Wednesday, November 29, 2023

So, congratulations on the face, I guess

 So it's been a hot fucking minute since I've had any time or interest in writing in here. 

Y'all. This bitch is exhausted. The last 5 months have been the fucking longest 40 years of my life. It isn't all bad exhaustion, just like...general malaise being compounded by depression and feeling overworked. Not because my work forces that on me, I really love my job. But my hours are unconventional, and I feel myself losing time with my amily, and I hate that. 

Speaking of losing time with my family, the trip to Nashville was pretty great. I didn't log it the way I do my usual trips, mostly because I wanted to be present instead of curating shit to remember. I let Amber know I wouldn't be exhaustvely documenting our vacation together for that reason, so she didn't feel offended that I didn't do a trip write up. I just wanted to live in the moments we had together, since I see her practically never. 

I made her batzina and cucmber salad, we went antiquing, which she had nevr done and that is a must if you're queer, I think. Got harrangued by a lady for wearing masks, acquired another gorgeous beaded purse...I have become osessed with vintage beaded purses. I have a growing collection, and I'm thrilled by them. We got high together and jut talked for hours every night, it was like being kids, but way more fun. Because we had adult money and could do adult stuff. We got our tattoos, and we both had an allergic reaction to the saniderm. Amber's was way mor eunpleasant than mine was, I was pretty worried she was going to end up with her skin rejecting her tattoo entirely. But twenty days later, and we're all healed up. I had intended to take Amber to Nashville for a very fancy dinner at Drusie & Darr, and then we would go to Skull's Rainbow Room for a burlesque show, but on the day of, Amber was like, "ehhhhh....that doesn't really sound fun to me." Was I disappointed? Extremely. I was so fucking bummed about it I wanted to cry, I had really, really been looking forward to that. HOWEVER. The point of the trip was to celebrate not just us as besties for almost 30 years, but Amber's 40th birthday. And if the birthday girl says your birthday plans for them just do not sound like their version of a good time? You don't do it, and you gracefully stay quiet about your disappointment. Because it wasn't an evening about me, it was an evening about celebrating her. 

So Amber said she would be much happier staying home and having me make her manicotti, so I did. And I pulled out all the fucking stops for the manicotti. I browned the butter while infusing it with aromatics, THEN I sauteed the onions and mushrooms down in that butter before throwing them into the manicotti mix. I had every intention of making Amber a bechemel to drown her manicotti in, but I ended up making her a gorgeous cheesy garlic bread instead, and forgot to do the bechemel. By the time I remembered, Amber said she didn't care and could do without it. Oops. We got her some coffee ice cream from Talenti, but she didn't end up eating it. Then we watched mmovies and had gummies and had a grand old time. 

We went to other antique malls, got hate crimed a bit at one of them (I was admittedly wearing a shit that said SMASH CAPITALISM, announced my queerness, and alerted me as a shoplifter, so maybe I'm partially to blame, but isn't that kind of victim blaming adjacent to say that we got hate crimed because of what I was wearing???), and I found the most amazing dresser that I wanted to buy and flip...I have developed a love of refurbishing furniture and I am currently working on a really gorgeous vanity...but they couldn't get a price to me until it was far too late. Derek and I talked about driving the 6 hours to pick it up the weekend after I got back, but I ultimately decided it wasn't worth it. If I could have gotten the price knocked down a  bit, maybe. There was a LOT of damage, and I would have to really redo a lot of stuff on the dresser. I should inquire and see if it's still there. The drive to Clarksville is actually pretty nice, except for the bridge through Paducah. I had a total and complete panic attack driving over that fucking bridge, I thought I was going to vomit and die. No fucking thank you to that. There is a way to get there WITHOUT going over that particular bridge, but it takes an extra 30 minutes and I missed the turn. :/

I've been home for a little over two weeks, and I've been stuck at home with covid for this week. I am tired, and exhausting my PTO, which sucks, because I will need about 80 hours of it for my trip with Derek, my dad, and Caryn to Colorado in June. I should be ok to earn all of it by then, but I am sure I'll have to use some of it between now and then, but I will legit be on none PTO hours at the end of this week. I'll of course earn a few more with this pay day on Friday, but yikes. I'm low. 

I have misplaced Alex's homebound application that her doctor signed off on. I have no fucking idea where it is. It was in the car when Derek and I spent our weekend in STL last week (which was a disaster, sometimes Derek is a truly shitty partner), and now it is nowhere to be found. I am aggravated at myself. 

I have nothing else to write about at the moment. I think I'm going to take a nap until my next appointment. Anyway, here's Wonderwall. 


Tuesday, October 3, 2023

Waking up having forgotten and remembering again the full extent of what forever is

 So. A lot has gone down. 

And by a lot, I mean really nothing terribly interesting, but I am procrastinating, so anything to keep me from writing what I am SUPPOSED to be writing. Bring me another mai tai!

So, first thing's first:

Trip to Chicago was great. I got a lot done, took a lot of photos, rubbed a lot of shoulders...wait, no. I did not do that. Not in the literal way. In the figurative way. Is it elbows you rub? Shoulders? I legitimately cannot think of the fucking idiom. This just in: I had to look it up. It's rubbing shoulders, but because this isn't something I say a lot, it sounds mega fucking creepy. It isn't sitting right. So of course I'm going to leave it exactly where it is. 

I applied to be an instructor at a convention. I am aware I won't get the green light, because I think I left some of the current instructors a little cold. A lot cold. In that I was very dismissive of two of them in particular, and they may hold a good deal of sway. So, I can add "burns bridges" to my CV! 

I'm sure at the end of the year, I'll post the photos I took in Chicago, but I can't be bothered right now. 

Second thing's second:

My tattoo. 

I have mixed feelings about it, and the mix is ambivalence and frustration. I do not love her, and I want to, but I cannot. When I gave my artist my tattoo mood board, it was fucking wacky. Just so much weird shit. I wanted a mermaid, I wanted flowers, I wanted something that Dali would have a nightmare about and obsess over for several weeks after. I had femmes with lots of eyes, eyes in weird places, weird fingers on weirder hands, strange figures for bodies, dreamy colors, a mish mash of artistic styles, and I said I wanted my fucked up and weirdo mermaid to be surrounded by flowers, my favorite ones. Orchids and dahlias, I would also accept peonies. I had a vision, it was fuckin' WEIRD, and my artist seemed super duper excited. I asked him if I could have a look at what he was planning on several weeks before hand so I could veto it if I hated it, and he said no. He said he knew better than me, as the artist. And I was like...well....that's cool and all, but have you tried listening to the person whose body this will be on forever? And he was like, nah, fuck that. 

He tried to convince me that I should know where he's coming from, because I'm a photographer, and I was like, eh, but photos, as permanent as they are, can be retaken. They don't fundamentally alter your body in a forever kind of way. So if someone hates a photo I deliver of them, I can re-edit it, or they can go to another photographer and get them redone. Either way, they have unlimited shots at happiness here. And he was like, meh. I'll show you the day before. 

He showed me the day before, and I was like....uh. This? This is my funky tattoo??

Bitch.

It's just a fucking mermaid. 

And like, look. She's cool and all. But she is fucking NOT what I wanted. She is just a basic ass mermaid. Just like....she's just pretty? I wanted weird. And I didn't have it in me to be like, THIS IS WHY I WANTED TO KNOW MONTHS AGO. Now there is no time to fix it. So I just said, "Oh, she's great, I love her!"

And it isn't wholly untrue? I love her a little...and people who see me in public seem to love her a LOT. People stop me all the fucking time to ask if they can marvel at my tattoo, something that has never happened to me in my life. So she's getting attention, which is cool, and she's a great segue into talking about being a mermaid photographer. But she isn't what I wanted, so I am still on the fucking hunt to find a photographer who can do what the fuck I want. I am legit thinking about looking at a big city known for it's weirdos. Like fuckin' Portland or San Fran. I'll travel for that shit, I don't care. I have a few friends in San Fran that I would love to see for a little bit, so maybe I should start thinking about that. Anyway, here's wonderwall. 





Is she bad? No, she's pretty alright, Austin is hella talented. Is she what I wanted? 100% not. Austin is talented, but could not meet my sumptuously fuckin' weird tattoo desires. 

Austin laid down a little bit of the color:



                                                                            Gross!

8 hours in the chair is my longest session, and Austin is by far the fucking heaviest handed tattoo artist I've ever had (look at those outlines!! THICK!), and I am pretty fucking covered in tattoos, I've done the legwork. I was pretty spent after spending all day in the chair, and I was sore for fucking days after the fact. I go for my next session in the middle of January. Updates then. 

It is currently the beginning of October, and in a month, I will got and spend almost a full week with JUST my bestie. I arrive in Nashville on November 9th, and I leave November 14th, and it'll be just me and her the entire fucking time. Check out the things we are doing for our Saturday night birthday date night:

First, we will be getting our hair and make up done. 

Then, we have dinner reservations for 6pm at Drusie & Darr by Jean-Gorges. Then, we head to Skull's Rainbow Room and have drinks while we wait for the Burlesque show at 11 (which is a late show, and I'm usually asleep by midnight because gummies are magical, so this will be a long evening for me for sure). It'll be Amber's first burlesque show. Happy fucking 40th, babes!!!

I am so excited to get all fancied up to go see my most bestest soul mate. We're going to have such a fucking good time together. I think this will be our first time hanging out together with JUST US since we were teenagers. 

I am so fucking excited, I fully plan on spending the week being childish and obnoxious and wild, and it being the best time. I cannot fucking wait. I'm going to take so many fucking photos with my bestie. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

In completely unrelated news, I had forgotten Gavin DeGraw used to be someone I listened to (circa Dan, so it's been awhile), but as I was grabbing myself dinner from the commissary, I caught myself singing along in the aisle to one of his songs that I for sure would have assumed I wouldn't know the words to anymore. And then I got in my car and sat for a little bit, feeling that stupid nostalgia creep up on me, and I listened to Gavin DeGraw songs all the way home. Maybe 2 miles from my street turn off, I decided to pull off to the side of the road and enjoy the sunset. It was an amazing one:




I had been driving along, uncomfortably wrapped up in some weird nostalgic thoughts, and I kept telling myself, "I should pull over, I should pull over." and I kept responding to myself, "no, you've got a car full of groceries, you're wistful and angry and you get weird when you're like this, go home". But I can't remember the last time I pulled over and enjoyed being with nobody but myself, soaking in the breeze and watching the day end. So I did. Singing to myself, thinking to myself, enjoying myself (but not in a Cinemax kind of way. Is Cinemax still around????), and watched the sunset fade into the eveing. And I've been in a mood ever since. 

I've been supposed to be writing for hours. Also hours is doing a lot of heavy lifting, I mean months. I've been supposed to be writing for months. But specifically tonight, I was supposed to write two pages. And now I'll have to do it tomorrow. I think I'm going to get under my weighted blanket and get all up in my fuckin' weird headspace and freak myself out. Again, sadly, not in the Cinemax kind of way. Which I can now report does not exist anymore, I looked it up. Also...Warner Brothers?? Really? 

I may or may not be an hour deep into an edible. I am not nearly lucid enough to be blogging. It's been a weird night. 



Sunday, July 2, 2023

I have a dick appointment with Dr. Dick

 For extra fun today, I thought to myself, "I should really update my LinkedIn photo". So I picked a photo of myself. Something cheeky, maybe a little cute adjacent? I don't know, I'll leave the adjectives up to the lawyers. I opened up the app, picked my photo, uploaded it, and when I went to resize it, whoops. It was a picture of my fucking vagina and my terribly depressing tiddies. Not naked, they're both fully clothed. 


But I do think that a fair amount of people might recognize me from this photo? There are quite a few people who really only took notice of this section of me. It is usually what people are allowed to find most interesting about me. 

That being said, I am now terrified of updating my LinkedIn photo. 

I'm rewatching Suits, and while I can't stop watching it (I'm in the middle of season 5), I cannot for the fucking life of me understand why I was so enamored with this show. These people are the fucking DUMBEST attorneys that get into the shittiest, dumbest fucking scrapes because of the most laughable displays of hubris. Derek and I have been watching this together laughing our entire fucking faces off, screaming about how fucking absurd everything in every episode is. We're going to make a drinking game out of it. Every time someone says, "god damn _______", you take a drink. Or, every time someone "solves it", you take a drink. Either way you play, you've got a serious case of alcohol poisoning by the end of an episode. We'll be gleefully dead! Also, the CC for netflix gets the lyrics to the Suits theme song hilariously wrong.

Speaking of suits, I bought my first suit. It's lavender, it's gorgeous, and I feel like I need to swan around St. Louis in it. I will obviously need to get it tailored, but I cannot fucking wait for my first outing in that delicious suit. I'm trying to find a good whisky bar worthy of the suit in all of its glory. And maybe to nail down whatever lingerie piece I have to go underneath it, because obviously. I have so much lingerie, but maybe I need something new from Thistle and Spire. So here's the suit:


But what would look best underneath it?

This?

Or this?


I have no idea. I'll figure some shit out. 

I took a few days to finish this, and I can't even remember why. I have something I want to write about, but I can't yet. 

I'm going to be having a brunch date with the coven on the 15th at The Bellwether, then spending the night in STL with Bri, which will be a delight. We're thinking about taking a day trip to Kansas City sometime soon, but I have no idea when. My weekends are booked solid for literally the next like, month and a half. I pick up Rhyann next Saturday (yay!!! I have missed them!!!) and then Sunday I'm having lunch with my girls; the 15th is up in STL with Bri, Coley, and maybe Jamie (if she can manage, which I hope she can!), the 22nd I go get the first session of my sleeve (this will be my longest tattoo session to date: eight hours. And this is just the first session...it'll be 4 or 5 sessions like this); the 29th I have a few photoshoots, and then I'll be in Chicago until the 5th, then I have a shoot on the 12th, and THEN I'm free. Until November 9th, when I go to have a birthday weekend bash with Amber for her 40th, just us. I am so fucking excited for our Nashville date. We're going to do some hikes, if the weather allows, but we're also going to have a VERY fancy dinner date, and then a VERY fancy brunch date. I bought an amazing dress for our fancy dinner date, we're both going to go get our hair and make up done, we have this great place we're renting for the five days we'll be in Nashville, and hopefully we'll be able to make a trip to go to her father's grave (he passed away a couple of weeks ago). It will be weird of me to be like, check out the dress I bought for the trip right after saying that, so I need a buffer sentence. 

This is my buffer sentence. 

Check out the dress I bought for my fancy bestie dinner date with Amber!



And I'm going to pair them with these puppies that I never wear:


and I am thinking of going full fuckin' disco with gold jewelry. I haven't yet planned out what I'm wearing to brunch with Amber, though I think I will wear my traditional brunch outfit (that I will probably end up wearing to brunch with the coven in two weeks) of my off the shoulder flower top and a pencil skirt with perilously tall stilettos and a great clutch. I'm boring, and I play the hits. 

It's almost midnight and I haven't eaten dinner. I might just go to sleep instead. 

Tuesday, January 24, 2023

Happy Holigays 2022

 What.

A.

SEASON.


I can't lie....I went a little batshit this year with holiday stuff. One thing that like...I know my dad has a bit of trouble understanding...being an atheist, in a house full of atheists...why Christmas is something that we bother with. Derek also gets on my case about how for 335 days a year, I am a non-stop machine about how capitalism is the enemy. 

Am I an atheist? Yes. Do I hate capitalism? YES. 

Do I love Christmas, though? UMYES .

It isn't the religious shit...none of us go to mass, we don't pretend to give a fuck about Jesus, there's no prayer for redemption in the new year or whatever the fuck. For me, it is alllllllllllllllllllllll about pageantry and excess. I don't decorate the house like one of those people on Candy Cane Lane here...not a stitch of lighting goes up outside. We have a little wreath that's pretty nondescript. I put it up once it gets a little chill in the air, because it's pretty, but other than that, no decorating outside. Our tree is a very modest little fakey tree....very tall, very thin. Very sparse. We've had it for years. In my secret heart of hearts, I want one of those wild, ostentatious mother fuckers that makes you think of the most expensive tree you'd see in the most pristine house in a catalogue. What I REALLY want my living room to look like during the holigays is a joyless, but expensive and beautiful, page out of a Williams-Sonoma catalogue. 

Like these:





Are you KIDDING ME with that last one? It almost looks like the stairwell where Derek and I got married. But honestly....this would be my ultimate holigays set up if I were rich enough and so anti-joy that I did an ostentatious tree decoration every year:


I'm all holigay horned up just thinking about it, holy fucking shit. It's gorgeous. The couple two homes down from us have four trees in their living room, with a delightful dressing of baubles in their windows, and I envy it every time I walk by their home. 

This aesthetic will always be a pipedream for me, though. Not only do I like for my house to look warm and inviting, I actually like it to BE warm and inviting. And you can't have set ups like that with cats, kids, and friends who come by. Too much shit will break. So we have a very modest fir strand with warm white lights that goes around the banister, and then we have our tiny little tree. Derek and I are kind of at a loss, because this year, we could not find the box with our lights, our tree topper, or half of our ornaments. All of the us have an ornament that is just for us that we put on the tree first, before any other ornaments are put on. Derek has a hot sauce bottle, I have a pair of pointe shoes, Rhyann had a stand in ornament last year and we were meant to pick a forever one this year, but that eluded us, Laurel had a little owl with a scarf, and Alex had a rainbow christmas tree. They've all gone missing. I had to go buy new lights and new ornaments this year, and I didn't buy a tree topper because who cares, but our tree DID look a little funny with just....wires at the top. 

But all of the fuckin' presents under the tree served as a great distraction for the fucked up lack of a hat our tree was sporting this year. As previously stated, I went fucking NUTS this year. Not only was I excited to have all of the kids at home, but I was excited because Rhyann didn't have to leave. My oldest baby lives with me full time now, and what can I say? It inspired me to really embrace consumerism and support capitalism with my whole, entire heart. 

And boy did I fucking EVER. Wow. 


The tree is STUFFED with gifts. The back of the tree? Stuffed. The side of the tree? Stuffed (you'll see stockings resting on the mound of gifts). Under the tree? Stuffed. This tree was fucking packed to the god damn gills with presents. And the stockings!


I do a theme every year for the stockings, and this year was "nostalgia". Gifts that Derek and I would have wanted in our stockings. I forgot one of the gifts, which was tamagotchi's, but it isn't like the kids noticed. They seemed to enjoy their stockings. I would say the highlight of the stockings, the theme that ran throughout, were the sea monkeys. 


This is Rhyann's stocking...Rhyann got Sea Monkeys on Mars. 


This is Laurel's stocking, and Laurel got Original Sea Monkeys. 


And this is Alex's stocking. She got Sea Monkeys Magic Castle. 

Now, Derek and I did not get Sea Monkeys. I was trying my hardest to find the executive sea monkeys set...which I had never heard of, but Derek went on and on about when I discussed with him the theme of this year's stockings. I thought he was lying to me. He was not. 


The sheer absurdity of such a thing existing thrilled me to my very fingertips. Sadly, I couldn't find one that was being sold. Plenty of people had them in sold out listings, but that doesn't help me very much. Had I been able to find that for Derek, I would have nabbed myself a portable sea monkey aquarium...


But because I couldn't get Derek the one he wanted, I opted instead to get us Sea Monkey shirts with the original art on them. I'm wearing mine right now, in fact!


This gold beauty is my stocking, and I love it so much. I wanted something mermaid-y, but I have yet to find a mermaid stocking that perfectly balances chintz with aesthetic. So gold sequins will have to do. You can see my little shirt sticking out of the top of it!


Here is Derek's stocking, and his little shirt is similarly peeking out of his top. Cuties!!!

Let's see. Here is everyone and their stack o' gifts:


Alex, happily holding the gift from her dad, which she insisted on opening first. I think she had a good idea of what she was getting, and she was just really excited about it. Her mound of presents is kind of hidden by her chair, so the depths of my overboardness aren't as overt. I will say that about 100 bucks of stuff that I got for Rhyann and Laurel, Alex opted out of. She took the cash for Genshin. So Alex had a few less gifts, but no less was spent on her. I spend the exact same amount on the kids, so even when it looks like somebody got more, they didn't get any more SPENT on them. 


Laurel is buried under her presents, with overflow in front of her, and Rhyann has chosen to stack theirs up on the side of the couch. The two big presents in red and pink wrapping papers are Derek's big presents from me and the kids. But like...really they're from me. Everything is from me. More on that later. 


Here is my lump of stuff, on the right hand side, and Derek's is on the left. This was after stockings had already been opened, so the middle part of the couch is lousy with tchotchkes and socks. Mostly socks, really. Derek and I got some of the same things the kiddos got...some lotions, socks (mine say "I am a delicate fucking flower" and Derek's say "it's ok to fart". I joked that I really should have switched those, since I'm the one that needs to know it's ok to fart. At least while I'm awake), and I think we got one more thing in common with the kids...but our big stuffers were drinkables. Derek got these gorgeous coffees from a few Black Femme roasters (we've tried one of the three, and it is absolutely STELLAR), and I got a shitload of tea flavors. 

I took photos of everybody opening their presents, but I would be posting like, a bajillion photos, so I grabbed my favorites from the many, many, MANY photos that I took, and I will post those instead of all of them. 

Here are my favorites of Alex:


One of the things Alex has as an outfit signature is tights. Because Alex is tall and thick, mainstream tights are just....not built for her. They're thin and flimsy and bullshit. So I got her a grip of Snagtights. I think I got her...uh...five pairs? Which may not sound like a grip, but they're 20 bucks a fucking pop. Five is a grip, scientifically. 


Alex opening up her pen that is modeled after Raiden Shogun's weapon in Genshin. She was obviously delighted. 


Here she is posing with the Staff of Homa model that Derek spent weeks and weeks making her, and I spent days painting. Unfortunately, the scale is off, and the print was a little thin, so it has already broken. But the joy is still palpable!!


And these are her new headphones for school! The little cat ears light up, they are too fucking cute. Alex loves them.

Here are my favorites of Laurel:


Laurel giving one of her new stuffies the Simba treatment. 


These next two photos are from the same gift, but Laurel seemed super duper extra happy with this wig:


As might be obvious from her literal leap into the air with excitement. 


Alright, so I almost always get everyone one gift in a similar vein. We all get different versions of it, I tailor it to each person. This year was body related. So, I got a bunch of little stuffies from I Heart Guts, I believe. I got a brain with depression, Alex got an estrogen molecule (wearing a little daisy hat and adorable shoes), Derek got a back pain, Rhyann got a GERD, and this is a picture of Laurel opening up her bed bug. Laurel got a bed bug because the hotel we got the kids for the con they went to earlier this year had a bed bug problem, and all three kiddos got infested. I was wary that maybe it wasn't the right time to poke fun yet...thankfully, I was wrong. Laurel got a big ol' laugh out of it. 

Here are my favorites of Rhyann:


Here is Rhyann opening up a very funny stuffy from Derek...a bear shaped liked a cinnamon bun, with a very tiny head. 


Here they are, opening up and showing off the very cute pink cuttlefish wet specimen that Alex got them (this is a bonus favorite picture of Laurel).


Rhyann is opening up a stuffy of Lucas the Spider, which I had never heard of, but we all know Rhyann loves spiders, so Derek saw it and knew he had to get it for them. 

But wait! Rhyann also has a video!


Here are my favorite pictures of Derek, and Derek ALSO has videos!


Will he go out to play upon a spider's web, having enormous fun and calling for a friend? The world may never know. 


There are so many words to express my feigned annoyance that he was the most excited over 16 pairs of Dickie's socks and not the variable speed drill I bought him, or any of the other amazing gifts he got. So many. I'll leave the stringing them together for you to do on your own time.

Here are Derek's videos!




I have been planning the Jesus shirt for years. Very literally. Since about 2018. I'm glad I finally made it. I wish I hadn't talked myself out of doing it the way I wanted to...when I described it to Derek, he told me it was exactly how he would have wanted it, but oh well. 

Here is the story of the James Garfield T-shirt:

Derek and I were doing a crossword puzzle. Alex wandered into our room, asked what we were doing, and then asked if she could maybe help with the crossword. So I gave her a clue, something to do with James Garfield. And she said, completely in earnest, "is that the cat that loves lasagna?" and Derek tittered a little bit, but I didn't, I held my composure, and then explained to her that no, this was a president of the united states, and that Garfield she was thinking of was a cartoon cat. She left, and that was that Until later that night, long after she went to bed, I finally let go all of the pent up laughter I had been holding in. Because I try so hard not to laugh at my kids when they make honest mistakes. I will laugh, but almost always when they're not around. I told Derek it would be amazing to make a shirt with a picture of James Garfield on it that said I hate Mondays. He thought it was hysterical. So I made it, knowing he would forget about it soon after. Victory. What a great shirt. 

And now, because I feel obligated to share pictures of me but ONLY because I love this gift so much, here are the photos of me opening my very favorite gift, from Derek and the kids:




He is a 7 foot long duck that I named Mr. Petey C. Quackers (Petey C is actually PDC, which stands for Premium Duck Content), and he sleeps with me every single night. Derek stuffed him a bit more, as he was a little floppy straight out of the box, but now he is a robust gentleman that is my sleeping buddy. Between him and my weighted blanket, I am fully in love with my sleeping arrangement.

That is a pretty great summation of our present opening day. We did that on the 26th, when Laurel got home. The next day, we opened up the stack of gifts from my dad and Caryn, which I wrapped in special paper so we'd know it was from them. Rhyann got a great knife and sheath, Laurel got a bauble for her purse bag, and Alex got a few skirts and a cardigan with skulls on it, and she wears that like it's her fucking religion. 

On to the next thing we do for the holigays: the food. 

This year we did Caribbean food. We initially planned on Mediterranean, but couldn't narrow down the regions we wanted to focus on, and then we were going to do Ethiopian (I bought so many gorgeous spices, I made nitter kibbeh and awaze in preparation), but we ultimately revisited Caribbean. We didn't really overdo it, either. For us, it was a very tame amount of food. 

I don't like touching the raw meats, so did absolutely none of that important prep. But I made lots and lots of other tasties. 


Here's the base for green sauce! All manner of fuckin' aromatics and peppers and shit. 


This rudely reminded me of my whiteness, because when I sniffed it, I almost died. It punched my olfactory system straight in its sensitive Italian goolies. But after I cried several tears, I could process how freshy and gorgeous it smelled. 

I cleaned out my food processor and batched up another delicious sauce: a mango pineapple scotch bonnet hot sauce. 


Look, I'm not proud of this, but I made this in late December. The mangos and pineapple were canned. THEY ARE HARD TO COME BY FRESH IN MISSOURI IN DECEMBER. 


This one smelled hot, but not nearly as punchy as the green sauce. The sweet offset this really nicely. 


It fucking TASTED hot, though. Fresh and perfectly scorchy. Look how gorgeous they are side by side!!!

Was I getting parched in a way that only a boozey drink could satisfy? Why yes I was. So I made myself a negroni, which was my little holiday drink love affair. I've found that I am very taken with amaros (I even like Jager, but I drink it with the gravitas of an aged woman, not the lack of a will to live to see my thirties like a 20 year old boy), so a negroni just...makes sense. I also used my favorite gin. Who am I even? I don't have any idea. 


Hello, Sweetie. 

Next, I made callaloo. This is perhaps the sexiest greens dish I have ever created, and I have been craving it ever since. I've made it another two times and eaten it all by myself, I'm not proud. 


I didn't plate this one beautifully to show it off, because...I mean. The true answer is I just ate it all out of the pot. It went from the pot straight into my mouth. It never saw the right side of a plate. 

I believe my last contribution was the sweet potato pudding. this photo is going to look like nothing special, but I assure you, the mini bite I took was magical, and the report back from my family was a unanimous rave review. 


Almost every morsel was eaten, and I made a lot. So that's impressive. 

Oh! Good news! I was just going through my photos and I found out I  DID plate myself up a little bit of foods! Including the greens! It isn't a GOOD photo, but it does mean that I had a bit more control of myself and I didn't just house all of the callaloo over the stove like a monster. 

But that's about all I made on my own. I did help Derek with prep work while he made the meaty aspects of the meal. 


Yes. We used a Crock Pot for the jerk chicken. Sue us for utilizing the modern convenience of midwestern families everywhere with their dump meals. 

We did broil it like real people would, though. And it scorched up beautifully!


Derek made the jerk sauce, and it was reportedly wonderful. I will cheat and eat beef, but I do not eat chicken, so I didn't try it. I actually meant to use a little portion of the jerk sauce for my tofu, but I really lazed out. So I ended up having oxtail. 

I SAID OXTAIL.


We bought out the store. That's a fuck ton of oxtail. 

First, they had to have like...a mini brine?


I don't quite understand what this step did for the ultimate finish of this dish, but Derek and I didn't run our usual tests on if steps like this are frivolous or necessary. Oxtail is too pricey, so we'll just take the recipe as is. No tweaks required. 

Oh hey! I made this bit!


The oxtail had to marinate before being cooked. It's a fucking process to make this oxtail stew. 


One bag of oxtail going! 


FIVE MORE LEFT! Just kidding. We fuckin' shoved all ten pounds of oxtail into two storage bags. 


Marinate, you once swishy bastards. Soak in all of the flavors. 

Fulldisclosure, Derek did not understand how to make the caramel in the instant pot, he thought it wasn't working, because he couldn't quite bring himself to listen to me when I tried to help him. We're lucky that the dish didn't turn out all acrid and fucked up, no thanks to Derek. Who can be seen here, burning the brown sugar and looking puzzled over why it isn't doing what he wants it to do.


But everything turned out ok. Derek did eventually trust my advice, and here is my little plate. I ate meat. 


Callalo, oxtail stew, and cauli rice. Quite the gorgeous little meal!!!

And that was our big fat food day this year. It was a treat. We didn't make everything I wanted to make (I didn't get to make cornmeal cakes, or tostones, or...I think I had three other things I planned on making, but we were just...kind of ill-prepared this year. Not ill-prepared. Lazier than usual), but we had a delicious day. 

Now, every year I ask everybody who gets me gifts to get me a Whole Foods gift card, which I then turn around and use for a charcuterie board for a New Year's Eve dinner for myself and Derek. Alex is never interested, and the other two kiddos are never here. 

BUT.

This year, the oldest two would be here for NYE, and Alex expressed interest in our charcuterie board. 

So what does a silly bitch like me do in that case? Oh you bitch. She spends 500 dollars for one meal and makes a total fucking STUPID time of it. 

I had to be in STL to finish my tattoo:


I love her wonky eye! She's supposed to look like me, but...she doesn't. Oh, well. I'm already dreaming up my next piece, so on to the next. Anyway. 

After my hour and a half of finishing this piece, Derek and I headed to Whole Foods, where I would go on to spend an embarrassing amount of money on cheeses and crunchies and meats:


Look. That is a deceptive conveyor belt. It doesn't really look like anything, it looks like I bought a normal human person's amount of things for a charcuterie board. 300 bucks at Whole Foods? That tracks, you can easily spend that amount of money and only come out with four Asparagus waters and two things of organic raspberries. 

This picture does NOT show the additional 150 I spent at Costco and the additional [REDACTED] I spent at a couple of other stores to bring my NYE whims to life. 

Are you ready to see this shit laid out? Feast your eyes, hos. 


Ok, so here is the entire table. Keep in mind, you have not yet met the cheese. The cheese deserves a grand entrance of its own. So what have we got here, huh? Let's introduce you to the key players at the meat and crunchies table:




The meat spread isn't that inventive. Derek and I did grab three different brands of prosciutto (one from Italy! Italian pigs! What class!) and whether it's real or not, we found the dead Italian pig shavings to be the superior dead pig shavings. 

The peperettes, to me, tasted like spent cigars and I hated them. There is a dish of pate in there,  but nobody ate it. Not even the cats. So I have to assume it wasn't good, because they will eat each other's vomit with relish, so it's not like a one of them has a discerning palette. 


That pate did not get put away, and it looked the exact same way when we woke up the next morning. Not even a LICK had been printed onto that smooth, gross liver. 


Alright, so here is one of the dumbest, smart purcahses I made. The big hunk of yellow above the gorgeous chocolate assortment is Amish butter. I spent ten bucks on two pounds, and I have never been happier to be alive than I was when I was eating that butter.. That butter is exactly what butter is supposed to taste like. I found excuses to put it in and on everything. It was that fucking good, and it was worth every penny, and I fully intend on buying another block the next time I'm in the area. No shame. I'll buy two or three. They'll get used. I'm keto and vegetarian. Butter is in my macros, mother fuckers. I'll eat it at every meal, FOR every meal AMISH BUTTER FOR EVERY MEAL 2023!!! See you later, healthy heart!!!! Eat my dust, Surgeon General! And by dust I mean my cremated remains, as that would surely kill me.


But see, I did make sure to include fruit! Obviously. I wanted to make the meal healthy! So we've got grapes, red pears, two kinds of apples, gooseberries, a pomegranate, tapenade, my homemade apple jelly, my homemade pickled apples, Derek's favorite kind of olives, and then...spreads!


I bought all but two of these things in Ithaca, and I bought them specifically for this food celebration. The honey (Cacao Kapow! is honey flavored with cacao nibs and infused with peppers) and the three spreads in the front are from Ithaca. 

Is it time for the main event? Yes. Yes, you fucks. Get ready for the cheesing of a lifetime. 

Here we have our precious little soft rinds:


Look at this Miette. She is the fuckin' sluttiest, tastiest ish:


I'm so god damn horned up for that cheese. But wait, we have other tasty softies:


You MINX. 


Anyone who tells you they don't want to fuck that cheese is lying. 

What else have we got? Up next we have our hard cheeses:



That chevre in the corner is my absolute favorite cheese. I ate it within 24 hours. The Grand Cru was my second favorite. The gjetost is a cheese I tried when I was a kid, because I was lucky to have a friend with a curious, adventurous palette that turned me on to lots of interesting new things, and it is less a cheese than it is a block of caramel with cheese aspirations. 

I didn't finish at cheese, I bought Derek and the two older kiddos (Alex has expressed none desire at having any kind of taste of alcohol anything EVER) a treat to ring in the new year:


I am fairly certain this is Derek's favorite champagne. It isn't terribly expensive, but it's enough of a luxury at 65 bucks a bottle that we only get it to celebrate in a meaningful way. NYE seemed right enough! I even used my Christmas money to do it. I'm an O. Henry level saint! 

The booze didn't end there! A few years ago...circa Texas, so awhile back...I bought Derek two different kinds of Suntory whisky: one was expensive, one was cheap. One we loved, one we hated. We found both of them, but decided to start our memory game with the cheapest version, that way if this was the one we hated, we could buy the expensive bottle with confidence and not have to worry about having a pricey bottle of whisky in the house that we had to begrudgingly drink. Like our Glenlivet 21 which...long haul spoiler, if you open it and find it undrinkable as we did, ignore it in a dark corner of your home for two years, have it travel overseas in a hot crate twice, and then open it another two years later? It is QUITE drinkable. 

Anyway, we bought the less expensive bottle and found out it was not the one we liked.


But look how pretty it looks in the shot glasses my dad and Caryn got for us!!

I did spend a lot of time flipping through Derek's present Cheese, Sex, Death, and it inspired me to make a cheese bite that, frankly, moved me to tears:


That's a crostini smothered in Amish butter (my favorite food), honey, Roquefort, and a slice of red pear with a dash of freshly cracked white pepper. I literally cried when I ate my little bite. I think everybody else thought it was tasty, but I was the only person who saw Cheesus when they ate theirs. 

And that, my friends, was my fucking holiday season. 

It is damn near February now, and I have so much more to write about, but until next time, this holigay is a wrap.