Today, I’m going to break from my normal WTF Friday. Today is a very important and special day. Today the Supreme Court ruled that ALL marriage is constitutional, and to deny the right to marry to the people of the LGBTQ community is illegal. This is a big deal to me, because I have friends who are gay, and this means they can no longer be denied this.


I’m not gay. I AM an ally. I support my friends who are affected by this. I am excited and elated for them. I want to break out the party streamers and whistles and throw a huge celebration for them! I am stoked that they are now considered my equal.

I got to personally break the news to one of my LGBTQ friends on Facebook this morning, and I could feel her excitement through her responses. I wanted to cry because I was so happy for her! Her wife is at work, and she called her to tell her the news, and she got on Facebook, too, to share in the celebration. I hope they know how much being able to share this experience with them, even through the internet, means to me.

It gives me so much pride to be able to say that I supported this and it finally happened. I want all of my friends who are LGBTQ to know that today is about them, and I feel like a proud mama standing on the sidelines cheering them on while they celebrate this huge accomplishment. It gives me more joy than I can even express!


Happy Father’s Day!

I hope everyone’s Father’s Day was amazing! Ours went well. We had a very laid-back day, sitting around the house playing video games, watching TV and just chilling. I made the Italian chicken I was talking about yesterday, and as promised, I have a photo. It was delicious! I highly recommend this because it’s so fantastically easy and tastes amazing.

Italian Chicken

Tomorrow, it’s back to the grind. Our kiddo is in summer school, so he has to be up bright and early to catch the bus, and hubby dearest has work. Thankfully, I spent this weekend catching up on some of the housework that I flooded myself with this past week, so this next week shouldn’t be nearly as hard, especially considering I’m not gearing up for anymore birthdays or holidays now.

Well, except for the 4th of July, but that’s nothing! I always do something simple, kind of picnic-y, but we still have to figure out where we’re going to go to watch fireworks around here. It’s gotten harder to find good fireworks shows over the last few years, because with our extreme and intense drought, I think the cities are scared to shoot off big huge tubes of flaming gunpowder. You can’t blame them, though! It would be pretty messed up if someone’s neighborhood burned down because of 4th of July celebrations!

So Much to do, so Little Time!

Tomorrow is my husband’s birthday. I had to remind him this morning! He said, “Is it Friday yet? I wish it was Friday, already!” I told him that it can’t be Friday yet, and he looked so puzzled and asked me why. I just gave him the biggest WTF look and said, “Because your birthday is tomorrow, Thursday, and you can’t just skip your birthday!”

A couple of weeks ago, I convinced him to get back in touch with his aunt. She has a blog about crafting and cooking/baking, so I’ve been digging through it for recipes he’s told me his grandma used to make. I found the recipe for the Hazelnut Cake he is always raving about, so I’m making that for his birthday (if you follow that link and don’t speak French, you’ll need to plug it into Google Translate.) I’m making the puff pastry crust right now, and when I’m done, I’ll get started on the filling.

His aunt also sent him a birthday card, so I put it in front of his keyboard on his desk for him to find when he gets home. Normally, I just open all the mail in our house, but this is a special birthday card, so I’ll let him open it. Besides, it’s not like I don’t know what’s in it! I’m sure he’ll be excited to get it. I would be.

I also wanted to make the caramels he’s told me so much about, but considering how much time it will take to stir while cooking, I just don’t think I’ll have the time today. I’m trying to multitask, doing dishes, laundry, and making this cake, so I can’t fit time in to make the caramels, too.

On another note, I’ve asked my amazing friend Jay from TeapotsandTesseracts to write a guest post on my blog this next week. I’m looking forward to this, because he’s an amazing writer and conveys thoughts and emotions in a unique and brilliant way. I know you guys will find his post very enlightening. His blog is new, but I’ve known him for a while, and I think having him guest post here is a great way to discuss the topic we’ve decided on and to bring him a little more exposure. Feel free to drop by his blog and show him some love, if you have the chance.

Dear Husband – I Love You, But…

If I could change one thing about you, it would be the way you procrastinate when I’m in a hurry. I know we’ve talked about this. It just annoys me like you cannot imagine! I always just assumed that because you’re Swiss, you’d value the idea of being on-time for appointments, events, etc., so when it feels like your procrastination is holding us back, I just want to scream.

I hate feeling rushed. The sense that I have to hurry more because we didn’t leave when I felt we should have makes me mad. I know that sometimes I’m as bad about this as you are, so perhaps I shouldn’t be saying this at all, but when you have a blog, I suppose you’re allowed to take certain liberties.

I should probably also say that I love you regardless of your infuriating procrastination habits. You already know this.

Is there any way that when I say I want to leave by a certain time, you could keep that in mind and try your hardest to make sure we do so? This would be so helpful! I wouldn’t be so likely to get angry in the car at everyone around me if I don’t feel like I’m having to rush and continuously check the clock. We rush every morning as it is, so if I don’t have to rush when I don’t need to, that would be amazing.

And one last time, I love you, but please, HURRY UP! 🙂

If I Could Choose My Family

To say my family is dysfunctional would be an understatement. I’m currently not on speaking terms with my youngest sister; my middle sister and I get along well enough, I suppose, but it always feels like a battle to prove who is better between us. My mother is very argumentative, and my dad is a stubborn old ass who thinks he’s always right, even when he’s not.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. I’m just sure I wouldn’t pick them, now, as family, if I had the choice. Yes, we help each other out, and yes, I’d do anything for them, but I don’t always like them.

I am the oldest of three girls. Growing up, I was always (and quite literally) the redheaded stepchild. My sisters were antagonistic, and since they knew I was always getting into trouble, they had no problem helping that process along by either tattling or blaming me for things I didn’t do. Now would probably be a good time to mention I was abused as a child. I know that I sometimes did things that warranted some type of discipline, but never to the extent of what I received.

Like I mentioned, my youngest sister and I are currently not speaking to each other. This occurred because I left my child in their care during the summer of 2013 while my husband and I came to California to find him a good job and us a place to live. While in their care, my child reported that he got beat with a belt and a lariat rope, amongst other things. I was furious, so I reported her, because that is abuse, plain and fucking simple. Needless to say, she didn’t take that very well.

She also likes to air all of her personal business on social media to get sympathy and pats on the back from her little following, and when I approached her about it, being the bullheaded person she is, she blocked me instead of changing. I know she continues this behavior, because she still has my husband as a friend on her accounts. We always know about every little drama she’s involved in, because she’s always talking about it.

My middle sister is actually a rather decent human being. She’s almost too good, if you ask me. While we were growing up, she’d always be given privileges and responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon the eldest because she was “more mature” than I was. She was very good at crocodile tears and ass kissing, and she used that every chance she got. I, on the other hand, was and still am a blatantly honest individual, and I will tell you to your face if I think you’re full of shit without even trying to sugar coat it. This never worked well for me.

You could say we were always involved in a pissing contest. She took no shame in ratting me out, but I was always of the opinion that snitches are the lowest life form, so I never returned the favor. Perhaps I should have. I don’t know. I don’t think it would have changed much, honestly.

My mom was a hardass, quick to anger, and seemed to always be upset. She says she loved raising us, but it didn’t feel that way. There was a lot of yelling in our house. I hated that the most. My mom is a very judgmental person, and she’s very opinionated. She’ll form an opinion about someone within five minutes of meeting them and will use that against them the rest of the time she deals with them. She says I deserved every beating I got. There were times I questioned her love for me.

My dad… Where do I begin? My dad isn’t my biological father. He adopted me at the age of 2, after marrying my mother. As a teenager, he once told me he regretted adopting me and it was the worst decision he ever made. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for those words. My dad beat me. He had a very, very short fuse, and could blow his top from the slightest provocation. In my younger years, he used to only get angry and lash out at objects, but I remember the first time I was pinned to my bed, getting my butt blistered at nine years old. I remember almost hyperventilating, I was crying so hard. This continued through my teen years, until I told a friend who lived up the street from us, whose mother then called CPS. This was the beginning of the end for our family. But, I’m not sorry about it. I was through being pinned down into my waterbed with my dad above me raining punches and slaps and swats down on me.

I have a better relationship with most members of my family as an adult than I did as a child. I call my mother on a regular basis and she flies out here to see us as much as she can. My dad and I spent a few therapy sessions working through some deep shit between us and now I can honestly say I don’t hate him anymore and I love him. I call him regularly as well, albeit, not as regularly as I do my mother. My middle sister is busy with her new job, but we try to stay in touch. I don’t call my youngest sister because she always wants to make every conversation about her issues and how everyone is mistreating her. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with this, and I refuse to feed into her narcissistic behavior.

This was a very, very difficult post to write for me. It’s only the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps I’ll write more on my childhood later.

I posted this in response to the Daily Prompt.

Real Beauty is More Than Skin Deep

I believe beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I believe that real, true, and genuine beauty is more than skin deep. I believe that you can be uglier than an ape’s backend, but if you’ve got a heart of gold, you’ll never be lonely, because true friends and real people will appreciate your sincerity more than what your face or body looks like.

Let’s face it! Beauty goes south as we age, but if you are beautiful on the inside, no matter how old you get and how many wrinkles you acquire, you’ll still be a beautiful person. There’s also an adage that says that the eyes are the window to the soul, and having a beautiful soul will keep that sparkle alive in your eyes.

I couldn’t care less what a person looks like. If that person treats me right and gives me unconditional love as I give them, then I’m happy. I don’t have any stunningly-gorgeous, supermodel-type friends, but all of my friends have the inner beauty that can’t be bought or surgically created. I love them for their personalities and for being genuine people.

When a person has inner beauty and a good soul, their appearance doesn’t matter. In fact, some of the most superficially beautiful people in the world are ugly on the inside. Surgery and makeup can’t fix a hateful person.

This post is in response to the Daily Prompt.