The Best Laid Plans Go To St. Croix

I seriously need to read my own blog more often. Well, and also I should probably write more. Yesterday, someone asked me what I do to relax, and I had to ask King to be able to answer. I have no idea. I have spent the last several months running nonstop, preparing for a move, moving, settling, scrambling to pay bills, trying to network, take care of children, and maintain a social life (WHAT?!).

I just went back and read my last entry, and I am so glad that I did. It was perfect timing. Sometimes we all need a little inspiration and a kick in the ass. I'm there. So, since I've been neglecting everyone since MARCH(?!?!), I shall give you an update.

In March, we had decided to move in 12 months. As some of the best laid plans do, this one went astray...all the way to St. Croix. So I suppose this plan didn't so much go astray as it did go into hyper-drive. Regardless, lots of things have happened since then: good, bad, and who-gives-a-damn kinda things.

I visited this island paradise in April, and it was love at first sight. I was so enamored, in fact, that I didn't want to leave. I did, though, and I told King when I stepped off the plane in Indy that we were going to move sooner. We moved June 1st, 2013, and there is no looking back. There is only looking forward...to the ocean, to the sunsets, to the cheap rum(!), and to all the amazing experiences that we have each day.

The people here are so different than anywhere else. Is there drama? Of course! No place would be complete without a little storyline, right? What is here, though, that you don't find stateside is unconditional generosity and love. I'm not sure this place is overly religious or anything, but the golden rule here is to love thy neighbor...and his neighbor, and his brother's neighbor...aww, hell....just love everybody! And buy he a next one, irie? (That's Crucian speak for: and buy him another drink, all right?) We bought a car, and it broke down after a couple months of being here. Someone that we barely knew offered to allow us to use his vehicle while we were waiting to fix ours because he had three and only needed two. That's just ONE example. It is ingrained in the culture here to protect and help one another, to be there for each other, and just to simply love.

Anyway, I haven't seen McHottie since just before we moved (sigh). I miss him. I miss his encouraging words, his comfy sofa, and his ability to make me see through the crazy in my life. However, crazy has most definitely taken a backseat, as it tends to do when you are thousands of miles away from it. I still have moments where I'm sad, where I feel like I have a hole in my heart, but those moments seem to be fewer and further between. The hole is being filled by friends, my true family here, those who know where my heart is.

I seriously cannot believe it is October, though. Time flies when you're having rum? Kidding, I usually drink beer anyway. Maybe I can't believe it's October because it's still 90 degrees here everyday? No matter what the reason, though, we are coming into "season" here, which means that business will be coming back to life, and the beaches will be blanketed with ghostly (and conversely, lobstered) tourists.

I wish I had a love story to share, but, alas, I do not...Hopefully that is on the horizon, though. Until next time, I'll leave you with some pix!

Sunset at Chenay Bay

The Tide Pools at Carambola 

Lunch on the Boardwalk at Rum Runners

My Princess with Chuck Wicks at Divi Carina Bay

Girls Playing at sunset on the beach at Tamarind Reef

Perfectionism At Its Finest

I love therapy. I know you've never ever heard me say this. In all actuality, you will probably never hear me say it (errr...write it) again. McHottie makes me tingle in ways every man who has ever been with me (or wanted to be with me) probably WISHES he could make me tingle. That's how amazing he is...at therapizing me. To note: the sofa is now navy blue.

I'm supposed to be talking to myself these days now...more than usual...different than the usual, I suppose. I am supposed to be working on convincing myself that everyone in my life who has been close to me for most (or all) of my life is wrong. To quote: "Your father's abandonment...your mother's criticism...your sister's sense of entitlement and competition...Those things have no bearing on your daily life." I have to push everything that I've been told aside and, instead, focus on what I know to be true in my heart. *Ahem* What I know to be true (apparently, somewhere deep down) is that I am fucking awesome, basically. I'm seriously laughing as I type this, though, because I am not sure where exactly that deep down place is.

I've been taught to find imperfections in everything I do: my house is messy, my kids are undisciplined, I have no college degree, I have no job, no direction. I'm divorced. I was kicked out of the Coast Guard. I'm certifiably insane. I have at least 3 gray hairs, I have expression lines in my forehead...I am mean to my husband, I can't bake, I'm an alcoholic (though non-practicing)...I have shitty credit...A couple of my back molars are slightly crooked. My ears are oddly small. I have a flair for the dramatics and, in fact, I purposely seek out drama. I'm narcissistic. I'm fat. I'm a liar. I manipulate people. I have a "Princess Complex" (whatever that means). The list goes on, I'm quite sure. The closest people in your life are the ones with the power to hurt you the most. They know the buttons so well that they can push them even while texting and driving. It's that easy.

The funny (horrifying?) thing is that all of the things that I listed above are things that are true and/or things that I've been told by various members of my family. I'm not even sure that these people meant to hurt me, or definitely didn't mean to inflict nearly as much damage as they have over the years. I don't think these people really thought about how the things they said could (did) affect me. McHottie tells me that I have all the right tools to believe in myself, be successful and happy and healthy, and yet...I can't manage to get there. It's like I have all the tools to fix myself, and I have no idea how to use them. Someone needs to give me an instruction manual for this shit. Seriously.

People see a false sense of confidence in me whenever I compliment myself or talk about how awesome I am. It's like I'm talking to myself, trying to make myself believe what I'm saying...but really, it's total bullshit. When someone compliments me, it makes me feel uncomfortable...and I'm not sure how to react. I mean, it's one of two ways: you're lying, but thanks for trying to make me feel better... ~or~ I know, right?! I mean, I guess the normal reaction to a compliment is to thank the person...but I'm so accustomed to waiting for the "but" at the end of the compliment that it seems like the person isn't finished.

Example: "You are so beautiful..." but your ears are a bit small. <---see?? So I'm kind of always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know it probably sounds crazy, but I swear to you it's true. There is always a "but" in my family.

So, NOW when someone compliments me (because it does happen quite often, actually), I need to learn to say "thank you" externally and via my internal monologue say, "you're damn right, biatch!" It's funny that I am laughing as I type. The thought of telling myself that I am a good person kinda cracks me up. I shouldn't have to do it. I shouldn't have to feel more like a crazy person by talking to myself in order to feel less like a crazy person who has no self-worth. Alas, my world is full of ironic twists, isn't it? McHottie says to talk to myself. He says to tell myself that I am a good person. I am fair. I am forgiving. I am worthy. I am beautiful. I am talented. <---already feeling like a Narcissist. <---Shut up, asshole. McHottie told you to do this. (see my inner conflict here?)
 
It's interesting to me that I am so careful about what I say and the things that I do now, though. I'm so calculated because I care deeply about the people in my life. I care about how I make them feel. I even care about people that I don't know in that I have a sense of responsibility to humanity as a whole. King tells me that the way that I view the world, though, isn't how everyone else does. In fact, it is apparently not how most people view others. I told him that I think it's so much harder to be an asshole than it is to be a good person. It's so easy for me to love. It's easy for me to reach out to people, make friends, do nice things, and take care of people. It makes me feel amazing inside and out. Conversely, I feel like absolute shit if I am nasty to someone just for the sake of being nasty. That's not to say that I can't get mean (because my blog is living proof that I can, when necessary), but it takes more effort...a LOT more effort.

I guess I just wish that my family viewed the world the way that I do. I wish they would see the beauty in the world, instead of the imperfections. I wish they would see how much I have done with my life, rather than what I wasn't able to do or didn't finish. I wish they would see the things that McHottie sees in me...I wish they would see the things King sees. In fact, I wish I could see those things. I want so desperately to push all of the negativity and harsh criticism out of my head and my heart and just realize (truly) what those who love me (the ones who TRULY love me) see in me:

 My house is messy because I run a business from home and would rather play with my girls than clean up after them. My kids are "undisciplined" because I parent by natural consequence and don't lay a finger on them if they "step out of line." I have no college degree because I couldn't get enough financial aid to finish, and I fell in love instead. I have no job that pays the way that most people's jobs do...because I am self-employed. I am always moving in a forward direction, whether east or north or west or south... I'm divorced but currently in a relationship with a great man. I was kicked out of the Coast Guard because I was depressed and suicidal, and it wasn't my path. I'm certifiably insane because my family makes me so. I have at least 3 gray hairs, and I have expression lines in my forehead to show that I have lived and stressed and am real...I am mean to my husband when he doesn't treat me like I deserve to be treated. I can't bake, but I am a badass cook. I'm an alcoholic (though non-practicing) wine enthusiast...I have shitty credit because I made some bad decisions in the past...A couple of my back molars are slightly crooked, which adds to my unique character. My ears are oddly small, but I still hear just fine. I have a flair for the dramatics and, in fact, I purposely seek out drama...on BravoTV.  I'm narcissistic because my doctor told me to be. I'm fat, but I'm working on that. I'm a liar truth teller. I manipulate inspire people. I have a "Princess Complex" because I believe every woman deserves to be treated as such.

It's so difficult to crawl out of this hole that has swallowed my hope, my love, and my lust for life. There are some days that I don't even care to leave my bed, if I'm being honest. I mean, we do have 1600 thread count sheets...so...But honestly, I have decided to do it anyway. I've decided not to allow these criticisms and untruths define me. And I won't let these things affect my children. King and I have decided to move. We've decided to leave the Midwest in favor of a warmer, breezier, more beautiful climate with a view. I'm excited. For the first time in awhile, I feel sincerely and whole-heartedly hopeful. So, we've set a date...and we're moving to St. Croix. <3

Here's to ME.

So...Funny Story...

I swear to Gato that I have the most interesting (worst?) luck known to mankind. I will expound upon my entire journey in another entry (or 7), but this story needs to be told while it's still semi-fresh in my mind. I spent 10 days of the last 2 weeks in Arizona for the first time since I left town after my ex husband and I decided things weren't going to work out between us...that was almost 6 years ago. There is plenty to talk about with regard to the entire trip, but the most ironic/interesting/possibly sadistically hilarious thing that happened was on the flight back to Indy.

My aunt and I were on the same flight back (well, AND down, but we'll save that entry for another day). We boarded the flight on time in Phoenix, and everything was going smoothly. That should have probably been the first ominous clue that something was about to go horribly awry. However, I tend to enjoy the positivity when it happens, especially on incredibly stressful trips full of family drama. SO, we boarded smoothly, got sat next to a crazy cat lady (on the INSIDE of course), pushed early from the gate, and all was well.

Beverage/food service started as usual, announcements at the 10K feet mark as are standard, and the crazy cat lady chattered on about the rocketship pillow that she had crocheted for her grandson's birthday. My aunt and I giggled quietly to each other while sharing some almonds, and we let the cat lady babble on...a few moments later, the first class flight attendant came over the intercom and asked that a doctor come forward if there was one on board the flight...My training immediately came back to me, and I knew this probably wasn't an ideal situation. However, I had hopes that it was maybe a nervous flier that just got super dizzy and airsick or something...

Shortly after a doctor came forward, another flight attendant flew by me and said "someone get me the AED..." at which point I knew we were about to be diverted, someone's life was at stake, and our day was about to get royally fucked up. Another doctor and 2 nurses joined the effort to save this man's life, but unfortunately, it takes a long ass time to land an A320...even with the optimal conditions. We were just 30 miles past the ABQ airport and got immediate clearance to land. However, it still took us 30-40 from the start time of the tragedy until we were on the ground with EMS crews working on him. When we landed, there were 4 fire trucks, multiple police cars, and an ambulance waiting at the gate...

Unfortunately, no matter how many flashing lights were available at the time, it wasn't enough to save this man's life. So, what's the point of all of this?

The point is that my Grams is planning a trip to St. Croix in the very near future. She has bought her ticket and is ready to do whatever it takes to get on the plane, up to and including defying her doctors and (possibly) lying to the airlines. The point is that my trip to Arizona was a last-minute trip to help my mother get through her mother's impending death (which didn't happen this time). The point is that my Grams' heart stopped. She has a Pacemaker now. She has stage IV COPD (end stage), and she now has renal issues as well. The point is that a LOT of people don't realize what they can't see. The point is that this man (probably) never should have boarded flight 460. The point is that air travel is incredibly hard on your body in ways that we can't see on the outside.

The point is that I really didn't need this message. I didn't need to bear witness to a guy dying 2 rows in front of me. However, since I did, I'm putting it out there for you. Care about your loved ones enough not to allow them to do something incredibly selfish and stupid. Care about them enough to keep them off an airplane if they aren't in optimal health. You may think you're teaching them a hard lesson by allowing them to do something foolish, but really...this man's body is in Albuquerque...and his family is here. He never made it. They never loaded up the ambulance...They loaded up a hearse instead.

122 people deplaned and sat in Albuquerque for 7 hours. This incident cost the airline more money than you or I can imagine making in a matter of years. Our aircraft had to be flown back to Phoenix to have medical equipment be replenished. A crewmember witnessed a death, and therefore, the crew automatically timed out and had to be replaced. The aircraft then had to be flown BACK to Albuquerque to load up 122 extremely pissed off travelers who didn't care about that man but, instead, about their fucked up day. Several people were demanding refunds, and so many were treating the gate agents and even the PILOTS like last night's whore. It was an embarrassment the way these "people" were acting. I can understand their frustration at not being able to get where they were going in a reasonable time frame, but this was completely out of the airline's control. So, who should these people be pissed at? That's the point of this entry. We should be angry with those who enabled this obviously sick man to travel by air.

The cat lady kept saying how "unfair" it was for this man to have died. I disagree with her, though. Not that life has a way of being fair or anything, but this man knew the risks of getting on that flight. His family knew the risks. His doctors knew the risks...And if any of these people were left uninformed, shame on them. If any of you could stop this from happening in the future, I beg of you to do so. Why? Well, how would you feel knowing that your father/grandfather/aunt/uncle/mother/grandmother's body was alone in a freezer in a city 7 states away because you didn't stop him/her from getting on that plane?

Here's to the bearer of bad news...

Bacon Crusted Mac & Cheese...The REAL Way to a Man's Heart

What You Need:

12 oz center cut bacon

2 8 oz blocks of cheese (I used Helluva Good Pepperjack & Medium Cheddar)

12 oz can of Evaporated milk (the higher the fat content, the creamier the dish, but I usually use 2%)

Your favorite box of pasta (My girls chose "flowers" ie. Fiori)

Olive oil of your choosing, just a few dashes

A covered baking dish (The one pictured is 2½ quarts) coated with your fave cooking spray

A colander (aka the thing you use to drain your pasta, not to be confused with a calendar, which might come in handy when choosing the next time you're going to make this stellar meal)

A cheese grater

What You Do:

All right, you are going to end up using three burners on your stovetop if it's electric. If it's gas, commence gloating now. Anyway, first I start cooking the bacon since it takes a bajillion years. I cook it on the stovetop, and you should, too. Here's why. You need that small amount of bacon grease to flavor your mac & cheese. Using center cut bacon, you won't have nearly as much fat, and that is a good thing all around. Trust me. Your waist will thank you later. So, long story short, start cooking your bacon in the biggest skillet you have. Medium to medium-high heat is best, and I usually start a bit lower and work my way up.

Now you can start boiling water for your pasta. Simultaneously (and this might be difficult for the multi-tasking challenged), preheat your oven to 350º. P.S. Your bacon is still sizzling. 

In between waiting for your water to boil and waiting 17 years for the bacon to cook, you want to shred your cheese. I shred mine into 2 separate bowls and pop them back into the fridge while I am standing around watching the pot that's never going to boil and the bacon that's never going to be done. ;-)

When your water comes to a rolling boil, toss in a dash of olive oil and let it get to a boil again. THEN dump the pasta in. Give it a good stir, and cook as you ordinarily would. Here's the trick, though. A lot of times when you bake pasta dishes, the pasta comes out mushy and gross by the time it comes out of the oven. How does one avoid this, you ask? Well, only cook it to FIRM. Most directions will give you instructions for "firm," "al dente," and "tender." The first marker is what you want to hit. 

So once your pasta is finished cooking (and your bacon isn't), pop it in the colander and rinse with hot water. I suppose the temperature of the water doesn't really matter, though, since you will be baking it anyway. Just a habit. Leave it in the sink while you make your cheese sauce, k? 

So, I usually boil the water on the back burner because it's bigger and away from the little hands who like to reach up from out of nowhere and attempt to burn their little fingers. K, so when I do the sauce part, it's too far to reach to the back burner, so I use a front burner. Anyway, heat up the evaporated milk, and then dump in your first round of cheese. Stir on the constant until it's melted, and then add your second cheese. Repeat, and once everything is blended together, add in your pasta. Mix it all up, and then pour the entire mixture into your baking dish. 

By now, your bacon should finally be done...or at least close. It doesn't have to be completely finished cooking, as it will continue to sizzle while you bake it. So once your cheesy pasta is settled into its new home (the baking dish), arrange your strips of bacon on top. Then drizzle the bacon drippings on top. Cover the baking dish, pop it in the oven, and set a timer for 30 minutes. In the meantime, I am usually making several bows...but you don't have to do that. ;-) Maybe fold a load of towels or reprimand a kid or two while you wait. 

Once the 30 minutes is up, remove the lid, and bake it for about another 10 minutes, or until your bacon looks like you want it to look. Some people like charred bacon, and others don't. A good rule of thumb is 10 minutes though. 

And that's all she wrote, folks! I know it's long, drawn out instructions, but hey, I like to keep it interesting around here. I'd love to hear your feedback, your tweaks, etc. So let me know if you tried this and what you think!

*S*