I'd like to have some amazing, fabulous story to share about my disappearance from the blog world for the past 8 months. Some astonishing, outrageous, wonderful reason I stopped blogging.
But I don't.
I found a job that has become the bane of my existence. In a call center. Listening to whiny ass people complain all day. To say that I loathe this job wouldn't do justice to my feelings. I detest it from the tips of my purple painted toe nails to the top of my recently rebellious frizzy haired head. (Seriously, I've never had frizzy hair until the past 6 months. What IS that all about? Why now in my late 20's? All right, fine! Early 30's. Whatev...)
Let's just say there's been lots of rum & Xanax involved on a daily basis since I started. But, at least it's work right? So I shouldn't complain. Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't, just that I *shouldn't!*
Lots of things have been shaken up here at home so it's been hard to find the time to blog. Plus my poor laptop wheezed & shuddered & then went to the little laptop heaven in the sky. I should have it back in a few days and I'm so excited I may wet myself. Just a little. We have a fancy computer downstairs, where I'm currently writing, but it's too scary to use. When we got it months ago there was lots of talk from Mr. Man in fancy acronyms and computer gibberish I couldn't understand, it does a billion things I wouldn't have the slightest clue how to use (or why we need them) and so I stay away from it. Luckily i have a Droid for my cell so it's kept me online while my laptop was being fixed.
In short: got a job, had a crappy shift, didn't have a life or time for anything besides work for the first 6 months there, never saw Mr Man & B, my health got worse because of the stress, my family was hit by the economy and 2 members have lost their jobs, my mom had major surgery (and is still recovering), changed to a less crappy shift at work but have to work weekends now, went on a trip to Vegas (wahoo), agreed to let 2 of our friends have their wedding in our backyard this month (I know! What was I thinking?!?! lol), and found out I have ovarian cyst problems.
There it is, in a nutshell. Good times people... Good times.
So, since I'm terrified of this fancy computer, scared I will press some innocent looking button & it will blow up a neighboring city somehow (the damn thing is blinking furious green & blue lights at me from all it's little connected boxes) I'm signing off for now.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Monday, October 5, 2009
Creamy Roasted Green Chile Chicken & Rice Soup
I don't think I've ever blogged about a recipe but this one is too yummy not to share. I've been making this soup for years and have no idea where I ran across the original recipe. Doesn't really matter since I've changed it up. I have a hard time following a recipe exactly the way it's written and usually the only recipes I have are for desserts since you have to be more exact in baking.This is how I like to make this one:
2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cubed
1 medium onion, diced
3 tsp garlic powder
2 Tbs oil
10 cups chicken broth
6 roasted green chiles, peeled & diced
2 cups minute rice*, uncooked
2 tsp salt
3 tsp cumin
3 tsp oregano
1 1/2 tsp black pepper
3/4 tsp cayenne pepper
2 cups sour cream
1 cup heavy whipping cream
Saute the chicken, onion and garlic powder in the oil until the chicken is no longer pink. Add the broth, green chile's, rice and all seasonings. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, simmer uncovered for 30 minutes. Remove from heat.
Stir in sour cream and whipping cream. Serve immediately.
*Instead of the rice you can add 5 peeled & diced potatoes or 2 cans of great northern beans.
Enjoy!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Eight Years Ago Today...
Eight years ago, I wasn't a mother.
Eight years ago, I was in a new relationship and had just moved in with my boyfriend.
Eight years ago, I wasn't too concerned with the state of the world or our future in it.
But then, eight years ago, terrorists hijacked 4 planes and changed the fate of our nation forever.
I was at work on the morning of September 11, 2001 when my manager started walking very quickly down the aisles of cubicles and telling each of us, calmly, to get our things and go home immediately. We all questioned her as to why we were being sent home and she ignored us all. As we slowly gathered our things and shut down our computers, her sense of urgency started showing. I remember her raising her voice a little louder and saying, "Come on! Let's go! Hurry up people! Get home to your families!"
She was never very personable with us as a manager. She kept business hours very professional and didn't talk to us about our personal lives or families ever. For her to tell us to get home to our families was this huge red flag to all of us and we hustled out of there.
I don't remember getting home to our apartment. I don't remember driving there or the traffic on the way. It was all a blur. All I remember next is sitting on our couch, stunned, watching the attacks on TV. Every station was showing the same thing. The planes each flying in to the twin towers. Over and over again in what seemed like slow motion. People jumping from the burning towers because they thought that maybe that would be a more humane way to die then suffocating in a fire or having the building collapse on them.
And I wept. I cried and sobbed with the rest of our country. I felt violated and scared. I was angry when I found out why and who had done this to us.
Over the next few days and weeks as stories unfolded and people were shown on TV holding pictures, crying for their missing loved ones, it was overwhelming. Jason and I remained at home, holding on for dear life to each other. To what we had. And I felt guilty. Guilty that my world wasn't torn apart, but theirs was, and that I still had all of my family, and they didn't. Their pain was unfathomable.
The world was too scary to bring a child into it. I told Jason I couldn't imagine being a mother with how uncertain life was at that moment. My heart just ached thinking about being a mom and not being able to get to my child. I decided I couldn't start a family until life returned to a somewhat normal state. Being a mother was the one thing I knew I wanted my entire life and now I couldn't imagine doing that anymore. So I decided I wouldn't become a mother. I wouldn't go through that agony. My heart couldn't stand the idea of it.
Then exactly 2 months after 9/11, I found out I was pregnant. It was bittersweet because the doctors told me I wouldn't be able to get pregnant without "medical intervention." But there he was. His little heartbeat just throbbing away. And my hope was reborn during that pregnancy.
Today, I'm a mother of a 7 year old amazing little boy.
Today, Jason and I have been together for 8 years.
Today, we remember the lives that were lost. We remember the innocent souls that perished. We remember the rescue workers who lost their lives trying to save others.
And hopefully today, we'll remember how life can change instantly and how important every single day is and we'll remember to make the most of each one.
Eight years ago, I was in a new relationship and had just moved in with my boyfriend.
Eight years ago, I wasn't too concerned with the state of the world or our future in it.
But then, eight years ago, terrorists hijacked 4 planes and changed the fate of our nation forever.
I was at work on the morning of September 11, 2001 when my manager started walking very quickly down the aisles of cubicles and telling each of us, calmly, to get our things and go home immediately. We all questioned her as to why we were being sent home and she ignored us all. As we slowly gathered our things and shut down our computers, her sense of urgency started showing. I remember her raising her voice a little louder and saying, "Come on! Let's go! Hurry up people! Get home to your families!"
She was never very personable with us as a manager. She kept business hours very professional and didn't talk to us about our personal lives or families ever. For her to tell us to get home to our families was this huge red flag to all of us and we hustled out of there.
I don't remember getting home to our apartment. I don't remember driving there or the traffic on the way. It was all a blur. All I remember next is sitting on our couch, stunned, watching the attacks on TV. Every station was showing the same thing. The planes each flying in to the twin towers. Over and over again in what seemed like slow motion. People jumping from the burning towers because they thought that maybe that would be a more humane way to die then suffocating in a fire or having the building collapse on them.
And I wept. I cried and sobbed with the rest of our country. I felt violated and scared. I was angry when I found out why and who had done this to us.
Over the next few days and weeks as stories unfolded and people were shown on TV holding pictures, crying for their missing loved ones, it was overwhelming. Jason and I remained at home, holding on for dear life to each other. To what we had. And I felt guilty. Guilty that my world wasn't torn apart, but theirs was, and that I still had all of my family, and they didn't. Their pain was unfathomable.
The world was too scary to bring a child into it. I told Jason I couldn't imagine being a mother with how uncertain life was at that moment. My heart just ached thinking about being a mom and not being able to get to my child. I decided I couldn't start a family until life returned to a somewhat normal state. Being a mother was the one thing I knew I wanted my entire life and now I couldn't imagine doing that anymore. So I decided I wouldn't become a mother. I wouldn't go through that agony. My heart couldn't stand the idea of it.
Then exactly 2 months after 9/11, I found out I was pregnant. It was bittersweet because the doctors told me I wouldn't be able to get pregnant without "medical intervention." But there he was. His little heartbeat just throbbing away. And my hope was reborn during that pregnancy.
Today, I'm a mother of a 7 year old amazing little boy.
Today, Jason and I have been together for 8 years.
Today, we remember the lives that were lost. We remember the innocent souls that perished. We remember the rescue workers who lost their lives trying to save others.
And hopefully today, we'll remember how life can change instantly and how important every single day is and we'll remember to make the most of each one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Spread the Love!
ShareCan't Get Enough? How about these?
