I had a dream about you once.
It was when I lived in San Diego. I woke up crying, my surroundings were still dark.
It was so vivid and real, I don’t think I could ever express how much I felt in the few words we exchanged.
I know it sounds weird, but in my dream I woke up to you. It was morning, the room was white and bright and airy. I was sleeping on my side with my head resting on my left arm. When I opened my eyes, you were looking at me. You must’ve been curled up by my headboard. When I registered who you were, you smiled at me.
I asked you, “Well babe? What do you want to do today?”
You answered, “Whatever you want to do.”
In my dream you were four years old. You had long black hair that matched mine. Your skin tone could’ve been mine or your daddy’s. Your eyes were mine. Your smile was his.
I pulled you down into me and hugged you close. “Five more minutes,” I said and fell right back to sleep.
When I awoke you had become a pillow. It was some odd time in the morning where it was still dark. And I was instantly crying. Confused. What did I just dream. Was it really you? Do I believe in this stuff?
I had battled this day alone for years. Every January was especially hard because I knew what it would bring. The memory of my one regret, after living my life thinking I had so many.
Jonas came by on Friday night while I was drowning my sorrows in beer and my puzzle. I really am impressed by how this puzzle is coming along so far.
Woke up to about a foot of snow, a sudden urge to organize my coffee beans, and my brain going at 100 mph trying to figure out what on my to do list to do first.
I decided the first thing to do (aside from make my bed) was to have breakfast. Bacon in the oven is serious magic. I sprinkled some garlic power and paprika one one side, then fresh cracked pepper on the other and it made my day.
I really thought I’d be spending the storm all by my lonesome, eating Snickers and Funyuns — but I got a surprise text from my friend/neighbor [friendbor? neiend?] and we spent the entire day working on shit we had been meaning to work on and talking about everything under the sun while sipping on coffee.
Thankful for insight into ideas and thoughts I wouldn’t have pondered on my own. And to share meals with someone! I tried to make something healthy for lunch – a pasta bake of cavatappi macaroni, homemade tomato sauce, kale, and ricotta but then cancelled that out by making spam and garlic fried rice for late-as-fuck dinner.
Travis Lace Up Shearling Booties in Truffle, Madewell
I Can’t Wait by Nu Shooz. This video is so weird.
I got home today knowing that I defrosted chicken thighs on like… I don’t know, Monday?
Anyway, I was super duper determined to cook that shit today. I had plans. I wanted to cook that freaking Tasty creamy lemon buttery chicken crap and tinola. But I had a problem here: I deactivated Facebook, so I had issues finding the recipe for the BuzzFeed thing… and I never made tinola before.
Well, the Creamy lemon buttery chicken turned out just fine — after some weird Googling, I managed to find it. However, I didn’t have some of the ingredients so I substituted heavy cream for milk and lemon for lime. Mind you I didn’t bother measuring either, so I have no idea how this managed to be okay.
Not pictured: My tinola. I added tomatoes because I had one to get rid of. I stewed it according to how Grace advised, “boil the shit out of it” — for an hour. I tasted it and just didn’t understand why it didn’t taste right to me. 15 minutes later, I look over at my cutting board and realize I never added ginger. Ginger is one of the first things you start this dish with, so I fucked up.
Anyway, if you ever find yourself cooking tinola and forgetting the ginger… if you have grounded ginger in your spice cabinet, that shit is a lifesaver.
Both dishes are fine by me!
I was in a particular mood this morning — If you follow me on Spotify, you will see I created about 4 different playlists to suit my moods since yesterday.
Anyway, when I got to work — I was thinking about my parents and decided I would make a playlist of all the songs I grew up on. My dad’s go-to singers were Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra. My mom’s main man was Engelbert Humperdinck (I will never misspell his name ever again).
I tweeted this link to my mom’s favorite song:
And then this happened:
I bought this in Las Vegas in 2011. Attempted this puzzle until 2012, gave up. Opened it back up in 2014 — didn’t touch it. Moved into the new apartment, got settled, and now this is where I am at.
It’s really interesting how space and people can affect things you want to do but never get around to doing.