Cake Boss

I love this show.

Every time I watch it, all I can think about is the family I married into and all the parallels: the control freak tendencies; the loud passion; the irritation with anyone who disagrees with them; the food! (and the fact that I'm not really allowed to cook for family events); and so forth. Every time I watch the Valastros, I think of my own, my more diluted but still very much Italian-American family and just laugh. Even better, they *totally* don't see the connection.

The down side? This show is so not good for my waist line! I had already had a bad, ahem, "rest" day. Then I watched the show and, since we didn't have any delectable cake with ganache and I didn't feel like making one. Or waiting. (Really, it was the waiting.) So, I ate ice cream. And ganache. And ginger thins. And chocolate. And then I stopped because it was getting out of control.

I still want cake.

Bad. bad. show.

I so want to visit Jersey just so I can have a canoli.

It's a sickness I tell you!

Needing A George Bailey Moment

I really don't like It's A Wonderful Life. I find it to be dark and depressing, for the most part, and have no idea out why it's considered a holiday classic.

However, today, I find myself wishing I could have that "George Bailey glimpse" to see what life would be like (for the worse of course) without me.

For the most part, particularly of late, I have felt that God loves me and that I have worth. But there are days like today when I need to know that I matter, not just to God, but to the people around me and that all this routine and little acts and effort and wheels spinning actually make some difference here in the lives of people I know or even don't know.

Better Go Get Some Cheese

I feel as though I whine far, far too much but here I am again, struggling to breathe and to not cry and very much needing to pour out my heart.

The designated quarantine time has ended and I took Jenny into the Humane Society this morning.  This was very difficult for me.  Jenny really does like people and while she was in quarantine she would run to my side and beg for loves and petting every time I would visit.  Her fur is so soft.  She purrs so loudly.  Everything about her was asking me to keep her and give her one more try; this is so why I did not want to quarantine the cat and wanted to give her away while the memory of my 6yo daughter hurt and crying was fresh in my ears.

But I did it.

I asked the handler if she was adjusting okay.  The handler said that she was.  I nodded and spoke my thanks and then sat in my van and cried.  I cried all the way home.

I still have to clean out her litter box and give away the rest of her food and such.  I'm putting those chores off as long as I can.

On top of this heartache, I am really struggling with loneliness.  I pick up the phone to talk to friends and they are rarely available.  That, or they're tired of hearing me whine.

I was supposed to go to a book club on Friday night but part of my loneliness is feeling so disconnected from the women around me and not really having a desire to put forth the effort required to connect.

On top of this (am I to the cherry yet?), I feel as though God is leading me to read better books (read: non-escapist literature) and to watch better TV/movies, which leaves me feeling as though I have no escape from this life that has become difficult.  No cat to pet, no wonderland to run off to but plenty of sorrow, loneliness and despair.  I do feel that I need to get through these feelings.  I think that part of my difficulty is that I have always, back and back to being a young adolescent, run from these feelings and either buried them with food or escaped them with sleep or brain candy books and movies.  Feeling all these feelings is hard and more real than I want.

So today I'm sad.

And I am a little nervous and despairing that I am not up to the task of moving forward and through this.

Ecstasy of Life

I was once told in college by my shroom-tripping roommate that I was probably the only person she'd ever met who seemed to be high on life.

Today I feel like I'm on ecstasy - not that I've ever experimented, but the purported feeling of heightened senses seems to fit today.  Everything seems more today: the things of beauty are so beautiful and sentimental that they make me cry and the knife cuts like a surgeon's scalpel; one song makes me dance and laugh and the very next track on my playlist has me sobbing like a baby.

I don't know if it's stress or hormones or what but everything seems to be too, too much.

My children are growing to fast: Will I have enough time to hold them and love them, so that even when I'm gone they will know that they are loved beyond measure?  Am I caught up enough in the wonder of how they grow?  Am I teaching them to wrap their arms tightly around Jesus?  Am I teaching them how to live authentically and kindly?  Will they be good with money?

The snow is creeping down the mountain: Am I ready for long, dark, cold days?  At what point do I have to ease open the purse strings and allow the thermostats to be turned up a bit higher?

The business is slowing down: Will Dad allow DH the head to make changes in policy and procedure?  Can we run a business and continue to all live together? Will we be able to continue to meet our high overhead?  Can we carve out some expenses?  Will we ever be out of debt?

I'm lonely: I miss my mother.  I have no spiritual advisor/mentor. I never see friends or talk to them.  My children are lonely too.  I'm homesick for Oregon.

On the upside (because I'm feeling that too): pictures of beautiful babies are making me cry, glorious sunrises and sunsets (which I see regularly now because the days are growing shorter) make me wax poetic, notes from loved ones fill my heart to overbrimming and I'm loving a cat free house (a bit more than I thought I would).

This too shall pass I suppose.

I just get tired of crying all the time.

Did I tell you I started crying at Q's parent/teacher conference?  Brilliant, no?

And no.  I'm not pregnant.

747s

I have a ball of anxiety in the pit of my stomach.  I'm talking 747's taking of and landing, not just puny ol' butterflies.

I'm not wholly certain as to why, but I posit two possibilities.

I'm in the middle of year end tax preparation for the business and according to Quickbooks (which I have never fully trusted) the business did very well.  According to our actual bank account, the business barely broke even.  And I'm not sure how that's going to come out tax wise.  I'm trying to just be patient while I sort out the rest of the numbers but at this middle point, it's making me very nervous.

The second potential killer is that in the spring, I agreed to coach a FIRST Lego League team.  It was one of those moments when before I've done a single thing and before I HAVE to do something, I think I can do AN.Y.THING.  You know, like at 9pm when I'm thinking that I need to get exercise and that tomorrow morning at 5am would be a perfect time.  (Of course, it never actually happens.) But now I actually have to start working (I have coach training today through Thursday from 5:30pm - 8:30pm) and I'm freaking out.  Just a bit.

I believe that confession is good for the soul, but this is doing nothing to help those planes, darnit.  I was really hoping to shoot some of them out of the sky or have the FAA forcibly ground them all.

I'll let you know how it all goes later.

Some Days I'm the Bug

First of all, have I told any of you of my pains with my new computer?

No?

Yes?

All I hear is, "No, oh great M, tell us more."

So, I will.

Our business's main computer was old five years ago when my mom passed away.  I'd been working by remote access for five years on an antique.  Honestly it was a bit like this:

En-ter. The. Ven-dor.  Fill. In. The. Am-ount.  Press enter.

.

.

.

Check saved.

La-ther. Rinse.  And. Re-peat.

Happily, our business is small and my work limited.

However, when it was to be my full-time, part-time job, I wanted a better rig.  So we bought this shiny new computer with bells and whistles and a lightning fast processor.  Seriously, the checks were saved before I could enter them.

That is, when it worked right.

Right outta the box, I had problems.  So I called the help line.

I got someone in India.

Now normally I've had no problems talking with someone from another country but this saga has taught me that actually understanding words is only one part of the problem.  India has a wholly different culture and perspective on life; the lenses of the people I spoke with were quite different then mine and there was a vast, VAST difference in understanding when I spoke with someone from India versus someone from a Western country.  (Far be it from me to presume that they were in the United States. . . .)

One frustration was that every time I called and spoke someone in India, he would start off at the beginning of his flow chart, asking me the exact same questions as the person before him and giving me the exact same answers, despite the knowledge that I had been through all of this before.

I had to do a system recovery (back to factory specs) on my computer 3 times.

3. times.

The actual recovery is relatively quick (thanks to that lightning fast processor) but then you have to download and install a bunch of updates, not to mention all the software that we need to run the sucker.  A full day, easily, was spent on the process each time.

Another frustration was that I didn't get passed along to someone with higher authority who could do more than tell me to do a system recovery until I got upset.  I used to work in customer service and as such, I try to be patient any reps I talk to and it frustrates me that my courtesy is often rewarded with dead ends.

It took me 3 system recoveries, countless phone calls and scheduled call backs which were not kept (by the computer company) before I got fed up.  The real moment was when I was about ready to perform my 4th recovery (having resigned myself to no other options) and I asked, "What do I do when I complete the recovery and then call back so I don't have to go to the back of the queue?"

"Well," says the kindly representative, "You ask for a case manager."

Pause.

"Well," says me, "How about we skip the recovery and I get a case manager now?"

Remarkably, not even 10 sentences after telling me I couldn't be transferred to a case manager, I was transferred to a case manager.

With the wrong number.

More phone calls.

Finally, I was able to speak with a case manager, the end all, be all of customer support, who tells me that he can do nothing to help me because I don't have any recorded error codes, despite the fact that my computer was freezing, daily, for no reason at all and that a local tech, certified by the manufacturer, said that my motherboard was shot.

A few months passed because I was so frustrated and felt impotent.

Finally, I picked up the phone and called the credit card company to see if we could return it and dispute the charge.

Evidently, you only have 60 days, regardless of all the problems I'd had and my efforts to work it out with the manufacturer.

I called my case manager and said that I was sending it back.  He said that we were not eligible for a full refund, again, despite my problems and my efforts to work it out.  Even though we had purchased the computer directly from the manufacturer, their website actually counts as a separate entity.  And the 21 days in which I COULD have returned my computer, had passed.  21 DAYS!!  That's all they give you, even when you've been working with them.  A.R.G.H!!!

But, glory be, after my attempts to return the computer, expressing my great frustration, and becoming less than pilot. . . . perhaps even less than rude, he was suddenly willing to work on my machine.

Long story short (too late!), I had to mail my computer to them, they replaced the motherboard and sent it back to me.  Via ground.  (Did I mention this was our work computer?) A month after mailing it, I had my computer back.

And again, glory be, it works!!

Until I tried to install the Windows 7 upgrade that came with the computer, and it wouldn't accept my authorization key, and I had to talk to my @^#&!@ case manager again, and, wouldn't you know it, had to do ANOTHER system recovery.

So - THE POINT OF THIS WHOLE SORDID TALE - I was at work today - on my day off - to complete the recovery and set my computer up.  While I waited for files to update/download/install/upgrade/whatever, I went outside to get some water from the hose.  (We have no indoor plumbing - yes, I have to run one block to our home whenever I have to use the bathroom.)  In the process, I stepped wrong, slipped and whoosh! I was on the ground.  I didn't even have time to lie there in an infantile response to the pain zinging through my body as the ground was soaked and my pants were proving quite absorbent. (It's been pouring all day.)

When I went in to check my knee, I had a nice 1.5" cut that was oozing blood.

Then, having quit for the day, one head knock against a brick wall short of a concussion, I went home to make salmon chowder.  (It's been pouring all day.)  (And it's bloody cold.)  (I CANNOT believe today is July 3rd!)  And I managed to bump a counter, knock over a 20oz (at least) cup of water and a heavy frying pan which fell, handle end down, onto my right foot.

To recap: bloody right knee (literally - no swearing here) and  a scraped and bruised right foot.  Not to mention my sore right butt cheek from my earlier fall.

Yup.

Sometimes I'm the bug.

And yes, that whole long tale about my computer?  Purely to get more sympathy for my war wounds and bruises.

I know.  I'm pathetic.

I learned it from my kids.