Regeneration (or What I Learned From Doctor Who)

“Now it’s time for one last bow, like all your other selves. Eleven’s hour is over now, the clock is striking twelves.” –The Time of the Doctor

When you think about it, in a way, we all regenerate. We’re all different people throughout our lives. Maybe we don’t literally change our face and body, but we alter our appearance, change course, start over. I think that it’s good, a way of moving forward, quick march. As long as we remember all the people that we have been. My time as a Carolina girl grows short now, only a few days left till my regeneration into a Tulsa resident. Part of me is excited, another part says “I don’t want to go.”

I lived in my hometown for twenty-six years, except for a few years of college, in a town even smaller than the one I was from. Sometimes, when you’ve been in a place so long, it’s harder to change yourself, to become what you want to be. Because people think they know you, because they have always known you. You are fighting a losing battle with your previous self, because sometimes people don’t like change.

I left. I moved myself to another city, further from home than I’d ever been. I changed careers; I changed a lot of things. I learned so much from my time here. I became mostly the person I want to be here. There’s always room for improvement of course. And things that aren’t changing are said to be dying. So here we go again. First, just an address, then it’s more. You change. You become. You regenerate. I’m almost looking forward to it, I’m curious to see who I’m going to become this time.

And there’s the catch. Because Jacksonville gave me roots and Charlotte gave me wings. It makes it hard to leave. Not that there haven’t been hard times and disappointments here. There have been, but on balance, good has outweighed the bad.

I won’t forget one day of this time, not one hour. I wouldn’t change even a minute. And it’s okay to be sad or scared. That’s part of being human. But there’s no stopping regeneration. The change is coming soon, so we shall see if Tulsa can teach me to fly.

Charlotte…goodbye.

“I will always remember when the Doctor was me.” ---The Time of the Doctor

The Eye Has It

I am a Pinterest addict. I blame my friend Melissa. She kept telling me about all the cool things she found on there. One day I just decided to take a look...(insert troll face here) and it was all down hill from there. However, it does offer some pretty awesome things. For instance, I found a link to this blog The Domestic Man and a post he wrote about cooking an Eye Round Roast.
I am not usually one for doing a roast. It's generally dinner for one in my home. But I do enjoy a nice roast and Eye Round beef is pretty cheap. Of course when I told my mother what I had bought, she did that vocal cringe thing she does and says, "That's going to be really tough." And I told her, "Maybe. Maybe not."
The blog post didn't offer so much a recipe, although I suppose we could call it that for giggles, it was mostly an MOP or Method of Prep. This roast isn't really about ingredients as it is about technique. It's a dry roast, at a very high temp (500 degrees F) for about 20 minutes and then...you turn the oven off.
No, really.
You turn the oven off and let the roast cook on with the residual heat, which means of course, you cannot open the oven. So I turned the oven off and after an hour I checked the roast. It was sitting at about 135 degrees. That's a good temp for a medium rare roast. So I pulled it out and let it rest.
I was a little sad that it didn't develop much of a sear on the outside, possibly because I don't trust my oven and didn't crank it all the way to 500. But it still came out quite nice. Not exactly prime rib (duh) and perhaps a bit chewy, but the flavor was good. Not bad for a $12 roast, right?

I guess even an old dog can learn a new trick. Provided the new trick has a pretty picture on Pinterest.

Angels Take Gastonia

Well you never know what a new year will bring.  This morning I was laid off for the first time ever. Not sure what to think.  Sales were off, so obviously the last one in is the first to go. Feels odd at the moment,  but I'm sure that panic will set in very soon. I have a paper bag all ready for the hyperventilation that is sure to follow.  But they say that no door closes but a window opens,  so I'm keeping my eyes open for the next good thing.

Don't blink.

In a garden, there's a girl who's waiting.  She's going to wait a long time,  so she's going to need a lot of hope. Go to her. Tell her good days are coming. Tell her this is the story of the Chef Amanda. And this is how it ends.

-borrowed from doctor who, angels take Manhattan

Funny Honey

So Christmas is at our throats again...What is it about the end of a year that compels us to steer our lives into the chaos? Does anyone remember that holiday season; when everything was ok and nothing hurt? It may have been a few years ago. Had I known it was a one-shot deal, I would have taken more pictures.
I jest with you of course, I think it is mostly that this is such a busy time and a lot of decisions get made very quickly. Sometimes the universe consults you on these decisions, sometimes it does not. We all try to roll with the punches, but sometimes, I feel compelled to punch back.
For instance when my husband, who is a linehaul trucker, owns 2 trucks, which he leases on to another company, texts me to say that the guy who owns this company that he hauls for says he can't go home till the 22nd of December because it's a busy time of year, my whole field of vision is awash in red. I'm so angry that I am actively shaking. The desire to knock someone senseless is intense. My husband says, why don't you call the guy, maybe he'll listen to you. Which seems like a terrible choice on his part, because I'm sarcastic on a good day, when I'm angry, I'm a caustic little lollipop. And here's where I got stupid: I called the guy. I got my Southern out and explained to him that I needed my husband home for the holidays as there were several family events which required his attendance. I was sweet to the point of saccharine. You could tell this guy wasn't really sure what to say, probably the first time it had ever happened. Since he doesn't know me, he couldn't tell that 1500 miles was all that separated him from the beast.
And of course, my husband, the idiot, after the guy says "Ok, you can go home if it's that important", decides he'll probably stay out anyway. So that was my exercise in futility. So we'll see when he finally realizes it's time to get his sorry ass back home, if the flights are not all gone. Perhaps he could have a seat on the wing.

Sarcasm. Because beating the shit out of people is illegal.

A Sense of Snow

It's Thanksgiving. It seems like it was Halloween yesterday. And now Christmas is barreling down on us like a freight train. Which is a bit scary, as I have no idea what I'm buying for the very few people I buy presents for at all. Everyone I know has everything they need. Me, in case anyone is wondering, I'd like a new job, a house, a Kate Spade purse and liposuction...But those are wants. They aren't needs. I have everything I need. A family that loves me, a roof over my head and food on my table. My job may not be much, but I still have one.
So I'm going to sit here and watch the snow blow in and the start of a cold winter. I hope that all of you out there, wherever you are, are happy and healthy, with family or friends and realizing how very much we have to be thankful for. I know that I am.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep..."

Phone Home?

I never realized how very dependent on my cell phone I am. Until I didn't have one anymore. While en route to Georgia for work for the um...6th week in a row (I know, right?) I stopped at a QT in South Carolina. Went into the ladies room to wash my hands and set my phone down a bit away from the sink. Didn't want to get it wet. Walked out and forgot to bring the phone with me. Only took me maybe 2-3 minutes to realize that I didn't have it. Ran back in to the ladies' room...Gone. I fought back several waves of hysteria and the impulse to burst into tears. I went to the counter to borrow the phone and called my number, straight to voice mail. So they turned it off. Now I have to find a new phone and have the old one shut off. Trouble is that I am not from Spartanburg, and I don't know where an AT&T store is located. Normally, I would pull up directions and Google map it, but...no phone. I can't call anyone. I can't text. I have no GPS and no way to get on the Internet to find the place. Finally, I find a shopping center with a Kohl's. They have wifi. So I pulled my laptop out of my trunk and borrowed their signal for a bit. Found a store, had to wait for it to open and then almost knocked the salesperson down with the force of my ire.
I am now the proud owner of a new HTC One Mini and it's very cute. And while I'm attempting to sort out how the silly thing works it occurs to me...
The person who stole my phone is an idiot. My Blackberry was more than 2 years old, which is antique. They turned it off, which means that when they turned it back on, it was locked. If you enter the wrong password into my phone more than 5 times, it locks up and wipes the phone. So they are now the proud owners of a lovely paperweight.
Some people just need a high five. In the face. With a chair.

Remember

I usually post something in remembrance of this day. Because this day was important to me. It marked the Maginot Line between childhood and adulthood; the world before and the world after. And I suppose for many, it is this way. Whoever we were, as people, as a society, it changed after this day. Now, the children who were born after have never known what it was like to not be at war, to think of terrorism as something that happened in other places. In some ways, I feel bad for them. They may be children, but they were never innocent, as we were. This day is a touchstone for them, always there, every year. For some it simply marks the destruction of one landmark and the rise of another. For others, the death of a parent, aunt, uncle or friend they never knew. They see the images, they see how horrible it was; but they will never know it like we do. Because they've never known anything else. Much in the way we celebrate Veteran's Day or Pearl Harbor day. We know the horror of it, we were taught the history; but we would never feel it in our bones; not the way we do this day.
So today I don't think I'll remember planes, towers and madness. Today I will think that we lost people who were or could have been dear to us. 3000 souls, more or less, good, bad or ugly; in a single morning. They weren't just heroes, or victims, they were friends and endless potential that went unfulfilled.
I will always remember.

"Parting is all we know of heaven,
 And all we need of hell"

Emily Dickinson