Mac N Cheese LOAF???

Macaroni and Cheese Loaf

If you know me… you know that, besides coffee, cheese is my NUMBER ONE WEAKNESS… If they created meat, cheese and coffee plates at parties, i would be in HEAVEN…
Grilled cheese squares and cheese balls… cheese dip and cheese roll ups…. SORRY- had a momentary cheese lapse….
When I saw this recipe, I KNEW I HAD TO TRY IT! I mean- Mac N Cheese and Ham- all in a slice like a cake… I even imagined a yummy cheese gravy to go on top… OK- am I going overboard??? OH WELL-
This is one of those recipes that, once you master the basics- you can EXPAND. Seriously! Shells and cheese- instead of ham- add some lobster for lobster mac- add some hamburger for burger-mac- add BROCCOLI for broccoli and cheese mac… the SKY is the limit! Use wheat macaroni, if you are into that kind of thing… use plain elbow noodles and add various cheeses… Did I mention I love feta? Some feta, a few olives… mozzarella… the only limit is your imagination.
But, if you are limited in your cheese vision, then just go ahead with the recipe below and ENJOY!
Macaroni and Cheese Loaf
  • Prep time 10 MIN
  • Total time 60 MIN
  • Servings    8 (unless you are serving me!)

Here is a fun twist to your boring powdered cheese speedy mac. Instead of a meatloaf, how about a Mac and Cheese Loaf???


2 boxes (6 oz each)  Macaroni and Cheese (CHEAP IS FINE!)
5 tablespoons butter
1 package (8 oz) diced ham
(any sandwich ham will do-chopped- this is a cheapo recipe remember)
3 eggs
2 tablespoons chopped parsley, divided
(Yes, you can use the stuff in the jar)
1 3/4 cups shredded cheddar, divided
(Better put 2 cups out if you are like me- you know you will eat the rest)
 Nonstick baking spray (with flour)


  • 1 Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray a 9 x 5-inch loaf pan with nonstick baking spray.
  • 2 Boil macaroni and cheese until tender. Drain excess water. Add butter and cheese  packets. Stir in ham, eggs, 1 1/2 tablespoons parsley and 1 1/2 cups cheddar.
  • 3 Spoon macaroni mixture into pan.
  • 4 Bake for 30 minutes, then top with remaining cheese and parsley. Continue baking for another 20 minutes.
  • 5 Remove from oven and cool in pan for at least 15 minutes before slicing and serving.

Pineapple Angel Food Cake

Easy Recipe That Made My Daughter Shine!


Look How Yummy!


Just 2 ingredients!

My daughter, Addison, is 12. She has been through some rough times the past few years. She has been living with us for a little over a year, now, and this week I turned in the paperwork to start the Adoption proceedings! YAY! She truly needs to gain some confidence, so I have been giving her big girl things to do. She loves to help me in the kitchen, so when I found this recipe, I knew that I had to step up my game. I called her into the kitchen and told her to wash her hands, gave her the basic info- and went to the living room. I could see the doubt in her eyes at first, but also the excitement. It was the first time I had given her free reign in the kitchen (of course I was watching carefully). The recipe was so simple, I knew she would be successful, so it was a win-win because in the end I knew we would have a great dessert! When she was finally able to take the cooled cake, plate it up and top it with whipped topping… she was on cloud 9. I heaped on the compliments and I know that simple lesson meant more to her than anything! The recipe is below:


1 (16 ounce) package angel food cake mix

1 (20 ounce) can crushed pineapple with juice


Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).

Spray a 9×13 inch pan with vegetable oil spray.(we used a bundt pan)

In a large bowl, combine cake mix and pineapple (with juice). Mix until well blended. (I let her use my mixer, which she had never done!)

Pour batter into prepared 9×13 inch pan.

Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 25 minutes or until golden brown.

Let cool.

Serve with whipped topping

Watch you little girl gain confidence that no one could imagine a simple recipe could give!

Just 2 ingredients to make a yummy cake!

Published on Bored Panda 072217

Don’t you know me?

Today, I have been asking that question in my head way way too much. Have you met me? Do you know me? Do you FREAKING LISTEN TO ANYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF MY MOUTH?!?!?!?!

Ok- what has me so flipping twisted? SURPRISES… I HATE SURPRISES. Anyone that knows me knows that I cannot stand being surprised… planning a surprise for my birthday, sending me flowers, holidays even. I hate them. I have tried psychoanalyzing myself and trying to figure out why I hate them so very much, and all that I can come up with is that almost anytime I have ever dealt with these situations, I have been disappointed…. I know- that sounds ridiculous- but it is the truth. I can vividly remember so many times expecting things that never materialized. Over the years, I have actually started having severe anxiety when my birthday is coming up and I freak out if anyone tries to do things. I get rude and angry.. Last year my husband sent me flowers at work and I refused to go to the office to get them- when I was “Tricked” by someone to come to the office and they presented me with the flowers, I actually started CRYING- not like that cry of joy- I mean tears of anger and frustration. I wanted to shove those flowers down the throat of the person who called me to the office AND my husband. This person presented me with the flowers like it was a pot of gold and I should have been so very thankful they tricked me into coming up. I was so very angry.

Mother’s day… yeah. Those Hallmark card breakfast in bed mornings with gifts from the kids and cards…  Guess what? Either you kids have to be old enough to have a job of their own and a car to get themselves to the store… of you have to have a significant other who choreographs the whole thing. The last few mother’s days with only the boys at home, and now Addison, I have laid in bed, listening for conspiratorial whispers coming from the kitchen, begging my bladder just to wait… only to finally end up getting up and starting breakfast, disappointed I didn’t get syrup dropped in the bed or coffee spilled in my lap. The gifts the boys make at school, forgotten until everyone either hears the words, “Mother’s Day” on TV or they wonder why I am in a crappy mood… this last year the boys brought potted flowers home and they ended up putting them outside and they died before Mother’s Day. I never even got to see them because they were tossed before Mother’s Day even arrived.

Christmas isn’t so bad because I enjoy giving to others. I always search for just the right gift- I listen to subtle hints being dropped, and I make those things happen. So, when Santa comes and we open gifts on Christmas morning, I am surrounded by happiness. i always put my gifts aside, unopened, until  everyone else finishes because I almost need that good spirit to get through the disappointment that I know awaits me. My daughters, now that they are grown, are pretty good at giving me what I want- but if they are not home for Christmas, either I have nothing, or I get an afterthought. It is extremely depressing. I try to tell myself it is not important… gifts are not what matters, after all. And, that is not the source of my discontent. It comes down to no one making that effort. No one caring enough to make sure that my eyes light up in the morning- or searching out that one thing that I have dropped hints about and making it appear under the tree. I could tell you so many horror stories of gifts that I did receive that were so clearly those gifts that say- I forgot about you until the last minute so what I got you was all that was left in the store. I am not hard to shop for- I have worn the same perfume for years and it is inexpensive- you can usually get the lotion, body wash and spray for less than 20 bucks if you shop the sales. I only wear certain types of boots, am not a big jewelry person… love books… love certain crafts and would be excited over a collection of Chalk Paint… I collect cookie Jars and am always looking for an odd or different one. I have never wanted diamonds, or flowers, or other girly stuff. I just want someone to show me they know me and they care about giving me that gift that shows it.

OK- I got off on a tangent… sorry- So- what was I so twisted about today? Undoubtedly my husband has planned a “surprise” for me for Monday. I HATE when he says that… I hate it because every time he has said he has a surprise for me, it has turned out badly. He is either BSing- or what he thinks of as a surprise is so NOT a surprise. When he said to me You have a surprise coming next week… I assumed it was his cousin, who I love, coming to stay because he lost his job… When he assured me that was not it, I allowed myself to think that there was really a surprise. He then said it was really for the whole family… Man- my dumb ass started thinking he had found me a Great Dane puppy and it was coming next week- knowing I had been mourning the loss of my big girl. OR- maybe it was the car I had found several weeks back that was in TX- and the most perfect car I had ever seen. Had he SOMEHOW gotten the car I loved just from the pics and gotten it delivered? WHY? Why do I allow myself to think that someone actually went to that much trouble for me? Have I not yet learned my lesson?

So- when he couldn’t keep the secret and finally told me someone was going to come for a visit… I was incensed… enraged… He knows that right now I am in a funk… the medical issues and dr appts, the things happening with my son, dealing with insurance and phone calls, conference calls…. and trying to keep our heads above water through it all. He knows I haven’t even talked with my best friends. I have just sank myself into writing projects where I don’t have to think about it. I do not want to see anyone, go anywhere, do anything. I am still showering, still eating, making money… doing what I need to do. I just don’t want to inflict my funk on others. AND, to have someone coming HERE- to our house? We are far from the pages of Southern Living. We have 3 kids- dogs-cats… we LIVE in our house. It is not dirty or nasty, but we have junk here and there- things get piled on the table sometimes… so if someone is coming over I go into a frenzy, trying to clean and basically change the way we live for someone else. I never have friends over- and part of that is just because I like being comfortable in my home. I like to sit in my peeling leather recliner wearing my jammies and no bra in the middle of the afternoon when I am writing. I like to smoke when I want without worrying that other people are going to be offended. Sometimes, I sit in my chair with cats or dogs or kids… or all 3. I do not find pleasure in the thought of entertaining… making finger foods, locking the animals up where they won’t bother the guests- not letting anyone breathe until it is over with… I know- that makes me a freak. I just feel so exposed when people come over. I don’t like that feeling. And when I found out that this was planned behind my back- I was furious. I felt disrespected. I know- crazy… but is a surprise a good one if you are embarrassed because your house is not a showplace? If you sit, looking around the house at things that should have been cleaned before someone showed up? Dusting that hasn’t been done, or rugs that should have been vacuumed… Am I the only person in the world who wants my private life to stay private? Who likes to keep home life for family? IDK. I have been accused of being a control freak, and maybe I am to an extent. I have had to be in control for so long- had to take care of my kids by myself for years as a single mother and then as an abused woman with a vengeful and violent man. I have always paid my own bills- have always been the money maker… maybe that is the problem. IDK. All I know is that, now that I know that this surprise visit is planned for Monday, I am torn between exhausting myself cleaning the house from top to bottom tomorrow, or simply putting my foot down and refusing to have anyone over here… Does that make me a psycho? OH WELL- we shall see what happens, I guess….

Domestic Violence, when does it end?

I woke up this morning to the FB buzz concerning a murder that happened close to the school that I teach at during the school year. A mother of 5- whose child I had previously taught- had her life ended by a piece of human garbage. Now, I have to say that this mother was not an angel- and I won’t pretend to sing her praises, but I will not defame the dead, either. She and I were not friends, but regardless of who she was- she was a mother. And, she was a woman who didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a maniac… because what else can you call him? The saddest part- other than the children- is the fact there are people who hear the words “Domestic Violence” and immediately start their diatribe of hate… she should have never been with him- why did she stay- if that was me… and on and on and on. I even saw a comment based on the fact that she lived in community housing- poor ignorant woman- too dumb to know any better… probably didnt even have a high school diploma…. WAIT, is that what protects you from Domestic Violence? A High School Diploma? Or a college degree? A good job… what is it really? Let me tell you what- I probably used to think some of those same things… not the ignorant part or racial BS I have read… I was the one that always said MAN, if that was me and that man even TRIED to put his hands on me… blah blah blah. Let me tell you something friends… it doesn’t happen like that. One day you meet a man when you are doing exactly what you are supposed to do… you have the college degrees, you have the career- you have the perfect children… all that is missing is a man to share your life with… when he walks into your life- everything is good… you quickly realize it was HIM that you were missing- before you know it- he IS your everything because everyone else is gone. You don’t realize it at first- the way you were separated from everyone and everything- but you were just so darn happy. Then, something crazy happens… maybe not totally violent- but crazy… scary… part of you stops and says, wait a minute… but before you can answer yourself, everything is back to normal with some excuse- I forgot my meds- i was upset over my mom being sick… whatever. You think, yeah- that’s not him… but you start, in your peripheral vision, to see things… little things… attitudes where you never noticed attitudes before… things that make you uncomfortable in the bedroom- suddenly he has to know who you are talking to- where you are going- at all times. You think at first it is sweet that he is jealous… but it is more than that- he has become possessive. He suddenly doesn’t care how he talks to you in front of others- and you find yourself saying “sorry” a whole lot… you feel guilty for not being good enough- for making him mad. When the real aggression comes- you feel like it is your fault… You hide the bruises by wearing long sleeves or layers- whatever it takes. You tell yourself when it is just bruises because he has grabbed you too hard that he just didn’t realize how strong he was= didn’t mean to hurt you- and the first time he does- the first time he slaps you, or hits you with his fist- you are already “that woman”. He has groomed you. He has you brainwashed. You don’t even know what has happened. The next thing you know, you are on your hands and knees cleaning up your own blood at 2 in the morning while he looms over you, making sure you do it right. Knowing you have to be at work in a few hours. Knowing you have to be quiet when the pain comes because your children are at the other end of the house and if they hear, they will come and check- and you don’t want that to happen. You don’t want them to know- and you have no idea what he will do when he is like this. You look at him and he spits in your face and laughs… You have no idea how you got to this point. How you are missing teeth and clutching what can only be broken ribs- but still you scrub- because if you don’t, it will only get worse. You tell no one… how can you? So much is your fault you think. You should have listened… before the family and friends went away, they saw what you didn’t- but you didn’t listen to them, only to him when he told you that they were jealous of your love…. How can you now go crawling back like this and tell them they were right? How embarrassing. Besides, you love him so very much. He is the air that you breathe- you cannot even think straight when he is not around. You feel you would die without his presence. Only later, you realize how crazy that was… How you were suffering from some kind of Stockholm Syndrome or some mental breakdown to love a man that hurts you for his pleasure… but that thought comes later. When you get to a point that you THINK you have had enough, you call the police. Surely, they will help you, right? But they have been there before when others have called and you lied- you took up for him… they are tired of seeing your face- they are tired of you covering for him… you are the opposite of the boy who cried wolf- and they simply aren’t asking anymore. You beg- but he is smart. this time it was only threats- he only held the knife to your neck- no marks… your word against his. You beg them to take him away- you try to lock him out-  and the police- those who are supposed to protect you, they stand there and tell him that this is his legal residence and you cannot kick him out- tell you that you have to let him in… they tell him he could kick the door in and there is nothing you could do because this is his house, too. They tell him he could back a u-haul up to the door and empty the house and there would be nothing you could do about it. They tell you to get a restraining order or they cannot help… finally, he leaves- but you know he will be back. The game has changed. You have gotten stronger and have stopped blindly following his every direction like a child. He is not having fun anymore, so he has to find a new way to have his fun. One night, before you can get the restraining order, you are jerked awake because he has broken in while you slept and you are awakened by him snatching you by your ankle out of the bed- and this time he doesn’t hold back. Your head hits the floor, but not enough for there to be blood. He beats you in the head until you are sure that you are going to die. You cry and beg while he laughs.  You are truly broken. You are a shell of the woman you were when he walked into your life. The new game continues and is more cruel that ever. Eventually, somehow- someway- many beatings later- you find the strength to end it. You get the evidence- you have him arrested- but it never really ends. As long as he is breathing air somewhere, you are in fear. Even when you get the restraining order- even when he is in jail- even when you get granted a divorce- you still know he can find you. Even when he moves to a new victim and goes to jail for beating her as well- you still know as long as he has breath in his lungs, you are not safe. You have become a truly educated woman. Educated in something no woman should ever be educated in. You know that you are the lucky one. And, when you turn on the tv and see that a woman whose child you taught, a woman who you now know had so much more in common with you than you could ever imagine, you know that it could easily have been you. You know education doesn’t matter. Status, income, a good job. When it comes down to it, all women are vulnerable- all women are….eligible… for this type of evil to walk into their lives. The only difference is that, so far, you have survived. But you know, as you get ready to go to sleep in that bed- that bed that was your torture chamber for so long- you know that you were so close to being exactly where this woman is today. If you have never walked in those shoes- you cannot judge- and I wish, as I feel the tears running down my face for a woman I never had a kind exchange with- I wish we had realized we were sisters in a way not many women are. I wished I had of known and I could have helped. All I can do now is pray for her children- hope they did not witness this- hope they are not scarred from this- and pray that they do not continue this evil in their own lives. If no other lesson their mother ever taught them sticks- let it be the realization of what can happen if you become a victim of this kind of depravity. Let them use her death to lead their lives in a direction away from the pain that ended their mother’s life.

God have mercy on them… on us… all.


Ok- so this morning, a good friend of mine who loves to write like I do- said to me… Are you REALLY doing freelancing? How in the WORLD can you sit down and write for other people… Huh? I was confused… I mean isn’t that what we do every time we put pen to paper- or fingers to keyboard I should say… Aren’t we always writing, hoping SOMEONE will see the beauty in our words… or be inspired by a story we share… or laugh at a silly anecdote… Anyone with a college degree- heck even a high school diploma- has experience writing for others… I mean, not many people go around doing science projects and writing about them for fun… sticking headings on a backboard… science fairs- I STILL HAVE NIGHTMARES!!! And what about all of those research papers? Learning APA and creating papers formatted just so… Yeah- that was painful. But that is not REALLY what i was talking about… When I write for other people- YEAH- it may be a research paper-you know, for their research… not a class or anything, really… or it might be an ad- it might be an opinion or a list… articles and blog posts about things that your employer wants you to write about… you could be stuck writing about a product that you TOTALLY despise… but the enjoyment comes in building that piece- creating- making your reader BELIEVE you think that is the best product since sliced bread. Selling that horrible product even… making OTHER people think it is the best product… but isn’t that disingenuous she asked? I gave her points for the big word-lol. “OH MY GOSH” I exclaimed… “YOU ARE SO RIGHT! Why would ANYONE want to write about something they don’t truly enjoy, or about an experience they had never had… or something they wish they could… That is like pretending to be someone you are not- like anyone would EVER do that… I mean I can imagine people putting on costumes and walking around, pretending to be someone else- all for the entertainment of others. I mean, going to the extreme of losing weight, or shaving their heads, just so other people “buy in” to their deception. How disingenuous is that… I mean, imagine a whole group of those lunatics parading around, dressed like someone else, using words that some other lunatic wrote for them, pretending to be somewhere they really aren’t. Crazy, right. And, what if those lunatics did it all while some other knuckle-heads are actually recording their little dress up frenzy… How ludicrous would that be… Then, to top it all off- they forced unknowing people to pay money to sit in a room and actually WATCH this lunacy on a big screen… I mean- the nerve of these people… thinking that other people want their lies splashed up in front of us, expecting us silly sheep to sit there- watching their lies and eating popcorn…” I think the popcorn part really brought home my point… of course to hide her earlier confusion she rolled her eyes and said something very unbecoming and we changed the subject. But I really had not made my point. Yes- I made her see the parallels between writing and acting… how we, as writers, are just actors. We act like we enjoy things we don’t, like we have been places we haven’t. Heck, there are times when we pretend to be men instead of women, black instead of white, rich instead of poor…  beautiful- ok, that is not a stretch for some of us- but you get my point, right? Writing gives you the power to be whoever you want to be. The power to handle conflict and tragedy in ways that you have never been able to handle it in your real life. It is a form of fantasy. For a time, you get to step into a world of your own making. You decide if there is stress or strife- you decide if the enemy lives or dies, and if the heroine gets her man. You decide to challenge ideals that have been in existence way too long. You get to play pretend all day long. Only when the kids are saying- MOM it is 8 and we haven’t had dinner, Mom when are you going to be done writing… MOM- not kidding, the house is on FIRE! The firemen said you should unplug your laptop and come out!… You get the idea. Only then do you have to come back to the real world, look at some real firemen (by the way, those guys wear waaay to many clothes- how are we supposed to figure out what month they are if they are hiding under all that bulky stuff) and get back to your boring, or crazy, life just the way it is. What is better than that?

Bipolar much??

If you know me, you know that my life goes from the dullest, most boring thing in the world- I mean the Vanilla-ist Vanilla there is- straight to double fudge brownie covered with whipped cream and nuts… in the BLINK of an eye… I have come to realize that my life is the epitome of Bipolar… NO, no, not me! My life… the crazy things that just seem magnetically drawn to me- only to leave me the next day eating that sundae on my couch in my pajamas… Up and Down like a roller coaster… Yep- that is my life. I mean, i am a good person, right? I teach, I do charity work… I am a good mom… but then BAM- I am stuck in the middle of some psycho drama that has appeared out of nowhere… I know what you are thinking… it must be the people that I surround myself with… but, no- I have thought about that- but that really isn’t it either… I mean, i can be driving down the road- minding my own business- listening to my Christian music station with the windows down- when some craziness lands square on top of my head. Has nothing to do with anyone- just in the wrong place at the wrong time… has nothing to do with people in my life at all. Really…  I was driving down the road Friday, for example, and pulled into CVS to drop off my scripts- and tried to turn out of the pharmacy into oncoming traffic and BAM- my steering goes out… suddenly, I am in the middle of oncoming traffic, trying to beg my huge Tahoe to either work or just let me get to the side of the road. People are screaming- giving me the finger- like I WANTED to be sitting there blocking them from their trip to Chick-fil-a. I mean, I know how important that sweet chicken with just the right amount of pickles is to someone’s life. And the sweet tea, DON’T get me started. So I am the last one that wants to be blocking these folks from their yummy meal… But here I am- doing just that. I have to use what I can only describe as full on Mommy strength to turn that wheel. I mean I was seriously standing up and using all of my weight to turn that sucker… Finally, much to the glee of the chicken hungry folks I was blocking, I turned the wheel and just drove away as fast as I could- doing the speed limit of course… I drove a few miles and then had to turn again… I get ready- plant my feet in the floor and grab that wheel with all my might- gritting and groaning before I EVEN started turning… and, guess what… The darn thing wasn’t stuck anymore so I am now standing with no seat belt- putting all of my considerable weight into the wheel- which moves freely… catapulting me across the front seat and into the window with my head. Thank the Lord there was not an elderly dog walker chugging down the street at that very time or I would have flattened them all… For a big girl- I am thankfully quick… so I popped myself quickly back into the seat with that- “no, I didnt trip- i was just doing a cute little dance move”- look… and headed on back down the road. Waving at the sheriff’s officers standing outside of the sub-station… no guilt there- none at all. HM… Then, this weekend, I decided to take my freelance career up a notch so I signed in to all of these awesome freelancer sites to apply for jobs that I could do and make money at while not leaving the house… I mean, it is summer and summer school is out for a week- plus it is only M-Th anyway-  and my class didn’t make this summer so I have no college course I am teaching now- so, why not? Anyway… I get on these sites and start applying. And I get HITS! How awesome! I start being considered for multiple jobs right out of the shoot! I am on cloud nine- I love being productive and obviously they can tell that I am an AWESOME writer, right?? Right?? OK- I don’t know about that- but at least I was being considered for several positions. The first person that reached out to me was wanting to hire me for data-entry. No problem- not a writing gig- but at least it would give me something constructive to do for a few hours, right? She talked to me through the jobsite a few times, and then said it was time for an interview. I provided my SKYPE info and my ZOOM info so we could chat face to face… but, instead, she wanted me to use HANGOUTS- which is frowned upon in this kind of transaction… but, I decided I would be FINE… right? So, I log on and make contact with the…gentleman… who wants to do the Interview. He starts out by telling me he doesn’t know if he wants to do it today because he is in a bad mood… Hmmm… what do you say to the person interviewing you for a job when he says that… sorry you are having a bad day? I am available tomorrow if you want to wait until then… Well, of course, there is only one position available- so we have to go forth and by my comment he could tell I would be a wonderful employee…  OK… so, on with the interview… even though i could tell English was his second language, I thought- maybe that is why he is hiring someone with a good command over the language- to compensate for his issues… NO- my forehead is NOT stamped with the word SUCKER… but I did want to give him the benefit … maybe I was just jaded, right? So- we go ahead- and I can tell he is cutting and pasting his words… OK- I tell myself- maybe he is using a translation website and cutting the translated text from there… could happen, right? When he repeats the same line 5 1/2 times- yeah the last time it was only HALF the sentence- he explained this by saying his connection was having issues… sounds legit.. He then sends me a website- their “company” website. and tells me I need to go over it for 5 full minutes before we continue the interview… So- I did. Since I am a speed reader- I was done in advance- but sat there going back over everything in case he was timing me… the website was very nice- very professional- so it gave the interview a little more… creedence… (NOT the Revival kind)… He then told me I would answer 3 questions based on the website… thank goodness I actually read it… We get to question 3- and here it is… He says- do you have a checking account… HM… I said- Yes- ok- we need your banking information… OK- do you have a secure site for that… and why are we not using Paypal or the site’s payment instructions… he said the company required checking info… HM… I didn’t answer- so he then begins accusing me… and I am TOTALLY serious here… accusing me of hurting his feelings and making him feel bad…. WOW… Suddenly I am interviewing with a 3 year old.. hurting his wittle feewings… I thanked him for the interview and told him I was no longer interested- to which he was NOT professional in his response… so I blocked him AND reported them to the job site who promptly blocked them from the site… BUT, come ON… does this happen to other people? Do these bipolar life episodes just jump out of nowhere to make your perfectly normal day… crazy? Have you ever put a 25lb bag of sugar into the grocery cart- went down 3 aisles and stopped to compare prices only to find a huge MOUND of sugar blocking your cart- realizing that 25lb bag is almost empty with most of it UNDER your buggy- and the rest trailing you like gun powder in a Bugs Bunny Cartoon… through THREE AISLES… then, you find your child on all 4s eating the mound of sugar with his face… NO no no- I swear- didn’t make that up… Really! So- what in the HECK can we do with a life that is seriously Mentally Ill… a life that changes at the speed of my high pitched voice screaming my child’s name almost unintelligibly when I see him eating sugar off the floor??? How do we keep putting one foot in front of the other when that craziness goes WAY past the grocery store and plops you in the middle of a full blown ..crap storm… the kind of things that lasts more than one day- the kind of tumultuous event that hurts your heart and soul… you do the same thing you did in the grocery store- NO, I don’t mean hiding the evidence and sneaking out of the store before someone sees… I mean put one foot in front of the other. Yeah- its that simple. You can’t give your life Lithium…. so what other choice do you have? Ok- yeah, you could stay in bed all day wallowing in your problems- switching between Doritos and Ice Cream as you cry into your pillow… but you can only do that so long until you run out of snacks and have to get up… and, guess what I have, I mean you will, realize… when you are dragging your sloppy makeup smeared, knotted hair self to the bathroom- YOU AIN’T HOVERING… you are doing it already… that whole putting one foot in front of the other… and when you drag your pathetic muk-luk wearing Moomoo covered self to Dollar General for TP and a refill of snacks… yeah, you are doing it again… and that is all it takes… one foot in front of the other… just make sure that those feet walk you into the shower after your big pity party or your life is REALLY going to take a strange turn…