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Happy happy joy joy

There are times when we feel as if there are no other options left. Feeling almost backed into a corner. That feeling you feel when you have no other way out but with your fists up. It’s harsh. Life is definitely not easy. Ever. It doesn’t help that when we look around ourselves we only witness the happiness of others. It’s almost as if every smile they rip across their faces are maliciously designated to appear whenever we are at our lowest. But the truth is, we only notice this when we are not happy. Some of us don’t even really know what will make us happy and when something does rekindle the joy within our damaged egos we look at it as if it were a foreign entity we must attack with our bitterly jaded antibodies. Sometimes I look at happiness like a love that I shouldn’t be allowed to have.

Why are you here, happiness? Why have you returned? How long are you going to stay this time? When I see others with happiness, I think, that could have been me there. I could be laughing obnoxiously eating a fucking Banana Royale in my SUV while talking on my bluetooth heading to the bank to make a hefty withdrawal that wouldn’t leave me broke for the week or month. When happiness returns, I cling to it in my usual needy fashion. I cry and beg it not to ever leave but I know it will. I walk around not even enjoying my joy, scared and worried that it will eventually go, as it does. Don’t even get me started on sadness…

This is how I feel sometimes and it’s ridiculously difficult to describe it without sounding like a total doof. Here’s the kicker though: I’ve changed. I’m changing. I’m learning. I don’t look at happiness with eyes of hunger and desperation. I look at happiness and think, “Someday we’ll be together again soon and I will love every minute of it.” I will. Because now I know the difference between being happy and wanting to appear happy. Because when you are truly happy, there’s no way to fake it. It just flows through you and lifts your soul to a mighty level. What I’m saying is, when sadness creeps over me and makes me feel low and hopeless, I accept it, then move the hell on because my happiness is waiting for me.

And I don’t want to make it wait.

Love,

A! Then A!

Cha-cha-changes

My day and sometimes night job is a children’s department lead at a bookstore. One of my responsibilities is to run a once a month American Girl event at my store for little girls and their American Girl dolls. I enjoy it most of the time. Sometimes I can’t help but get flustered because I feel ill prepared. Anyway, if you’re not familiar with American Girl, click here: American Girl

So what I usually do, is I pick an American Girl character, we discuss her and then we do a craft based on the girl. We have fun, the girls make new friends, the parents feel validated and everyone’s happy. Only, this month we were forced by corporate to do a “Just between us” event. Just between us, “Just between us” was between us and EVERYONE ELSE IN THE STORE. My company wanted us to host an event about helping little girls communicate with their parents about their changing bodies. Way to go! One of the most intimate discussions you could ever have in your young lifetime and you’re going to have it in a store…with people drinking a latte to your left and reading a gajillion magazines to your right.

It was the night of the event and I had decided that I’d start the “just between us” event and if things got weird, I’d jump into our regular american girl stuff. i.e. a craft…immediately. So this is how it went:

Me: Hey everyone thanks for making it to this month’s American Girl!

(kids and parents clap. I still don’t fucking understand why)

Me: Does anyone have this book?
(I hold up a copy of ‘The care and keeping of you’, and american girl published book for girls on how to clean themselves and to always wipe front to back and stuff)

(a few girls raise their hands)

Me: Cool! I’m asking because American Girl just put out a second book, which is great because we’re getting older and our bodies are changing and that’s ok!

image

Me: Okayyyy…so we’re making lucky penny buttons tonight for our craft!! Who needs help?!!

The life and times of a cookbook addict…

So, I like cookbooks. I mean, I really REALLY like them. I can’t pinpoint when it started, but I know that I just love cookbooks, and cooking magazines, and cooking websites. I’m intrigued by different takes on classic recipes. I’ve even been through a strange Amish recipes phase. But now I’ve been eyeing more cookbooks and I now have a storage issue. In between books I’ve accumulated over the years are books that were given to me and books that are known as ‘Advanced Reader Copies’. Since I work at a bookstore, I get ARC’s to read an review. It’s a wonderful perk really. Anyway, there’s NO MORE ROOM! So I made a promise to cook through most of the recipes in these books before buying another cookbook.

There’s just a weird sense of pride that I get from cooking. Especially if what I cook tastes amazing. It’s a comfort thing and I don’t need to eat it to be happy from it. Sometimes the joy is from seeing the person I cook for enjoy their meal :)

The first book I want to try is this one:

a bird in the oven and then some by Mindy Fox

 I bought the book because of it’s great reviews on a cooking website I’m into. How can you not want to cook some amazingly crispy chicken?

The second book I want to try:

Poor Girl Gourmet by Amy McCoy

I wanted this one because I’m broke and it seemed fitting. My point is, I’ve challenged myself to actually use the stuff I have before I try to get more. I will upload and blog what I can about this little project. Btw, this wasn’t funny at all. Haha, sorry.

No I’m not.

A! Then A!

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