Kraft, my love

Time to write. Time to write. Time to write.

Sooo, how's everyone doing today? Happy Caturday, y'all. Here's the pic I just shared to Google+ to celebrate this once-a-week occasion:

That's BooBoo and Yogi, my parents' little nuggets (and my precious Dibbs' current roommates), when they were little bambinos. 

Yogi is humongous now (very long and heavy; he's kind of like a miniature jungle cat, really), Boo still petite but a little chunkier around the middle. 

I also just discovered the following gem while checking the weather on weather.com. It's a collection of pictures of an abandoned amusement park in Germany. This location might legitimately be added to my bucket list, because it would be fantastic to see this in person. Though the photographer, Athanasios Gioumpasis, did a wonderful job capturing the place and, I assume, its essence. So you enjoy that and then come on back here to do a little more reading:

Abandoned Theme Park in Germany May Get New Lease on Life (PHOTOS)

OK, so thank you for coming back. I still haven't decided what I'm going to write about today. 

OK, fine, let's talk about mac & cheese. 

Kraft, of course. 

Duh.

If I had to predict, I would say I've consumed...a lot of boxes in my lifetime. I want to say upwards of 300, but then that sounds too big a number yet at the very same time too small a number. This is tough. It's a good thing I'm not paid to make predictions for a living. 

Oh wow, I just had a flash where I imagined myself as an insurance underwriter -- I would be terrible at that job! When people ask me that age old question of, "What's the worst thing that could happen?" I don't give them an honest answer, because my mind will go there to the worst scenario, and I'm not sure whoever is asking me the question can handle it, nor is it helpful to his or her question-asking exercise or providing him or her with his or her desired response, which is something far less dramatic and doom-filled. 

Anyway. Predicting: not my forte. When asked to do so, I either think of really horrible situations or agonize over just how many boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese I've consumed in my lifetime. 

My most recent box was Sunday. I cried while I ate it, making it difficult to swallow. I was so overwhelmed with being chronically tired that I felt to some degree like the world was ending. I was having trouble seeing hope and a future for myself. I then crawled in bed and (I think) took something of a nap (I rarely nap, but enough time passed while I was lying down that I think I must have been unconscious for some of that time). I woke up feeling better, less helpless and hopeless.

Sunday's box was of the spiral noodle variety. I like the extra texture.

My journey with mac & cheese of course began as a child, when my parents made it for us, usually as a side dish to other things. Sometimes they added "little smokies," which me and the brothers enjoyed immensely. 

I recall going to a friend's home in my youth and being served what I felt (and still feel) was the lesser version of this dish and that is macaroni and cheese with hot dogs in it. 

More than likely I was still uber pleased at the fact that macaroni and cheese was before me. 

I sometimes think of my adolescent years -- from approximately fourth grade, when I was first allowed to steer the stove, through about, well, today -- as having a box of mac & cheese present once a week. (Here in 2014 I'd say I average about one box every two or three months, but through middle school and much of high school I fairly routinely had mac & cheese each week). Almost always on Saturday, the one day a week when the Brewer children were not necessarily on our own for lunch, because our parents would have fed us if we asked, I'm sure, but perhaps allowed to be on our own for lunch.

I don't remember what the brothers ate, honestly. Unless I was babysitting Riley, in which case he was eating the same thing I was eating. 

And you can guess what Bailey Kathleen made every Saturday. Mac & cheese.

Until sometime around college, I still measured the milk and butter according to box instructions. At the time, it was a quarter cup of milk and a quarter cup of butter (half of a standard stick), if I recall. Now the Healthy Police have gotten a hold of us and altered the recipe. 

I used to cut off half a stick of butter and drop it in the pot, and stir it around as it melted. It always looked like a bar of soap to me, dwindling down as it would in a shower but at a much faster rate.

I see my friend Corie and her husband Cyle only seldom these days, but about half the time I show up at their house, we have mac & cheese. It has been one of the many bonding points between me and Cyle, as in his few years my senior he too has not abandoned his affinity for the salty, fake-cheesy treat. 

Even if not on their meal radar, I can easily influence a previously planned menu at their home, by requesting a box of Kraft and then being granted my wish. 

It helps that adult Cyle makes childlike smacking sounds in echo to my plea. 

It also helps that Corie likes to eat it, too.

It also helps that they tend to have a stockpile of the stuff in their pantry (because they're grown-up married people who have a Costco membership or something. Me, I wait until Mom sends me a care package and then think, "Eureka! I don't have to go to the store, because dinner has come to me from 1,600 miles away!").

As an adult I have discovered that cooking actual, non-box foods can be rewarding and enjoyable, but for many years my kitchen abilities included dish washing, making scrambled eggs, egg sandwiches (scrambled eggs tucked into folds of toast), and mac & cheese.

Imagine my swell of pride, then, when my own mother, who can make all kinds of things with ease -- it is in fact a little jarring to catch her consulting a cookbook -- began to request that I make her Kraft mac & cheese for her. 

"You just make it so creamy," she said on that pivotal day of my life. 

Added to my ego at this moment, and feeling that I must really know my way around a saucepan, was the fact that at this point I had begun eyeballing the amount of butter and milk I added to each set of boiled noodles. 

So, clearly, I have no shame in supporting this multi-billion dollar brand. 

While reading one of my all-time favorite books, Me, Myself, and Bob by Phil Vischer, creator of VeggieTales, I came across a point in his story where he was invited to an event where some Kraft family or business members were in attendance. Vischer wrote that he thanked them for all the mac & cheese. 

I believe I wrote in the margin that I would have done the same. 

So consider this your love letter, Kraft mac & cheese. I don't have a box on hand just now, but it's only a matter of time before I'll purchase another. Maybe swirl in some tuna, some peas. Maybe get the SpongeBob SquarePants-shaped noodles for a little whimsical texture. 

We'll just have to wait and see. 

Caring for my dogs

I went shoe shopping today. Not that kind of shopping -- for heels, cutesy flats with glitter and such. Got myself some new running kicks. And donated a chunk of my bank account to Fleet Feet in the process.

 

Plantar fasciitis, go away, NEVER COME BACK AGAIN ANY OTHER DAY. 

Wells Fargo was so alarmed by all the day's purchases

(Burger King x1 and Starbucks x2, then Fleet Feet x attempted 2)

that they put a hold on my card. 

When rejected at the F.Feet register, I stepped aside to call up the bank and see what was up. The guy who helped me over the phone, after ticking off my recent purchases for verification that I had approved of them, said, "So you're a fan of Starbucks."

"Guilty," my response [caramel macchiato in hand]. 

Once I told Mr. Bank Helper Man that yes, I do indeed have a coffee issue in my life, he told me that in about 90 seconds I could purchase my shoes, and that I did. 

Rewind a little bit: 

When I walked into the store, all of the shoe-fitter helper people appeared to be busy, so I appeared to be interested in a sports bra (read: interested in discovering how freakishly expensive it was).

In my brief glance to the shoe-fitter helper section, I made a very quick and unexplainable choice that I wanted the guy on the end of the row of fitting benches to be my helper. I don't know completely why, I just felt that I wanted him to help me find shoes. 

And seconds later, he had come to my area and greeted me. 

He was a sweet, cute, sweetie pie cutie pie. It was a double whammy. And best of all, I could look him in the eye and talk to him about my foot woes and needs, foot hopes and dreams.

(Usually when in the presence of a cute and/or kind male I have trouble looking him in the eye. For all my years in a brother-dominated household, for all my legitimate abilities to talk football and play football and not flinch in the face of burping and wrestling and whatever else boys do, and for all my male friends whom I hold near and dear, truth be told I do get very nervous in the face of attractive, kind men who I have crushes on. So when I can be calm with someone who is kind and/or attractive, it is a wonderful and beautiful thing that I don't take lightly and I breathe a nice sigh of "This is nice" when it happens.)

My shoe helper man has plantar fasciitis too. We talked about it. It was kind of like foot injury [couples] therapy. 

We talked about races we've done. We talked about ones we want to do. 

He showed me how to use one of those roller things to massage out my stiff calves. 

We planned our wedding.

All this and I don't even know his name. 

If he reads this, this is going to be pretty uncomfortable. Or the best ice breaker ever. 

I didn't even really have that big of a crush on him, like this post is making it sound that I did. I just so enjoyed his company, the ease of talking to him, our common injury, the renewed hope of walking away with shoes that were chosen for me by someone who knows shoes and knows my injury, shoes with special inserts that might help to once and for all kick this damn pain in my foot. 

Rewind again:

Shortly before I arrived at the shoe store, I realized I had done some work in that neighborhood last summer, via a temporary agency. I was so broke when I did that job, and was so grateful for just two or three days out of the house to make $11 an hour to help an office catch up on their filing. But I was so stressed out, mind always churning as a result of unemployment. It was at that time that I decided I needed sanctuary, just needed to go home and let people who love me feed me for some weeks. To be near family and old friends and cats. 

About a month later I did go home and within a week of coming back that same temporary agency found me a job which turned into my now full-time job. 

Being able to walk out of the store today with $200 of merchandise aimed at bettering my health, in an area of town that carries memories of such an opposite state of income and uncertainty in my life, put an extra bounce in my step and my spirit. 

I woke up this morning well rested -- 10 hours of hard sleep, with only one pee break that I can recall -- but shortly after I exited unconsciousness I realized my head was spinning. 

Thoughts of boys, thoughts of purpose, vain thoughts (wondering which pictures of myself could be potential #tbt items for Facebook; that's embarrassing to admit, but hey I was thinking about it), wondering why I've been feeling depressed lately, wondering what to do with myself today. 

Lately I've started sitting still, sitting quietly, when the familiar thought of "What can I do with myself right now to pend off anxiety and/or depression?" appears for the millionth time of my twenties.

This has been a revolutionary change for me, and I've been shocked and so pleased with how much being still creates stillness in me. For years, when panicked or on the verge of panic, I have done more, not less, in an effort to make myself feel better. Exercise, cross stitch, call a friend, watch a movie. Anything but sit still and just be with my thoughts. 

Sometimes all this motion has helped, but since I've started sitting still I've realized that if one wants to be still she better take Step One and get still. 

So lately, instead of doing lots of cleaning and errand running on the weekends, I've been heading to the beach. It's been great and really, truly life-changing.

A beach day was on the table of possibilities this morning, but I wasn't even sure about that, because I have so many things that need to get done, several of which will be good for me, like getting new shoes so I can stop re-injuring my foot. Yet in recent weekends I have ditched any to-do list for quiet time in the sand, so I wondered this morning which path to take. And by "wondered" I mean agonized.

I wondered if I should sit still, read the Bible, pray, call a friend, run errands, write, go to the beach. Cook at home, then get coffee, or go get coffee, then come back home and cook? I couldn't make a decision, so I prayed about being able to make one. I read the Bible passage we're supposed to discuss at this week's community group get together. 

Eventually I got out of bed, feeling funny, depression sticking itself to my backside, like Peter Pan's sewn-on shadow. 

I sunscreened myself, spent way too much time on Facebook, sent some emails, looked up directions to a Walmart with an automotive department (one of my very overdue errands is to give my car some love), to a Starbucks, and to Fleet Feet. 

I finally got in the car to go get food and coffee and to see where the car took me. 

Fleet Feet is where I landed. I felt better by the time I walked in -- food, java, sunshine, and some prayer helped with this, is my guess -- and felt good when I left. The retail therapy helped, but so did God's good grace that removed my icky gloomy feelings and that put human connection and some podiatric hope into my day and life. 

Yesterday I called my insurance company for a podiatry referral. Here's hoping for healthy feet, running days, and more direction-filled, less depression-filled days ahead. 

XO,

Bailey

Book (and movie) haul

So have you heard of these things called "haul videos"? I read about them this week in an article I found when I googled Bethany Mota, after seeing her on YouTube ads that had been popping up during my episodes of "Hot in Cleveland" and "Awkward" while I watched TV online because I have a TV but no cable.

Did you follow all that?

Apparently these haul videos are when people shop -- no wonder I didn't know what this phenomenon was -- and then show off their purchases via video.

Well I purchased a caramel macchiato and some scones today and one of the items on that two item list has already been consumed, so if I made a video for you of my Starbucks haul, um, you might be bored.

Except my friend Courtney, who thinks my videos are funny. On at least one occasion I believe I posted a video solely for her, because I thought she might be the only one interested enough to watch and actually enjoy.

Well I don't anticipate myself creating a haul video anytime soon -- although I am much more open to shopping these days and then talking about it than I was 10 years ago -- but I'm going to do the next best thing and that is a book haul blog post.

That is the next best thing, yes?

So it is hot in "the Valley" of Los Angeles, currently. I just did a little driving trip (can you guess where? If you guessed Starbucks and the library, you would be correct) and my car temp said 92, I think, around the time I got back home. (Check your calendar. It's May 3rd.)

I am currently sitting in my apartment without the air conditioner or overhead fan on. I am feeling very brave and tough in doing this, with legs that are starting to feel a little clammy due to sweatage due to the computer being on my lap and being a little warm.

Let me just say if it were 12 degrees outside and the sky were grey and it had been that way for more than two days, I would probably be depressed right now, so bring it on, sweaty computer legs. I can take it.

I don't know why I brought up the heat...

Oh, maybe because part of my joy in going to the library had to do with there being air conditioning there?

I don't remember exactly.

In any case, let's talk about what I brought home from the LA Public Library today, shall we?

#1: Because of Winn-Dixie
Author: Kate DiCamillo

I have never read this before. At least I don't remember, but I don't think so. It may go without saying that I haven't read it before, since I decided to check it out and bring it home, but some people read things twice, or even beyond that, so maybe it doesn't go without saying which is why I decided to say it.

As a crazy book-obsessed person myself, I actually rarely read things more than once. Even books that I devour and plow through and then tell all kinds of people about, hoping they'll read those books themselves. Even those books I rarely read again. I guess it's like falling hard and fast in love and then just...not doing it again. Or, doing it again but with a different book the next time.

And there isn't usually a break-up period in between books. Meaning I'm usually thrilled I read the book I fell in love with, but then don't cry a whole lot and ask my mom to bring me an americano as I continue to feel sad. I just feel happy about Book A and then sometime later read Book B and feel happy about it. No book-related sadness in between.

Now I sound like a promiscuous librarian or something.

And I haven't even told you about Because of Winn-Dixie. Well I can't tell you much, because I haven't read it. There is a dog on the cover, so I'm guessing a dog is involved in the plot. I doubt I'll read the back cover before starting in on Chapter One, because I don't like surprises to be ruined.

Read the back cover of a book and you might as well skip chapters one through four, is my humble opinion on the matter. I'd rather discover the story for myself as I read the actual book, if you don't mind.

Why did I check out this book? Because it's on a list of 100 Great Children's Books that the New York Public Library put out, that my friend Lydia pointed me to. So I'm going to read the books on the list that I haven't read yet. Winn-Dixie falls in the Venn diagram in the circle-overlap section where "on the NYPL list" and "Bailey hasn't read it, or at least doesn't remember doing so" meet.

I haven't seen that Venn diagram drawn anywhere, but it exists in my head.

#2: Deaf Child Crossing
Author: Marlee Matlin

Found this in my perusals of the child/young adult sections. Can't tell you much, because I haven't read it, nor did I read the back cover too closely minus a quote from Booklist. Not sure I've ever read a book about a character who is deaf, so this should be an interesting read.

#3: Feeling Minnesota (DVD, not a book)

Cameron Diaz and Keanu Reeves are in this, looks like a romantic comedy. I got it in case I get bored/lazy/antsy tonight. Pretty sure I had never heard of it until today. I found it because I was among the "F" movies, where I was in search of:

#4: Finding Nemo (DVD)

I have seen this before, and got it because once upon a time I was watching Pixar films and then reviewing them on YouTube and have since faltered in that pursuit. So it's time to get back on the horse, perhaps. Or in this case, maybe back on the turtle ("Grab shell!").

#5: A Good and Perfect Gift
Author: Amy Julia Becker

I actually retrieved this gem out of my mailbox on the way to my car which transported me to the library. I bought this book on Amazon after filing my taxes, when I couldn't sleep and in giddy expectation of a return coming to a bank account possessed by me (the opposite of this happened after filing my taxes in 2013, so I was excited and decided to celebrate).

I first heard about this book and author when I went to the Festival of Faith & Writing at Calvin College in 2012, which was incredible. Becker is a minister and writer who has a daughter who has Down syndrome, and this book is about that.

For those who don't know, I am a faith memoir fanatic, so I am looking forward to reading this. I already read the author's note and the eyes got a little misty. Should be good.

#6: The Horse & His Boy
Author: Clive Staples Lewis

This year I began reading the Chronicles of Narnia. I didn't know if I would like them or not, but so far I am enjoying them. I am reading in the order that puts The Magician's Nephew first, although this was at first a stressful decision because when you hit the Internet to figure out how to read these books you discover that there are THREE orders in which you can read the series (publication order, order in which the books were written, chronological story order).

I have read The Magician's Nephew, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and about half of The Horse and His Boy. I had to return Horse to the library to avoid joining the Big Fine club, and today I rechecked it out.

Also, I just watched The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe film this week and L-O-V-E loved it. I'm not one to usually say filmish things like this, but: the cinematography was awesome. When Lucy pulls the sheet off the wardrobe and it ripples majestically and slowly to the floor?

YES.

When Lucy backs out of the wardrobe for the first time and her hand is pricked by the pine needles and she turns around in surprise?

YES!!!

And I totes cried during two scenes involving Aslan. Love the Biblical allegory.

And while we're talking about C.S. Lewis and children's books, I will tell you that I'm also about 100 pages in to The Hobbit, written by Lewis' friend J.R.R. Tolkien. (I made sure my dad knew that I am reading this so that he wouldn't forget who his favorite daughter is.)

But The Hobbit is due back on Monday, so Bilbo Baggins took a little trip to the book drop this afternoon.

"Why don't you just check out one book at a time, Bailey, so you don't always have to return books midway through?"

Good question. I have no (simple) answer for you (that you would care to read at this time). (But I do have an answer to that question; it might just be faster if we talk about it over drinks, so call me. Actually that might not be faster, but maybe I can draw out some of my points on napkins?)

Over and out, Peeps. Go read a book. It'll make you smile.

Also, what are you reading? Tell me about it. Feel free to draw on a napkin if it helps.

An art of the twenty something

Balancing an ice cube tray loaded with water while moving swiftly enough to the freezer to begin the freezing process before the freezer door closes.

You may think it's simple, people who live with a door-holder-opener-while-you-leisurely-balance-the-water-filled-slots-across-the-kitchen-floor, but it's not. At least if your freezer door is an ornery little hingersnapper (just made that up -- trademark!) that don't like to remain open for long -- then believe me, it's no easy task.

If I had an inner ear issue going on right now, the water in that tray I just loaded in the fridge-that-is-shorter-than-me-yet-not-a-mini-fridge wouldn't have made it to a frozen state. Sloshed all over the floor it would have done instead.

I have one particular ice cube tray (yes, my two ice cube trays don't match; would you expect anything less?) that I have resigned to taking a measuring cup to, because the carry across the floor task is just too much with this tray. So I pour from the measuring cup spout a lil' H2O into each well and move on with my life which in very few other ways -- aside from this measuring cup pouring task which may seem, well, focused on the minutiae of life that most of us don't own the patience for -- resembles the one which our pal Martha Stewart lives.

Except I do cross stitch. So I think she and I could probably have tea and carry a conversation for a bit. And if, post tea, she asked me to join her in a little gluing of craft sticks, I may just have to cancel all other plans (which likely consisted of watching "Awkward" and not cleaning my apartment anyway (though I still don't like to cancel such plans, if you know me)) and help her out with the gluing of some craft sticks.

Perhaps it could be at this point during our visit that I could ask her advice on transporting ice cube trays to the freezer while avoiding a spillage. Because she's probably thought about that. And she could probably teach me how to multitask and mop the floor as I do this. With some sort of Pine-Sol soaked cloth underneath my feet which I could shuffle on.

I actually just came up with that idea myself, so perhaps I have underestimated myself and could show Ms. Martha a thing or two! ["Here, watch this, M, we can watch TV AND not clean! It's really simple, here, watch me. Just sit, now...stay sitting."]

I may have been listening to/watching a lot of stand up comedy lately, and am perhaps integrating acted out hypothetical interactions into this post as a result...

However I will tell you now that if I tried to shuffle on cloths while doing the ice cube task, it would only increase the spillage factor to a very precise 100% rate of IT WILL HAPPEN.

OK I just digressed a lot there, so.....remember where we were five minutes ago and then meet me in the next paragraph when you're ready (if you're still reading):

So in sum, while getting the ice cube tray to the freezer is a difficult task (and one that I legitimately avoid), due to the ice cube tray balancing athletic prowess I possess, as a result of my twenty-something-single-something-living-alone-without-a-door-holder-opener-in-the-form-of-a-spouse-or-boyfriend-or-roommate status, ice cubes will soon (in some hours) be mine for the taking. And the melting.

[Ooh, that reminds me of this great line of a poem I came across last year that is, of all places, magneted to my shorter-than-me-yet-not-of-mini-status fridge. Here, let me share it:

"Yielding, like ice about to melt." - Tao Te Ching

Ahhhh. Breathe that in again one more time. Nice, eh? It just does something to you, doesn't it? I can't help but take a deep breath or image an ice cube in my mind or practice yielding right when I read it or think it.

As Sadie Saxton says (except never after quoting a poem), You're welcome.]

We're 5!

Something very special to me turned 5-years-old today.

Wait a tic - it's this here blog! The very one you're reading right now!

[Did that make anyone else think of "The Monster at the End of this Book"?] :



I am going to keep this short, but just pause to give my dear bloggie a little birthday love and to give all of you readers a LOT of love for reading.

MUAH!

As opposed to Grover's advice, may I please ask that you DO continue turning the pages and coming back here to keep reading!

God bless and many virtual bloggish hugs,
(The Daily) Bailey