Y’all, I hit 100,000 views, on my blog, today. I didn’t start out intending to be seen or heard. I have continued to only write my story. I know some days are not the most interesting, but it’s my life. This blog has been like therapy, for me. It’s helped me to process and get through a lot. To everyone who’s contributed to my views, I truly hope it blesses you, even in some small way. It touches me, when I see comments from people saying they can relate. Or, from folks who simply leave words of encouragement. I have some “regulars”, who I feel I’ve gotten to know here. I worry, when I haven’t heard from them in awhile. Thank you to anyone who’s reading this. Thank you for supporting me in this journey. It really does mean a whole lot to me ❤️

There’s still plenty of story yet to tell here. I appreciate all of y’all.

“Don’t tread on me. Those are words that I stand by homie. It doesn’t mean I’m gangster. It doesn’t mean I’m country. It means that my life is in my hands only”… “That’s dandy and fine if you trust Uncle Sam, but I for one, fuckin’ don’t”….

~The Real Samson

I’m so sick and tired of seeing our media tell us lies. They keep us all so busy arguing over things that don’t matter, and then we’re too busy to notice the real bullshit they’re doing. It’s on both political sides. All I want to do is live my life, the way me and my family decide. We’re not hurting anyone. I respect everyone’s right to do the same. We don’t have to all look, think, feel, speak, love, or hate the same things. I’m just exhausted by the back and forth. It’s literally all we see on TV. It’s all we hear on the radio, podcasts. It’s plastered all over social media. My damn Alexa show scrolls “news” on the screen, all day long. It’s become inescapable. I’m gonna sound like a hippie here, but why can’t we just spread a little more love? At the very least, less hate. The vitriol that’s poured into our ears and minds, on a constant basis, it’s driving us all insane. Anyway, rant over.

Jackie and I did hang out, in my kitchen, last night. It was exactly what I needed. Her boyfriend came by, later in the evening. I really like him. He’s a great guy. He wants the same things Jackie does. I love seeing this finally happen for her. It’s an extra bonus that Adam has become friends with Justin. We can all hang out and have a lot of fun.

It’s chilly here, today. Only about 44 degrees. The sun is fighting with the clouds. It peeks out, occasionally, and then the clouds quickly recover the light and warmth it’s attempting to shed on us. The wind is blowing the wind chime I have hanging under our deck. I can’t hear that sound, and not think of the movie “Twister”. Still, I think it’s beautiful. I’m struggling to find much motivation. There’s a basket of clean laundry, that needs folding. I should vacuum the floors. I’m very “orderly”. I can’t stand having dishes in the sink, or beds unmade. I like everything to be in its place. I can be very particular about that. Chairs must be pushed in, under the table. The couch pillows go a specific way. My keurig coffee maker gets pushed into the corner of the counter, just so. I can always recognize when someone’s messed with my things, too. I know where everything goes.

Adam has been incredibly busy, at his new location. He’s taken on more responsibilities, here. He says he’s enjoying it, but I don’t hear from him as much. It isn’t even the busy season. He’s involved in the construction industry. He doesn’t build things. He just moves things, organizes, schedules, and manages other people and things. This time of year is typically slower. The economy also plays a big role in how busy his company is. We hardly saw him, through 2018 and 2019.

I suppose I’ll go fold and put away this pile of laundry staring at me, insisting I put it where it goes.

You’ll need:

Soft tortillas (I use the large ones)

Shredded cheese (I use “fiesta” or “taco” blends)

Chicken breasts

Fajita sauce (I buy it pre made, or in packets that you mix with water)

Optional: chopped green peppers, red peppers, jalapeños, onions

I boil the chicken breasts until they’re tender and come apart easily. Drain the water. Shred the chicken breasts. I just use 2 forks to pull the chicken apart.

Mix shredded chicken and fajita sauce together in a pan. Simmer for 15-20 min.

Lay out one tortilla. Spread some chicken, cheese, and any veggies you like over it. Top with another tortilla. Heat over medium low on a square griddle, until cheese is melted. This takes 3-5 min.

Slice your quesadilla with a pizza cutter, like you’d cut a pizza. Repeat with as many quesadillas as you’d like to make. Serve with guacamole, sour cream, taco sauce…whatever y’all prefer!

I was having a rough afternoon, yesterday. I’m not prepared to get much into it, but it has to do with my mother. My mother and someone else who I love so fiercely. I’m struggling internally, with how to move forward, with this girl, now that she’s built a “relationship” with my mother. I cannot let my mother worm her way into my family’s lives. I can’t have her gathering information about our lives, that Adam and I have decided she is no longer privy to. At the same time, I can’t turn my back on this girl. I won’t do it.

I’m not cold hearted. Making the choice to remove my mother from our lives, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. When I make a decision, I mean it, though. I can’t imagine going through this again. It’s just hard. Really, really hard.

I woke up, during the night, with a horrible stomach ache. I’m not sick. Emotional pain and stress manifest into physical aches, for me. I also have a condition which gives me chronic ulcers, in my stomach. I started a two week course of medications, today. Hopefully they’ll help get my belly to feeling better.

I intended to have a roast slow cooking, for supper tonight, but I forgot about it. It’s too late now. I’ve got leftover shredded chicken I had made, for chicken Alfredo, last night. I’m going to just go ahead and make some quesadillas, instead.

I turned on my little bose speaker, and I’m playing some music. I have lots of playlists. The one I’m currently listening to is titled, “shower songs”. It’s full of songs that make me happy. Jackie is going to be here, soon. Maybe we can have one of our “kitchen dates”. Just sit around and talk about any and everything. Throw in some laughter. Sometimes, some tears. It always helps, though.

Jackie was given a survey, from the shipping company, where we returned the items she had, very cheaply, purchased. The first question was, What was your reason for visiting our store today? I told her to put down, Returning stolen goods. 😆💁‍♀️

It’s just in my nature to be a smart ass. I have a hard time controlling that part of me.

I honestly think I get more sarcastic, when I’m struggling not to feel sad or angry. I’d prefer to laugh, than cry. I have this idea that, I look stronger, if I come off “bitchy”, than if I show my injury to people. Like, if I share my weak spots with someone, they’ll now know exactly where to kick me. I’m afraid. I’m afraid to expose myself. I’m afraid to rip the bandage off of a bleeding wound, revealing its existence. What if they pour salt on it? It already hurts so much. I can’t risk more pain. I’m recognizing this fear that I have. I can’t say that I was particularly aware of it, before. I suppose I must’ve made this pattern, in my behavior, obvious to those around me. It’s just, I’ve never looked at it, myself.

I’m having a hard time with someone I love, very much. Someone I’ve never written about. She matters to me, though. I’m helpless, as I watch her seek comfort in someone who has done nothing but hurt everyone else around them. It’s heartbreaking. She’s grown. I can’t forbid her. I have to sit back, and wait for this person to give her the kind of wounds I’m still doing my best to cover with bandages. It’s frustrating. I’m frustrated. I don’t love her any less, because of the things she’s doing. She’s searching for someone to love her. I get it. I know the feeling all too well.

Why is it, when you’re young, you feel as if no one is listening to you? But, when you’re grown, you’re desperate for someone to tell you what to do? I wish she could hear me. I’m listening. I’m searching for a way to tell her the truth. She neither talks to me, nor listens. All I can do is wait. I pray she finds me again.

I neglected to mention something that happened, Friday night. We went to bed around 10:30, because Adam had to work Saturday morning. As we were brushing our teeth, Adam said something to me. I can’t remember what. I wasn’t seriously angry. I replied, “you can fuck right off.” Adam reached over, and smacked my ass. For some reason, I decided to continue to challenge him. I repeated, “fuck off.” Again, smack. This back and forth continued, several more times. I finally had to give in, when I recognized that I was never going to win this one.

I woke up, during the night, with a very sore behind. Even while we sat at the table, on Saturday night, playing games, I couldn’t stay comfortable. Adam ended up bringing me a pillow to sit on. While we were in the shower, on Sunday, he spun me around, so he could see what my butt looked like. There are marks leftover. I turned back around, and told him to “stop admiring his work.” I was also soooo sore, from the “rage room” the previous day. Adam pulled me into his arms. He insisted, he does not enjoy giving me a sore behind. He told me, he doesn’t feel sorry for spanking me, but he feels sorry that he had to do it. He says he will not let me talk to him like that. I guess he means it.

I grew up watching my mother treat my dad like an accessory. I saw her control his entire world, easily. I know how easy it can be, to manipulate a man who genuinely loves you. That’s a dance, most all women learn to perform. I don’t actually want to be able to do it, though. I find indescribable comfort in knowing that Adam will not, in fact, fall for my bullshit. I never intend to be malicious. It’s almost an unconscious thing. I am well aware that I wield a significant amount of power, in our relationship. Adam would do just about anything, if I asked him in the right way. I honestly believe love is a dangerous game for a man to play with a woman. I have to possess a fairly significant amount of trust, in my husband. I have to always know, without a doubt, that he will never harm me. His strong hands could literally squeeze the life from me in seconds. He won’t do that, though. In that same sense, Adam must have an equally significant trust, in me, because I could drain the life from him, too. Maybe not with my hands, but with my choices in words, my attitude, my tone of voice. His “evil”, would land him in handcuffs. My “evil” would either leave him trapped in a miserable marriage, or divorced. Spending every other weekend with his children, while I live off of alimony and child support, in the house he’s still paying for. I think we all know that somewhere inside of us, there’s a certain amount of “evil”, which we are vaguely aware of, but also know we must contain, lest we end up alone and unloved. Maybe it’s wiser to make sure we’re acquainted with the evil that resides inside us? Maybe that’s what love is? Calling out each other, when their “evil” is showing.

Someone requested that I share some desert recipes. This is a very popular one, here! You’ll need:

Unbaked pie crust

1 Cup granulated sugar

1 Cup brown sugar

Pinch of salt

2 Tbs flour

5 eggs

2/3 Cup buttermilk

1/2 Cup unsalted butter

1 tsp. vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350. Mix sugars, salt, and flour in a large mixing bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs, buttermilk, melted butter, and vanilla. Add to the dry ingredients, and whisk until creamy. Pour filling into pie crust. Bake for 50 minutes.

And there you have it. A rich, delicious, southern pie 😉

Jackie and I had a blast, yesterday! She took me to this local place that has a “rage room”. We got to use bats and crowbars to smash bottles, TVs, boards. We had 20 minutes to “rage”. It was really really fun!

Adam and Justin grilled their marinated ribs and a few steaks. I had made potato salad, and some baked beans. Supper was delicious. Later, we played some games. One called “stir the pot”, and another called “tell me without telling me”. It gets silly!

Both Jackie and I woke up, this morning, soooo sore! Hitting something as hard as you can for 20 whole minutes turns out to be one hell of a work out. My daughter says we look like old ladies, walking around moaning and holding our backs. It’s worth it, though. That was an amazing experience. We’re definitely doing that again!

There’s an interesting dichotomy, to my relationship, with Adam. On one hand, I do get very turned on, when he slaps my ass. I love the random smacks across my backside. When it comes to a serious spanking, I don’t enjoy it. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate it. I wouldn’t say that I want those, though. If I’m honest, I don’t even prefer getting a spanking, over the alternative. The alternative being, we argue, ignore one another, hurl insults, and ultimately, never really resolve the problem. Of course, I do not want that! Is it the easy choice, to accept having my husband hold me down and spank me until he’s satisfied I’ve learned my lesson? No. That isn’t easy. If you were to ask me, in the moments before Adam comes home, when I know I’m in for it, I would absolutely say that I’d prefer not to get spanked. When I’m rational, reasonable, and calm, I know damn well that submitting to my husband, and accepting discipline sometimes, is the better choice. I do know that. I do understand it. That’s the hard choice. I’ve made the hard choice, to give over a significant amount of control, to my husband. I’ve done it, because I trust him. I’ve done it, because it works. I’ve done it, because I feel “lighter”, knowing he’s got me.

It isn’t easy, to quit fighting for the “steering wheel”. It isn’t fun, getting called out, when I screw up. It isn’t about those things, though. The whole process, it’s a learning and growing experience. Adam “steers the wheel” even better, the more I stop fighting him for it. I feel safer, and most content, when I’m not fighting him for control. Does that mean it’s easy? Absolutely not. It’s just right, for us. It works.

Jackie and I are getting ready to go out with our guys. Adam said he might be a little later than planned. He said we might need a snack. I sent him a picture of a Bud Light and told him, we found snacks…😆