A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Courtney.

Courtney had a dream: To Marry Nick and Live Happily Ever After!


She looked far and wide for Nick. Alas-- he was not to be found!

Courtney was discouraged.

She was downtrodden.

She was crestfallen.

She was melancholy.

She had the vapors



Finally, one dark day, she decided to do something drastic;

She placed a Craigslist advertisement.



"Young woman dreams of marrying a man named Nick. $500.00 obo"

Then she lay back on her velvet divan and waited.



That very day she got a response!



"Dear Courtney:

Your dream has come true. Your Prince Luke has arrived. Will you be my Princess Leia? My basement cat, Darth, my hamster Chewbacca and my family of albino mice (Dad Anakin, Mom Padme and 100+ of the cutest babies you will ever see) can be ready to move out of my parents' basement on the morrow.

Here is the best part: You don't even have to pay me!! I overheard my father say that he wouldn't give $.02 for me but he would pay his entire fortune to someone willing to take me off their hands!

I assume that you are okay with intergalatic transphibian ovum transplantation because I really want children right away!

Do the stuffed animals you keep on your bed talk to you sometimes in the night? If not that is okay, but if so all to the better!

I would puffy heart to meet you tonight for dinner. How about McDonalds? I only nom french fries. Ever.

I already love you with all my heart and soul,

Nick



Sometimes the line between dreams and nightmares is a very thin line.

The End

Figaro Saves The Day!

Did I ever tell you guys that I re-named my little rescue kitty Figaro? He just didn't look like a "Lucky" He looks JUST LIKE Figaro from Pinnochio so I changed it. I talked to him about it and he seems okay with it. When I want him to come to me I just belt out "Feeeegaro, Feeeegaro, Feeeeeeeegaro" in my most operatic voice and he comes running. He is a total sweetie and he has bonded with me, as well he should since I nursed him back to health.

He protects me too. Recently there was a rash of paper invasions in my bedroom.

I am very lucky that he was there to kill it.

I don't know what happened to the rest of it!!!!!! (Insert scary music here)

Just when I thought I was safe in my bedroom again, A ROLL OF PAPER TOWELS AND A STARBUCKS BAG got in there and tried to do their dirty work.

Figaro made quick work of those dastardly paper products!!!

He is my hero!

I think I am safe.... for now....

My Mid Life Crisis

Well yes, as a matter of fact, I did buy purple suede boots and wore them with a short denim skirt to work.
You are correct: It does take guts to wear something like this at my age, thank you!
It could be worse.
It might get worse.
I have to shake myself out of this rut.
WHO IS WITH ME????

Dear Wedding Chapel Marquee People

Dear Wedding Chapel Marquee People:

Thank you!

I have been waiting for you to post something worth blogging about. And recently I have gotten Lovely Nice Sentiments like "Today I Marry My Best Friend" or "And They Lived Happily Ever After"

Sadly, my initial reaction to such sentiment is usually on the cynical side and so I try to say a quick prayer that these people will truly live happily ever after with their best friend.

And then, occasionally, I am treated to something different. This one is awesome!

Toe Math

A Normal Foot Plus A Shower Stall

Equals

A Broken Toe

The Reunion

Geeezers.... life is full of disapointments

I take full responsibility. Maybe I had too much confidence in my ability to squeeeeeeze a story out of any amount of raw material. Maybe my expectations of this event were just too high.

Regardless of the 'whys' here is the ugly truth:

I can't wrestle a decent blog out of this class reunion.

I have spent the last several days trying to find an angle. I even tried to put a sci-fi spin on it.... nothing has worked. It pains me to admit defeat but I feel I owe it to you all to just stick a fork in it.

The problem isn't that it wasn't perfectly nice. It was nice. The venue was nice. The food was nice. The one small adult beverage I had was nice. The decorations were nice. The company was nice.

"Nice"

NICE

NICE???????

Seriously? What do I do with something like that? Nothing really terribly praiseworthy. I did not find my one true love. The food did not transcend my soul to another alternate universe. No roofie in my drink. I wasn't underdressed nor overdressed. And nothing to mock really. No slutty drunk woman. No hoochie mama with her tatas jumping ship. I didn't run into an old boyfriend nor did I renew an old neglected friendship.

GAH!!!!!

There were a few outstanding moments.

First, we have the arrival of my hostage/date Wayne.

Wayne drove all the way down from the bay area and when it wall all over and we had partied ourselves into mediocrity he drove all the way back.

So I understand why he wanted to be comfortable and wear sweatpants and tennis shoes.

I told him that he was dressed perfectly for the "People of Walmart Reunion"

Thankfully he was just joking around.


This is how we really looked right before we left. He is a truly handsome gentleman and all night he treated me with chivalry that I had forgotten existed. He was actually not ashamed to be seen with me. I did manage to look okay at least--- but he didn't even seem to mind that people mistakenly thought we were 'together'. That was very cool.

It was like going to prom all over again---- except I never went to prom with Wayne. I went with his best friend. I should have gone with him but he didn't ask. Let's see-- back then I was a lot younger and I sewed my own dress. And then, like now, I bought my own ticket. At least this time we didn't drive in a yellow baja bug with a window that fell out!
Anyhow...... on to the event.
We got there. Made small talk. Looked for old friends but didn't see too many. Wayne had better luck. We sat at a table where this guy who I remembered being an arrogant fart was true to form and asked everyone at the table except for me and the wives (I was a graduate--- hello??? Ugly name tag??) what they did for a living etc.... And I just sat there and felt inadequate... ah now there is an emotion I remembered from High School. I was by far the fattest one there so... recognized that feeling also. We came across several people who we had all gone to elementary school with (Yay Monte Vista!!) and Jr High (Yay Parkview Lancers!). An old neighbor found me and we talked about how we used to play outside until the street lights came on and it was time to go home to eat dinner. We used to make forts in the desert and sail boats down the gutters. We talked about how we rode our bikes to the liquor store for sodas and we talked about our parents and their struggles with health and how amazing it is that my parents still live in the same house. My sister even dated him a couple of times. I chatted with my best girlfriend from High School's ex-husband who used to be my dance partner back in the day when we were part of the schools show choir-- that is right. The real Glee but with far geekier members who had to actually practise for months at a time to get one number done. Had he shown the slightest bit of dis-respect for my friend I would have had to stab him with a butter knife but he didn't. Smart man-- for an idiot who didn't know what a treasure he had all those years ago.
And just about the time the dancing and the boozing was kicking into gear we made our exit because Wayne still had a long drive home and I was starting to fall asleep-- it was 11:30pm you know and the night before I had been up most of the night waiting for my wandering daughter to come home.
So there you go, Geeezers. I wish it had been more noteworthy.
Ironic, is it not, that the best part of the whole story was the build up!

What did I learn from this adventure?

I learned:
That most people are just average-- which actually makes mathmatical sense! There are some who are still pilots and have 30 year marriages and some who weren 't there because they are in destitude situations.
There were several who have passed away from various things. A very good friend (as adults-- we didn't ever know each other in high school) who was murdered. A very good friend from our teenage years who took his own life just a few years out of high school. I am sure he was gay but we never spoke of it. I wonder if that pressure ended his life. I wish I had been mature enough then to have allowed him to be himself.
But overall we are all about in the same place.
We haven't 'arrived' yet at where we expected to be by now. Still we are grateful because we know it could be worse. Seeing the ignorance of teenaged 'wisdom' reflected in our own children and realizing that you really aren't done when they are 18 and graduated from high school-- understanding why our parents worried so much then and still do. Because even a 48 year old adult is still their child. We all wonder about what might have been if we had choosen a different spouse, a different career, different schooling, different ... everything. Coming around to the conclusion that whatever might have been just wasn't and that the 'we' that we are today is the sum total of all those choices and missed opportunities for better or for worse.
But being reminded that we aren't without choices to still make, lives to still live out in ways over which we yet have some measure of control. Schooling can still be completed. Brains that may work slower and have some blank spaces, also have spaces that are filled with wisdom and experience. So we have to take a picture of the sign next to the car at the amusement park so we can find it later-- big deal, right?

Here is it Geeezers, the Bottom Line:

The party just isn't over yet. Shouldn't we just go for it and party like it is 1999?

Loves to all and Especially Wayne who is the best Hostage/Friend a girl could ask for!!

LeAnn Rittel-Fenner Class of 1980!

The Much Anticipated Class Reunion: The Prequel

I survived the reunion, Geeezers. And I know you are all jonesing for all the 411 but I have to back it up a bit so I can set the stage properly.
Friday October 15th, 2010.
A day that will be marked in infamy. Lauren has her official first date. Ironically, she goes to Magic Mountain which is where I went on my first date. NOT THE SAME BOY though, that would just be gross.
I mention this as part of the reunion story because, although the evening goes well, the boys who are driving and navigating introduce Lauren and her best friend Stacey to a ritual of sorts which many of us have experienced: The Dreaded Curse of the Male Navigator. You know I hate to embarrass Lauren so I will relate one of my own stories and you guys can do the math.
One time I went out with a special someone who I desparately wanted to impress. Just in case he is reading this blog lets call him.... ummmm.... Mike. So we are going to Los Angeles and he gets on the freeway going toward Mojave. I realize this immediately but what do you do? This is a no win situation for a girl. If you tell him, you hurt his ego and you may never see him again. Especially if he has also forgotten his wallet that night. If you don't tell him you could end up in Rosamond, Mojave, Bishop etc..... And he is still embarrassed and upset. (and if you are reading this you know who you are)
Anyhow... I say this because she didn't end up getting home until 4:30am (there was also car breakdown involved in a distant location) All this to explain that I was already tired by the time I got to Saturday morning. Still, I roused myself just a few hours later and went to work. Around 12:00 I sat up from where I had fallen asleep at my desk (the drool had pooled on my computer keyboard--- oopsey!) and went off to my favorite Nail Salon where they apparently know my every move because they always know exactly how long it has been since I was there last. Scary. I wanted to get a quick manicure because my scaly man hands needed a little TLC. Not the whole fake thing, just a little french tips (that is white colored stuff on the tips for you ignorant man types). And a brow wax because I can't see my own eyebrows with my glasses off and every so often someone points out to me that it looks like wooley catepillars have taken up residence on my face. Here is another insight into the feminine world: we have facial hair too. It shouldn't be there. It gets worse as we get older. We make it go away. I usually employ other methods of accomplishing this but that day my good friend Amy at the Nail Shop once again lied to me and told me that she would not hurt me if I let her wax my upper lip. She LIED AGAIN!!! Not only that but she waxed my entire face. Seriously--- I have witnesses. I don't know what she was doing and by the time she had smeared hot wax all over you can't really jump out of the chair and leave so you have to go through with it. My face throbbed with pain for hours. HOURS! At one point she put a cold towel over my face to take down the swelling and probably to muffle my screams! Course then I couldn't breathe and I couldn't pull it off with my hands because they were covered in hot wax too!!!
I was trying so hard not to say bad words. You don't even know.
It was traumatic.
Just thinking about it is making the area where my side burns used to be hurt all over again.
I think I will have to stop here.
Stop by tomorrow for the rest of the story......

Mis-Post

Ignore that last post if you got it, it wasnt ready yet!

Fair Warning

Have you ever felt yourself in immediate physical and emotional danger? The hairs stand up on your neck... your arms... your back.... Your eyes narrow and the pupils constrict. You even smell it--- your senses are alive, alert, vibrant.... Adrenaline shoots through your body and you prepare to fight or flee.... Fear, nauseous brain buzzing fear....

You never really know when it will hit..... you never really know when you are safe.... because the object of this distraction, the villain of the story, the demon devil in disguise is wily. Sneaky. Cunning....

FISH.... little swarming silvery fish. The smaller they are the worse the terror.

For my daughter Lauren the demons take the form of things with wings. Birds are bad. Butterflies much worse. But the most horrifying.... MOTHS!!!!!!!!

And what, pray tell, is infesting the night time sky right now? Moths!!!!! They are traveling in packs that slap against my windshield leaving their luminous blood behind as they sacrifice themselves to kamikaze missions. The swarm all around the porch light making it nearly impossible to get inside to the safety of home and hearth without one... or many.. sneaking in to wreck havoc in her sanctuary.

One even got inside my car this morning. I was very glad Lauren wasn't there.

Luckily for me, my demons seem to be confined to the underwater world (though I have seen them try to escape many times only to die in a kamikaze mission of their own)

On an interesting side note: Lauren's birthmother also was phobic of moths and butterflies. Makes one wonder, does it not? She only met her once when she was 3 years old and we did not discover this shared fear until Lauren was in her teenage years. Did she pass this along to her unborn child? Was she frightened once by a seemingly harmless Monarch?

Why the haunting of the dusty fluttery winged things. The world may never know.

But.... for now.... I think Lewis Carroll describes this epic struggle the best:

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird and shun the frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree, and stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood, the Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling though the tulgey wood, and burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through the vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head he went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy.
"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe".

Saturday Is Almost Here!

Here it is Wednesday already. Just another few days until Saturday arrives.
The Big Day.
Antelope Valley High School Class of 1980's 30th class reunion. It is appriopriate that this occurs during the Halloween season. It is sure that many people will be wearing masks of some kind. And it is certainly likely that this could be a Horror Story. Either way I expect to have some stories to tell.
Yesterday I got a great hair cut and color. I looked pretty danged okay if I do say so myself. If only I could re-create this style on Saturday but that probably won't happen. I do not know how stylists do it--- maybe it is the free set of hands at working on the back of my head. Maybe it is stylist magic that they perform for job security. Whatever it is, I can never make my hair look nearly so good as it does when someone else does it.
The shoes. Oh, my pretty edgy shoes. Too high a heel after all. I tottered around all night long at the funeral-- a test run as it was. A failure--- nay an EPIC failure. Not only did I totter but they hurt. Badly. And they made my slacks too short. And the next morning my feet still hurt and when I went down the stairs I tottered AND wobbled like I had ice skates on (this with bare feet mind you). My pretty new shoes were not going to cut it. I had to go out and get..... get.............
MORE PRACTICAL SHOES.
Nooooooo.......... It hurts my heart......
Is it possible that I am overthinking this? NO WAY!! Not possible!!!
Am I not practically guaranteed to find my
One True Love
at this event? Isn't that how it works in the movies? Someone will catch my eye from across the crowded room. We will move toward each other as if in a dream. It will be as if all those years fall away and we will Just Know......
Hey, it could happen.
Right?
RIGHT?????

OMG!!!
I just realized!
I don't.... don't..... have......a........a.........a.....
(Insert scary foreshadowing music here)


Matching Purse

Saying Goodbye

Sunday night I went to the memorial service for my friend, Byron. It was amazing. The church was full and there were many, many people who spoke of his impact on their lives. His wife gave us such a beautiful picture of this man who had fought his demons and through his relationship with God was able to build a whole new life. He didn't abandon the people who were still struggling with their addictions but worked to mentor the men who still lived in the residential halfway house he was in when I first men him just a few years ago.
He was a blessing to many people in his life and in his memory many more people got to hear of his faith and love for God. I can only hope to leave that kind of legacy behind me when my time in this life is over.
Loves to All~
LeAnn

Reunion Bio

My class reunion is getting really close so it is time to post my biography. I really need everyone's input because you all know how carefully I guard my privacy. So be sure to leave me comments. I am really put off by people who pad their bios justso their lives look better than they really are and so I have made a concerted effort to be honest and accurate (humble even) so that you will all see who I am.



Name: LeAnn Louise Rittel-Fenner-Hernandez-Obamama-Nakasuki-O'Brien-Fieri-Anderson

Marital Status: Single.... for now....

Kids: Brandon, Lauren, Epigmiento, KayUnique, Suki, Patick, Guido and Hans... so far. All of my children have at least a 4.2 GPA except for Hans who only has a 3.99. His handwriting is just a tad bit sloppy for a 1.5 year old-- don't worry we are having him tutored! I believe in cross language learning so we speak English, Spanish, Ebonics, Japanese, Scottish, Italian and Dutch... so far...

Interests & Hobbies:

Hunting for my next ex- husband, plus sized modeling, searching for a pedicurist who can make a really small white flower on my big toe when I ask for it, traveling (next stop: North Pole. I hope to find an Eskimo husband there), reading vampire romance novels because I really truly deeply believe with all my heart and soul that my last husband is a vampire that is out there somewhere looking for me because he truly deeply will love me forever and ever and ever... Watching as many Reality TV shows so that I know what to model my own life on since obviously those are REAL life, duh. Working on my newest CD "LeAnn Signs Songs Translated from Dolphin to English, Spanish, Ebonics, Japanese, Scottish, Italian, Dutch and Eskimo", writing my newest Self Help book "Who Needs People When You Can Have More Cats" as wells as my newest novel "Chupacabra Love" (non -fiction) and editing my newest cookbook "It Isn't Offal, it is Awesome. Organ Meat: It's What's For Dessert!"

Sometimes I make myself a cup of Half/Caf Americano Sugar Free Hazelnut Soy Milk Latte with just a spoonful of foam from the milk of a yak and I ponder the universe.......



And just then, hopefully, the medication kicks in......

Something Really Important

Something really bad happened. I know that I don't usually get too deep or serious on this blog but today I just have to get it out because every time my mind stills for a minute I start thinking and getting angry and all that stuff.

Friday a friend and co-worker had an accident. As nearly as I can figure it really was just an accident. A mis-step. I don't know why or exactly how, I only know the outcome. And it was bad.

When I told my sister what had happened and what the first responders said she told me that it wasn't likely that he would live and if he did it probably would be a very different life that he had been living.

Shock and confusion-- not so much anger until I had to report this incident to a bureaucrat just doing his job much the same as I was just doing mine. But describing what had happened and hearing his nonchalance about it just made me mad. "Is this a fatality? Or is it just very likely to be a fatality?" "What was he doing? What parts of the body? How far, how tall, how this, how that" My anger came then. I tried to feign the same professional attitude but it irritated me. "This person is a friend as well as a co-worker" I said "give me a minute to think." It wasn't Mr Bureaucrat's fault, it was his job, he had to ask. My job describing this on various reports over and over. Clicking on 'fatality' for the first time in my whole career. Thinking of how to help his widow with benefits. Putting processes into motion. Making mundane the obscene. This is my job. I do not care much for my job just now. And I am just at the very beginning.

Let me tell you a little about this friend. I met him a few years back when he came to work with the company where I work. I do the HR and the payroll and usually this means words on applications and copies of SS cards-- but he came into the office a lot. At first I was startled by his tattoos--- he had some scary ones. Souvenirs of a phase of his life he had put behind him. Sometimes I would joke with him that his tats were staring at me and it was freaking me out. He was one of those people who found strength in his faith in God to get sober and straighten out his life. And he was joyful in this and not afraid to talk about it because he remembered where he had come from. In the past couple of years I saw him meet a woman he loved and get married, buy a home. He was happy. The last time I spoke to him was the Tuesday before he died. He had called into the office because there was a problem with payroll and he hadn't gotten paid on time. We talked about what was going on and his last words to me were "It is okay, sweetie. I know you will get it worked out, don't worry about it". He could have been angry- he had every right to be upset with me, but he wasn't.

So I am angry and I don't know what to do with it. I am not angry with him-- it truly was an accident. I am not angry with God for taking him because my understanding of 'how things work' tells me that were it not for his relationship with God I probably would never have known him and the happy life that he left probably would never have happened. Besides this I am thankful that God set up some physical laws that we can count on; like gravity. Aren't you glad that gravity always works? That we don't have to figure out how to keep our feet stuck on the ground and our stuff from floating around all over the place? But sometimes those same laws aren't quite so benign; like when you step out into space you fall. Or the fact that two things cannot occupy the same exact space. One or both will succumb to the other. Two cars crashing into each other suffer damage. It is the natural state of things that sometimes #@^% happens.
And if everything that I have built my entire life and thought structures around is true and this life is a transitory phase then we must all, at some point, move along to the next step.
I think my anger comes with that transition. If it just were not so painful for everyone involved. If living a long life barring a run in with physics did not end with a slow crawl away from the 'me' you have been all your life toward pain and confusion and loss of who you have always been. If only our bodies were not always slowly moving from birth toward death. It feels wrong. It hurts. It makes me angry at how unfair it is.
But it doesn't make me angry at God. Not to say I have never been angry with God, mind you. Immediately coming to mind is a very bad stretch after my husband left me and I sought answers to all the 'whys': Why did God let me marry him to start with? Why did God let him cheat on me? Why did I deserve my life to be shattered? Why did my children have to be brought up in a broken home by a broken mother? Why can't anyone love me? Why? I screamed out to God "I cannot trust You with my life if you do not explain this to me in a way that makes sense. I do not believe you have a good plan for my life. I do not believe You really love me." And after a long time of being broken and needing to find strength from somewhere outside of myself I finally learned that trust and love is a choice. You do not have to understand everything to trust- you either choose to have it or not. You choose that you are either better off with it or without it. I also learned a lot about free will (and physics) and I found that I could choose to trust and accept the strength and support and love that I could not live without any more. And my security within that trust allows me to be angry sometimes and question sometimes and not understand a lot of what happens--- and be secure knowing that God is okay with that. He promised me that in the Bible.
I am really really glad that the very last conversation I will ever have with my friend has left me with a good feeling. I am relieved that there is no regret. It made me think of the last words I might have with all of you--- because no one really knows when that might happen. So just in case this is it there are a few things I want to say to you.
I love you all. You are good friends and family and even acquaintances with excellent taste because you read my blog. I know that some of you politely read through my spiritual thoughts with the same sort of bemused affection that you might have if I were talking about something cute my cats did as if it were just some other hobby that has piqued my interest. I want you to all know how important it is to me that you know that my relationship with God is the best part of my life. This is where my 'me' comes from. Yes, He made me just a little quirkey. This relationship is where my strength comes from. This relationship is where my security comes from. And I want to know that, should I be moving along any time soon, that you won't have to wonder why I never told you all of this.
Because I know with all my heart and with my very intelligent brain (that thinks for itself lest you think I am just easily led)--- that when my friend left this world and moved along to the next that he woke up in the arms of the Jesus that he knew loved him because the Bible promises that too.
And I so badly want to know the same about every one of you reading this right now. So with all my LOVE and no regrets I pass along my very best hope and prayer for you tonight,

LeAnn

Epic

Epic

There are goofs. And gaffs. And mis-steps. And mis-takes. And mess-ups and screw-ups.
There are train wrecks and other descriptive terms I am too much a lady to say.
There is failure.

fail·ure
/ˈfeɪl[Image]yər/ [Image] Show Spell[feyl-yer]nounAn act or instance of failing or proving unsuccessful; lack of success: His effort ended in failure. The campaign was a failure.

Nonperformance of something due, required, or expected: a failure to do what one has promised; a failure to appear.
A person or thing that proves unsuccessful: He is a failure in his career. The cake is a failure.

Then there is Epic Failure:
It all started about a month ago. My sister bought a bag of frozen talapia at Costco.
This seems like a reasonable thing to do except for the fact that we don't cook fish. It isn't that we CAN'T cook fish because, well, hello Pan+Fish+Fire= Cooked Fish. It is just that we shouldn't cook fish. And for the purposes of this story I am including shellfish in the general description of 'fish'.
That is right
This is a Fish Story. About the one that should have gotten away.
I tell her. 'I can't make tasty fish.' It never turns out right and the house smells bad like when we get algae in our swamp cooler (and I only wish that were a joke). The bag of talapia mocks me from within the freezer. "Food Wussy-- you can't let little Miss Talapia defeat you by default" "There are starving children in China who would LOVE to eat this talapia" "We aren't made of money-- she bought the fish, we must eat the fish before we go buy something new"
My TV FoodNetwork boyfriend Guy Fieri had some coverage of the making of Coccpino (Fish stew) and I figured that was all the education I needed on the subject so I trekked to Albertsons to pick up a few ingredients I needed. Some parsley. Some basil. Some peppers. Some tomatoes. Some.........some...........Noooooooooooo don't make me remember............... some... other kinds of 'fish'.
I felt fancy let me tell you. "okay may I have some scallops? And some shrimp in their shells (because that enriches the broth you know) and some mussels--- only if they are closed though because if they are open they are not fresh... and..... and...... a small lobster tail.

That tail was deceptively innocent looking.

Now, you must understand that I am phobic about fish. Until last night I thought that was limited to live fish. APPARENTLY NOT! Touching that lobster tail just about had me running for my anxiety medicine. It was just so.... fishlike. It smelled like fish. It's little legs and feet were still attached and some kind of exoskeleton rib cage spinal column thing across the part that usually comes right out in one perfect piece on the Red Lobster commercials. To say I was grossed out is an understatement. I wrapped it in a towel and tried to get the meat out. I cut off it's tail. I tried to break it's back. I had the heebie-jeebies but I was determined not to let Mr Lobster beat me. After I butchered it up pretty badly I put him in a pot of water to cook. Then I turned my attention to the Talapia (fishy) and the scallops (fishy) and the shrimp (shrimpy) and the mussels (surprisingly neutral). I made a pot of rich tomato stock and hucked in some potatoes and corn on the cobs (possibly fishy but I couldn't tell by that time).

Back to the lobster. The shell was red so it must be done. I take a knife to the body and extract a small portion of meat. Even on sale that lobster meat had to work out to about $5,637.99 a lb. I don't know what Red Lobster does but their secret is safe from me that is for sure.
I carefully drop all the fish and seafood into the pot of broth and put on to a soft boil. It looked good. It smelled.... fishy.
I left it to simmer while I took Becca to soccer practise and left the pot under Laurens charge. We all made it home around 8:30-- Becca and I from the soccer fields and my sister from work.
I knew Becca wasn't going to eat it because she doesn't eat fish. By this time I had come to the realization that there was no way I could eat it based solely (GET IT?) on the ordeal of the Crustacean Horror. (insert scary music here) I figured scrambled eggs for dinner. Lauren looked frightened and told me that Flaming Hot Cheetos was sufficient for dinner. Only my sister was left. And Sam, the Dog. We tried to give Sam a taste and he, who had never met a morsel of anything that wasn't a vegetable he wouldn't chow down on, declined our offer. And he gave me a look of disgust.

That is when I knew I had hit bottom.

My sister, gamely, ate a bowl insisting that it was good. I love her and I think she is trying to spare my feelings because I am not buying it. There were too many little shrimpy legs in that bowl. Really, any shrimpy legs are too many.
I am defeated.

I am a Foodie Failure

You are only as good as your last epicurean offering, and mine was a failure of epic proportions.
I can only hope that Guy will forgive me.......