year round in a generously sized crystal bowl in her living room. I didn’t even get along with the kid, and her mother kind of scared me with her monotone voice and general disinterest in everything. I wasn’t going to let that get in my way though. You better believe that my hooked-on-butterscotch ass was knocking on her door every chance that I got. I am not proud of this time in my life.
Peanut M&M’s – In high school, we were allowed to buy concessions at the end of each lunch period. There weren’t a plethora of options, but I do remember peanut M&Ms being the only candy that I would tolerate. I say tolerate, because I never really wanted to buy concessions. I had ulterior motives. I subjected myself to buy candy every day at exactly 12:35 pm in attempt to place myself in line behind my high school crush. Then I started getting chubby from all the M&M’s and blew my chances with him anyway. I was pretty smart.
NOTE: I have changed a lot since those days. For example, I am definitely not still going to the gym five days a week for a record-breaking eight weeks in a row in hopes to have an encounter with some boy in 301.
Pop Rocks – Everyone knows that pop rocks are cool, because they feel like a mini firework show in your mouth, minus the fire. It wasn’t until college that I heard of a much different manner in which these candies were imitating fireworks… in the bedroom. Apparently, the hot thing to do was to sprinkle some rocks on your girl’s lawn and start mowing. I tried to be subtle there. If you are still confused, fire up the Google search. What am I your sex ed teacher?
NOTE AGAIN: For the record, I was never cool enough to test it out, but I do enjoy the intended use of pop rocks. However, this doesn’t mean I won’t get a shit eating grin when I see them in the store.
I have had my fair share of candy obsessions, but mostly my kind of candy is adding blue cheese to my salad, drinking whiskey instead of a glass of wine, or dipping my french fries in honey. Everyone has their own indulgences. What are yours?
- Werther’s Original Caramel Apple Filled Hard Candies (tammysproductreviews.wordpress.com)
- Halloweaned. (sixuntilme.com)
- The Ghouls Are Coming: 12 Halloween Candies that Should Get Your House Egged (formatmag.com)
Guess what? My little city is actually hosting a massively entertaining event that is going down this weekend (it actually begins tomorrow, but in my mind it isn’t until the weekend – way to go work). It is an all around, five-day, celebration of the arts in downtown Lafayette. There will be over 100 music performances, local food and drink vendors as far as the eye can see, and arts and crafts merchants on every block. Want some banana leaf art, botanical glass, or something fashionable from Africa or New York? You got it. I personally don’t take the food vendors lightly either. If you ever have the chance to attend this festival, I strongly suggest you do not either. We have some of the most serious grub at this thing. By serious, I mean orgasmic.
As I am writing about how incredible this happening is, I can’t help but feel a bit hypocritical. Read the rest of this entry
I make an effort to buy two different flower arrangements (the cheap ones that are usually ignored but are still just as pretty) once every week or two for each of my vases. I starting doing this when I heard or read somewhere that it can help brighten your mood. I’ve kept doing it ever since, so I guess it works. These flowers were my favorite of the two I picked up yesterday. I didn’t even catch what the name of these were, and I don’t even care. Lie! If you have an eye for this sort of thing , speak up… learn me something. The point is, when I wake up with this little bit of life staring me in the face and give them a whiff, I am suddenly able to hone in on my optimistic side. It’s the little positive things… Do them because you can.
Before my horticultural hunt Sunday morning, I slept in until my eyes would stay sealed no more. That’s when I made a grocery list (laughing at myself later for forgetting trash bags). So, while my trash would be chilling in the nude shortly due to my lackluster list making skills, I did manage to grab something not on my grocery list (naturally). Coffee. I have been the obviously not so proud owner of a single cup coffee brewer since I moved away from home six years ago. It has never been used. Quite sadly, not once. Read the rest of this entry
Pictures usually make more sense with context. Get your read on.
Lately I have been so busy day dreaming about playing in someone else’s sandbox thousands of miles away, that I forgot all about the perfectly fun kiddie pool in my own back yard. This weekend I decided to post up in that kiddie pool. Basically, I went on a little excursion through my own neck of the woods. I have been needing a weekend away, and since I have yet to make a road trip or fly out to one of my travel destinations for the year, I had to satisfy my craving for some highway relaxation.
Friday after work began my trip. I responsibly got my oil changed, ran home to grab some essentials, and bid adieu to Jack and Ace for the weekend. Before I hopped in my Xterra, I checked my mail. Having forgotten that I ordered some KCCO playing cards from theChive, I was pleasantly surprised that they had arrived just in time for the weekend. Man, the open road felt so cathartic… even though my destination was only a 45 minute coast across the basin.
Z made a list of bars he wanted to crash. He has only been living in Baton Rouge for a couple of weeks, so he was taking advantage of his drinking buddy tagging along for a night. The first bar we visited was The Cove. Read the rest of this entry
If you have been reading any of my posts, you may know that I am not only in love with my bed but also my kitchen. Until about a year ago I knew how to make two dishes:
1. Baked chicken (I know, hold your applause).
2. French Toast.
After getting out of school and starting my job, I had a pretty good shock to the system while converting myself to a budget. I knew I would have to start making a go at cooking meals during the week to save some paper. A lot of families around here cook rice and gravy and gumbo as cheap fixes that last for days. So, I took my first cooking crack at the rice and gravy. Don’t let the name deceive you. It is not simply making some rice and adding some gravy. There is beef involved along with a tedious process for making the gravy from scratch. It is actually pretty easy to screw up (which I did… twice) if you don’t have some practice under your belt.
From there, I began Googling different recipes, downloading recipe apps on my phone, and eventually I was introduced to the almighty Pinterest. Needless to say, I’ve become a roux making, chicken stuffing, baking, sauteing boss. Fine, I am not a boss of anything, but I can certainly crank out a pretty decent tasting and aesthetically pleasing meal. The picture above is from my cooking endeavors last night. There are a few items I must have present when showing my kitchen some TLC. Magazine for browsing while I wait on the oven to preheat? Check. Alcoholic beverage (last night I went for vodka tonic with fresh lime)? Check. Music? Check. Ingredients ready to go? Check.
[Hey, is that a diploma photo bombing my ingredients? No, I strategically placed that in the picture so you will all know how smart I am. Joke! I am not allowed to hang things on the walls of my pad, so it chills in my kitchen.]
This morning I woke up and realized I forgot to eat dinner yet again last night. I tend to do this when I am distracted by weekend activities. Famished, I slid to the kitchen and flung open my refrigerator. The contents of my fridge included bacon, milk, cheese, turkey, and pickles. I suppose I could have opted for a sandwich, but instead I cooked an absurd amount of bacon. Because it is Sunday and I am a sloth in training, I cheated a bit and cooked it in the microwave. Six strips nuked for about 4 1/2 minutes is the winning combination for the perfectly crunchy consistency that I enjoy.
Then, Standing over the stove, I dressed each auburn strip with a perfect ration of maple syrup. It is key to strategically allow the syrup to gather in the gorged parts of the bacon. Then, I washed them all down with ice cold milk. The amount of milk I chugged down was quite absurd as well. Being that the milk’s expiration date is today, I believe it was justified. Does anyone else cringe at the dried milk flakes that occasionally accumulate on the top of the jug? This shit just makes my skin crawl. I can not explain this phenomenon.
This is how I eat my bacon. Every. Single. Time. How do you like your bacon? I bet this guy could give you some tips.
As I write this I am having a conversation via text with a musician friend of mine. He is informing me about his upcoming tour in six weeks and inviting me to go meet some people down near New Orleans backstage at the Cowboy Mouth show this evening. Sadly, I had to decline because of that little thing that is
ruiner of all things fun called work tomorrow. Then, to make things worse, I realize I have just written an entire post about bacon. Oh yea, and wasn’t I supposed to be at the beach right now? Sigh. If there is one thing that can get me through this, its going to be the bacon. Definitely the bacon. Back to the microwave.
Related articles – AKA Articles about all the bizarre bacon products there are out there.
- Bacon casket for dead bacon lovers (cnews.canoe.ca)
- Fresh Step Organic Bacon Scented Cat Litter (bacontoday.com)
- Love It or Hate It? Bacon Lip Balm (bellasugar.com)
- The Better Bacon Book: Bacon On Bacon On Bacon On IPad (gizmodo.com.au)
- Bacon Candy Necklace (neatorama.com)
- The Bacon Milkshake (bacontoday.com)