Bad Kitty Bakery is officially up and running.  And if you’re looking for some solid advice today: go buy something.  Anything.  You can’t go wrong.  Susannah is the real deal and so are her baked goods.  I would know, I’ve sampled some.  I myself cannot wait to order enough macarons to build a macaron fort so that I may lock myself inside and eat my way out.  What?!  That’s completely normal…

Anyway.

Go check out her amazing site and treat yourself to something nice, like a pound cake.  You’ve earned it.

When my parents split and there was a lot of moving from house to dorm, from dorm to house, from house to house, from house to apartment, from apartment to house, from house to house again, and so forth; I threw away my coveted box of greeting cards.  Something about moving so frequently makes a person evaluate and re-evaluate what’s worth all of the nomadic hauling.  As my responsibilities grew my priorities changed.  And before I really knew what was happening, I’d given up on a future designated nostalgic hobby for the sake of practicality.  Now to this day I will spend an appropriate amount of time appreciating greetings of all sorts before eventually tossing them out.  Still there are a select few that I keep for keep’s sake.  And they live in new boxes with new purposes and a better sense of commitment, for I’ve promised myself that these.  These I keep.

My birthday was only a handful of days ago and with it came many greeting cards.  One particularly on time each year and without fail, personalized just enough to be genuinely heart warming and smile inducing without being contrived.  I recognize the arpeggios quality to the lettering long before having to read the signature.  It’s not only the thought that counts in this case, but the consistency.  Each year it never fails to surprise me that I’m so well remembered.  And it makes me wonder how many other people in my family had taken notes from her over the years.  Mental jots to be more like her.  To be a more sincere, kind, accepting, encouraging, and loving version of ourselves.  My mother wrote me a beautiful letter on my sixteenth birthday, and I always wondered if it was inspired in part by the letters our Aunt Glenna wrote to my mother when my mother was younger.  My Great Aunt Glenna had a way of making the simplest of happenstance into a brilliantly poignant moment (assuming you were paying attention enough to catch it).  And I’m so happy to see that some of those parts of her rubbed off on parts of us.  It’s the smaller things with the greater impact that truly stick.

Yesterday morning when my mom called me to tell me that Aunt Glenna had passed away suddenly, all I could muster up through the “whats?!” and the tears was, “But she JUST sent me a birthday card.  I haven’t even had a chance to send a “thank you” note yet.” The rest of the day was a complete blur of emotional unrest and sorrow for the loss of such a warming light.  And when I got home, I couldn’t help but sift through my stack of recently acquired cards to find the one from her and my Uncle Louis with its simple humor and simple warmth on a simple, glossy card stock.  I arranged the card to the top of the stack and just stared at it as I felt rather expeditiously that this card.  This card I keep.

Friday night I got to continue celebrating with our Compound Crew (seven years and running!), which meant Cake!  And Starbucks!  And duck jokes!

The next day was Rhonda’s designated “Pamper Lindsey Day” (I know, I totally have the best wife EVER).  We got Thai Massages and then mani-pedis in massage chairs and then we went out to a lovely dinner at one of my absolute favorite restaurants, t’afia.  Seriously, my wife is kinda, totally, awesomely awesome.

I wish I had shot more images on “Pamper Lindsey Day,” but I was a bit too noodly to handle a camera.  Next weekend when my mom totally spoils me for my birthday, I’ll be sure to rock out the images.

To be continued…

Check out our trip to Florida!

Also at the Naples Zoo we saw:

When we weren’t out playing and eating.  We were relaxing with adult beverages and books on our condo’s wrap-around terrace.

More from our trip to Florida to come.

Sweet.  Candy from strangers!

I’m so physically, mentally and emotionally drained right now that I’ve been pretty unresponsive to doing anything.  Which is nothing like me.  I’m always proactive, organized, full of energy, ready for anything, up for everything, and adamant about putting everyone first before me.  I take care of my responsibilities.  I take care of the people around me.  I take care of my strict illness regimen.  I’m used to taking on life at full force.

But right now I kind-of don’t care.  I’m not being active in any way, shape or form because of my back.  I’m trying to not overexert myself so I don’t relapse into another sickness.  I’m spending more of my free time sleeping instead of being a productive member of society.  I feel tired ALL THE TIME.  So all I really want to do is go back to sleep except I’m sick of lying around.  But the moment I come up with something productive to accomplish, the thought of getting up to attack it is too tiring to bear so I find something else to occupy my brain that doesn’t require doing anything.

I know.  I sound pathetic.  I feel pathetic.

Yesterday I just so happened to have an appointment with my Psychiatrist, so I filled her in on my current state of “MEH.”  We talked about it.  We talked about me.  And then we braided each other’s hair and ate cookie dough while my Psychiatrist proceeded to tell me that where I’m having some in and out moments of depression, I’m not depressed.  And basically it’s as simple as: my body has been through a  lot.  I haven’t caught a break in a few months.  So my body is just really, REALLY fucking tired.  And battling my body every day has made me really, REALLY fucking tired.  And everything I’ve been doing with the not doing of anything?  Is what I should be doing and as I keep feeling better bit by tiny bit, I can increase my activity levels and moods will improve and then I can take over the world.  Or something.

Until then, I’m struggling just to keep my attention focused on getting any single task accomplished (like answering a phone, or putting some laundry away, or shaving my legs.  These are difficult, tricky tasks, people).  My spirit is trying so hard to come up and I’m trying desperately to come up with it as my body lags behind me.  I swear I’m still alive and I haven’t completely turned to the dark side (although I hear they have cookies over there), but I am a little scattered right now and until my body starts getting back on track I’m gonna be struggling.  I guess in a way that’s my disclaimer for my “MEH” state.  So there you have it, Internet.  I’m way off right now but I’ll get back to me soon enough.  And when I do get back, I promise to bring lots of fun-ness and maybe even some confetti and pony rides.  Only the best for you.

XOXO

Check out my “Jolted Awake” series and comment here or email me at lindseysmo@gmail.com if you’re interested.  I accept cash, checks, and credit cards.  And I’m willing to ship (buyer pays shipping fees) outside of the Houston area.  I’m happy to deliver to anyone living in or around the Houston area.

Thanks so much!

And to add insult to injury, it appears that the one and only Bloggess MAJORLY out-staged me in the “let’s make fun of the crazy, teenage Twilight fans” category.  That’s fine.  She deserves to win because she’s clearly more dedicated to the cause than me.  Also, I think she’s fabulous.

But!  Did she get a front row seat to a Twi-hard fight before the movie?  I THINK NOT.  Reader’s Digest version:  Some tweens in matching Breaking Dawn outfits got their seats stolen by some bitches who didn’t even bother to dress up for one of the greatest moments in cinematic history, which eventually ended in police escort and applause.  I had an unobstructed view of the whole thing.  It was like watching the Sharks fight the Jets but with less musical entertainment and Latin flair, and with more grammatically incorrect, teenage girl screeching.  Before the five cops came in (yeah, FIVE), there was first an usher.   And then another two ushers with the manager (that’s three ushers, a manager, and five cops… bitches be crazy).  Fortunately, justice was properly served and the Twi-hards got to see the movie.  Which is more than fair considering how ridiculous they looked in their outfits.  I tried to snap a photo of the fight so I could be all, “Yeah!  Lookit this shit goin’ down!”  The quality of which is crappier than my iron-on shirt design and it really doesn’t capture the essence I was going for (cat fight!).  But whatever, here it is: