Archive for the 'All About Me' Category

Published by PaintingChef on 16 Aug 2012

On the continued importance of SoapNet to my mental health.

GOD. I’m so sorry. How fucking dramatic. Have you ever had one of those weeks where you come home and it’s all you can do to take off your pants, drink the wine straight from the bottle and catch the last half hour of Veronica Mars without crying? She isn’t even sad! She’s clever!

(In unrelated news, I’ve had that damn theme song in my head for a week but only the one line that goes “We used to be friends” and so I’m walking around the house singing we used to be friends at the top of my lungs and Patrick is starting to get a complex…)

I think I’ve figured out what the problem is. My inner artist finally said ENOUGH BITCH! You have ignored me long enough and so now I am going to retaliate and take away your ability to function like a normal human being. I am going to cripple you until you acknowledge that I exist. Have fun with that. So… that happened.

Don’t get me wrong. Nothing in that last post was untrue. I’m insanely busy. Work is ridiculous. I need a vacation. It’s like Mexico never even happened. I lost 4 hours yesterday. They were the 4 hours where I should have eaten lunch which was a problem because I finally ended my inadvertent hunger strike. (Is it just me or does that sound like I take a 4 hour lunch? I promise I don’t although sometimes it takes me over an hour to eat my yogurt in the morning but that’s because I get distracted. Then it gets warm and I’m like… gross… and I either throw it away or feed it to whatever puppy happens to be here that day.)

My house is a wreck. I need to clean out my closet. There is a funny smell in the fridge. My flower bed has more weeds than flowers and also a 5 foot in diameter mushroom that I’m kind of enthralled by but you can’t see it anymore because of all the weeds. I have a mountain of jalapenos that I need to can. There is a load of white clothes in my dryer that have been there for 4 days but I’m ignoring them because they are all Patrick’s and he knows where they are and why do boys have so many socks anyway.

Is Veronica Mars on yet?

Published by PaintingChef on 12 Jul 2012

Oddly enough, I’ve not actually had a toaster struedel in like 20 years but apparently they play a prominent role in my fantasies. I should probably look into that…

You know how there are some people who replace the things you are supposed to replace regularly and there are some people who just don’t do that? Like… me? And like how I’ve been using the same toothbrush for 4 months because it just now finally stopped making my gums bleed even though I buy the ones made out of like super soft unicorn sparkle fur? (Which, coincidentally, I hear are what Jennifer Lopez makes her false eyelashes out of so you KNOW that shit is right proper soft and cuddly.)

Also? Mattresses. Allegedly you are supposed to replace your mattress every 8-10 years and I swear to you, if you try and Google this and read articles about why, I cannot be responsible for what you will do to your eyeholes to rid yourself of the images. Just… consider yourself warned…

My mattress at my parents’ house is the same one I slept on from 5th grade all through college when I lived there so while it had less drunk sleeps, it probably had more ice cream spills and I think that probably all balances out. It also has a distinctly Susannah-shaded canyon right in the middle of it. Which was always fine with me as I fit that divot quite nicely. But once you get married? And bring your beloved to share that mattress divot with you on the family holiday obligations? Well… is it weird for your husband to want to buy a new mattress for your childhood bed at your parents’ house? I wasn’t sure so we just moved back to Tennessee instead… better to avoid potential weirdness, right?

I like a good soft and cushy mattress; that makes me happy. I like to fold into a cloud puff at the end of the day and pretend I’m floating away on a pillowy pouf of Chris Pine and Ryan Reynolds and we are going to watch 90210 and have toaster struedels and they will give me the real Hollywood scoop before we get down to the naked business.

Patrick? Not so much. But the kicker is that his beef was less with the naked Hollywood heartthrobs and more with the mattress. ALLEGEDLY our mattress was… done? Jacked up? Crushed beyond repair under the combined weight of our awesomeness and the 120 pounds of dog that slept there?

All I know is that now we have a new mattress and I hate it. With a burning passion. Some sort of memory foam cooling supportive something or other but really all those fancy words mean is that MY MATTRESS IS TRYING TO KILL ME. We have 120 days to try it out. It has been 6. I want to die. Everything hurts. My head, my back, my hips. We are sleeping on a brick. It makes weird noises. It does not cush at all. I do not look forward to curling up on it with a book or a puppy or a toaster struedel. There are no naked Captain Kirks anywhere in sight. And to top it all off, the mattress is 4 inches shorter than the mysteriously old and busted mattress and now I get a crick in my neck when I watch 90210.

We are returning this mattress. I am not a mattress progressive. I NEED old school springs in my bed. Sure maybe I can drink a glass of wine while Patrick jumps on the bed and not spill it but that’s just dumb. Everyone knows that wine in bed is best in a sippy cup any damn way.

Published by PaintingChef on 15 May 2012

Like a virtual post it note

I swear… I’ve been writing something for like 4 days now. Life is whipping my ass. I am going to Mexico in less than a month and I will be spending an entire blissful week on the beach while a cabana boy brings me fruity beverages. I decided to let Patrick go too… because I’m not an asshole. I bet you didn’t know that about me.

But seriously… there was a toilet on the side of the road and it made me have to tell you a story about where I live. I’m working on that shit but then my dad keeps asking me to do my job. And then Patrick does the same thing and I reconsider my generous gesture of allowing him to go to Mexico with me.

The travel agent told me I would not be decapitated by a drug cartel while I was there. I’m holding her to that.

Published by PaintingChef on 22 Mar 2012

A downward spiral that started off with very good intentions. I would apologize but I was once a pirate baby so you’ll excuse me if I don’t…

Everyone deals with grief differently. And although it’s been over 2 years since my grandmother passed away, it’s something that is still present in my interactions with my mother in a very big way. I’m been so upset with her about the way she has dealt with it and that’s incredibly unfair to her. But she has just been angry about it. Not sad or willing to remember her mother’s long life and all the great memories that we shared, she’s just been pissed off with no idea how or, what appeared to me, desire to feel any differently.

But recently, she’s started in on a project that I think has been extremely cathartic. She has decided to pull out all the pictures she has laying around in albums, boxes, tucked into drawers, stuck in mirrors, and everywhere else photographs used to accumulate before we all went so very digital and she is scanning them all. I think that this has been a great way for her to look back and remember that there were lots of good memories that she was pushing out of her mind to make room for her grief. And grief is a very real thing, I don’t pretend for even a second that it isn’t. But I think that eventually it should dissipate and what is left are the memories. And getting to that point is going to be differently for everyone. I think about Neena every single day. But I don’t cry every time she crosses my mind anymore.

I think that there is a good chance that, subconsciously, this whole Bad Kitty Bakery thing is a vehicle for my grief and acceptance of a life without the physical presence of one of my favorite people in the entire world. And every time I start to make something (like one of the three cakes I’m doing this weekend!!) I kind of feel her near me and can almost sense her perched on a stool cradling a steaming hot mug of coffee (regardless of the weather) and taking a second to sit back and watch me do what she taught me.

But anyway… blah, blah, blah, therapy speak… how about some pictures instead? I just have a couple for you today but I’m going to continue posting them sporadically (much like everything else related to this website and… let’s be honest… my life in general).

Easter was, apparently, a huge deal in Athens, Tennessee in the late 50s and early 60s (much as I imagine it still is today) and the annual Easter picture was always glorious. Mainly because, at the time, my grandmother owned a fabric store and made every stitch of clothing that family wore. It’s no coincidence that my mother was voted Best Dressed of her senior class, I’m sure…

And this one is from my mother’s rehearsal dinner when she married my father in, I think, 1975. This wedding marked the beginning of my grandmother’s culinary business and her dance card stayed full until I was in my mid-20s. But I’m telling you… I would maim or even kill for that long grey dress my grandmother has on. And my mom’s gypsy-inspired outfit? Yes please. Total glamour, those women.

And then there is this… me and my dad… the show-off. Wonder if he can still do this?

I should make him try because once he did this to me… (I lie. That has mom written all over it. Even my dear old young dad looks confused as to how he ended up with a very ill-tempered and somewhat squinty pirate baby.)

Also? BRAAAAAAAAIDS!

And the beginning of my illustrious 5 minute career as a swimsuit model.

I was much better at the attitude.

I called this one Pink Steel…

Well this went downhill pretty quickly…

(Rim Shot)

Published by PaintingChef on 08 Mar 2012

I will also always insist on balloons… and probably glitter. And a unicorn. Can someone get on that?

Someone asked me the other day what my favorite thing to bake was and I realized that I’d never really thought about that but it was a REALLY good question. Once I started rolling it around in my head I decided that I have a very strong opinion on the matter and you lucky little shits… you get to hear it!

While I’ve really enjoyed learning to make macarons, I’m still scared to death of them. They stress me out because they never look quite like the ones that I see in pictures and that gives me sad eyes. Also? Shipping macarons keeps me up at night. I’m terrified. So obviously… the answer is NOT macarons.

Moving on.

When I was growing up, birthdays were a HUGE deal. It was the culmination of weeks of planning and anticipating. When I was younger, it was the execution of a party that my mom and I had spent so much time and love planning. It was a day that started with a bedside serenade, balloons and streamers at breakfast, a morning birthday gift and of course, the red plate. The red plate meant your shit was SPECIAL.

That afternoon/evening was always a special birthday dinner (hello again red plate!) and, of course, the birthday cake. Choosing a birthday cake was a year-long mission for my sister and me. We would sit down with Neena’s cake books and truly test her “nothing is off limits” promise. In particular… one year I had a castle cake. Like… an actual castle with a working drawbridge. I’ve looked online for a picture of anything similar but apparently now there are pans that cheat and do it for you and while those cakes are very nice, my castle cake was GLORIOUS. My mother has a picture but has no idea how to work her scanner. So sad.

We have veered off track, no?

I love making birthday cakes. Birthdays are about just celebrating the life of someone you love… and if that someone is YOU then that’s totally acceptable! It seems like a read a quote somewhere that said something along the lines of “You shouldn’t expect anyone to make a big deal out of your birthday past the age of 8” and that kind of broke my heart. Birthdays will ALWAYS be big to me. Birthdays are exciting, they are fun, there is cake. (We should have more holidays marked with cake, no?) I fully expect to be 90 years old and insisting on everyone making a big damn deal out of September 12th.

So I’ve taken over the birthday cake duties in my family. No castles yet… but I love taking the time to plan each cake and choose something special just for that person. Birthday cakes man… those are the best.

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