Category: Uncategorized

I’ve been nominated for The Versatile​ blogger award?!?!

Thank you to the wonderful gal over at Runaway Nuns and Leprechauns for the nomination of the Versatile Blogger Award.  I was shocked to read the post yesterday.  I’ve only been doing this for a short time, and it means so much.  Now, there are rules that apply to this award.  They are:

  1. Thank the person who nominated you.
  2. Share 7 facts about yourself.
  3. Nominate 10 other bloggers of your choice.
  4. Link your nominees and let them know of your nomination.

 

So here we here we go.  Seven Facts:

  1. My eye color changes depending on the weather.  I think this may be fairly common, but I’ve never heard anyone else I know mention it.
  2. I was a volunteer firefighter for several years.
  3. I think that mint flavor should only be in toothpaste or gum.  I don’t understand how people can mix it with chocolate.  Yuck,
  4. I’m pretty sure  I was blocked on Facebook by the kicker of the Cincinnati Bengals. I really love the Bengals and have a thing for kickers. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate my adoration.
  5. I really really despise making lists about myself.  But rules are rules.
  6. I would give just about anything to have a goat named Cheese
  7. I prefer lake swimming to ocean swimming.

 

And the nominees are….

 

  1. Weird Guy With A Dog
  2. Not A Grouch
  3. A Beautiful Disaster
  4. Stitch and Shizzle
  5. The Writers Desk
  6. In The Garden
  7. A Thousand Bits of Paper
  8. Official Blog Of Kristy Gherlone
  9. The Webb Homestead
  10. Cooking with a Wallflower

 

 

A Place For Maine Writers, Bloggers and Photographers

 

Hi there! My name is Darci and am still fairly new to blogging.  I noticed that there aren’t any FB groups dedicated to bloggers in Maine.  I thought this would be a great place to first connect, and see if there may be in interested in joining one.  If there is, than I’d be very happy to get one going.

If you have any questions, suggestions, or would like to be involved. Just comment below!

 

Thanks!

I Want To Be A Quitter

Yesterday, I made the decision to quit smoking.  I wouldn’t consider myself a heavy smoker. But, I have about a half a pack a day. But regardless, I know it’s going to be incredibly difficult so I figured I’d ease myself in a little bit. With the goal of being completely done with them in a week or two. So, yesterday I had one at 6:45 in the morning.  I went all day at work without one, and easily, I might add.  I had one at 5pm, and after I thought “I didn’t need that”.  I wish I wouldn’t have had that one. The real test came when I got home. I tried to keep myself busy.  I did dishes, cleaned the kitchen, made dinner and prepped lunches for my husband and I for the next day.  And, I almost made it.

At one point Kruno came into the kitchen.  Poor guy.  He never saw it coming.  “Babe! Listen, this is going to be really tough!  I don’t know if I can do it!  I don’t know how I’m going to do it!  I’m going to sound real needy right now, but I need you to give me tough love.  And a lot of positive reinforcement.”  Kruno’s eyes had gotten real big by this point. I was erratic, loud and probably slightly dramatic.  But I continued on. I told him that I needed encouragement, and often. And that I needed him to be mindful of timing. I told him that he should tell me things like “Hey, Darci. You’ve done so great today!”  I stopped talking and there was a pause. He didn’t move. Frozen from fear I’m sure.  Slowly he opened his mouth and in small, uncertain voice said   “You’re doing so great, babe”.  We both had a good laugh at how unconvincing he was.

After dinner, I gave in.  I had one and it tasted awful.  But I still liked the act. It’s hard to explain.  I really enjoy the act of smoking.  I find it so calming.  And in the same breath (ha!) I also find it almost embarrassing.  I get self-conscious when I smoke as I walk down the street. Or outside my office building.  Times have changed so much. For the better, of course. But, it just seems like there is a stigma attached to it, that never really used to be.

Cigarette Count for 6/21/17 – 3

Today I woke up and didn’t have a cigarette.  I didn’t have one in the morning, or when I drank my coffee, or even when I took a walk at lunch. And I still haven’t had one at 4:09, as I type this.  I’m not going to promise I won’t have one today, but I’m going to try real hard not to.

Cigarette count for 6/22/17 – TBD

If anyone has any tricks or tips for me.  I’d really love to hear them!

Turkey Meatloaf with Meme’s Meatloaf Sauce

Growing up, I didn’t care much for meatloaf, but it was a staple dish at our house.  We were the quintessential downeast Mainer, meat and potatoes kind of family.

Now, my house consists of me, my husband and my 28-year-old brother.  Most nights the decision as to what to have for dinner falls on my shoulders.  It’s my cross to bear.  My husband will happily eat most anything.  My brother is far more picky.  I’ve made turkey meatloaf a few times,  and he was having no part of it.  But he had a suggestion.  “Why don’t you make it like Meme does?”

I had no idea how my grandmother made her meatloaf.  I mean, how many ways is there to make it really?  I asked J.J how Meme made it.  He wasn’t sure either.  The only thing he knew for certain was that it came with some type of tomato based sauce.

So the other night, I called my Meme.  I told her I was going to make her meatloaf, and needed go over the recipe with her.  When I told her that I was going to make it with ground turkey instead of ground beef, you could sense the hesitation.  She was trying to be so nice. She said “Uh, well Darci, I just don’t know how that will turn out”. And  ” You can’t put tomato sauce with turkey!” I assured her that it would be fine.  I also had to give J.J. a pep talk. I told him that it would be fine.  He agreed to try it, and voila, he ate it all.  I win.

So here’s what I did:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Mix together 1 lb Lean Ground Turkey, 1 egg, 1/2 a large chopped green pepper, 1/2 an onion finely chopped, and 5 or 6 ritz crackers.  Put mixture in a loaf pan and put it in the oven for 45 minutes to an hour.

When it’s done, lift the meatloaf out of the pan and put the pan on a burner and turn it on low.  Add a can of Tomato soup, half a cup of chicken stock, and a couple of tablespoons of wondra to thicken.  Heat the mixture until it starts to simmer.  If the consistency seems too watery, add more wondra until it thickens.  Once it’s the right consistency, I pour it into a gravy boat so everyone can serve themselves at the table.

So that’s that. But now, I’m curious… What was a staple dish at your house growing up?  Have you revamped it or changed it now that you’re the one cooking it?

Homemade Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts

For me, cooking and baking are best when easy.  I don’t often measure, and if any of my chef friends saw the mess I make when I cook, boys oh boys, they may disown me.  So, this is going to be a down and dirty, go with the flow recipe.  Have fun, take it easy, and every thing will come out just fine. I promise.

 

When you do a LuLaRoe party, they’re called a “Pop Up”.  I wanted to have a little fun with it and bring something special to each event. And I really like word play, so I decided to make homemade pop-tarts.  They’re a quite a few recipes out there, but they all seemed really time-consuming and way too complicated for my taste.  So, I simplified it, and they are absolutely fantastic, and best of all, super easy!

Start with pre-made pie crusts.  If you really want to go above and beyond, by all means, make your own, you overachiever you.  Most pie crusts you buy at the store come in a package of 2, which will make about 15 pop tarts.

Roll out the pie crusts.  When rolling it out, it’s going to be tricky to get it into an exact rectangle, but try as best you can.  The thickness should be about 1/8 of an inch thick.    Take a pizza cutter and cut the dough into rectangles or squares.  Mine were all different sizes but you should be able to get 7 or 8, 2×3 rectangles out of each sheet of pie crust.

Place half of the pieces of pie crust on parchment paper lined baking sheet.  Make an egg wash by mixing 1 egg with about a teaspoon or 2 of milk and brush that over the top of the pie crust pieces on the baking sheet.

To make the brown sugar cinnamon filling, mix 1/2 cup of brown sugar, a couple of teaspoons of cinnamon and a tablespoon of flour.  Mix it with a fork to get some of the clumps out.  Put a big spoonful in the center of each of each piece of pie crust.  try not to get it too close to the edge.

Then brush egg wash on the other pieces and lay them on top of the filling egg wash side down.  After all pieces have tops, lightly seal the edges with your fingers.  Take a fork and  crimp the edges. Then take a tooth pick and some holes in the top.  Put the baking sheet in the fridge and pre-heat the oven 350 degrees.  Once the oven is preheated, bake for 20 minutes

To make the icing, you’ll mix about a cup of confectioners sugar, a teaspoon of cinnamon,  and just a few drops of vanilla.  Mix that together with a couple of tablespoons of milk.  The consistency needs to be pretty thick so it stays on the pop-tart.  If you need more milk, just add some slowly so it doesn’t get too thin.

Let the pop-tarts cool for a while and then frost.  All Done!!!

 

Mischance, Migraines and Milestones

These three “M” words won’t mean much to most, but to me, they are perfectly entwined.  For better or worse.

A few people have mentioned recently that I hadn’t done a blog post in a while.  And they are right in a way. I haven’t done a public blog post in over a month.  But, I have been writing. I have a few posts drafted and edited, ready to go when the time is right.  I did, however want to write something to check in, in a way.  With myself more than anything.

 

Mischance – An old-timey word for bad luck.  Bad luck is what started this blogging journey. When my brother was in his work accident, I needed this outlet so badly.  And as his recovery has progressed, I realized it’s no loner my story to tell.  My perspective at this stage is a sort of a moot point.  He has his voice and can post his updates as he sees fit.  That may be hard for some, family especially, whereas he’s very stingy with his information, but that’s his choice.

One of the main reasons I haven’t been posting is because I’ve been having a lot of migraines lately.  I had never had a headache in my entire life, until about a year and a half ago.  Except a hangover headache.  Had plenty of them.  Stress does weird things to a person’s body, and mine apparently deals with stress in this form.  I’ve lived a fairly stress free life, which I am incredibly grateful for.  But, I think it’s catching up with me now.  I’ve been through a few different types of medicine, and recently switched it again, and so far so good. Hence, this blog post.

It has been 6 months since I started this blog.  It was a milestone I wasn’t sure I’d see.  Even though I had made a couple of posts at the beginning about my motivation and wanting to see this through. There is always a little doubt.  Can I do it?  Do people want to read it?  Does it matter if they do or don’t?  I can do it.  I have no doubt of that.  My self-confidence shakes a little when it comes to the last two questions.  I guess we’ll see how this goes along.  Maybe I will answer them at my 1 year milestone.

 

Extra-Ordinary Love

I witnessed something a couple of weeks ago and have been thinking about it ever since.  While a parents love is unconditional, many of the things they do go unnoticed or unacknowledged .  I asked my brother if he’d mind me sharing a story about him and he agreed.  Thank goodness.

JJ’s road to recovery has been at a slow and steady pace.  A couple of weeks ago, he started having some pretty intense pain in his right hip.  Which happened to coincide with a visit from his two sons.  We knew it was going to be tough, especially since one of the boys was sick.  But, to him, a parent, it didn’t matter.  There was nothing that was going to stop him from seeing them.  So, one night after I got out of work, we headed out to meet their mom halfway.  I didn’t realize that the route lead us through the white mountains.

Every curve of the road, hill and bump made JJ exhale in pain.  And then, when we were at the highest elevation, the snow started and the wind began to strengthen.  I was a mess.  Trying to avoid divots in the road, while staying on it, in a new vehicle.  I’m not a huge fan a driving in bad weather, but when other people are with me, like JJ or the boys, it adds a whole other layer of worry.

When we made it to the meeting place, pure relief came over me.  I told JJ that we needed to find a different route home.  We went to greet the kids and it was clear that his oldest was not feeling well.  He had a terrible stomach ache.  I got them loaded up with the help of their mom and we were on the road to home.  With a different route all set it google maps.

Our trip home was even worse.  We drove in some of the worst conditions, on some of the worst roads I had ever been on.  This new route took us through a national forest, with steep inclines and declines, and black ice everywhere.  We really should have been more thorough in our search earlier.

So, this is where the love story comes into play.  Ten minutes into the trip we hear “Daddy, my tummy hurts, can you rub it?”  JJ had already been huffing and puffing from pain.  The toll the trip there took on JJ was immense.  You could see it on his face and how he moved.  So slowly, so cautiously.   I looked at him, and he started wiggling and maneuvering his body as best as he could to face the back seat, and rub his sons tummy.  And that’s how he sat for the entire 2 hour trip back.  He fought through the pain, nausea and discomfort, so he could comfort his little boy.

While this act may be nothing remarkable for any parent.  They will do anything for their kids.  It was something I was in awe of.  It was beautiful.  To witness a love like that is just something I wanted to share.

I don’t care much for country music, but this post is for my brother.

“I know you have mountains to climb, but always stay humble and kind”

 

 

 

 

 

These are a few of my biglyest fears….

I’m not one to post about politics, but I’ve had some things on my chest for a while.  All of them are coming to a head. And here seems like as good as place as any to voice them.

The countdown to January 20th continues, and there is no infiltration in sight.  No one is coming to our rescue, no one to deliver us from this evil.  Because, that was our job, the American voters.  We failed, his opponents failed, and like Meryl Streep said “we all lose”.  I was nervous when Bush Jr was elected, even more so for the second term.  And now, I am downright uncomfortable.  I watched his press conference with a knot in my stomach.  I kid you not, nausea is still coming at me in waves.  This may sound dramatic and maybe some day I’ll look back and agree that it is.  But today, I am terrified about what is about to happen.  I know I know, my New Years post was about being a positive Polly.  I’ve fallen off the wagon.  I’ll hop back on as soon as I stop dry heaving thinking about our President Elect.

I have been imagining the possible outcomes. And trying to estimate the probabilities of certain catastrophes happening during the next four years.These are the thoughts that have consumed me since election night.  I work in the finance industry.  When the president-elect makes a derogatory comment about an industry or company, all you can do is sit back and watch. Watch how that stock or sector flails about. While the market is a cycle and goes through ups and downs, the fact that this one idiot and his ignorant opinions, can wreak havoc in so many ways is unsettling to say the least.

Working in the finance industry, I find myself surrounded by men.  Not figuratively, but literally.  My desk is smack dab in the center of the four men I work for.  Throughout the election is was quite clear that some were supporters of the now president-elect.  I can’t count how many times I had to get up and walk away from conversations when it would deviate from the topic at hand to pro-trump bullshit.  Or when they would congregate at MY desk and chit-chat about their choice for president and how great everything was going to be once he was elected.  I may not be the most open-minded person this side of the Mississippi, but….how?  How is this what people think?  What they believe?  This entire election and everything that has come out of it has been just….unfathomable.

So, as the title of this post said.  These are a few of my biglyest fears:

  • Advancements in Equality (all types) will be set back, potentially decades.  That’s worst case scenario.  Best case – is just comes to a screeching halt. We can’t reasonably expect the man who said that a judge couldn’t make a fair ruling because “He’s a Mexican” to truly grasp or believe in the idea of equality.  Or when doing an interview for New York Magazine and referring to the treatment of women said “You have to treat ’em like shit”.  I mean…C’mon.
  • The possibility that the last 8 years will be undone.  When you think about all of the things President Obama and his administration worked so hard for, and that some could potentially be for nothing in a mere 9 days. My god, I feel defeated. And I don’t really have any skin in the game!
  • Immigration.  My husband is from Macedonia and his family is still there.  When we learned that Trump was running for president my husbands first reaction was “I need to become a citizen”.  And he was absolutely right.  But now, questions arise.  Will his mother and father be allowed to visit?  What type of restrictions will be placed, if any?
  • Terrorist attacks, specifically on U.S. soil.  Donald Trump is a joke.  The entire world and it’s leaders know it.  Especially the leaders who aren’t our friends.  I think we have opened ourselves up to be an even bigger target than we already were.  I didn’t think that was actually possible.  But apparently, I was mistaken.
  • My biggest fear of all is for my nephew.  Who, by the way is an avid Trump supporter.  Bumper stickers and everything.  He is in the military.  The president elect’s temperament doesn’t seem to shake him though. But it shakes me to my core.  The thought of him being at the mercy of an overly sensitive, trigger happy, spiteful awful excuse for a human is gut wrenching.  I worry everyday about the probability of him being shipped overseas.  I have nightmares about it. I worry that someday I will get a call from my sister,  and it will be her telling me that my Joshy has been called for deployment.  Please don’t get me wrong. Serving in the military is one of the most selfless things a person can do.  I admire and respect every single service member.  It’s the thought of someone, who dodged several drafts, playing fast and loose with my loved ones life that upsets me.

While President Obama has repeatedly asked that we, as a nation maintain an open mind.  Be optimistic, welcome the new president just as President Bush did for him. I’ve tried and I can’t.  Not honestly anyway.  I can put on a fake smile for a person or family member who wants to sing Trump’s praises in my presence. But, my poker face isn’t that convincing.  They have to see through it, and if they don’t, they are just as oblivious as Trump himself.   I think the only sound advice at this moment is something I’ve written about before.  More than ever, we’ll need to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

 

 

 

 

 

Going To The Mattresses

 

 

 

I’ve never seen “The Godfather”. But, I have seen “You’ve Got Mail”. Many, many times. In the movie, Meg Ryan’s character, Kathleen, is at odds with a big businessman named Joe Fox, whose company is about to put her’s under.  Unbeknownst to the both of them, they are each other’s secret online love interests.  Joe Fox, played by Tom Hanks replies with the following message to Kathleen when she asked him for business advice:

“Go to the mattresses. You’re at war. It’s not personal, it’s business. It’s not personal its business. Recite that to yourself every time you feel you’re losing your nerve. I know you worry about being brave, this is your chance. Fight. Fight to the death!”

This post was a tricky one to write.  There are so many variations of what it means to fight.  You can fight for an injustice, for someone’s well-being, or for something you believe in. My family has been tackling some of those lately.

My first lesson about “Going to the Mattresses”

For my entire life, I have been terrible at all sports. Awful. I have no business being on any sort of field or court in a competitive setting.  However, in 7th grade, I signed up to play on our middle school soccer team.  Every sport I had played leading up to this, I had been coached by my dad or his friends at the rec department.  That wasn’t the case this time.

During one match, our team was winning 7-0 and we were in the final minutes of the game.  The coach called my name for the first time that day and put me in as fullback.  The whistle blew and an opposing wing came at me with the ball.  I managed to take it away and kick it in the opposite direction.  A few seconds later the whistle blew again and I had been replaced.  As I came off the field I saw my dad get out of the car and start walking towards our sideline.  I thought “he’s probably coming to tell me what a great job I did, kicking that ball away.” I was mistaken.

“Darci! Get your shit, we’re going home!” I stopped in my tracks, shocked.  He didn’t stop there though.  He then turned to the coach.  “Hey!  You’ve got an awful lot to learn about coaching!” he said.  “You’re up 7-0, and you can’t leave her in there for more than 30 seconds?  You’ve been playing your first string the entire game!”

That was the end of my soccer career.  I was so embarrassed.  I remember crying and dreading going to school the next day.  We are from a very small town where everyone knows everyone.  I knew kids and their parents would be talking about it. Later on that night, dad came to have a talk with me about what had happened.  I believe this was after he had had a phone call with my former coach.  While I don’t remember his exact words, the moral of the story was “That wasn’t right.  That’s not how to be a good coach.  And she needed to know how I felt” My dad lacks subtlety, at times.  It’s a blessing and a curse.  But, I’ll never forget that day and the lesson I learned. He fought for what he believed.  It’s a story I tell often.

 

Our family has fought our share battles recently. All of the varying levels of intensity and for different reasons. Some have been fought as a group and some have been taken on singularly, and even internally.

My mom, for example, has fought for my step-dad every day since September 1st.  He was in a car accident and has been in the hospital since then.  Most of the time he hasn’t been fully awake.  She has fought for an adequate level of care. She has fought to keep him alive, more than I believe the doctors have since the first days after the accident.   She has been at the hospital (with the exception of when my brothers’ accident happened) every day she could since the beginning.  My mom with her vigilante style bedside monitoring, and her demand for answers.  She’s fought real hard.   He woke up last week, and I got a phone call from him. He said, “What’s going on, kid?”  That’s always how he started a phone call with me. It was probably the most amazing phone call I’ve ever gotten in my life.  Unfortunately, he did have a bump in his recovery road a couple of days after that phone call.  But, he’s still here.  He’s still fighting.

Today is the 3-month mark since JJ’s accident.  There is no way for anyone to really understand what he must battle with every day.  There’s no way to measure how much he has to fight on a daily basis.  Even in his first days in the hospital, the doctors and nurses all talked about how tenacious he was.  How much strength and determination he had.  And all that was said before he was able to talk.  My family knew he had all that in him.  But I never truly noticed the degree of it until then.  When he would insist on doing things himself when he had 6 very willing family members in his room to help.  When he would surpass every expectation the doctors had set.  Stand with almost full weight on a leg that he doesn’t have full feeling in.  And most recently, when he was told he wouldn’t be on a snowmobile this year.  He showed them all just how much fight he had in him.

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Just from a personal standpoint, my brothers fight aside.  This is what I’ve learned in the last 3 months:  Fighting is hard.  It is exhausting and often tear-inducing.  And because of the recent uptick of occurrences in which going to battle is required, I’ve had to pick them more carefully.

My brother is home from the hospital.  And everyone in the family is ecstatic. We have been looking forward to this for three months.  We knew that the transition would be tough, but I was totally unprepared for how tough it would be at the beginning.  In one week alone, I have cried at 2 different pharmacies trying to pick up my brother’s prescriptions because of issues related to billing.  I’m sure I looked like a lunatic.  And then, inevitably feel immediately embarrassed and start pleading my case as to why I’m not a lunatic and then probably look like even more of a lunatic then I did at the beginning. It’s a vicious cycle.  Anyway, One of the battles we’ve taken on is making the house handicap accessible.  We have been begging for 2 months for someone to come in an access our house.  Get it set up for him so when he got home, he’d be able to be mostly independent.  We were met with every stall tactic and excuse they had.  And I, having never navigated through anything like this before, fell for it.  At this point, there are 5 or 6 different people or companies involved in this.  The caseworker, the caseworkers assistant, the insurance company, the contractor, subcontractor,  and as of today the owner of a very large home modification company.  Everyone is pointing the finger at the other as to why this is taking so long.  I make multiple phone calls a day trying to figure it out but usually end up more confused than I was at the beginning.  Today, I made an extra phone call.  To a lawyer.  As this process goes along, I’m seeing that sometimes you can’t fight your battles alone. And I need help fighting this one.  There won’t be many more niceties.  It’s not personal.  It’s business.

I have yet to find a manual or script anywhere to offer me any guidance on how to fight. The desire alone, to fight, comes from within.  It’s propelled by a person’s heart, gut instinct, and moral compass. And not very often, do those 3 things combined steer you wrong.

 

“If you’re feeling froggy, go ahead and leap” – Butch Hanson

 

 

 

 

Surviving Succulents – Part Two

I had no idea there was going to be a “Part Two” when I wrote the original.  But here we are.

Guys!  What I wrote about in the original post almost happened (If you’ve just started reading my blog, you can find the original here).  I almost gave up.  My blog hit a bump in the road and I wavered.  I have been counting the days since my last post, but couldn’t bring myself to write anything.  And here’s why.

Do you ever have an idea or vision of how you want something to play out.  Or how you want something to look?  We’ve all seen those “10 epic pinterest fails” lists of people who try to create or recreate something amazing that they’ve seen and have come up so very embarrassingly short.

When something doesn’t quite seem to be turning out the way I had envisioned, I immediately start a quiet downward spiral.  Most of the time, when this happens nobody can see this slippery slope of doubt and over-thinking.  It sneaks up on you. Even I find myself being surprised by its onset.  I try to fight through it.  Find a way around it.  Fix it.  But more times than not, it gets the better of me.  I can’t get past my shortcoming.

Let me give you an example:  Kruno’s parents had been looking forward to a traditional American Thanksgiving.  And I had the added pressure (all internal) of transporting the meal to Boston the next day to celebrate with JJ, my dad, and aunt Nanette.  I had imagined a Norman Rockwell-esq presentation at both my house and the hospital.  However realistic or unrealistic it was.  I had a vision.  I prepped two separate turkeys, one for each day.  I timed out everything perfectly and at the second basting session, when I removed the roaster lid, all I saw was bone.  I had cooked both turkeys upside down.  Kruno’s mom was beside me to watch as I prepared the most important meal of year.  She saw the horror on my face and the tears in my eyes.  The Norman Rockwell scene in my mind disintegrated just as the bottom half of the turkey’s had.  Lots of expletives started flowing out of my mouth. Along with sentences like “I ruined it, I ruined Thanksgiving.” and “How did I mess this up so badly?”

The turkey was delicious.  I didn’t ruin Thanksgiving.  It just wasn’t presentation worthy. But, that small detail, the vision of this beautiful whole turkey being presented on my grandmothers antique turkey platter, and not being able to have that image come to fruition, was enough to send me down that spiraling slippery slope.

So, back to my blogging bump in the road.

Two weeks ago I had an idea.  I wanted my blog to have it’s very own page for recipes.  My grandmother was a fantastic cook, my mother and aunt inherited her intuition and I like to think that I did too.  I reached out to my family for their copies of her recipes and was ready to start editing in a couple of days. I logged on.  I fiddled with the settings in WordPress, sought assistance through the handy “chat now” feature and researched everything I could find on relevent topics.  For days and days I tried to figure it out.  I knew how I wanted my site to look, and how I wanted it to read.  But everything I read and all the helpful chat people told me what I wanted wasn’t possible.  I couldn’t get passed it.  I’ve had several posts I’ve wanted to publish, but because of this hiccup, I couldn’t.  I even turned off my Facebook setting, so my friends couldn’t see what I was doing.  I didn’t want them to see if I made a mistake or if something looked weird.

Well, I figured it out today.  I fought my way up that damn slippery slope. I rose to the top and compromised on my vision.  My site is still under construction, but the template it set.  Content will be added soon.  And I’m happy.  Not just with the website, but that I didn’t give up.  I’ve given up on far too many things.  Too many ideas and projects.  But not today.