Archive for June, 2009


I am fine and everyone I know is fine after the tragedy on Metro yesterday.  Thanks for your concerns and thoughts.  Yesterday was a jarring reminder that life is short and random, but it is good to remember we are loved and who we love in return.

I hope to return here full time in about a week.  See you soon, refreshed and with some fresh, wacky tales.


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I found out this weekend that my biological father, C, is dying. He was never a healthy man. He smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and is consistently inconsistent about taking the meds that control his MS. He is a workaholic, barely sleeps, and eats food that is only suitable for a trash compactor. He is 51 and has had more health maladies than an 80 year old man. He is not long for this world.

I found out this weekend he is dying, that he is on a heart transplant list and if he doesn’t shape up the next, soon approaching heart attack will most assuredly be his last.

I found out he was dying from my brother. We–a father and a daughter–haven’t talked in eleven years. He missed college, milestones, my first love. He walked away, called me a fucking cunt, cut me out of photos. He pushed me out of the family, told everyone I was to be avoided. I was a child, a strong willed, independent child, who was brave enough to stand up to a man who mentally and emotionally abused us for years. This was my punishment.

My father is dying and what I struggle with the most is how little I care. I have mourned him. I have grieved what could not be, confronted the demons that haunted me for years. To be sure my fractured relationship with him has shaped me. I am sure that without him weight would not have been such a battle, a period of promiscuity could have been avoided, and my penchant for unavailable men nipped in the bud…but it is done. No one forced my hand in to the cookie jar or down the pants of undeserving men. Years of therapy, maturity, and a wonderful, caring stepfather (who I consider to be the only real father I have ever known) have made it easier to understand him, me, and my reaction to this relationship…or lack there of.

My father is dying and I am relieved, I am ready. My head hurts but not my heart. I worry about logistics, about whether to attend the funeral of a man who never deserved the family he created. I worry about my brother. I run through scenarios in my head, how I can tactfully say “No, really, it is ok” when condolences are inevitably expressed. I wonder if, ten years from now, I will regret not speaking to him before his death. A good friend said to me yesterday “you cannot expect ill health to transform assholes”. And, my friends, my father is a lost soul. This is a man on his death bed and I have not heard a word from him. I don’t blame myself anymore; you can’t chose your parents and parental love is not one of life’s guarantees.

My father is dying and I sit here and call him an asshole…not out of anger or revenge, merely as a statement of fact. The facts, though? Sometimes they aren’t pretty.

My father is dying and he reminds me who I am…that I am strong, that I am resilient, that I have come so far. I didn’t think this would push me out of hiding. In fact, the warm cozy hole I have been hiding in beckons for me, but writing this feels right. Writing this reminds me I cannot be silenced by him, even in his life’s twilight.

My father is dying and I thank him for making me me. Despite everything, the tears, the pain, the struggles, thank you Dad. Without you there is no me.

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Lights Dimmed

I’ve always tried to be as honest as I can be about myself. I’m loud, I am brash, and I am constantly over scheduled. I stretch myself too thin. I do my best to be a good friend and I know I fail at that sometimes. I have torn through some men in my 28 years: some were sport, some were time killers, some were bad news, while some special ones were amazing, smart, and loved. I can be shockingly self absorbed and at times egotistical, but I don’t think that is necessarily bad. Oh, and dramatic…that too.

I act tough and I can have downright unrealistic expectations of people at times. I love hard, play hard and laugh hard. I drink too much and I often eat too much. I struggle every day with a very tenuous truce with my body image and self perception. I am almost continually dissatisfied with the status quo. I am defensive, guarded and can be an unrepentant hardass. I love my close friends lightbulb1ferociously and feel so lucky to be surrounded by people I truly respect and admire. I really am a little white trash in my heart–I am not kidding about my love of leopard print, big hair, loads of eyeliner, and showing off my cleavage. I am ok with that; I will never go to church, wear khaki, or drive a mini-van. Inside of me lives a softie who just wants some pretty simple things in this lifetime; love, happiness, and some pretty stellar carrot cake.

I am tired, y’all.

I am literally tired. Sleep is hard to come by and cups of coffee fill my days.

I am tired of an unending job search that has left me frustrated and so, so, SO close so many times but has just come up short.

I am tired of this medicine that has left me with an off kilter appetite and all kinds of screwed up.

I am tired of all the emails and comments I receive about my diet, my body (past and present), my weight, and my appearance.

I need a break.

I am not quitting, but I am reevaluating. I may stop blogging about food. I may entirely reformat. I don’t know. I promise to come back, probably within a month.  I will still continue to read all the blogs I love and hopefully I will discover some new ones to inspire me.

I love this blog. I love my life and my friends. I am continually amazed by all the awesome people I have met as a result of this little corner of the world. I just don’t want this space to be something that stresses me out, and lately it has been.

Being so honest, doing my best to accurately represent myself, no doubt has it rewards. I have connected with people in amazing ways and found some kindred spirits out on this big world wide web. I think all this introspection and self indulgence has made me a better person in a lot of ways; I am painfully flawed, but in a lot of ways I am really proud of myself and who I am.

Lately I haven’t been as proud of my writing or as happy with my recipes. The sometimes nasty comments and emails have been bothering me more. Sure, some are completely ridiculous, but god damn if some don’t hurt me. My body doesn’t belong to anyone but me and I will never get why anyone feels otherwise.  I am not letting myself be silenced by a select group of assholes, but I don’t quite feel like dealing with it right now.

So, yes, a break. I will keep on being me, all of me. Soon, I will be back to share it all. I am tired and I think I deserve some rest. I hope you will be here when I come back.

Postscript: I really am ok.  I didn’t mean this to seem “cry for helpy”.  I am actually pretty fucking awesome, I just need a break and was trying to explain where my heads at…thanks for all your concerns though.

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