I forgot I had a blog. Actually I had no thoughts I felt were worth sharing for the past few weeks. God’s honest truth. I’d rather not share the selfish, the greedy, the ugly, or the plain stupid, like “how do those kardashians make so much money?”
Ok, it wasn’t THAT bad, but I did take a little mental break for a while. Then I cooked. And I cooked, and I cooked, and I cooked. It started with a revved up version of Mom’s good old standby black bean soup. I’ve graduated from canned beans. Sorry, mom, but we’re redoing the recipe. Then I made some sort of Tuscan white bean, bacon, chicken and kale “warm up your soul AND your feet at the same time” soup when the rains and cold breezes hit.
Then I had my jewelry party. Quite a success – I made the indian curry samosas, which were delicious, though the presentation was totally lacking. I made a cheese ball, a feta/spinach dip and a pumpkin cake. A pumpkin cake that looked like a pumpkin! Oh, and lemon/garlic/pepper chicken bits. My friend Mariah came up and told me, “Bethany, those things (the samosas) are freakin awesome – I would never had tried them unless you told me to.” Score one big fat sunshine smiley sticker for me. (It’s a long inside joke, but one day I’ll tell you).
Last night we went over for beers and apps to the house of one of my coworkers. He reminds me of my dad – in physique, in his voice, and because he always tells me “goosfraba” – a word none but my dad have ever told me. I always suspected that I would like his wife, but I REALLY like his wife. I can tell she is completely amazing, cool and wicked smart – a whole lot smarter than me. A LOT. And wise, not just book smart. I think a younger me would have been intimidated, but now I’m just intrigued and impressed.
My list of people that would be allowed to live in my palatial grounds, and perhaps be given their own duchy when I become Empress of All That Is is quickly expanding. (This is opposed to the list of People That Would Not be Allowed to Breath Air, which is also a very long list). I now have my immediate family, aunts uncles cousins, etc, the good men and women of Carolcrest, along with several other people that frequent my parent’s fine establishment on that road… Ms. Denise. Several people from my work – Kristen and her husband, Wade, Monica, both of the Riches, Nate, Brandon and his wife, Tara, and several other of our friends in town, along with some impressive members of my high school graduating class, and my best friends, Jaclyn, Jess, Kyle and Mithryn. There are a host of travelers, some of the contractors I have come to know and respect over the years, an old Mexican man named Arturo Luna, some professors (oh Dr Hardy…he would be of course Prime Minister of something erudite and intimidating). Michael’s mom, because she could teach us all a little something about faith…and many many many others. These names may mean nothing to you, my reader, but they mean a lot to me, and there are many more that mean a lot. Of course, anyone ON the list is allowed to ADD to the list, because it means that I trust them to make the right decisions and not invite anyone who is on my list of People that Would Not be Allowed to Breath Air. I practically have my own Galt’s Gulch, and we’ve just begun. (Please read and appreciate Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged,” or you’ll never get the little inside jokes I hope my dad is reading).
I think I just reviewed my Christmas mailing list with you. Or part of it.
Back to the point. I’m finding a place, I’m finding friends, and not just run of the mill friends. I’m finding people that you want to fight to hold on to, that you’d DO THINGS for. And that, THAT is a good thing.
Work still blows. I’m still fighting a losing battle against people that don’t care or don’t know, and I want so badly to win the battle, but I’m finding things that are just as important. In no way am I saying I’m going to work less, or less hard, or care less, but I’m finding room to care about other things.
A small house will hold a hundred friends.
– African Proverb
Tell me your friends, and I’ll tell you who you are.
– Assyrian Proverb