Life or Something Like It

Ok, readers, time for another entry, and I will try to make it interesting. I guess this will be one of those random stream of thought entries that is an update on what is happening in the world of Zoe. I don’t really know what to write about, other than some little random things that have occurred. Honestly, not much that has happened since the last update, so I predict a series of crazy paragraphs that will explain those minor things. Don’t expect anything to make much sense. Also Wash is sitting next to me so lets see if I give him a complex again; in an effort to be the good girlfriend I will try not to give him a complex this time. Apparently I do it fairly often and entirely by accident.

So I pitched a fit and got my team tournament experience; for you who don’t know I am a mock trial captain, and I have a great team who did something very impressive this weekend. As always my team is never expected to measure up, never expected to do well, and so when we do it typically surprised people. We are Team Bulldog, mainly because we have gotten notes that say that we are an agressive team and that being bulldogs is our style. Anyway after I pitched the fit we lost someone from the team and went into panic mode, which is always fun. We, like the awesome team we are, rallied back and came out of last weeks tournament at Vandy with a 5-3 record and an attorney award, which was not mine just so you know. Apparently I am not a personable attorney and juries will hate me. But I’m cool with that as long as my team goes to Nationals. Hopefully we will be going to Birmingham, and not for reasons that Wash selfishly has, but because it is a good tournament and because I think we will have a good chance at getting out. Speaking of mock trial, apparently I can be a harsh and abrasivebitch and it might run people off my team. I guess that goes with the failure as a personable attorney who juries would like. I will admit that I can be harsh, snarky, cynical, and sometimes mean, but I did not realize that it was to the point, at least in some people’s mind, that I could run people off. I am an aggressive woman, that much I know of, and I can come on pretty damn strong. Perhaps I should learn to turn that down a little bit. [there is a momentary pause here where I smack Wash and give him a dirty look or two and not for reasons I will mention in the blog]

Speaking of Wash, last night was the always fun round one of the meet the family game. Round one consists of meet the ‘rents. Dinner at O’Charley’s with his mother and father, exciting times my dear readers, exciting times. As I’m sure you know, the meet the boyfriend’s parentals dinner is always awkward by nature, mainly because there is this feeling of  “yeah, later I’m probably going to be making out with your son [special note for Wash because he's watching, he wants it to be clear that he is male; we'll just make this specific to my current situation]“. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous, mainly because I don’t want to embarrassmyself in front of them. The last time I did this, I failed miserably. Wash says I passed with flying colors, which is cool I guess, and I tried real hard and remembered my manners and all that jazz. I even took special care to look classy, with my typical funky style, in my jeans, heels, and blazer, topped off with the pearls my mama gave me around my neck and the pearls Wash gave me in my ears. I even wore the lengthening mascara and everything, just to look nice. It was less awkward than expected, but still awkward, and now at some point Wash will have to meet my ‘rents. They are crazy people with embarrassing stories, which means hilarity will ensue. By hilarity I mean humiliation. Wash is now threatening to blog, but he’s lazy and would never update it; so I am not concerned that he will spread these stories over the interwebs. I am safe and not concerned.

While we are on the subject of relationships and Wash in general, I think I should tell you about Wash. He’s almost a year younger than me, but a lot of times he acts like he’s freakin’ old as the hills. That is when he isn’t making poop jokes and behaving like a two year old.  But for all his quirks he still makes me laugh and smile, which is good, otherwise why keep him around. But seriously folks, he’s a good guy, and I kind of sort of like him, just a little bit. Even when he is a bit awkward or does something stupid and immature [or ancient and like he should be old and grey], I think I’ll keep him around a while. Hey, he’s a good talking point at parties [I kid, I kid]. His accent is as strong as mine, and I don’t have to translate, which is a nice change; he sings, pretty well actually, and he makes me laugh. So yeah, I think I will keep him around.

I’m rambling, and this is already really long, so I will cut out now. I warned you that this would be long and rambling and not make any sense. Once again I’m struck with the sudden urge to learn to sing and play the guitar, and then go off and become a guitar gypsy.

Quote of the Day: “Criticism is something we can avoid easily by saying nothing, doing nothing and being nothing.”- Aristotle

Make It Look So Easy

I must make it look so easy,
standing here all strong.
I hold it all together,
make it look so effortless.
But inside I fall apart,
I just never let you see;
I could never bear
to reveal my weaknesses.
Secret tears and hidden worry
to protect you from my faults.
I must make it look so simple
to be so strong and brave.
I must make it seem so very easy
to always be in control,
Sometimes I just lose it,
though I’d never let you see.
Sometimes I break down,
hit my knees and cry,
and then I wonder who I am.
I carry it all,
take on the world;
it must seem like an easy task for me.
I tell them all I can do it;
maybe its a lie.
I say to them its alright,
even when I feel I may fall.
I want it to look simple,
at least for a while.
Don’t need to be looked after;
don’t want that at all.
I’m an independent woman;
I can make it on my own.
At least that’s what I tell them
and hope they will believe.
I make it look easy
to be the woman I seem to be.
But it’s not so simple
not so effortless at all.

“You’d be so pretty if you weren’t fat”

Believe it or not, I have heard those words on more than one occassion. And yes, before you ask, they were directed specifically toward me. I was shopping with my mum, yeah yeah lame whatever, for some sweaters and stuff to update my wardrobe because as usual this winter I was without decent sweaters and long sleeve shirts; anyway I was walking into the dressing room, sweaters in hand, and just as I enter the little room I hear this woman telling  me that I have chosen some nice shirts. When I turn to thank her she said something else, and I wanted to smack the hell out of her. She looks me dead in the face and says “You know, sweetie, you’d be really pretty if you weren’t fat.” My jaw drops, and I bite back a stream of cuss words, which was a feat in its self; just about the time I come up with something coherent that isn’t full of cuss words and is just sarcasm and snark her skinny daughter comes out of the dressing room with a stack of jeans and shirts and the two vanished. Dumbfounded and irritated, I entered the dressing room and tried on my sweaters. This was not the first time someone has told me I’d be pretty if I weren’t fat. In fact, I’m used to it, though it still irritates me. I’ve heard those words from a variety of people, and, while it does still hit me hard at times, I’ve gotten to the point where I just want to look at them and say “Thank you Captain Obvious. I realize that if I were slimmer and more fit I’d be more attractive. I realize that my fat stomach is not pleasing to the eye. I get it, so I’m working on it. By the way, I’m well aware of the fact that I am not skinny, but that doesn’t make me ugly. Worry about your own body, thanks.”

Granted, I do need to lose weight. That is one thing I knew long ago, but with stress and mock and classs I’ve been so busy and so fried that I just couldn’t focus on working out and eating right. But I’ve come to the realization that I have to do it, I have to lose the weight and get in shape. Otherwise I’m just going to continue being huge and out of shape and unhealthy, and I just can’t deal with that. I’m tired of knowing that I am fat, regardless of what Wash, Spoony, D –, and everyone else has told me. I’m tired of not being able to wear what I want to wear, and I’m tired of feeling like a blimp next to my friends. I’ve been the fat friend for far too long, and I’m done with it. I know that I can be attractive, there are days when I feel absolutely fantastic about my appearance, except for my weight. Last night I took my measurements, so I could set myself some goals, and I was appalled. Needless to say I will not be posting them here, ever, but I have sert some goals and made a plan, and I’m going to reach them.

Today I’m a bit sore, and I’m glad. It means that I am working my muscles and burning fat. Every night I go at least a mile on the treadmill, which is really boring but effective, and I use the ab lounge, which I have affectionately named the Rack. I’m also weight training because muscle burn fat and I need to build up my muscle any way. That reminds me that I need to buy some wristbraces so I don’t destroy my wrists, especially my right one that I broke and never healed properly, doing curls and bench presses. I impressed myself last night when I was doing my lower body work out; I did 50 lbs on my legs, and, though I’m pretty sore, it feels pretty awesome. Also I’m pleased to report that my Slimfast shakes are actually fairly awesome; they don’t taste bad, and I think they are working. I wasn’t as hungry as I normally am, and I had a lot more energy. I’m already feeling better, and it makes me excited.

Quote of the Day: “Don’t you know you’re beautiful?
Don’t you know you’re beautiful?
Don’t you know you’re beautiful?
Just the way you are!”- Kellie Pickler, “Don’t You Know You’re Beautiful”

Frankenbird’s Final Flight I

Ladies and Gentleman of the audience, today is the day of Frankbird’s Last Flight, or at least at the moment there has been a decision that we will not be making another such monster. But like The Eagles said, “you can have as many farewell tours as you want as long as you number them.” So this is Frankenbird’s Last Flight I because you just never know, perhaps this will be something that we will probably do again sometime. Ever since my father discovered the recipe online two years ago we have made Frankenbird at least once a year for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. This year we are making it a little late because we had a lack of ingredients. I suppose that you are wondering what exactly is Frankenbird, especially since it is a strange name to give something edible. Well Frankenbird is the affectionate name we gave the Turducken, a fabulously complex and intriguing dish that we discovered online one day and, while it is a mess, we are very fond of showing off the household’s cooking capabilities by bringing it to family feasts. Now we don’t follow the recipe exactly, and we don’t do any sort of funky gravy. But this is an adventure and a half with all the family participating in the affair. It begins as always with a massive amount of shopping.

When we make Frankenbird we have to have three birds and a variety of ingredients to create several different stuffings. This often means that we do a sort of team shopping where we break the shopping into parts with each individual who has a car doing part of it. This year, however, my father and I did it a bit differently. We began shopping a bit later than normal, and a bit is an understatement. We decide too late that we were going to do this bird and so we made a bold attempt to do the Igor, pronounced eye-gore, portion of the work on Christmas Eve. That meant we were in various grocery stores praying that we could find a very large turkey and a reasonable sized duck and chicken for the thing. Not surprisingly we found the inner ingredients but failed to get the outer ones. The biggest turkey we could find was  sixteen pounds, which, just so you know, is not big enough to stuff three kinds of dressings and two birds into, regardless of a lack of bones. Ducks were also in short supply, if by short you mean non existent. So we were able to find only the makings of the various dressings. Celery, onions, chicken stock, shrimp, sausage, biscuits,  and the makings of cornbread were easily collected, but today when we began preparations we discovered that there were things missing, like enough breadcrumbs and ingredients for the shrimp dressing, minus of course the shrimp we’d already bought. So today we made our own bread crumbs using the left over biscuits from the ones we’d made for the cornbread dressing and then sent my mum out to get rice to make a shrimp and rice type deal because it was cheaper than getting all the stuff to use the recipe we already had. Eventually we managed to gather all the ingredients with the help of my Grandmother who provided the duck, and Publix finally had a twenty four pound store brand bird. That only let the cooking and building of Frankenbird.

So while my father began the process of deboning birds, which is not a pleasant or quick job regardless of the various times he made the carcasses dance and flap, I began the work on the dressings. First up was my Grandmother’s Cornbread Dressing, but luckily the biscuits and cornbread were already made, so all that had to be done for it before mixing was the cutting of the celery and onions. The problem with that dressing is that there is no real recipe; its a sort of just wing it with the following ingredients type deal, which by the way is harder than following a strict recipe just so you know. The process involves pouring chicken stock over crumbled cornnbread and biscuits with cut up celery and onions and then seasoning it with salt, pepper, thyme, poultry seasoning, and sage until my father says it smells right. And today it refused to smell right so I called my Grandmother and she was only able to tell me to keep seasoning until it smelled correct. Eventually it was done and I was relieved. Next up was the sausage dressing, which does follow a reasonable recipe with some additions we make to taste. My brother cut up the sausage while I was making dressing one so that was one step I didn’t have to deal with this time. It takes longer than I like to do that one because you have to cook the sausage then add the onions and wait for them to get translucent then add the celery and wait for the color fade before taking it off the heat and folding in the breadcrumbs. Of course instead of making sure that we had enough breadcrumbs my dumb ass assumed we did and we had to make extra breadcrumbs by putting biscuits in the food processor. Because of my panic over the lack of breadcrumbs I forgot to add the mushrooms to the pot before that, and so it was frustrating. Dressing two has to be spread on cookie sheets and chilled so it doesn’t try to cook the birds from the inside and so that it isn’t hot when you are packing it into the birds. Dressing three, also known as lets wing it with the shrimp dressing, is also a pain. Especially because there are no set ingredients, other than the shrimp and rice, and no set recipe at all. So I just sort of made rice with a cajun seasoning and then mixed shrimp and more seasonings into it. Of course it had to be cooled too because its so hot; that meant I had to scrape the sausage dressing off the pans and spread the shrimp dressing on them instead to chill them. So the fridgerator and freezer both smell like those dressings, which isn’t really pleasant. Now of course comes the real fun, stuffing three birds, which you’d think would be simple, and then keeping them together.

Boneless birds are by their very nature difficult to work with because they are unruly. So to get them to keep their shape with stuff them full of dressings that are fairly thick. We stuff each bird seperately and with a different dressing, then we put the chicken inside the duck and the chicken stuffed duck into the turkey. Now this is not the hard part; the hard part is holding them all together, especially since it is not going to be cooked today. By the time the birds were finished  it was too late to cook them, especially because a huge Frankenbird serves way too many people to be cooked for a family of four and takes several hours to cook. There’s also the fact that we don’t bake our bird, which would take eight hours; we smoke our Frankenbird on the grill, which takes much longer. So instead we are freezing Frankenbird and cooking him later, when we have more time. Otherwise we’d be trying to keep the grill hot at midnight or later in order to cook him. I apologize for the length of this entry folks; I guess I got carried away.

Quote of the Day: “I feel a recipe is only a theme, which an intelligent cook can play each time with a variation.”  –Madam Benoit

Happy New Years and All That

Dear readers, its that time of year again, the first of the year, New Year’s Day, and so I do my annual post. I know, late New Year’s Day post is late. I don’t see New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day as a real holiday, not in the same sense as Christmas or the Fourth of July, though being me I’m sort of superstitious. Instead it seems to be a time of year when we pretend that everything starts brand new and that we can make everything new again. The fact is that we can’t change the past or change what has happened and nothing really starts brand new. I know, I know, Zoe you are such  a pessimist. I, my dear readers, am a realist, and so I don’t candy coat the truth nor do I deny it. Anyway, to the point, or theme, or subject, or whatever, of this entry.

Last year was insane, no that’s not the word, but I don’t know how to describe it.  There was a lot of good and a lot of bad. Last year started out very good, things had turned around for the first time in ages. I was happier than I had been ages, considering that things were working out for the better and I was looking forward to every day. It was the year of blissful ignorance in a way for the first part, I thought that for the first time in a very long time things would only get better. I suppose it was a period of random and rare optimism, and I paid for that optimism dearly with my heart. Middle of the year my heart was shattered, and it still isn’t whole. Things got all flipped upside down, and not in the awesome Will Smith Fresh Prince sort of way. I was tested in some serious type way, my strength to be sure is still being tested, and I’m not sure that I am passing. I’ve shown my weakness time and time again, but I hope at least that I am getting better and getting stronger.

As the year went on, I found myself falling out of touch with old friends, and it saddens me. It has also not escaped my notice that some people have, for reasons I’m not sure of, lost respect for me or taken a disliking to me or chosen to completely ignore me. I have my suspicions about some reasons, but I hope they aren’t true. I mean I really hope, and if they are then I hope that the issues can be resolved. I guess I just have to deal, and I’ve been used to dealing with it for a long time. Suck it up and deal with it or suck it up and move on, while I know they are terrible coping mechanisms, have been working for me so far. It has been rather rare that I have broken down, like the rather embarrassing meltdown I had, in front of Wash and then Brandi, right before the MTSU invitational. I’ve been hiding it when I hurt, and if I have a meltdown its private. Like I said earlier, this year my life has been flipped turned upside down. Man, I am such a 90s kid.

So about the future. I don’t think about it too much. I’m tired of making plans that all fall through. In fact, I’m done planning for the far future, other than that whole law school thing, cause it is pretty important actually. Instead I will just plan for the near future, and even those plans will be flexible, like something very flexible. Sorry, couldn’t think of a good metaphor or simile at the moment. I think I’ve come up with an idea for my book, the one I’ve been trying to work on forever and a day, but I’m not sure. I think I want to turn it into a sort of blog type deal. I mean create a fictional blog to tell the story. What do you readers think of that? Please, please tell me. It’s one of my goals this year, to either finish it in novel form, or turn it into a fictional blog, or do both. I’ve decided this will be the year of the stronger, smarter, wiser Zoe. But I do not resolve to be less snarky, sarcastic, or any less than 100% Zoe. So now, before I escape into the novel I’m reading or go to sleep, here are my resolutions.

1. Get fit, in a serious type way. This means losing about 20 to 30lbs by dieting and exercise, and getting toned. Not an easy goal.
2. Get into law school. Still difficult, but it almost feels easier than losing the weight these days.
3. Finish my novel. With all the work I’ve got a head of me this may be harder than I originally thought
4. Learn to be stronger, in more than just the physical sense.
5. Take better care of myself, not as selfish as you think
6. Stop staying so incredibly stressed and frazzled, probably one of the most impossible

Quote of the Day:  “I have become rather like King Midas, except that everything turns not into gold but into a circus.” Albert Einstein