The Battle of The Dishes

Dishes are a constant in my house. Constantly being used, misused, dirtied and discarded in the sink for later mass-cleanings. I would put the blame for that one on Daniel who uses more dishes than any person who never cooks anything more than bacon and eggs should, but I do the same thing, only, in my mind, I'm allowed because
I'm the one that cleans the goddamn things.


So, this morning, we wake up to Daniel's alarm clock. I get up and go pee. Daniel follows suit. We both get back in bed, turn on our laptops, lay against each other, spine-to-spine (it sounds like a cold shoulder type thing, but truly, it is an expression of our love and comfortability with one another) and we read our email, look at Woot.com, etc. Then, we both shut off the computers, turn around and with Daniel's arms around me, I lay perched against him, my leg hiked up on his legs and my head resting on his chest. As I mentioned in a previous post, this is my favorite place to be. We kiss and snuggle for a while, then he gets up to shower. I read a bit and when he gets out of the shower, I sit on the sofa with him and, still unable to keep my hands off this fine man I have acquired after years of pining, molest every part of his already-clothed body.
"So, what are you making me for breakfast?" he asks me, innocently and honestly.
I feel a pang of irritation. The voice that narrates my thoughts says, "I just made you breakfast yesterday. When was the last time you made me breakfast? Oh, right, a month ago when I complained that you never do!" Yes, my narrative voice uses a lot of italics.
Instead of saying anything close to this, I squash down all thoughts of irritation and in my I'm-a-good-little-housewife voice say, "Well, what would you like?"
Daniel, being ever intelligent and able to read my face like a large print book for mentally challenged five year olds says, "You know, cereal sounds good."
"Cereal, I can do." And so, happily, I trot over to the kitchen to get him a bowl when I see no bowls in our cupboard. They are all in the sink. I let out an angry little grunt and slide the blinds up, open the window above the sink and start scrubbing with only a slight pause to dry off the first bowl clean, fill it with cereal, milk and a spoon and hand it off to Daniel. Before returning to the sink, I point to the stove top.
"Oh, and stop," pause, "PLEASE stop leaving a pan full of bacon grease," I point to another burner, "pan full of bacon grease," point to a third burner, "and a pan full of bacon grease. It's gross and unnecessary." He nods and obviously notices my pissy mood. But seriously, leave the meaty, fatty mess for your vegetarian girlfriend to clean up? NOT. COOL.
Continue scrubbing. I can feel him looking at me, thinking, "Fuck. There she goes, having her first OCD moment of the day," as he chews his off-brand Captain Crunch. I keep scrubbing until most of the dish drainer is full. Then I grab a bowl and sit on the couch with him, anger washed away with much of the bacon grease I cleaned off the pans he's soiled. We talk about the fair I went to last night with some mutual friends (he was at work, which always makes me feel guilty for having a good time without him) and about barbecues during summertime, now that it is officially summer.
He gets up to go to work, I hug him, pressing my face into his chest (he's quite a bit taller than me) and I say, "I'm sorry for my bitchy mood. I just hate cleaning when there's so much to do."
"I know." We kiss, then we kiss again, and I run out to his car with him, barefoot and pajama-clad to grab my homemade hula hoop out of his backseat.
We exchange "I-love-yous" and "have-a-good-days" and he's off to work while I sucked up some coffee and finished reading Julie & Julia by Julie Powell. She's a darling writer. In fact, she makes me jealous of her intense fan base. Is that weird and narcissistic? That I wish I could have as a successful personal blog as she does? I guess hers was a bit more driven than mine- just a place to talk about my feelings, political views and the stupid things I enjoy.
Anyway, I get quite a lot of views on this here blog. I wonder who you all are, reading about my life.
Who are you?

Anyway, the thing I love about my relationship is it's complete honesty. We can talk about our problems with whatever is going on and deal with them. The cleaning thing is a big deal to me because it's this whole psychoanalytical thing with my OCD where I can control my own environment when I am in an environment I cannot control- like shitty, awful, disgusting and boring Humboldt County, California. My OCD went full-volume when I moved here because of multiple factors, and it has made me a much less adorable person. Daniel already knew I was crazy before he signed onto this relationship. He saw me at my absolute worst (personality-wise) beforehand, so I don't worry that me getting grumpy over dishes is going to scare him away, though I do apologize when I go bonkers. On the same note, I have seen the absolute worst of him and I still love the shit out of that man. So, we work well together. We're sticking together, no matter the weather.

I have noticed, however, when I tell my friends stories about my relationship, I tend to leave out the adorable things he does, the kind things I do for him, and I tell them the funny stories of him being a jackass and me being a bitch. For some reason, I find these stories much funnier (after they happen) than my friends do, and I end up getting asked,
"Are you two having problems?"
Which always pisses me off.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have a lot of irritation. But it isn't so bad. I have people to love, people who love me, a cute little beach shack house and a fantastic sex life.
What the fuck else do I need? :)

LGBT Pride

June is Pride Month- Thanks Clinton and Obama!
Pride is the antithesis of shame, which we all feel enough every day about so many things. Why feel shame about our sexuality? I know that I have touched on the subject before, but I am, essentially, "bisexual." I prefer the term fluid, but for some people, less aware of sexuality's many gray areas, "bisexual" works just as well.

Gay, Lesbian, Queer, whatever you want to call it, all is related to our feelings. Feelings of attraction, love, arousal, what have you, are all just feelings. We have laws withholding feelings! How completely, stupidly, utterly, SIMPLY SILLY! The laws that are so-called "protecting the sanctity of marriage" are just keeping the legal agreement to love another person assigned to ONE GROUP of people. We allow biracial marriage, we allow different cultures to marry one another, we allow a tall man to marry a short woman, a catholic to marry a Canadian, a furniture salesman to marry an architect, doctor, Christian, Wiccan, knitter, cat-lover, dog-hater, farmer OR WHAT THE FUCK EVER but we can't allow a woman to marry a woman?

I know, this conversation has happened time and time again, I just don't understand the hatred of a group of people.

FUCK YOUR BIBLE.
God doesn't hate anyone. God loves. That what we are MADE FROM.
LOVE.
If God wanted everyone to marry the opposite sex, he wouldn't have given us the option to reject that idea and love, kiss, fuck the same sex!

Don't tell me we need to procreate. Once you have adopted every child in need of a home, without food and shelter, then we can talk. But there will always be babies, because as people, we are made to love in every way. Men, women, it doesn't matter. Who I love has no boundary of genitalia. I love who I love because I see the beauty in the person I am with, not what their body looks like.
IT'S JUST A VAGINA, FOLKS. Don't be hatin'.

Have pride in yourself. Have pride in our species and how we love. Have pride knowing that you are not one of the many who hates, but one of the many more who accepts, loves and protects our LOVE.

Love is what we're made from. Have pride in THAT.

unknown source

a PositiveNation cover

by Suo Me

all of these photos were found via Google and none of them belong to me.

Where Is My Mind?

I've had this problem my entire life.
I will write down in my journal, diary, blog, whatever, the events of my day. "I did this, then this, and I am happy/sad/angry/lonely/loved/full/tired/WHATEVER" but then not go into the beauty, poetry, details of my day.
And so, today, I'll tell you some small details, because the small is what makes up the big.
FOREWARNING: The next bit is a little feminist, a little "bloody" and if you don't want to read about my menstrual cycle, stop reading now. I'll mark the next section, period-free, for you.

This morning, I woke up a few times with that cold burn in my groin that is commonly referred to as cramps. But "cramps" is just such a simple word for something so unbearable.
"I have cramps," says, to me, "I have a small pain that women deal with, all the time, it's no big deal, but just so you know, I have a CRAMP."
Cramps are like a hot curling iron, twisting your uterus into balloon animals and then forcing it to squeeze out fluid, meant to hold a child, and having the fluid tear the walls of your uterus apart. Every month, we go through this, skinning of our organs, and we make it through, every time. And every single time this week arrives, I think, "Goddamn, I forgot how much this sucks."
So, when I say cramps, I mean... Well, you know now.

*OKAY, YOU CAN START READING AGAIN NOW, MENSTRUAL-FEARING FOLK:
This morning, I woke up with cramps. I moved around some to find a comfortable position and snuggled into Daniel's chest, which is totally, completely my favorite place to be. Ever. When we lived with his family, laying on his chest was the only private place I felt I had. It is where I talked to my partner, listened to his heart and lungs- the things that keep him alive and loving me- and where I cried when I missed my family and friends, when I felt like we were stuck in that awful situation. Daniel's chest is where I go at the end of every day and rest my everything. That is where I spent the first moments of my day. Sometimes, he will be somewhat awake when I first start moving around, and some of those times, like this morning, he will wrap his arms around me and hug me while he goes back to sleep. That is what makes our house a home. Daniel.

So we get up. I start boiling water for my coffee in the teapot he bought me this week, and he goes in the shower while I check my email.
Does anyone else do this? Call it "email" when really, you mean, "Facebook, Gmail, all my webcomics, my blog for comments/views, my networks, Craigslist, all the blogs I follow," etc.? Well, I checked my "email" and he came out in his little boxer briefs.
"Hello, handsome." He hears this more than he should, really. I'm going to inflate his ego.

I ask him what he wants for breakfast and he says cereal. He gets the bag of store-brand cereal out and I get him a bowl and the milk, which I spill. We get the organic stuff that has cream on the top, which you stir into the milk, and when I broke through the cream, the milk went everywhere. Daniel made a comment about it ejaculating on me, and then noticed that my fortune cookie from last night said, "You look pretty :)." He then mentioned how our food is getting frisky with me and that it was no fortune, just a fact. Awww.

I put together a lunch for him and told him to stop spending so much money on going out for lunch ($200/month). That if he bought lunch at work today, he would be wasting our groceries AND his money. He put a sandwich in the bag. I complained that I will have to clean the entire house by myself today and how unhappy I was about that, so he did a few dishes. That was a nice gesture, but I meant sweeping, mopping, scrubbing down the counters/stovetop, organizing the spare room, changing the sheets on the sofabed in our living room, etc.
I appreciate his help with things like that, but I wish he'd do more, and without me asking. Nothing ever gets done unless I ask him to do it.
Sigh.

This Thursday is his grandmother's birthday. We are expected to be there for whatever awful restaurant she chooses (there are some we cannot go to because she makes racist remarks to the waiters). I am betting: a buffet (she's old AND severely obese, loves buffets), Rita's ("Chili Relleno, extra rice, NO BEANS!") or Marie Calendar's (where they have one vegetarian option- the alfredo. Man, I hate chains).
I mean, it's her birthday, so she can choose whatever she wants, I'm just not looking forward to going. She always tells him, "I feel like I'm losing you! You never visit!" We have been living on our own for just over a month and we've seen them more than once a week, which I do not enjoy. She will complain about something, say we're ignoring her, tell us she wants to give us money because she doesn't want us to "go without," and tell me she likes my shoes. Yes, she compliments me, and I am always gracious and tell her thank you, and I make small talk with her, but... See, I don't like spending time with my own grandparents (only two of them are alive and one has Alzheimer's- I love her very much, but she just doesn't exist anymore, and one is a pain in the ass). I'm not close with my family and I think it's weird that Daniel's mother and grandmother are so prevalent in his life- especially since he couldn't care less about if they are or not. He loves his family, but he doesn't want them in our business 24/7.
They also think that we're theirs. Instead of me having any family at all (no, I'm not too close with them, but I'm close with my father and I still care about my mother, but I'm okay with not seeing them too often), they are under the impression that we will spend every holiday with them and that we will never leave this awful, piece of shit town. Very frustrating. We plan on moving to LA, Seattle or maybe somewhere farther within the next year and a half. I wouldn't mind going home to Portland. Man, I love that place.

Anyway, now that I have shared some personal details, some ranting, and my coffee is cold, I'm gonna publish this posting.
See y'all later.
<3

Teakettles and Other Things

I am sitting here
In your robe and slippers
Drinking tea
From the teakettle you bought
For me
And thinking

"This is the life I have always wanted."

No, not sitting in your robe
Wearing your slippers
Not having to be the one to pay for my teakettles
But to be sitting here
In our home
Wrapped in things
So personal
Being here
In this life that I am living
With you.

I am sitting here
In your robe and slippers
Drinking tea
From the teakettle you bought
For me
And thinking

"This is the life I am living."

avoiding the TACK.

Tacky is a word my grandmother used a lot when I was a child. To be honest, I had tacky taste, so it was appropriate, especially for on old woman who didn't want to tell me I was straight up ridiculous and tasteless.
So, tacky.

Today, I bought (with Daniel's approval even!) a large, maybe 3 foot tall, framed faux painting (a print that has texture added) of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Yep, the one on the left, only I found that image on Google.
Anyway, I have never been fond of the whole "poster" look for art. I am not a pop art kinda gal (think more vintage, modern, cozy and warm looking) and I'm trying to figure out how to work this piece into my home. Any ideas for complimentary pieces? (Only cost $13, so there's no way I was leaving without it)
I just hate the idea that I will be one of... those girls. The ones with Audrey and Marilyn on their walls. Next to their leopard print fuzzy pillows on their red microfiber sofa, from Ashley.

No, no. I will not be. I will work Audrey into my home and she will CLASS THIS SHIT UP.

HARUMPH!

things mothers should say.

Broccoli and Cheese died and went to heaven in a Pie.

When I get sick, I end up craving homemade goodies. I crave them pretty often anyway, but this time around, my cold begged me for split pea soup and savory pies.
After rocking my vegetarian split pea soup recipe, I tried a new sort of pie-
Broccoli Cheese.
With some extras.
DELICIOUS extras. Really, they are more bonuses than anything.

Here it is!

Make the crust yourself. Yep. I talked about how easy pie crust is in an old post, and you can find the recipe there, too. Trust me, you've got this.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

After you've chilled your dough, roll it out and put it in a 9-inch pie pan. Layer as follows:
Swiss cheese
Fresh spinach
Cheddar (I used mild, but sharp would be yummy too, I'm sure)
Sprinkle a thick layer of broccoli
Cheddar
Onion slices

After you've got that layered, mix up 1 c. milk, 1/4 c. flour, 3 eggs, salt/pepper, onion powder and either fresh garlic (I did fresh) or powdered. After the egg is beaten well and the mixture looks somewhat even, pour it over your pie until it looks full- you might have some leftover mix.

Put your pie in the oven for an hour an ten minutes, checking the crust at about 50 minutes. I have a wonky oven and I'm still getting used to using it, but my pie took about an hour-ten to cook.

Let cool for about ten minutes and you are done!
Delicious. My omnivorous partner said it was incredible. I served this with potatoes cut into halves, sliced almost through and covered in butter/garlic/pepper homemade spread, baked. (The weird looking purple things in the pan next to the pie)
Wonderful dish. It would be well suited for Thanksgiving, as well.