I lost my marbles so I borrowed some from my bartender

This is NOT Louis.

My title makes sense I swear to Chocolate it will make sense.

My mother decided to take me out for drinks on Black Friday with our favorite bartender who now works at a place where drinks are so expensive, we plan our trips and look forward to it. It's one of those restaurants local doctors and hoity toity's brag about going to because they are so outrageously priced for the area (not that bad for New York City).

Anyway, the bartender, Louis, has been a favorite. Not only can he make the best martinis, ones I can actually drink without it being too sweet or too alcoholly, but he's like therapy. I call him my therapist. One who has no license and we do hug and kiss, so ethics is kind of out the window too on that. Really we do. I tell the husband. He's stuck with it. We don't make out. We just greet each other with a big hug and a good smack on the lips. People in Europe do that.

Last night, we get there, and Louis talked a lot about his real therapist. He has PTSD like I do. We've talked about it before, and this therapist is a good one. Actually, I've not gone to therapy for my PTSD because the therapeutic choice of all choices is to ask you a bunch of questions about the trauamatic incident making you relive it over and over again, and that made my PTSD worse, not better. I think I have PTSD from the therapy of my PTSD because seeing a shrink makes me all kinds of I want to throw up. This therapist, however, does not use that therapy. That, I would go to.

At some point in the conversation, Louis hands me 2 marbles from his pocket. He said that one marble is, "Everything is going to be ok," and the other marble is, "I'm going to be all right." Put them in your pocket and you'll be amazed how many times you reach in your pocket and can feel these marbles reminding yourself that everything is going to be ok and you are going to be all right.

Well, being female, I don't have a pocket most of the time, and if I do, well let's just say i frequently find 20 dollars I have no idea where it came from last year in a pocket... My purse is also a bad idea. It hoards pieces of chocolate and what nots that I wouldn't tell the difference between a gumball and a marble while fishing for that cell phone. But my wallet, now I go into that baby too many times a day. So, that's where I'm keeping my marbles. My wallet.

Now I don't think Louis is aware that I actually lost my marbles and went to the farm. That totally gives this an angelic God appeal to it, like the Lord, He works in mysterious ways. Louis followed his instinct and it was exactly what I needed when I needed it.

And to make it more special, the marbles were made by Louis's father. He made marbles for a living.

So this black friday, I'm thankful for marbles. I'm thankful for awesome bartenders too. I left that bar with a good buzz from a good martini (my mom was driving) and some replacement marbles. Now their prices don't seem that extreme afterall.

Did you run out of things to be Thankful for?

I've noticed a trend on my Facebook. All my friends who started out the month thanking something every day has stopped (they started weening out around Day 15).

I'm not going to assume they got lazy and have lack of follow through. I'm going to assume they ran out of shit to be thankful for. I mean, after you get through family members, God and your church, your house, your food, Channing Tatum, what is left?

So here are some ideas of things to be thankful for that I am thankful for.


1. Health, easy to overlook when you are healthy. If you are not, it's your biggest wish.

2. Your soldiers and veterans. You should have done that on Veterans Day, but if you didn't, do it now. If you hate soldiers, get off my blog.

3. Chairs and the guy who invented them. You are sitting on one now are you not? Like how much of your day is spent thinking, "I can't wait to sit down." Then you do and it's like, "Awwww yeah." Could you imagine life if nobody invented the chair?

4. God, because he made you, or he made the monkeys you came from, oops apes, is that it? Whatever you believe, God had a hand at it. Well, whether you believe it or not, you should thank Him just in case. If you don't forward this post, he will smite... I'm kidding. Why are those always on the religious ones?

5. Your guardian angel. They are trying to save you, probably from yourself. I know i'm getting into beliefs here, like they might not exist right? Some of you believe and some don't. But the thing is, the thought of having a superior being surround you, comforting you, protecting you, is a beautiful belief that helps some people sleep at night, and that is something to be thankful for.

6. The Elf on the Shelf. If it makes your kids behave, it's something to be thankful for. The stalker elf is watching. Shut the door to your bathroom when you go, he will peek. Pervert.

7. Tobacco. For Americans. This country was founded on tobacco, like that was what we traded early on and was the foundation to help us grow as opposed to just dying in the wilderness. If you are going to go into the Thanksgiving dinner with pilgrims and corn, you should smoke a pipe too. I'm kidding. It's addicting. Don't smoke.

8. The eff word. When you can't find the words to say how you feel, the f-word. It's also fun and it's where children come from. Many reasons to be thankful for this word.

9. Coffee. I mean how would some of us wake up for the day without coooofffffffeeeeeee?

10. Vodka. This is just so obvious I can't really comment.

11. Modern Kitchen Appliances. I can't imagine creating a Thanksgiving dinner back in the day before stuff like the mixer, the dishwasher, the gas/electric oven/stove, the fridge, and above all, the microwave. I don't really cook everything in the microwave. It's the easy bake oven for adults, like it's easy, but it tastes like it came from an easy bake oven. Anyway, as I prepare food, I'm so thankful for modern technology and that I'm not plucking feathers from a dead turkey that the husband threw on the sink (you know the men of the past just plopped dead meat somewhere annoying every time).

12. The Ground. If it wasn't there, you'd have to fly, and humans don't fly (neither do pigs) so that would end badly somehow.

13. Hugs. Not the Hershey's kind though you can be thankful for that too, which brings me to...

14. Chocolate. I medicate my PMS with chocolate. I know I'm not the only one.

15. I was going to do something silly like your meds, as I'm sure everyone is thankful for their meds, but no the last one should be serious right? Be thankful for yourself. I'm very thankful I exist. I am a good person who helps people and contributes to the world, and I'm thankful I'm here. You too contribute, and you should be thankful that you are here.

You know as I'm writing this blog, my daughter informs me randomly that at school she put that she was thankful for God and her sister. That made me kinda proud for a moment, especially since we don't go to church for God to be on her mind like that. That sort of thing must happen when you name your kids after angels.

Note: I am thankful for my family. This isn't a blog post on what I'm thankful for as much as creative ones for other people to use.

I'm trying to Quit Smoking

If you told me I would die tomorrow if I have another cigarette, I could stare directly at my children and light a cigarette. I still fear death. I don't want to die. But you can't scare away addiction. It's fearless, even if you aren't.

I want to quit smoking. I don't like my children around it. Some suggest it's a form of child abuse now a days, like it's only a matter of time before Child Protection Services adds that to their long list of abuse and neglect (of course, it's abuse if you don't give your kid amphetamines if that's what he is prescribed). I don't like a lot of people to know I smoke. I hide it on Facebook with most of those people I never actually see. I don't like the smell of smoke. Reread that. A smoker doesn't like the smell of smoke. I don't like the graveyard of cigarettes in the ashtray, every ash haunting my things constantly needing dusted off. Too much foreshadowing? Maybe? I watched my father die of cancer. His last wish was for me to quit smoking. I mean, why haven't I already?

There's plenty more reasons I'd want to quit, but I still don't actually want to quit. As I type this right now, I'm thinking about my next cigarette. I'm telling myself I can't have one until I finish writing this, so you might get an unedited piece of shit article because I decided a cigarette was more important than this blog for one moment.

I've been analyzing the why's I smoke. I do the thing most smokers do. I smoke to wake up and to go to sleep. Because I'm hungry and because I'm full. Because I'm bored, because I'm busy. Because I live. Because I might die. Every thing. EVERY. FUCKING. THING. I smoke while I shit, and I smoke the victory cigarette when I'm done. It's that bad.

But is that WHY I really smoke? No. I think I do it to numb the pain of living. Nothing like a little bit of death to help you escape life. That's exactly why I smoke.

The perpetual cycle is this... I don't think I can quit while my life is all messed up. It is my coping mechanism, and while life is crazy, while my house is unorganized, my bills not in order, my kids not on schedule, while I'm like that, I can't add quitting. I'll be back at the funny farm for emotional overload. The cigarette is the reason why I can look at my house and not cry about it. BUT, I don't think I will fix my life while I'm smoking because the cigarette makes it possible for me to look at my house and not cry about it. I don't have the emotional motivation. I don't want too much emotion here, just enough. But I don't get to make that call about how much emotion I get to feel, or do I?

Anyway, this is my quitting smoking blog post. I need a plan, a real one. People quit every day, but there's a reason a lot of people don't quit. Many of them want to. Many try. There's a reason they fail. There's a reason I failed at quitting in the past. I don't think it's will power. I think it's psychological. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm just a big fucking baby in mamby pamby waaah I want my cigarette land. But I think I'm the person who can't possibly quit, and I think I'm going to die much sooner than I want to if I don't. So I have to explore this, and I'm sharing it with you guys. Addiction is a bitch. I'd say one that needs to be smacked into submission, but I scare people off with that. I don't know why. If you are a prostitute, I don't mean to bring up old tears, tell your pimp to go suck himself.

Crazy, Unwell, Whatever.

I'm at a gas station and a guy walks up to pay right behind me right as I say, "I'm going to try some birth control and see what happens." What was the conversation? Mind you, this is the gas station I go to all the time. They know me. They will let me leave and come back to pay for my gas.

I approach the counter with my Diet Coke and Donut. I repeat that like there's something wrong with it. The woman didn't think there was something wrong with this. I think it's obvious. DIET soda and a DONUT. Diet and Donut do not belong in the same sentence together. BTW, the donut was delicious and it was worth every calorie.

With that said, for more oxymoronic nonsense, I tell the lady...

Me: I stopped taking my medication because it makes me gain weight and I'd rather be crazy than fat.

She, Debbie: (Laughing Hysterically) What were you taking? Something for your anxiety?

Thought note here: My anxiety is that obvious I see.

Me: Well actually the doctor diagnosed me with bipolar during PMS. He was like, "Your moods are leveling out I think these meds are where they need to be," when really I just started my period.

Debbie: (Laughing hysterically)

Me: (as I'm walking away) I'm going to try some birth control pills and see what happens.

Guy: (Weird look)

Me: Well, not for birth control, for the hormones. Well.... Debbie's seen my kids. I obviously need birth control too...

Debbie: (Barely able to hold herself up laughing)

I left. Like that. Just like that.

Goodbye LoverFaces

Edited... I'm not quitting the blog. I know that I need to spend more time on the family and less on the computer, but I was listening to advice from the wrong person when it came to the subject of quitting the blog... so I'm not quitting it like I was thinking about. I'm not crazy I'm just a little unwell I know right now you can't tell but...

Love you all for reading me.

I had the following underneath in drafts.


So I was talking with a friend thinking, "Well I think I'm going to try to stop making so many goals for the time I'm alone with the kids, like it's just too stressful trying to accomplish something with 3 kids needing stuff every 5 seconds, but cleaning is ok. I think I'll just start planning to clean when I am home alone with the kids because when they need something, I'm already up moving around..."

Yeah.

It seems like only yesterday when I was all, "I can't fucking clean anything with these kids here. Someone needs to take them out of the house for a while so I can clean." Weird. 

Moms all over the world will tell you that cleaning with the kids home is futile. But I had to. They were always home and CPS has issues about civilizations growing in a pot on your stove, so I had to. I had to figure it the fuck out, and today is the day where I realized I sort of have to an extent.

Don't get me wrong, June Cleaver would scream in fits of horror entering my house. It's still a mess, but a manageable one, and fresh. A fresh mess. Always a fresh mess. But the thing is, I did it. 

I. Did. It.

Here I'm thinking I can't do it. I am still thinking I can't do it. Clean with the kids here. Impossible. I can't do it. I just want a clean house. Impossible. I can't do it. 

Wait.

I did. 

I already had. It's like the moment in the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy realizes she had the power to go home with her the whole time because the "good" witch left that out in the beginning. Bitch. 

So I'm telling you moms out there who say, "I can't do it," I'm telling you to look around. You are doing it. You have been doing it. Just keep doing.

Where are you God? My soul. My Mind. Lost.

I think that everyone has free will to believe whatever the fuck they want to believe, and pushing your standards and beliefs on others is distasteful and annoying. With that said, I'm not trying to push beliefs down your throat here. In fact, you don't have to read this. It really goes out to the Christians out there who like me, love God but can't find sanctuary in a church.

Do you ever wonder in the middle of the chaos of your life, "Where are you God? If you love me, why aren't you here helping me? Where are you?"

Do you remember the part of the Bible where Jesus said, "So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you."

Basically I'm saying there was this time where I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, and I didn't fear evil, but I wondered where God was because he promised in writing he'd be with me. Well through the months of that, the months leading up to my vacation at the funny farm, these two old bitty women knocked on my door and invited me to a Baptist Church in town. Their names were also Laverne (something that sounded like it) and Shirley.

That was God. That's where He was trying to walk with me. I'm a dumbass who ignored it. I bet if I went to that church, I'd not have gotten as bad as I did. I'm planning to go this Sunday with the kids. Their children's church has puppets. I kind of want to go to that one.

I'm just taking a minute to say to you, if you wonder where God is in your life, you have to seek Him. Heaven is a place where the way in is the Homeboy Hookup. You gotta know Jesus/God. You have to know Him well enough for Him to say He knows you. God doesn't know my kids beyond my prayers at this point... And me? Remember that tree Eve ate from? Yeah, I ate the whole thing. I even made pies. I'm hopeless.

But the point is, if you want to know where God is in your life, don't ask God where He is. Ask yourself where you are.

On a side note: I'm going to start taking the kids to church. Their soul is their decision, but as a mom, I need to let them know their options. Plus it would be nice for someone to be like, "Listen to your mom when she talks or you are going to hell."

Sloppy Wills

Move over Sloppy Joe. Sloppy Wills are coming in with a little more deliciousness yet the same ease. I chose to name them Sloppy Wills because they are Philly Cheesesteaks with a twist, and Will Smith. It was Sloppy Wills, or Sloppy Slys (Rocky). Will won because he's the Fresh Prince of Bellaire.

I based this on a recipe floating around the Facebooks and Pinterest and my friend Joy's recipe for Philly Cheesesteaks (she makes the best).



Ingredients:

Two-ish pounds of Ground Beef
1 package of brown gravy powder (can substitute with 2 beef bouillon cubes and some corn starch)
1 Green Pepper
1 Onion
1 thing of fresh mushrooms
A 2 cup bag of Shredded Mozzarella
5 TBSP of Mayo
Hot Dog Buns
I don't usually measure ingredients, so these are just estimates.

Brown beef. I usually use a wok. Dump the grease in the sink/garbage. Not all of it. Just most of it. Throw the green pepper and onion and mushrooms into a vegetable chopper (or slice/chop them by hand). Add those to the browned beef. Add the gravy packet. Once cooked enough, dump the cheese and mayo and stir.

You can serve on bread or buns, but I prefer hotdog buns.