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You want it darker, we kill the flame.

My emotions have been dispermitted. Stifled and curtailed. The backstory: My husband and I run a gaming crew. We have for years, it's quite large and varied and not long ago, we realized that we had some players who were local to us, so we organized a bit of a get together. A fairly small thing, as one of the attendees was just about as a big a sufferer of social anxiety as I am, so really just her and then another player, her boyfriend who was also in the crew and her seven year old. It was a really small thing, just some grilling and some beer, the usual cast of characters when we grill... The chick with the boyfriend and the kid ended up having an insane backstory with my husband, which is definitely a story for another day, like an already writing it in another tab type of story for another day. This story is about the other chick. The one I actually became friends with... Like, legit super close friends. Until one day we weren't. I don't know what happened exactly, sh…

Mad.

I'm just so mad lately. And I hate it. I hate me like this but I don't know how else to be. I feel like I'm either fighting crying or fighting screaming and there is no in between.And hell, I even feel bad for all the rage I feel that I want to direct at the SIL, when yeah, she definitely deserves quite a bit of it, but I feel like maybe I'm looking at it wrong and the things she does that piss me off only piss me off because I'm completely incapable of sharing my house with another woman. I don't fucking know anymore.. I'm just mad and I'm damn certain my health is the one that's taking the most damage from it....

How do you fix a fast food junkie?

“If we pay someone else to make it, it must be better, righ...?”
Wrong. Just so very absolutely, unceasingly wrong.
But not for the reason you may think.
I used to be a fast food junkie. Restaurant junkie. Like, seriously, any way that I could get dinner without having to spend my small amounts of free-time after work cooking dinner for myself and an ex-husband that refused to cook while simultaneously refusing to work. It felt worth it to me to shell out a bit of money for a meal that was at the very least acceptable, warm and most importantly free of me having to be the one to cook it.
On the health side, it was an abysmal choice. Daily intake of high calorie foods that honestly didn’t really taste like much of anything since they all came from the same fryer with EVERYTHING. 
(Here is where I stop for a second to clarify: I’m not opposed to massive amounts of calories. Quite the opposite, actually. I LOVE lots of calories. Big fan.)
And monetarily, it annoyed the everlovingshit out of me…

Tree fatality.

Gods, I love this view. 
Except for that it kind of makes me sad now.

I’m from Texas and a tornado isn’t exactly something I’m completely in the dark about how to deal with, but it’s also a fear I truly thought I’d put behind me. New York isn’t exactly where one thinks a tornado is likely to appear. Ever. In fact, most of the people in my sleepy little lakehouse community have never seen one here nor would they ever expect to...

And yet, here we are... Seven months ago, almost to this very day, a series of three tornados struck my neighborhood. They were all quick and vicious, as tornados often are, complete with the freight train sound that confused the hell out of all of my neighbors. Not me, though, I knew the sound the second I heard it, and with it came every memory of every tornado I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. And born of it was the return of every bit of fear and anxiety that I’ve ever associated with them.

I’ve tried very hard to overcome that in the past few mo…

Can you break the broken...?

This day has tried to break me. And I need you to know upfront that many days have tried to break me and failed. This isn’t a new experience to me. But, it’s definitely done its damndest and has pretty much come closer than any of it’s determined relatives of days past. I can’t get specific, not without telling someone else’s story, at least, but essentially, I had to defend and protect my own family in order to deal with someone else’s bullshit words. I need to be clear on this, if I did something wrong, I will forever and always own up and take my lumps. If a member of my family does something wrong, I will encourage, (not so gently), that they also own up and take their lumps. It’s just how I was raised. And, in all honesty, even when it sucks tremendously to own up to something, and it hurts to even make eye contact when doing so, I still believe it’s absolutely worth it. In the same vein, though, I expect to be believed when I explain, (calmly or not), that any accusation against…

Be careful, that Angel might be a con man. #SPNFamily

I’m an extremely naive person. It’s a trait that I’ve been told is endearing and something I should try to actively maintain by some, but in my mind, it just makes me feel like a sucker. A lot. To the point that every time April Fools Day comes around I sequester myself for 24 hours. I’ve started to doubt every single person and every single thing because my instincts can never seem to point out what I should be second guessing or who I should be casting aspersions on...
To put it quite simply, since I can’t tell what I should doubt, I just remind myself to doubt every. damn. thing.

Recently, though, something happened that I convinced myself to not doubt. Actually, that’s not even an accurate statement...

I received a message on Facebook from the actor Misha Collins.

I had no reason to expect a message from him, but that fact in and of itself didn’t mean that I would be completely surprised to get a random message from a celebrity. It’s happened before and not just once. Be it messa…

Flu Stew.

We here, in the House of Gryffyn, are all sick.

And I mean ALL.

The Teenager has had a fever since Sunday night. (That’s actually his only symptom, I’m starting to suspect he might have pulled a Bart Simpson on us and just told the troops to stand down so he didn’t have to go to school.)

Gryff has the flu and while he’s normally quite capable of bouncing back before any of us can even tell he’s sick, this year’s flu has kicked his, much like everyone else’s ass.

And I’ve managed to twist my ankle. Sounds minor, I know, but given my body’s usual insistence on laughing at the little angry face that is the 10 on the pain scale in the ER because his pain is so quaint, this injury is just the tiny little piece of straw that broke the camel’s back.

We are officially down for the count.

We do still need to eat though, and unless the dog and cat have been taking culinary classes behind our backs, one of us has still got to make that food.

Luckily, it’s close to Easter so I’ve been restocking…