I've been thinking about my late Great-Grandma Wilma lately. She was Swedish, and very proud. I loved the red traditional horse painted in her kitchen. Wilma used to serve all 5 billion and 6 of us kids this delectable and chocolatey wonderment she dubbed “Brownie Pudding”. In her words, I present her recipe for quiet and happy children, made with love.
Sift ½ cup flour, 1 tsp. Baking powder, ½ tsp salt, 1/3 cup sugar, 1 Tblsp cocoa. Add ¼ cup milk, 1 Tblsp melted butter, ½ tsp. Vanilla. Stir in ¼ cup chopped nuts; pour into 9' piepan. Mix ½ cup packed brown sugar & 2 Tblsp cocoa; sprinkle on batter. Pour ¾ cup boiling water over top. Bake @ 350 degrees F for 35 minutes. Serve with whipped or pour cream.
I have days where I need comfort food, and this will fix any problem you may have, except weight loss. But it is so freakin delicioso that you won't care, baby. I've been thinking about my Uncle Guy, her son, a lot too. He would make flutes out of the cattails in Wilma's yard, and hand carved bowls that sat warm in your hands. One could feel the thousands of days of sunlight it took to grow the tree and create the curvacous and almost glassy feel to solid hardwood. Broomball, his sport of choice, was as like hockey as street ball is to basketball. I always wanted to visit him in his home, Alaska. We just never had the time, or money. I wish I hadn't taken my connection to a wonderful and amazing man for granted. Life goes on as it were, and I named my son after him, with his middle name. I hope I can teach my son to live life to the fullest the way he did, and to never take a relationship for granted.
On that note, I have a confession to make. I have been using fake names for people in my life. I was concerned about stalkers, pedophiles, and general psychos, but I see many other bloggers in the media (other than the internet) and as far as I know, no one has had their baby stolen. I mean, as far as I know. I wonder if they would put that in the paper, or something. Blogger's Baby Stolen, Returned Next Day Because The Child Was Quote “A Little Shit.” That would be my headline. Plus, what kidnappers would be equipped to deal with a 5 yr old? You can only scare them into quiet for so long, and then they make this horribly screetchy crying noise. It's fucking awful. Anyhoo, I can't keep track of all of these fake names, and don't tell but I think the fake name I used for BoyfriendFace could possibly have been an ex's name.... Ooops. Except for Oleander Cuppcake, which I know is probably the fakest sounding. That is her real Drag Name so it is what it is, Jive Turkey. Boyfriend is actually named Marcus, and my son is Tristyn Louis-Guy. I am Cody. Or, at least, her brain. Hi!!!!!!! (waves vigorously) Others from now on will keep their original names, unless I don't like them or think they are dumb. I also maintain that any story is true, and not true. No one can say. Who knows what dwells in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows.
Internet has been turned off a week early. Roommate was going to leave it until he could have it installed in his new apartment which I got 5 days notice he was moving into. My basement looks like a squatter's pad, and he took furniture he said we could keep. When we first moved in here, my mother brought over an antique wooden chair. He, his mother, and his step-father all claim that his mom whats-her-bitchface brought it over a couple of days before. Number one, why would you bring stuff over for his new house when you'll just have to move it again? Number two, I have date stamped photographic evidence it's mine. Why the hell would you steal one crappy wooden chair anyway? It just doesn't make any damn sense. I hate it when people are petty and do stupid shit. I think he took off with the paddles and puck for Tristyn's air hockey table. It's not him that bothered me, it was his family. One brother snotty and spoiled, the other one a total waste of carbon (thief and obsessive liar), and rude parents. Or maybe I'm being sensitive. Either way, I'm not glad to see the back of him, but that is all I will miss.
I officially have to make major life changes. I calculated my BMI at my doctor's office the other day. I wouldn't share the number if you put bamboo shoots under my nails, but we will call it a bit high. I am tired of feeling lumpy and uncomfortable in my body. It isn't a body image issue, I am literally uncomfortable just being in here. It hurts when I sit too long, I'm terribly out of shape, and I'm sick a lot more than I should be. I am currently 60 lbs heavier than I was when I became pregnant with Tristyn. I feel like I've let myself go, and that is not good. So Marcus will hook up my Wii so I can do the Wii Fit Plus, plus I have 5 lb weights I can use otherwise. That will at least get me started until I can buy a Chuck Norris home gym. It would be weird for me to become obsessed with exercise I think. I have heard of it happening though.
Phrase of the day: What in the fairying forest are you doing?
I want to move. My duplex isn't bad, but I would like to be able to have Tristyn's dog Dugee, and not worry about some drunk or stray wandering into my yard. Granted, I do not live in a bad part of town, but I live about three blocks from Methville.