coffee

I woke up this morning on the rough side of the bed. Knowing, before even turning my light on, that it wouldn't be a good day. 

Silently, on light feet, I make my way Into the heart of the city. 

The sun isn't up and this morning, more than others, I feel like a creature of twilight. The strange time in the city before the sun comes up when you can never quite tell what's on the next block. The night owls are tucking in. Those who need scratches itched get their fixes and scuttle into the dark alleys, the arteries of the city. 

My quiet feet pad along the sidewalk and my mind spins and whirls, a tornado in my thoughts - made of sticky spider webs. 

Get changed

Clock in

Start the routine.

And that's what's scary about routine, it gives you waay too much thinking time. Time to reflect and to ponder. To sing and to listen. 

Or in today's case - to worry and stress over circumstances that are, as it stands, out of my control. 

Questioning self worth and future scenarios. Love and loss and why? 

How? 

How can a few months turn someone so radically from north to south. 

Overwhelmed, over worked and utterly sleep deprived - the walls come down and slowly, all alone in the dungeon, my eyes fill and overflow. 

One hour into my shift. Not even 6am yet. Ai Yai Yai girl. 

I want to be strong

I want to stand tall

I want to feel deserving of love in my life.

My resolve is shaken and I feel weaker than I care to admit. 

I head upstairs to deliver my daily goods to the awaiting people. In a daze, I fill the bread racks and I check the fridges. I find myself slipping away again and struggle to regain focus. 

I come back to reality and in front of me is an in-room attendant. Assuming he is waitin for his morning goods to bring upstairs, I smile and say 'good morning' before shuffling out of his way. Calmly, He looks me in the eyes and says "good morning. Here you go." And extended in his hand was a cup of coffee

I almost lost it

I thanked him in a small shaken voice, eyes a little glossy.  He turned to walk away and I said quietly "I needed this this morning more than you know." He smiled slowly at me and nodded. 

I message my sister, my rock. God I love that woman with every fibre of my being. always Helps me find perspective.

This world is hard but it isn't bad. 

You Fall down 7 times and get up 8.

I am filled with the love and strength of the women who came before me and who raised me. We are all worthy and deserving of the purest and truest love this life has to offer. I will always wear my heart on my sleeve and I will always fight for what I believe in. 

With quiet and calm finally winning the battle of my brain, I cherish the coffee and thank the world for every obstacle in my path. 

Jelly Donuts

It was stunning out when I left work the other day. So warm and bright for what felt like the first time in eternity, so instead of heading home, I had to keep walking. I found myself in front of a local donut shop. Remembering that a friend of mine had never tasted these morsels of heaven, I popped in and picked up a half dozen to drop by with later on.  It wasn't until I was two blocks away and finally finished texting a one handed novel to a pal that I thought "aw crap, I should have picked up one more donut for my roommate." I decided that the next time I went past the shop, that I would treat us both to one.
Slowly, a man on a bike appears beside me. he looks to be in his late forties, slightly dishevelled clothing riding a bike with a basket on the front, attached by jungee cords…
"Hello" he said.
"hi there" says I
and we made small talk for a few minutes.  This man was not giving me the creeps or the heebie - jeebies by any means. strange yes but he wasn't creepy, he never asked me where i lived or anything and trust me, I wouldn't continue talking to someone I didn't want to or wasn't intrigued by.
"Are those for somebody?" he asks me looking at the donut box. (* only at the box, he didn't look at my face much at all, he was focused on his bike mostly)
"yeah, for a friend"
"…your roommate?"
…strange that I was just thinking that…
"Do you know that you have a big day coming up in october?"
"…I do?"
"Yes. its your 10,000 th day of being alive. Are you going to celebrate?"
"well yeah I am now that I know that!"
we spoke some more and briefly when he told me,
"next time I see you, I want to remember you so I'm going to give you a nickname."
"oh…okay sure"
"you are now…Lowanne."
"…Lowanne?"
"yes. this might be the last time you see me today. good bye, have a good day."
and he drove off on his bike.


…Lowanne ...

wooooooosh

And just like that, I could no longer breathe.
Shock set in as I began to feel, yet again, that I was a victim to the internets cruel sense of humour.
I didn't want to know. I didn't need to know. Like ever. Of course I'm glad but I could have lived my entire life without knowing and that would have been just fine with me.
I start to feel the metaphorical ton of bricks weighing on my chest and without wanting to, I began to cry. All alone in the quiet of my room, with the city buzzing below me, I cried.
I sobbed because I was hurting and I sobbed because I was confused. I dare say I cried a little because I felt embarrassed and ashamed at the way my heart so quickly and recklessly abandoned my brain and left me, now a puddle of teenage girl, sobbing. Over a Facebook status.
Jebus, whats WRONG with me?!
When I was 18, I fell in love for the first time. It didn't last more than a year but it was a relationship with a kind and wonderful guy. we stayed friends and in touch sporadically throughout the years and I can say with confidence that though he will always have a place in my heart and memories, I am not and have not been in love with him for at least the past five years.
SO wHy aM I hAviNg tHis QuaRteR LiFE cRisiS?!
He is going to be an amazing father and his girlfriend is incredibly lucky to have a partner like him.
I did truly feel this way. I did and I do, so what on this green marble we call earth would make me succumb to these kind of reactions?!
With that, my mind (who was obviously angry with my heart - and so thought it just to run in the OTHER direction…) began to rile.
I began to question the fragile ground that my on again off again relationship was standing on and asked a million questions to myself, some of which I had answers to and most of them, I did not.

I didn't even know she was pregnant, Should this be where He and I should be right now? (*not he like my exboyfriend, I mean he like my main squeeze) Should I want to have a baby right now? Is it bad if I do want that? Is it bad if I don't? I could never do that right now, couldn't and wouldn't want to. Have I made terrible decisions in my relationship? Am I making them now? why can't we see eye to eye and why haven't I heard from you in days. . .
All questions that did nothing but throw me into a nose dive.

This was about a month ago and I'm happy to say that I'm feeling much differently. After the hindenburg went down in my brain, It took me a few days of wallowing and self pity but I felt better.

When I was 16, I was dating an 18 year old guy that was in the same social circle as I. He was handsome and smart and ambitious. Captain of the rugby team and valedictorian. He graduated high school and moved away for college. the first few months we tried calling and writing as much as we could and though I tried, it proved to be unfruitful. His comings home became awkward between the two of us at friendly gatherings and we quickly grew apart with mild animosity. I found out shortly after that he was in fact now dating my "best friend". As I'm sure you can imagine dear reader, I was devastated. I took this as such a personal blow and wrong doing that I will admit, I carried great resentment for both of them for years.

They are now happily married, and I no longer carry and anger, hurt or resentment. I let it go years ago and not only did I feel the weight of the world had been lifted, I felt that I had grown and learned an important lesson about life.
I was nothing to him. I say that with a smile and with confidence because thats exactly what it sounds like. It does not mean that I feel that I mean nothing to anyone, because I am not foolish enough to think THAT, but I - as a person - can say that truly, I meant nothing to him and thats okay with me. When I think about his path in life, where he's ended up and with whom, I know that that wasn't for me. She was his path, not me. I was not dealt some great injustice, I was hurt and thats fair, but in the grande scheme of things,  that wasn't for me. If he and I were both single and available, would I want to be with him now? Heeeeell no. and that right there has to be your answer.

What right have I to dishonour myself by holding thoughts and feelings inside of me of insecurities or inadiquacies. I don't. because I deserve to be kinder to myself.

I wish him and his girlfriend and there darling wee bairn, nothing but absolutely the best from the bottom of my heart. I know his son will be the greatest light in his life, and I am immensely grateful, that I am an aunty to a beautiful nephew…who I get to love…and then give back when he's crapped his pants, bonked his head and wailing. . . winning.

You can cry over spilled milk. I won't make it come back, but maybe…just maybe… You'll clean it up and take a second to think… that you've really wanted juice all along.

Its a Long Way to the Top if you want to Rock n Roll. Translation: February is the longest month ever and I still have three weeks of being a vegetarian.

Sometimes in life its easier just to give up. Give up and give in. Its only pepperoni. Pepperoni and the occasional sausage bite. . .
and i mean... is it REALLY cheating if no one sees me do it?...or or what if I just pick off 85% of them and then OOooooPPPppSSSss... how did that bite of pepperoni get into my mouth?! . . .I MUST have missed it.
I would pull it out, TRUST me. - Buuuuutt its pretty mashed up in my mouth and im not one to waste food.

I staired at the cold pizza, genuinely perplexed. Whats the big deal... just one tiny little slice of pizza...

Frig six days in and im behaving like ill never touch the stuff again! Trust me, the irony isn't lost on how I grilled daddy-o for falling off the wagon two days in with a steak dinner and bacon and sausage breakfast ("Oh K, Ill just re start and add two days on in March" - father)

In a moment of clarity I walked over to the garbage can and stripped the pizza to the bare bones. thin crust, a whisper of tomatoe sauce and the sad looking, pock marked what-was-left-of the cheese.
I grumbled and shoved it in my mouth.
The fridge is stocked with temptation. I actually almost cried as I walked away from these beauties.
Being green aint easy.

I Am A Vegetarian And I Only Eat Beats Wear Alot Of Carrots And I Smoke The Best Greens No Beef

No Fun February. A tradition that started years ago with my sister and some of her high school friends to describe the month in which they sacrifice the nectar of the gods; beer.
Inspired by her devotion to better herself and give up the sweet sweet adult juice, my parents and I have since decided to give up our own indulgences for the month. Mine? - Meat.

Muther and Fadder have also decided to give up meat, making us one green family. literally.
I truly think that I will be just fine without meat, in general, I am someone who tends to lean towards veggies anyways. If a vegetarian option is available, I will more likely than not gravitate towards that. I would say that I am a Veggiepreferian. That being said, there are some meaty delights that I could not and would not turn down. Things like a good bloody steak, or a Pulled Pork Sammich. The list of things I WOULDN'T do for a good pulled pork sammie is in fact, alarmingly short.
MUST. STOP. THINKING. ABOUT. THAT.

Now there are some rules to this month of meatless madness. I will still eat eggs because chickens make them anyways and are therefore in my mind, not considered meat. Generally dad is going with "If it has eyes, eyebrows or a mother - don't eat it" but we've agreed that eggs are okay and Fish would be allowed only on special occasions or emergencies of the fish and chips nature... and besides...fish dont have eyebrows.

The upside of working at a job that also feeds you is that, well, it feeds you. I am lucky enough that everyday, someone upstairs is preparing lunch for myself and my fellow associates. I can always rely on a salad ( though most times it will be comprised of random bits of hacked up lettuce, some carrot sticks and a slice of cucumber - which seemingly boring, is still yum in my mind. Not exactly filling but tasty) my other staple is soup. It doesn't matter how hot it is outside or what time of the year - I LOVe SOUP. period.

Day one was tricky. As I made my way towards the staff caff, I knew that I would be okay today so long as I had some soup. Looking at the menu on the wall, I sighed knowing I would have to turn down the salmon. And the Tuna salad. And the soup.
wait
WAIT
AND THE SOUP?!
I let out an audible groan as I poured my delicious looking cream of potato AND BACON soup back into the pot.
I shuffled over to the cold salad bar and made a sad looking arrangement of greens on my plate.
I took a picture of my sad lunch and texted it to dad

Me: day 1
Dad: im dying for a buger. THAT looks appetizing (*Sarcastic). Im in trouble
Me: I know. we have potato bacon soup for lunch. AND salmon AND tuna salad. this blows.
Dad: .....mmmmmmmm potato bacon soup...i'm screwed

After explaining to one of my colleagues how / why I was torturing myself for the month of February, he piped up with " well are you documenting the process? - you should weigh yourself now at the beginning of the month and then just keep track of it every week and see what changes happen to your body as a result of our altered diet." I am intrigued by this and think it is a stellar idea. that being said im not terribly pumped to publish my weight on the internet BUT I WILL - your welcome science. and nosey people. so I am going to go weigh myself right meow and then right it down. Followed by a trip to the grocery store with my mudder (mother) to pick up some veggie burgers.

Starting weight: 117 lbs.       :/

the shortest month of the year might just turn out to be the longest month of my life.

Frumpy frumpy lumpy

Ugh this place is making me jaded. I can feel it.
For the past two months, the job that I don't have has really been bursting any happy bubbles I've got towards it. I can't stand the food that they make and serve and since 75% of things I make come frozen I in mix packages, my soul as a baker shivers and cringes at attaching my name to such 'pastries'. Frankly it's an abomination.
Hen I first started not working there, ( because that would be illegal and I certainly do NOT break the law) I was thrilled by this owner who wanted me to turn the shop around. New recipes and new cakes and new new new... Everything, yes I had won. Though in retrospect I should have paid closer attention to the little voice inside my head that whispered ' gosh... They certainly have a high staff turn over rate...' lesson learned.
Week after week I would churn out new things, a cappuccino cake one week, dark chocolate baileys cupcakes the next, pâté a choux swans dipped in chocolate with elegant little almond beaks the next and each and every single time Monsieur the owner would sneer and scrutinize my work with a scowl. Luckily, on a day I was feeling particularly grumbly from his dark cloud that's hovers wherever he is, a customer came in and freaked out over my swans. I stood there beaming as he raved on an on and then bought one. The whole time the owner was shrugging and saying little to nothing.
Eventually one day he came up to me. 'what are you doing???!!! I don't want this stuff! See the book here?! (receptive book full of garbage from the 80's) This is what I want you to make! People like this so don't change it!'
I felt like an idiot. My Outer angry girl shell stood there with one leg piped out to the side and my arms crossed defensively across my chest, while I tried to hide my inside thoughts which were a jumble of wanting to cry... An scream and weep and just a little of wanting to rip his stupid mustache off.
I let it go and he walked out I the store for the day. This was the first and certainly not the last time he freaks out on me ( if I had a job that is, which I do not). P.s- the next time would be ' you never put out anything new!! Always stuff from the book!!!!... I dropped my jaw at this one and defended myself to which he huffed and walked away. I digress.
I am very aware that this company is making no money. Rarely selling over 1000$ a day and in such a prime location, I am surprised they are still open at all, he has Told me that his family has wealth so for that I say good for him. The waste from that place is brutal cost effectively and just in general. I do like the staff but certain things weigh on my soul. Like grandpa who speaks little to no English. Work well together in relative silence and laugh at a few things but the fact that he slaps big slabs of raw meat onto the kitchen scales without wiping or anything and they continue on makes the germ freak inside of me faint. Once while explaining to him in the simplest English I could ( and some butchered Spanish) about cross contamination - yeah YOU translate that!) he just laughed and walked away. Sigh.

Today was the last straw.

Since the owner was about a week late with the paychecks. As usual. I kindly aske him for it before I forgot. He came up to me and shrieks " this is how you leave it?! This is how you leave the display case looking?! WELL Is IT?! "
I am simply stunned. I didn't say anything thinking it was rhetorical. Once I realize he was actually wanting me to answer, I stopped staring at his gross mustache and replied ' I guess not no.' " GOOD answer! I don't know what language I have to talk to you in to get it through!" ( he also speaks French) "... I wasn't leaving... I wasn't done yet... I ws just asking for my paycheck...you just assumed I was leaving." and with that he rolled his eyes sneered at me and charged through to the front where he put on a fake smile do sweet it would make you diabetic.
I stood static for a moment and mentally calmed myself down " don't panic miss may its not you it's him. He's an angry man and I would be too if my restaurant was failing. You get good grades and everyone who eats your food loves it. It's jut him. " and with that I walked to the front and asked to speak with him for a moment.
His smile vanishe and he came towards me like a was wearing antlers and had a bullseye around me neck.
Calmly I said
' first of all- you out of walnuts ( he's ALWAYS out of something we need) an secondly I would like to give you my two weeks notice. Thank you for the opportunity but clearly ou ate not happy with my work and I don't think that this place is right for me-" and with that he broke in "- I told you from the beginning! And you never put out anything new and I-"
AND I - ha ha enough do I cut in
" yes if that's how you feel then one that is why I'm giving you my two weeks." and he sneered and said 'fine.'

I am relieved to be free from that place in two weeks and little does he know that I am sitting in my car I front of a prestigious bakery down the way... I definitely don't have an interview here right now and there staff turn over rate is so low, I've been waiting for over a year for this interview. That I don't have.


Today before I left, the new cook ( old one worked there four months n left) was freestyle rapping suing ' frump frumpy, she likes her oatmeal lumpy' ... Thank you baby jebus for getting me outta there.

That Day I remembered.

If I had a job, I would stay for the people. If one day my boss came into work and yelled at me for no reason, I would stand there and let him. I would you see because I need this imaginary job and the next day when I would come into work, I would have quietly told my comrades in the back about the ordeal. Dumbfounded, my little Spanish lady would hug me like a mother hugs a child

"Ai ai nooo lady no cry! U-re caikes ar Werry werry dell-icious" she would coo to me. I would hug her back and let her sooth me which feels very nice.

My day would be quiet but busy as I think about everything and nothing in particular. Out of no where a memory pops into my mind...A day that I swore I would never forget and yet haven't thought about in so long. I thought I might write it down just in case.

I was working behind the bar. This isn't a bar bar but a service bar in a family restaurant. Milkshakes, icecream, sundaes - that type of deal.

the night was busy busy and just winding down. I am exsausted, covered head to toe in nearly every flavour of syrup ever created.

I cringe to think what I would taste like if a giant popped me into his mouth...yuck....anyhoo

I slowly start to clean up, putting things away slowly, shuffling my feet to and from the sink and counter. Gawd my hair is going to be a disaster after this...ew what the what is THIS?...Ugh why is everything in my life so stiiiickyyyyyyy.....

the familiar buzz sound goes off and a paper prints out of my little machine. I feel like some kind of Genie, stuck in what looks like a chimney for a lamp, with a hole cut out. just enough space to see your genie sweat and pump out your milkshakes for hours on end.

I pull off my paper from the machine with my new masters wishes printed neatly on it.

Oreo Milkshake and a Strawberry fruit crush to go. Not too bad. I quickly go about whipping up the drinks when they are done, I mark them with there names and little hearts and I bring them out of my chimney to the man waiting on the other side of the wall.

Here you are my friend - I said to him.

Thank you - he replies

excuse me ms? - he says softly before I can return to cleaning,

I just want you to know that this fruit crush is going to a women who is very sick. She has terminal cancer and is in her last stages of life. . . She wont be around much longer and she can barely keep food down anymore. The one thing she asks for is this strawberry fruit crush. It really keeps her going, her face lights up when she has it.

He smiled kindly at me.

I just wanted to say thank you and to let you know that you've made a difference in a very sick person's life.

and with that he walked away.

I stood there numbly, my eyes leaking. Suddenly unaware of my hair or stickiness.

I thought about that day a lot the other day as I stood there not at my work.

People like him and my little spanish lady make me feel like I make a difference and I love them dearly for it.

Kayteamai and the failed pastry cream.

I certainly do NOT have a job but if I did, this is how a day in the life might go -

I look gross. Actually gross might be an understatement. I probably look somethin like what I imagine a modern witch would look like. A mix between ms theron's charcter in 'monster' and well a literal monster. A drunk monster. I for one am not drunk but having been up since 4am, hair (still at 1 pm) looking like I lost a fight with the 80's and in an oversized burgundy flannel shirt, were lookin prrrettttty scary.

I would be staring at the recipe for pastry cream. Understanding it but just so. Not. In. The. Mood.
To all my loving non- food savy friends, pastry cream is a cream used in (hold your breath) -pastry ( tadah!) things like the insides of eclairs or réligieuse and some cakes. Well the basic premise would be to make a boiling cream mixture on the stove, temper some egg yolks in, make the whole batch adjusted, smooth it , cool it onto a sheet pan, scrap it into bowls for later use and voila. Pastry cream.

In theory that is.
If I had a job I might have theoretically gotten frustrated with the one of the Mexican compadres of mine that I definitely don't work with, when I asked him where the large strainer was that he was just using and he would respond with that confused old man look and continue to insesively whistle what sounded like Olivia Newton-John's hit song 'physical' ...
I would have frustratedly scuffled over to the sugar bin and borrowed the one from there as a meager replacement.

Having grossly over-estimated the amount the recipe made, I would likely curse silently to myself while I watched the giant pot struggle to keep up with the gallon + of milk inside if it.
The strainer would have hard time dealing with a half pot of noodles.
Fig newtons this is gonna suck.

Awkwardly I would try and hold the baby strainer as I would pour the eggs and yolks and jazz into the pot to be tempered. ( in retrospect, maybe adding hot cream to the eggs then RE adding them would prove better, faster and less horrible outcomes... I digress)
Only having two hands and a virtually useless baby strainer that I cannot balance on the pot, I would have poured as much eggy mixture into the cream as I dare before violently flinging them aside and whisking like a loon at the bubbling mass infront of me. Worried and anxious as to how the end results would look, I emptied the contents of the eggys into the big belly pot.
I would have whisked and whisked and whisked some more while sweating, fretting and furthering my reputation as a witch as I muttered to my bubbling cauldron of goo.
Though pleased with it's increasing thickness, I would have been doubly discouraged by it's... Um ... Chunkiness...
Friends, what happens when eggs are added to Anything hot and shaken up? Yes scrambles eggs.
I know. *sigh* good thing this story is hypothetical...
With a heavy heart I would empty the contents of my cauldron onto two sheet trays mark them with hearts and let them cool. Though useable, absolutely unsatisfactory. If I had a job anyways.

Gardeners must be Sadists.

Everytime it gets warm out, I always want to become some magical gardener. In my old house downtown, I had avocado plants growing over my balcony, organic lemon seeds, apple seeds, you name it an I wanted to plant it. This time is no different. After a successful experiment where boyfriend brought home a mysterious electric green pepper that he 'got from some guy at work', he picked up a little cayenne pepper plant that is currently exploding with peppers ( about 22 in all stages of growth). I was given a small pepper from a friend at school and once she shriveled up, I popped her into a planter box and there she is still sitting... Making me wait anxiously to see her sprout.( the pepper not the girl)
So last week while at school when I found the mother of all jalapinos just sitting abandoned on the spice rack in class and wilting quickly, I asked if it belonged to anyone and they all replied 'no...' like they wanted to say ' no Wierdo that mostly shriveled up dead pepper is not mine. And why your gazing at it like it's your first born confuses and amuses me.'
I digress.
So yesterday was the day. I set forth to germinate my treasure. I set up a germination station in the kitchen with ziplock bags and moist paper towel, and sliced into my baby.
That sounds wierd. Anyhoo. It wasn't until I was delirious with joy over the completion of my experiment that I remembered that I had a lemon in the trunk of my car :D ( don't ask) so with haste and joy I bolted to my car, grabbed the lemon and hurried back inside to free the seeds from there fleshy cells. It wasn't until ten second later that things started to go wrong... Horribly wrong. While squeezing the lemon halves to get at the seeds, a comically large spurt if lemon juice lept from the lemon, fueled by my sqeeZing, and was heading straight for my face. Befor I could even register what was happening, I was in the midst if a full frontal assault. With lemon juice in my eyes my first instinct was... To rub my eyes. With what prey tell? ... My jalapino hands.

Let's let that thought marinate for a second...

Yeah. So at this juncture I am in tremendous amount of pain, my right eye ball is burning in a citrus Jalapino hell! As I bounce around trying to think of anything that can help that didn't envolve me touching my face, I slammed my hand on the counter. The rush of pain to my fingers prompted me to, yes stick them
In my mouth. Good lord right now I am just a hot mess. Burn and sore and freaking out I sat there helplessly crying with make up streaming out of one eye and waited for the storm to pass.
Stupid burning fire lemon storm. As soon as I could stand and function without looking like a drunk zombie, I thoroughly washes my hands.
I walked outside with my experiments and places them in the sun light. I stood there stairing at them, shooting love beams from my eyes into their bags and then realized what a disaster I was looking like... I was so happy and they are so so cute, I hope the germination works... I this how all gardeners are? Ai carumba

Bring Back the Dinosaurs.

I got a sign today that things are getting better. Not that they were bad but I guess I sort of achieved something. Without realizing it until I came here to write it down...for the first time today...maybe ever. I had one of those moments where you think to your self "Gawh, there is no where else on this earth I want to be right now." ... Its strange because I think I always had some kind of mental block about leaving Home and loving another city in another country but I always hoped that I could learn to love two places, three places, however many homes as you want as long as they hold people to love inside them. there homes.

So small known fact, actually something that I always thought was normal and now am feeling might sound weird writing it down buuuttttt... I enjoy watching Dinosaur movies (jurassic park, Dinosaur planet etc...) while eating pepperoni pizza. I keep my elbows tucked in at my side and make my arms look like t-rex arms. I have been known on occasion root for one dino over another in a one on one battle and comment on the commentary.

I do this alone and rarely. And it happened today!

I dont know how but today I just thought "im gonna grab some pizza" and got back. "mmmmm dinosaur planet yes." Started watching it... and all of a sudden a wash of happiness and love and almost relief just came over me and I realized that I do like it down here. I really do more and more. Its not what im used to and it certainly isn't perfect but I can love as many places as I want. Lets just say I have a crush on California. yes yes yes!!!! <3 <3 <3

Dear Head: get ready for a toque. *Some Golden Advice*

As I sit in the mountains of BC on a quiet morning, I finally feel at peace. I think this is the calmest i've been in months, sharing a comfortable silence with my sisters man ( Who can make one helluva good cup of coffee) as we both tippy tap on our computers. I'm listening to some Ella Fitzgerald and checking some emails before I get back to my knitting.

Yesterday my sister (*The ever talented knitter) set me up to knit a toque. Up until now, I would consider myself a beginner knitter. Now i've known how to knit since I was a little kid actually. . . I might have been the first of the sisters learn actually. . . hmmm maybe... I remember learning in front of the T.V from my mothers mother while we watched her show on tv. "her show" is which ever soap opera was on at the time, generally 'all my children.' classic. I think my dad still has the hourglass shaped "scarf" I made him...

I digress.

well just because you used to be able to knit doesn't make you some expert, similar to ridding bike, once you remember it it isn't hard to pick up again. BUT...if you have forgotten then it becomes increasingly challenging to fix any errors. Yesterday, my 'toque' looked like a cat wretched on some needles. In knots and nice colours to be sure. but still. it was AWEFUL. once my sister got home from work, one look and she was busting a gutt laughing.

Yeah your gonna have to re-start

WHAT?! common this thing is a beauty!

are you kidding.

...yes?...

and with that she yanked on my needles and with a few quick tugs, my hot mess returned from whence it came and resumed its former shape as yarn.

After figuring out that instead of pearling a pearl-like stitch, I was in fact SUPER pearling. (ie- adding stitches every single time as well as the ones that were meant to be there) and actually counting how many of each stitch i was doing, I found myself with the beginin's of a little toque.

Yesterday was spent relaxing after my 11 hour bus ride. Woof.

Of course the bus trip went like most do, very full, too packed, I found by my side a chatty cathy and he and I talked for most of the ride. I shared snacks with the girl behind me. It turns out she was from O town originally, moved to mtl then to Vancity and is headed back to O town for christmas! talk about a loooong ride. We swapped seat partners and giggled and munched and tried and failed at sleeping. We even made playlists of music for eachother, awesome bus ride.

So as I sit here and relax, I will pause and wait until tomorrow to write about vancouver.

I'll leave you with a little nugget of wisdom I got from a guy on the bus.

(When discussing dressing comfortably and general bus life)

"Dont try and impress anyone on a bus. Even if you smell a little funky...You wanna look like the stabber; not the stab-E"

- a gentleman and a scholar.

Greasy cheeseburger stranger love.

It was those dumb brown eyes. looking up at you like "yeah. yeah I did. I took a dump right beside the mat that you specifically laid out for me to use." My room-mates Pug would look up at me and blink in that sort of weird cute pug face that melts your heart. Because everytime he did that it ment that you still had to pick up crap off the floor and clean it and thus to fail, became "shitting beside the mat" IE - "Aw nerds I forgot to pick up beer on the way home! I am just shitting beside the mat right now!"

Anyways - Thursday morning before my flight to Van, I was just shitting beside the mat.

I had a moment, standing on the bathroom floor, about to take a shower, standing still and looking at my reflextion and thinking that one little word that we all go to when we are truely and utterly ----ed. I need to be AT the airport in an hour, im not showered or packed, nor do I have a ride. F^@%.

To my surprise I returned to my room post shower and threw in a few last minute essentials into my case. Luckly it is Friday and I am not noticing anything huge that i've forgotten. Boyfriend is a hero and left work to drive me to the airport which was really wonderful of him and it was a breeze threw the airport security and what not. My dad has told me since I was born that i have some kind of inexplicable luck. or "horseshoes up the arse" he calls it.

Once past secruity, I was looking for a quick place to grab some grub without blowing my already minimal travel budget. turning away from Wolfgang Puck's restaurant I was greeted by Burger King. nethier options that I was particularily willing to entertain. Turning back into look for a menu at wolfgang pucks, I collided with another diner on his way in. We chuckled and apologized and schuffled sideways. "Whatddu think?" he asks me. "Meh, it seems ...okay"... I answered.

we chatted a little and decided that it would be a burger king kind of day. After waiting in line together, I found that my new friend was from Nanaimo BC and had been travelling from south africa through dubai for the past two days. I asked for the time and realized that I had to board in fifteen minutes! My new friend insisted on paying for my cheese burger. I looked at him and said "thank you friend. truly, it was so nice to meet you." and he looked at me and said "K, it was so nice to know you, if only for a minute. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!" and with that I clutched my cheeseburger and we parted ways with two huge smiles. Life feels good.

I told my lady the story when she picked me up from the airport "How do you always find them?! those nice people? they flock to you or something"

I think it might be karma again, last week I bought a stranger at my school a printing card cause he didnt have the cash and needed to print a project. karma is delicious <3

Okay Vancouver, here we are! show us what you got!

Katie Mai; Queen of the gingerbread rodeo

For years decorating gingerbread houses had been a tradition in my family. Every year my mother would go nutts making gingerbread house pieces from a stencil set she made and had the kids of our families and friends come over and make a house.

with an assortement of bon bons in bowls, dishes and cups - our houses looked like a comparable miniture Willy Wonka factories.

Eventually the kids would hit a peak and the delicate balances would tip from excited to sugar high and concentration was brought to a screetching halt once a roof slid off or a cookie broke.

Then it was the parents turn. Mum's took the cookies and laughed as they decorated and dad's suddenly became architechts, using tooth picks as supplies and playing with the consistancy of the icing to acheive better adhision.

times were simpler then.

my class made ginger bread houses for class last week and well just say. . . it wasn't my first rodeo. . .

after the making of the dough, rolling it out, cutting out peices, baking and shaping them to fit better together, we made our royal icing. Right away I knew that I had to play my cards right, these little cookie houses can get the best of you and knock the holly jolly out of some newbies. But I know the tricks.

Slowly I start construction by forming the front of my house to one of the side walls. while being a somewhat easy peice to put together, I took this time to re-enforce it and all its sides. this is to be my foundation. assembling the other side wall and back piece were the next challenges.

ppfffttt challenges for some. I sat patiently holding my four sides of my house while I let the Glue- ICING ... I mean icing ...set.

Rule #1 of gingerbread houses - be. patient.

Around me people were racing to finish first, in the blink of an eye the roofs were up before the walls were dry and just like that. . .

the walls started to fall. without fail, like i knew they would. shrieks and cries of horror and dismay errupted one by one as new home owners and builders begged for the use of an extra hand nearby or for a solution as to why there candycane mansions were all but ruins.

A girl beside me became enraged and slammed her fists into the table and smashed her house. the cookies didnt break but the house was ...well the house was a mound of icing and cookies.

pouting and angry she stared at the house. The house didn't take kindly to death glares and would prove to be a bother until its untimely demise. (*in the end the house was assaulted with fists full of rainbow nerds. If hippies and weirdoes lived in gingerbread houses, this would be the one. One giant candy acid trip with crazy windows with every wall slanted. Holding your breath just looking at it fearing that breathing would knock it down. Later it was infact, knocked down and ultimately thrown with passionate contempt, into the garbage. )

Across from me a young women said "well common now we just have to wait and let it dry" her house was drying fine but she was making one of the oldest mistakes in the book.

LOADING up the roof before it was even on the house. Peppermint bonbons side by side allllll over.

Lemmie tell you why this is a mistake.

1) its hard to keep candies nice when your hands are full of icing pushing all up on 'em.

2) your house cannot support this weight.

3) YOUR HOUSE CANNOT SUPPORT THIS WEIGHT.

sadly I watches as her wall too, collapsed with a sigh under the weight of the candied roof. she laughed in good spirits and I giggled too until I began to put my roof together. Although it wasn't candy heavy, it was. . . well. . . okay lets just say its good im not into archetecture, blue prints or house making of the real variety. . .

My roof fit the sides of my house fine but running ontop my roof, between the two pieces was a gap big enough for about the width of three pieces of licorice. Whats worse was how pourly my chimney was fitting ( or not fitting) on my roof (or pieces of a roof that let in alot of. . .well sky) knowing that this was going to be a big mark losing snafu, I took one of the extra strips i had cut and baked and placed it on top. (* i've learned that baking little ginger bread style band-aids will save your caboose when gingerbread housing) So with the roof sealed up, chimney (*or chimbley as I like to call them) hideously attached but stable, I looked at my house.

Rule #2 about ginger bread houses. - Beauty is always secondary to stability. Once a house is stable and sterdy, you can decorate the living baby cheese out of that tasty abode.

Rule #3 about ginger bread houses - Candy can hide all mistakes.

Looking at the chimney, I patched up the heinous gap where the roof didnt actually meet the chimney (...at all) with a peppermint yumyum and another on the back.

My decorating continued and the rest of my house was (in my opinion) innovative and what I could call "candy chic". this lil baby got me an A. queen of the gingerbread rodeo.

Bleh why am I so sick?!

Yesterday I felt really bad, walking out of the room to go to class i had on my chef pants, my jacket completely undone sunglasses on. I felt almost faded. eyed half closed even though it was past noon. fighting this wierd alergy/sickness thing that i've had for 90% of my time down here and my stomach is making some weeeeird noises. (*even now the next day im sitting in bed and cant breathe and my throat feels like its being ripped apart.)I guess thats what you get for only ingesting exclusively Coffee and Blue gatorade so far. Oh well off to chocolate class we go! Wheeeee! one of these days im gonna look back and think wow. what the F*&k was i doing to my body in my twenties.

Ah yes. a young broke sick culinary student. Livin the dream.

I will get better. i have to. yoga today - NO farting.

EColi: A Love Story

This is a true story that I wrote for a class project.

Enjoy and Laugh.

For Chef Pattie

E.Coli: A Love Story.

Most people would agree that few things in life are as sweet as a long weekend. The much anticipated, waited for and dreamed about days off when plans for just about any activity can become a reality. This long weekend that just passed was to be my very first American thanksgiving. Bring on the red white and blue, I had been baking pies for days before hand to dish out to friends and family to show my support of a crazy thanksgiving that was (In my Canadian opinion) one month late. The morning of turkey day, the boyfriend and I woke up and decided that today was a day to not break our fast but to wait in anticipation for the turkey awaiting us later. We helped around one household, fixing things and what not. Said our goodbyes and headed over to a friends house, from there we were on to the main event. I was so hungry at this point in time that I literally feared for the life of anyone who was brave or stupid enough to come between me and that plate of mashed potatoes. Diner was a success, both my pies were inhaled and we left for the comforts of our beds pumped full of tryptophan and gravy thinking that this was the American dream. Little did we know what was waiting for us around the corner . .

The next day was beautiful. The weather was perfect and I was beyond pleased to find myself at the end of November and still in shorts. I re-potted some plants as boyfriend replaced the breaks on my car. I hopped on my strand cruiser and peddled down to the old Taco shop “Poncho’s Taco’s” just around the corner. Knowing what my honey likes, I ordered one carne asada burrito with everything on it for him and one carne asada taco for little old me to go. I peddled back on home and surprised boyfriend with a Mexican lunch to compliment our-oh so American dinner. We sat together and ate and lounged in the warm sun and relished the thoughts that we still had a whole two and a half days off.

Saturday night we decided to have a BBQ. We invited three other couples over and I spent much of the night playing with our friend’s three-year-old daughter. After we ate and watched a little football, it was decided that we would go over to one of the couples houses to play a few drinking games. Having just started feeling the glorious pains that come every month with being a woman, I decided to be the designated driver and not drink. I sat on the couch reading a magazine, writhing in pain when one of our friends came into the room “Hey – Johnny just threw up!” I sprung to my feet and met him in the kitchen. He looked fine and said, “Yeah dude. That was so weird but I feel fine now.” We decided that he would play one more round of beer pong and then we would call it a night. I had just sat down on the couch and resumed my magazine – cramps combo when he came back into the room. His face was pale as he looked at me, “Can we leave soon? Please? Like . . . now?” Not feeling so hot myself, I was more than happy to go. I made a quick round to say goodbye and we got into the car. On the way home we discussed why John could be feeling so sick. “I really don’t think it was the beer.” He said, he had only had maybe four beers since the beginning of the BBQ and for a man of his size (6’2, 190lbs) that was nothing. We got back to the house and retreated to our backyard bachelor room and lay down. Me on the bed, him on the couch. I began to feel nauseous. Trying to focus my attention on anything that wouldn’t make me vomit, I began to have those all too familiar telltale signs that I might at any given time, spew my cookies. Every texture around me made me queasy. The paint on the wall looked too much like cottage cheese (Which makes me uncomfortable on a good day), the duvet was too soft and wavy. Finally I focused on a photograph with a dock sitting in the water. “Babe? I think… I think…I’m gonna-…” and with that my boyfriend dashed across the room, nearly ripped the doors off the hinges and vaulted into the backyard to unleash a stream of projectile vomit into the garden. Snapping out of my ill daze for a moment, I ran to him with water and tissue and coo-ed softly hoping to make him feel better. Back and forth and back and forth he went, couch to garden, couch to garden.

My mind was a mess trying to source out what could possibly be making my poor boy sick. I slipped on my detective’s hat and began to investigate and look at the facts. It couldn’t have been the beer. He and his friends had not been drinking a lot and I know that he can hold his alcohol. Even if it was the beer, there is no way that he would be THIS sick. Beer was out. Maybe it was from thanksgiving? Turkey? or perhaps the stuffing? No, I had spoken to his sister today and no mention of anyone else being sick. Turkey day was not the culprit. Horror filled my head at the thought that maybe WE had made people sick with the BBQ! My thoughts went right away to the three year old girl. If she ate beef that was undercooked and contaminated with E.Coli, she could be very VERY sick. Still, nobody else was sick but him. My nausea returned. My breathing was very heavy and my heart started beating out of my chest. I was salivating too. Very unlike normal menstrual cramps. Suddenly, a light bulb came on. “John . . . I’ll put 100 bucks on E. Coli… and I hate to tell you this baby but the worse is yet to come.”

He blinked at me a few seconds, confused about what I had just said and fighting the urge to purge. “What?” he said. I explained “ it all makes sense now. I’m not in pain from my cramps, I’m sick with it too. E. Coli can live in your body for a while before it produces toxins in your intestines! It was Poncho’s. Poncho’s stupid bloody tacos honey! It has to be! Poncho’s tacos, is the only food that you and I exclusively ate this weekend. With no one else getting sick, that’s got to be it! We both had the carne asada. You are throwing up and I’m pretty close – both symptoms of E.Coli! The only thing missing is- ” John bolted for the door. This time he ran inside the house, to the bathroom and slammed the door. “ – Diarrhea…”

E. Coli is found primarily in beef, whether it was time/temperature abused or cross contaminated is unclear but the facts were in and I was positive. E.coli. It made sense as to why he was so much sicker than me. While I ate a taco the size of my hand, he ate a burrito the size of a new born. My poor man crawled out of the bathroom long enough to say “Baby, I think I need to camp in here for the night. You should go back to bed.” And with that he quickly retreated to expel the demons within, though from which end I’m not entirely sure. I grabbed some blankets and made haste in making a sort of floor nest type thing. John crept to the floor nest and shivered with cold. Knowing that his body was fighting the sickness, I waited until I was in a happy place of cramping but not nauseous and I ran back to our room for supplies. I returned to my shivering sweetheart on the floor and covered him with more blankets. Not wanting to be touched of cuddled (Understandably) I lay down beside him and waited for the storm to pass. Trailing his favorite blanket like a cape, my 4-year-old boy in a 23 year olds body went back and forth to the bathroom all night. Once he got back he would huddle on the floor like a turtle or in the fetal position curled up with his head under the blankets. I stayed awake all night with him and near 4 o clock in the morning he seemed to catch a break. He could sit still for ten straight minutes without having to wretch from ether direction. I looked him over checking for his coloring; knowing that E. Coli can in severe cases, cause Kidney failure. I knew that jaundice wouldn’t set in that fast but I was taking no chances.

From under the blankets in the fetal position, a hand crept out from the dark.

“Thank you for staying with me all night babe. I love you so much” the whisper said. In the dark of the morning, with dawn still a dream away; my eyes watered a little as I clutched his hand. “Of course my darling, I would never leave. I love you and I think the worst is behind you now.” By six o’clock in the morning, my Johnny bug was able to move back to our bed. Thankfully I had nothing more than some warning signs on vomiting and some gnarly business from my behind so I remained vigilant as his nurse. We slept from six am until ten and I got up to begin the healing process. He told me how badly his body was hurting. I knew that he would need rest and that even if his stomach was sensitive and weak, it would need something to start to feel better. Hot chicken broth, water and a little ginger ale were slowly ingested and to my relief- kept down. The next few hours were a mix of my driving around looking for the staples – more soup and not the gross ones found in the cupboard that had been there since the birth of the time, Gatorade – specifically the lemon-lime, crackers, bingo and crossword scratchers etc. Once I got home and we were together again cuddled in bed with scratchers, Gatorade, soup and movies, I asked boyfriend a serious question. “How long since you pooped before getting sick? Maybe once right?” -Right he said. I wondered how easy it would be to take a stool sample and check if I was right.

Later on that day, while we were inside, we found out that another member of the family has slept a sleepless night on the bathroom floor with the exact same symptoms – after eating poncho’s tacos. What was so scary is that she has a two-year-old boy. I shudder to think what would have happened had he eaten the sickening meat. I wrote down the number to this taco place and looking forward to calling and ripping a new one into whoever it was who let this sickness ruin our long weekend. Even though it brought Johnny and I together to fight something gnarly this weekend was still pretty awesome. But I wont be telling them that.

“Babe I was Sh&%$ing and barfing everywhere. I can’t believe you love me this much” – Boyfriend

The Dangers of Downward facing Dog.

Being broke as a joke, I decided that a great way to spend what little money I have would be to get a gym pass. this makes sense to me because

A) if I have no cash and cant go out I should at least do something productive.

B) the whole "work out at home" has more often than not turned into couch marathons coupled with a variety of counter productive snacks.

and C) I am not doing a month to month thing and because all of our friends go there and I bought a two year membership at costco for way cheaper.

SO. . . last friday I went to yoga.

Now i enjoy yoga, I like the feeling I like the moving, the breathing, the whole shi-bang and I feel great afterwards. During however I look like a monster. I am wearing some kind of old t-shirt, huffing and puffing - concentrating on my breaths, red faced and shaking trying to hold a pose. I dont mean to be lude. . . but it looks like whatever difficult position your in, your trying to take a big poo.

I digress.

So friday was nice, it was a slower class and not only did i look like I was not trying to defecate, but I was much more confident in my poses and was looking less and less at the instructor. To my left was my friend down here, a born and raised So Cal babe and to my right was this lady. Now im not one to be stereo typical but this lady seemed to be the idea of LA to me. I was in total awe.

Wearing a violet velour track suite (* for my fellas reading this, thats like an almost velvet material) with rhinestones and what not on it, she had looong yellow blonde hair which was about as real as Pere Noel and some shirt rockets that would get Dolly Parton looking twice.

my favourite part of yoga is that one move where you go from lying on your back to rolling back onto your shoulders and putting your legs straight up into the air. You spread into the splits, you split into scissors. . . you. . .

oh for the love of. . .

are you. . .

are you kidding me?!

sweet baby cheeses!

LA lady beside me is doing all these twisty leg things ON HER HEAD.

full on head stand using her forearms as a base around her head, just bending around like Betty Spaghetti. Eyes closed, not givin a hoot. once she was done that and with half an hour still left in class, she gets up, rolls up the yoga matt and leaves.

Now that was incredible but what really got me was that the whole time she was there, her Tah- Tahs never moved at all! standing up, lying flat, twisting and literally upside down, the sweater puppies showed un believable amounts of discipline.

After her mini circe de soleil act, we normal people went back to our average yoga.

Ahhhhhh one of the best stretches is the downward facing dog. this means that you make almost a triangle with the floor in that your hands and feet are planted, butt straight up in the air and you streeeetch out.

*Grumble*

. . . what was that. . .

ruuuuuummmmbbbbllleeee

. . oh dear lord. . .

*GuRggggGGlle*

oooohhh boy. . .

And with that, my light dinner had resurfaced as light gas. I can feel this fart building behind my butt cheeks and all of a sudden "keeping my gluts contracted" had a whoooole other meaning.

I glanced around the room of my zen minded class mates and began to think.

it was clear that I could NOT hold this little fire ball in but timing was of the essences. If i acted too boldly and let loose the demon... AND if at that point in time and the fart gods curse me with a loud wet one. . . well I would die of embarrassment. But I couldn't just keep it in!. . . could I wait until we had a position where my arse wasn't trying to kiss the ceiling slash pose as an immediate threat to the air supply?

I decided to be bold. While still in downward facing dog, with the light sounds of rain forrest CD playing, I carefully let the first grasps of my fart out. no shreiking. no air escaping a balloon. . . nothing. safety. with relief and control I let my fart out swiftly and thankfully silently.

at the end of the class as our instructor spoke softly to us during our meditation she encouraged us to think about what it is today in our lives that we are thankful for.

I was thankful for silent farts.

bleh

Dear Guy sitting in my class who annoys the crap outta me,

I dont know why you are in this class and frankly I dont care. However, I find it rude and disrespectful that you sit in front of me, tilt your head back and snooze.

Now I understand how tired we students are, I myself am stressed out to the eyeballs and maybe I would have a little more compassion if you tried a little harder. But you sit in class, waste everyones time with your stupid comments that NEVER contribute to discussion and then SNORE when you sleep.

Do you have any idea what it took to get me down here and into this school? Do you know that I am literally BLEEDING money. For you to take this class is 36$ US a unit. I pay 260$us a unit. I can't get a job and am living off the tail end of a loan. So dont sit there like a complete moron and waste my time and money.

You are rude and inconsiderate.

Wooooooof good I had to get that off my chest.

I = stress ball.

I dont have inspiration to write more, im sorry bloggity blog, I thought I had more but im tapped already for the day.

later gater

misskayteamai and the big bad free way

I feel like the seasons are changing. Or as much as I imagine and can confirm that they do if fact fluctuate a little in SoCal. Im driving on the free way and on purpose because I choose to and not because I got lost and confused . . .which is good!

I am feeling better around my surroundings and am starting to really feel that close bond with friends from school. . .the kind of bond that always reminds me of the breakfast club?

I get these feelings like "oh man I should blog about this or write this down as like a story of my life" (Not that I think my life is worth reading for over others I just feel like if I have a story about every time and chapter in my life then ill never forget them and thats somehow comforting to me. weird huh? ) anyhoo.

Im feeling good about it.

Im heading to a new place this weekend that i've never been and im very excited about it. apparently I can get a humongus and awkward to eat burritto so Im looking forward. always forward.

I started an account that I put pictures up in its called instagram and if you care to follow the photos of mine, my name is the one in the title of this entry : misskayteamai

nestle is bad

yuck. keep this in mind while buying halloween candies.

do not buy anything from nestle. bad bad bad

http://www.cultureunplugged.com/documentary/watch-online/festival/play/4809/The-Dark-Side-of-Chocolate

Zombie Survival Plan.

So this week i've had to come to terms with an irrational fear that I have of those Lifeless sacks of flesh called zombies.

Now generally I can deal with scary movies (*As long as I look through my fingers) and I am pretty capable of dissuading myself into believing that the chances of being attacked by a serial killer or in the fashion of some SAW movie (*which I have never seen nor do I plan to - I firmly believe that ignorance in this case is bliss.) is statistically one in a million. - I also use this reverse affect when it comes to buying things while shopping. . .*Sigh*.

So Man and I sat down and watched season 1 of The Walking Dead on netflix.

Mistake.

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THAT SHOW?! The first four minutes went something like this:

Babe- you are gonna LOVE this show. trust me

mmm i Dunno. . .I still . . .auh. . . I like zombies but . . . okay lets try.

*Two minutes later*

NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO F*%$ING WAY. sorry. you can watch this alone.

aaaaand thats all I saw of episode one.

Man continued to watch epi two and I read my book and listened to music in the other room. With man feeling under the weather, he stayed in bed all day. Taking this rare opportunity to cuddle the living bezeejus out of him (*Who is constantly on the go moving moving moving) and let my nursing instincts kick in. Toast with a little butter, Ginger ale, assortment of crackers.

Wanting to spend time with him. I stayed for episode three.

By the end of the season, my head was nothing but a blur of "What if"s "Holy Sh!t"s and a lot of "ohmigawdd we are all gonna die once this thing goes down". (*Thing = zombie apocalypse clearly)

That night was beyond sleepless. If I got a total of two hours I will be very surprised.

every sound outside - Zombies.

Rustle of an animal in the tree - Zombies climbing over fences to eat me.

Silence - Zombies staring at me through the window thinking about how pink and creative my brain must taste like and how they would like to eat it or maybe fry it up with some farva beans and a nice bottle of chianti. . . Some times I let myself get carried away.

I was upset for the first time in my life over not knowing how to assemble and fire a gun. and I mentally kicked myself for not asking my parents to put me into archery as a child or ask for a cross bow for christmas (*re-useable amo, smart right?)

After some furious texting to my support crew back home, someone thankfully sent me a very helpfull link that I will post belong to quelle your fears too.

I rolled over to him who was sort of awake after all my uncomfortable shifting in bed.

- hey. are you awake?

mummble mummble bleh? mummble

okay perfect. heres the plan. zombie-pocolipse - we get your gun. get on the motorcycle and head straight for Canada. Zombies freeze.

mummble mummble wha? mummble

Okay or Arizona, they cant stand heat. THEN Canada.

mummble okay canada, arizona.

Did you lock the doors?!

are you serious right now?

. . . maybe. . .

*SIGH*

okay fiiiine im scared. im terrified and i haven't slept all night. IF they are real and they come don't let me be one. get it over with before and make sure to take care of me first cause you know you have to shoot them int he head and destroy the brain and i don't think i could do that to you, you know i'm not that strong of a person, I would really freak out about it and I just cant handle that kind of...

goodnight K.

Now that I have formulated A zombie plan, went through the house and backyard and found everything that would be a good weapon and how to use them. I feel okay.

Next for the time: Paranormal Activity 2.

whyyyy do I put myself through this?! . . . I wonder how receptive the other watchers would be to maybe watching Cloudy with a chance of meatballs instead. . .

http://www.cracked.com/article_18683_7-scientific-reasons-zombie-outbreak-would-fail-quickly.html