An Ode:

To Botulism:

O, thou fatally swollen bride of bacteria!
Thou foster-child of silence and dark cupboards!
Groceried historian, who canst thus express
An intestinal tale more firmly than thy hordes!

What spore-fringed legend haunts about thy tins,
Of hospitals, or IVs, or of both,
In Wal-Mart or the dales of discount bins?

BURSTING with NATURAL antioxidants!

Best Used by October 1999????

BURSTING with BOTULISM!

(Seriously, packing some of The Boyo’s cupboards is like going on an archaeological expedition…)

Things I’m Kinda Okay With:

American breakfast foods.

Argue all you want about how much “healthier”
it is to eat rice and fish for breakfast,
like they do in Japan,
or couscous,
a la Israel–
I want my damned pancakes and cold cereal!

Because, really?

Pancakes are dessert.
Covered in syrup.

But okay to eat at ungodly hours of the morning because they are a member of the sanctified breakfast trifecta.

(or quadfecta, depending on your feelings towards Belgian waffles with whipped cream)

How could you go wrong?

i may have licked my monitor when i saw these

(photo from: http://gimmesomeoven.com/cinnamon-bun-pie-pockets)

I Stuck a Wooden Spoon in the Mixer Tonight:

was making cookies,
all dolled up in my standard cooking garb,

the ankle and spoon grip are terribly important

with my awesome cooking music playing
(fruitbats this time);
turned the kitchenaid on,
but had the bright idea that maybe,
just maybe,
it wasn’t doing its job well enough.

i grabbed my wooden spoon and stuck it into the paddle…
which was still on.

and proceeded to get my knuckles thwacked repeatedly.
i didn’t even have the sense to get my hand out of there–
i kept thinking, “OW! hey! i’m trying OW to fix this OW!”

apparently, i should stick to mixing things sans kitchenaid,
since it’s actually kind of impressive that i’ve made it to the ripe old age of 28 with all of my digits intact.

…

and now for a bit of honesty.

life’s been rough lately.

not in any dramatic way.

just the quiet ways.
that add up.
until, one morning,
you just can’t seem to force yourself to get out of bed.
and the only thing that eventually sends you crawling for clothing
is the fact that The Dog must be walked.

i’ve been out of work since August of 2009.

i have a BA.
i have a teaching credential.
i have applied for an average of 10-20 jobs every week,
and have had at least one interview every month since then.

eventually,
you start to wonder what’s wrong with you–
not “what can i do better in my next interview”,
because you’ve already asked that,
you’ve already done that.
instead, the question becomes “what’s wrong with me?”

i’m not truly a career-oriented person;
i want to like my job,
but i’ve never been balls-to-the-wall-gung-ho about advancing
and getting myself promoted.

but this whole no-employer-wants-me-thing
has been wearing at me for a while now,
and i’m finding it harder everyday to be productive;
to do things as simple as put away my laundry
or get my sorry ass off the couch.

my roomates have been fantastically supportive,
as has The Boyo,
but i’m not going to lie–
every interview i go on that doesn’t pan out,
every job i apply for with a sinking feeling–
but still apply for since there isn’t much else available–
every time i send a resume and never hear back…

it all adds up to me wanting to hole up in my room for good.

(i know i’m fortunate to not have a family relying on me for income.
i’m grateful for that–
and for those of you in that situation,
you have my prayers that it will get better soon.)

i just wish i could find the ability to hope for something good again.