Resistance is futile...

You want me... You need me... You'll love me. You must have me. You know you want me. It called to me... and I gave in. I couldn't resist. And I regretted it as soon as I walked out the door. Now it sits smugly waiting for me.

Freshly ground Sea Salt with thyme, freshly ground black peppercorns, an onion, a cup of baby carrots, one big potato, some oregano and hot pepper flakes... and a red wine. I went with a 2002 Trapiche Merlot Malbec from Argentina that has been sitting in my kitchen for several years collecting dust on a small shelf in the corner.

I overdid it. Too long cooking. I didn't shorten the cooking time enough, so it didn't come out succulent and moist and tender as I was thinking about yesterday. Well... for a rookie with a CrockPot and a Peppercorn Beef Roast, even with the overwelldoneness, it actually tasted pretty good. Spicy... peppery... and I think that wine was a pretty good choice with the peppercorns. I split it up so that some of the beef is in a bowl with the veggies and the rest is sliced up thinly and soaking up the "gravy"... Tomorrow it should be more moist and flavourful... Perfect with crusty bread... with butter, but I'll settle for margarine... because I have ... beef...

This cracked me up...

All I was going to do was a quick post of this:

 

It sort of fit where I am, but sort of not.

 

The funny thing is... that when I signed in to blogger, I saw this:

 

 

Yes, someone found my blog by typing "midlife lobotomy"...

 

Wandering... wondering...

 

Where?

It is hard to explain where I'm slipping away to, or what exactly seems to be calling me. There has been a general lack of interest that has been building for some time, which has been coinciding with the lack of thoughts, together with the fading and drifting feeling. I can't really say that I have been lured away by Facebook, because I was already having issues with insufficient thoughts for writing anything of substance long before I started that. Am I drawn in by pretty pictures, humourous tidbits and inspirational quotes, or is it just because it is less involved... Or... perhaps it will provide a nudge for the reality of my existence.

Struggling with the reality of my existence... Yes.. Because I was defined for so long by what I did, it is as though I no longer exist. What I was is no longer what I am. I no longer serve the purpose that I once did. How sad is that? That a job, not a career, a job...  and an office job at that, can be your sole reason for being for more than half of your life? It was what I let it become, and it became me. Sure, when that ended rather abruptly after more than twenty years, I recreated me immediately thereafter, but then that me died too after a couple years. I realize that if you don't have a purpose, then you have to want something... anything. To do something, to have something, to be something. If you have no purpose... if you have no wants, then you must resign yourself to existence, for living is beyond you. You must resign yourself to existence... or die. If ever there was a dream... or a desire for something more, you get to the point when you can no longer see them or think them and they become as a far distant memory. Something that is no longer a promising future, but a fading past. If you have no dream nor desire, then you must accept things the way they are and fall through the cracks of life. If you do not want something more, then you will die alone on a cold floor in an empty house.

I wrote that with tears in my eyes, but looking up across the room, by the kitchen window I see two roses blooming. It is not that they are inspiring nor that they give me some measure of hope, but I look at them with a sense of wonderment. It had been starting to freeze at night, so ten days ago I had brought them in the house, as buds, not expecting nor hoping that they would bloom, but wondering if they would. And ... they did. What does this mean? I don't know. Such a simple thing. Something from my garden that should have withered away and died, but didn't.

As I sit here thinking about this, I realize, and not for the first time, that I am more likely to do something if it is for someone else, than if it is for me. Does that make sense? If it is just for me then why bother? I struggle with getting my life in order, with living life, because it would be doing so just for me. In some strange twisted way, perhaps it is that I don't think I'm worth the effort. I'm not useful or essential to anyone, I do not serve a purpose, I do not create anything nor provide any service, so why am I here? What is the freaking point?

End rant. I'm fine.

I'm slipping...

away... It has been happening for a while now. But... it isn't life that is calling me. It is something else.

Bloomin November

That was the last sunny, warmish day in October drawing to an end, when the Peace rose was in full bloom. I figured the last three buds wouldn't bloom as the temperature at night has been dropping to below zero, so I brought them in and put them in a vase near the kitchen window where there is the chance of some sunlight passing through. That was on Saturday. Yesterday morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find that one of them had opened up. I just thought it was cool to have a rose from my garden blooming in the house in the middle of November.  

Sidetracked...

Still trying to clean house. Yes, it is taking forever. It is not uncommon for me to get sidetracked and end up doing a task completely unrelated to what I had intended on doing. Moved some boxes back upstairs, labelled them and stacked them such that there is some semblance of order. I found out that I have seven boxes of books, not three as I had previously noted. I finally put the bookshelf in the bedroom in order, moved a dresser laden with CDs and videos (I had to resort to taking ONE of the drawers out, for fear that one of the casters might break), a small desk, and an armoire filled with china and glass stuff (I did so very very carefully, one millimeter at a time), in order to move one of the tables I had moved from the dining room to the kitchen, into the bedroom. Confusing? There is now extra floor space in the kitchen and bedroom, but there is now an orphaned desk sitting in the hallway. This is not an undertaking wherein one room can be completely done and finished before moving on to the next. Everything must be somewhat planned and ... I was going to say choreographed. The rooms are small and the closets miniscule, so space is at a premium. Yesterday I sifted through the basement... Found a box of stuff from my last garage sale... about ten years ago... I knew I had organized the leftovers, I just didn't know where I had put them. Ended up bringing a couple bags of stuff upstairs to sort through and also get rid of. All in all, once again, there is no one room that is tidy. They are all works in progress. At least now there is only one table in the kitchen, and there is no longer a printer sitting on it. (Nor a stack of miscellaneous paper supplies.) Yay!

I look at what I have to do and I tend to get overwhelmed. There is that saying "Don't sweat the small stuff." Well, in my case, it is the small stuff that ends up being the most overwhelming. Even taking into consideration the task of moving the furniture on my own, and in particular that one table, as I had lifted it above the corner kitchen counter and had the table resting on my head just before getting stuck with the angle I had previously planned the maneuvering of... Even with that and the momentary "I don't know if I can do this.", the small stuff is still harder to deal with. ("But... you can do anything...", so I've been told and keep trying to tell myself.)

Oh... I got a little sidetracked... Whilst downstairs, I found another box of CDs that I was going to get rid of and some more in the leftover garage sale box. I brought six or so up to take a listen to. Came across something that cracked me up.

 

It is a Mike Myers recitation from "I Married an Axe Murderer", a movie of which I have no recollection whatsoever.

***

Update: Wed November 14, 2012 2:44AM

Funny thing that I mentioned "Don't sweat the small stuff"... Came across this today on Facebook:

Honour and Respect...

Not many things bother me. Not many things bother me for longer than a day. Most things are simply acknowledged and/or accepted as things that I have no control over. Something is still bothering me from yesterday morning.

I had bundled up in a silk turtleneck undershirt, a warm fleecy turtleneck, jeans, long boots, wool coat, fleece hat, and scarf as well as mittens, and walked over to the park. It was briskly cold, but not bitterly so. I found a place next to a tall tree, in the back, away from the crowd that had gathered closer to the street. People still arriving and walking through even as the parade had begun to make its way down the street, the high school band playing a song that has now slipped from my memory, the RCMP in red serge and the small remaining contingent of wartime vets. I was not close enough to see them, but that is just the way it is. The piper didn't play as long as usual and he made a noticeable mistake, the bugler made a mistake, there was a problem with the PA system, but these things happen. That is just the way it is sometimes. At some point after the service had begun, two women, one in her 30s or 40s, the other maybe 60 or 70ish, walked past me, up the sidewalk, a little closer to the gathering ahead. They began talking. They were talking during the playing of the Last Post. They were still talking during the two minutes of silence. They were talking until they parted ways and one of the women walked up towards the gathering, but did not go to it, turned down the other sidewalk to leave the park. She did not attend the rest of the service. Maybe the younger woman had just brought her kids to play at the park playground. Maybe the older woman was just out for a Sunday stroll. I have been trying to think of a reason... I have been trying to think of an excuse for their lack of respect... and I can find none.

Near the end of the service, the minister announced the names of the Honour Guard, four local cadets... I recognized the names, I know a couple of them, and I felt proud of them. Both my niece and nephew and one of my pretend nieces, were part of the high school band that played in the parade. I am proud of them too. Even as teenagers, they may not fully understand the meaning of the day or of the service, but I hope someday they will grasp its importance, and that of Honour and Respect.
 

Lest ye forget...

(Bro playing pipes in Gagetown a few years ago.)

 

Lest ye forget those who gave their all so that we could live the lives we do...

 

YouTubeLink (Views 36,393)

Once again...

I was thinking about Beer Sausage, Garlic Sausage (the coil from which you must remove the skin), Garlic Salami, Pepper Salami, Genoa Salami, Hungarian Salami, Mexican Salami, Aged Cheddar Cheese, crackers, French Bread. This was brought on by being in the grocery store after not having bought any groceries for over six weeks. I was in an aisle and saw a display of Brie and Camembert... Which is creamier?... Which has more flavour?... These were the two questions that popped into my head. I know I must have had one of both of them a very, very long time ago, but do not remember. I picked up the tiny package of Brie... $3.79... It was such a cute package, but I put it back. It isn't a whole lot in the big scheme of things, but ... but...  I'd rather put that towards beef... or chicken... or... salami.

Oh... and last weekend, out for dinner with aged father, the special... I really, really wanted to have, but it was $18.99... Gah! Prime Rib, Mashed Potatoes, YORKSHIRE PUDDING!!! ... etc etc... I didn't read anything else after I saw the words "Yorkshire Pudding"... Heavy sigh.

A few other things on my mind lately... Burritos, Churros, Empanadas, Gyoza, Chili, Lemon Oregano Pork Stew, Sauerkraut... Oh yes... such wonderful thoughts to be thinking at 3AM...

 

This is just one of those...

If you've ever been there or ever go there, just know that you are never alone.

These guys are awesome...

 

I've mentioned them before. Saw this today.  

Dan (the human water yo-yo) gets a virtual cup of hot cocoa, a warm binky and a hug from me.

 

(Curtsy to the Borderline Sociopathic Blog for Boys.)

Kinda cool but...

for some reason seems a little bit eerie to me. Part Ironman, part Aquaman...

I am here...

I've said it before and I meant it...

 

(Image from Facebook)

Apologies...

I wasn't taking your name in vain. I was exorcising the venomous lactose dairy demons from my body.