The Hidden Truth, My Enemy The Egg And FaceBook

The structural characters of traditional Eggs Benedict are; English muffin half, toasted, Canadian bacon, a poached egg and hollandaise sauce.

This morning I posted a picture on Facebook of my breakfast, Eggs Benedict.
I made it all myself, hollandaise included. Hollandaise is not a very complicated sauce, it just takes about 10 to 15 minutes to make. I’m cool with sauces…they are a bit of a specialty of mine. You can buy those packets of powder (?), I never have though…I’m traditional like that.

My Eggs Benedict was non-tradtional in the sense that well, I didn’t have Canadian bacon or English muffins or lemon juice for that matter. Did this set me back? No….Fuck no.
French bread
A think slice of ham
…and Hollandaise made with Lime juice instead of lemon…OOOooooo…I’m so crazy!!!

The poached egg though was my dilemma. As proud as I am of all my culinary feats and abilities…
The simple EGG is my enemy.
It’s difficult for me to admit I can’t cook something.

I can’t fucking hard boil an egg without messing it up.
This past easter I wanted to make myself some Deviled Eggs…I followed 3 different recipes on ‘How to boil eggs’…I failed all three times. When I have actually succeeded in hard boiling an egg (so that the center is cooked) when I go to peel it half the egg white comes off with the shell.
They funny thing is that I KNOW what I am doing wrong and where I am failing. I understand the fundamentals of the process. I think it’s the Gods cruel punishment for my pride in the kitchen.
I set timers, check temperatures…I FOLLOW DIRECTIONS. (I hardly ever follow directions.)

This morning when I posted my picture you couldn’t see my mess of a poached egg I had made (5 of them actually). Poached eggs are not easy for most people to make…and for me to attempt this is retarded mentally slow of me and prideful…but I had a craving. Again, I know the fundamentals but the application leaves me dumbfounded.
What my Facebook friends couldn’t see is that I had to scoop out the egg yolk first then capture as much egg white as I could. Then in my artistic manner and a great deal of ’strategary' I placed it on top of my egg yolk with hollandaise draped over it to hide the imperfections …all for a picture for Facebook.

This blog is about more than My Enemy the Egg…it’s also about Facebook and my blog.
On Facebook you could look at what I post and my pictures…
I quote my Children, if they say something reeeeediculous ridiculous.
I try to be funny.
I post pictures of fun drinks ‘cause that’s what cool kids do.
I post pictures of things I make.
…but…
…The people that know me best and know the many (and not so many) things going on in my life know Facebook is just what I want you to see…not the real me.
Just like my picture of my Eggs Benedict I show only that which I want you to see.
My blog is where I tell the truth about what goes on…
Behind the Book’s Cover

Memorial Day

Memorial Day; Barbecues, an extra day off for some, sales at Macy’s…and most of all remembering our fallen; Family members, spouses, friends…

When I got divorced I only divorced my active duty spouse, not my friends or my memories of them.

The military is a different community from the average American community.
It’s not just made up of the active duty but family members as well…
…When stationed overseas or away from family you make a family.
I was/am blessed to have a great military family…some of which we have lost in combat.

We would spend our holidays together, random dinners and First Fridays at the Squadron. People would PCS in and PSC out and we would have Hails and Farewells. The active duty members would deploy and the spouses would step up. Closer and closer we grew with every event; every Air show we worked, every party we planned, every Holiday we shared.

One weekday before Easter when we were living in Japan a few of the Polish girls came over to our house and we made hunderd’s of perogies, securing enough tasty food for all that year. It wasn’t like you could drive home for the Holiday.

There were a lot of parties…
Ghetto Fabulous...
70’s Themes…
Wet and Wild Redneck style...
Famous Couples...
They had their own Burning Man parties and cookouts almost every weekend.

If you live it/lived it you understand the camaraderie and the amount of ‘get togethers’.
...That next time when you all gather…someone or sometimes even many will not be amongst you to celebrate…So you gather as often as you can.
I feel blessed to live somewhere that my military friends often frequent.
I love seeing them so they can fill me in on the goings on of their family and mutual friends…who’s doing what and where and so and so is a douche bag and so and so got promoted below the zone…

I’m writing this and thinking of all my friends spread across the world still living this life.
The stress of wondering…
…’Will I ever see them again.’
…’Will I ever hear their voice again.’
I hope this weekend they will get together and lift their glasses to the way to many Friends that have given the ultimate sacrifice.

In loving memory…

Capt. David Wisniewski

Lt Joel Gentz

Staff Sgt David Smith

Tech Sgt Michael Flores

Senior Airman Benjamin White

…”These things we do, that others may live."

…

Capt. Randy Roby

…and the many, many others lost…

Little League Weather…Could They Look Up?!

Great day for a game?!!!

May this PLEASE be my last post about Little League retardedness?!!!!

I’ve done a good job keeping my mouth shut at the games with a new understanding that…
...“boys will be boys when it comes to baseball”…and I’m not talking about the 7 and 8 year olds on the field…:/

LoveBug wasn’t excited to go to his game today…
…”When we win the Coach says, ‘You did ok today.’ When we lose he says, ‘You guys did horrible out there.’
We know I have no love for the Coach…The assistant Coaches have grown on me. I like they way they are with the Children when the head Coach is out of town…It’s a much more fun and an easy learning environment.

Today the weather forecast was bleak. I kept on waiting for the canceling of the game, as was my Ex.

Note…Many of you that read this might be unaware that I have been a 'Soccer Mom' for years. I have nothing against sports although it may look like it from past blogs…My problem is…

COMMON SENSE IS NOT COMMON

I don’t like it but will sit through rain (sprinkles) and yucky weather, cold and wind…all the while feeling bad for my Children as they play through it.
I draw the line at lightning and bad weather.
I know our weather is hard to predict… ask any weather man here!…But when it’s obvious and in your face/over head…can we be reasonable? please?

I get to the game at 11:28. We are to be there 30 minutes before when we can. The game starts at 12:00, supposedly.

Via their, Colorado Springs Little League, face book page this is what/how things went down…
All the times are estimates…but you will get the drift…

3 Hours ago… (around 11:30)
Warning! ) Lightning Strike 15 miles for Colorado Springs Little League. Lightning strike alert for CSLL. Lightning.

3 Hours ago… (around 11:36(ish))
Note…I’m gonna paraphrase…I feel lazy…
The call to evacuate the fields, lightning within 10 miles.

12:16 (ish)
The all clear is given to “Play Ball!"

The teams that WERE playing FINISHED their games as we stood around…

Another lightning strike….
Another 30 minute wait…

We waited…My Ex joined us in my Cool Mini Van…You have to go to your vehicle…you can’t stay on the field. (I get this…I’m not one to play with lightning…that shit will find me!)

I wasn’t leaving. I wanted to as did EVERYONE ELSE. I’m the pariah though…This bitch is sticking around. I’m not gonna leave the team with one less player….
What if our schizophrenic weather with a crack addiction and a side of ADHD decided to change it’s mind?…It wasn’t though and that was obvious…

30 minutes later and the game is back on.
The Coach had to leave…a Birthday party. I understand that you schedule things expecting them to be complete at a certain time…this is Little League not a Cricket game. (Cricket can go on fooooooreeeeeeever.)

We get out of my Cool ride and head to the field…
Where intelligent Men stood.  Yes, I said that.
They realized and understood the weather was what it was and neither team wanted to go through yet another delay…So they cancelled.
Meanwhile…
The Little League representative was on the other field…ignoring that which was over head and the obvious?!…

There was a few more posts after we left…
There was another lighning strike warning…
Then a…
…a delay
Then a...
…”Please be patient as we are trying all we can to get these games in today.”
Then finally.
…”All games cancelled today."

I must say now that there is a Little League Mom that doesn’t like me because she doesn’t know me or understand that to me…
A game is a game and at the ripe old age of 8 my LoveBug won’t be picked up by the pro’s tomorrow…I’ll support my Children in the things they love with the understanding that a proper schedule and a loving (and yes, stern) environment will help them succeed in life. Life’s not fair and if anyone knows that my Children do.
My Children are well rounded and they are CHILDREN…and I will let them be so.
It’s not about ‘the times’ it’s about COMMON SENSE.

When Does The Game End?

I have a love hate relationship with the game of baseball.
I love that my LoveBug loves it, can play well and pays attention when sitting on the bench.
I hate the Little League mentality.

Saturday LoveBug had a noon game. He was 15 min late because his Korean school gets out at noon. I was there waiting for him and there when the game started…at 12:08. (Sadly I have learned and found to look at my phone for the exact time of anything involving Little League…it’s done me no good.)

There we all were cheering our team on. We were playing the undefeated team.
We were losing.
The whole ‘we started late' so we can play late had already happened…:/ LoveBug had a piano recital that afternoon and I sat there wondering…
…’do they think this is the ONLY thing happening in the world?’
I had said my bitchy piece only to get shot down yet again by a huddle of Men(?) that had had their dreams shattered and would berate Women and Children to make them feel better.
It was the last inning and we were up up to bat and the Coach, the poor guy is only there to verbally assault 7 and 8 year old boys…and his son is gonna need serious therapy, had only called 3 boys up for the line up(?). The three boys had batted and the coach stood there wondering why no other boy was ready. He comes over to the dugout, a pissed look on his face and his anger is noticeable as he wears it on his sleeve…he says…
…”Who’s up next?! Why isn’t someone ready?”
Remember he had only told 3 boys to be ready…
He walks out on the field and says…
…”Let’s just end this now.”
We didn’t have three outs, we were up to bat and he didn’t finish the inning…he just stood there and quit…after arguing that they needed more time to play because they started late.

Last night, Tuesday…we had a game. Be there at 5pm for practice 30 min. before the game starts. Ok…I’m there on time with my Children, our dinner packed in a cooler because we had to leave at 4:30 and won’t get home till 8…then showers and bed time.
The game started at 5:28…yes, I looked to see the time…I’m turning into the bitchest of all bitchy Women.

Note…Men wonder why Women are bitchy…they create the bitch in us with their douche bag behavior. It’s not us…it’s them.

7:15 the ‘last’ inning ends. I know this because one of the other Mom’s and I had checked our phones for the exact time. The boys from the other team, the losing team, run out on the field and line up with dignity. Parents have started packing up their shiz and we are ready to go. The ‘Umpire’ (a Dad from the losing team comes out on the field and talks with the the coaches. He has decided the games ‘last’ inning ended at 7:14.

Note…Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. If you think any of this ridiculousness is about one fucking minute you would be sorely mistaken.

I stand up and say…
…”It’s 7:17. Why are we starting a new inning.”
Coach…”Khirstin", or whatever the fuck he called me this time, “we can start a new inning if the last one ended before 7:15.”
Then the douche bag Dad/Umpire from the other team decides he needs to yell at me...
…”The last inning ended at 7:14 we can still play!”
Me…”The game is over. Can we use some common sense and see that. These are 7 and 8 year old boys that have school in the morning.”
Douche bag Umpire/Dad…”The game isn’t over."
This goes on and don’t think I let it go…I can admit when I’m wrong and say so. I’m not wrong this time.
The Umpire/Dad had decided in his little mind (according to me and several of the other parents) that maybe they could tie the game.
Our Coach didn’t have the back bone to stand up and say…
…’It’s over. The last inning ended at 7:15.” to the other Dad/Umpire.

So they continued to play as my blood pressure went noticeably through the roof.
I had lost yet again.

Here are somethings I’ve taken away from this fiasco…

I was respectful for a time, until ‘they’ decided that our time is not worthy of respect. This happened at the first practice I had attended after the coach had sent out an e-mail saying practices would be from 5:30-6:30…At 6:30 the parents start packing up…the Coach kept the boys till 7. I kept my mouth sorta shut. I was wondering that perhaps I had made a mistake…
No. I hadn’t.
It has been made clear to me now that our time is not worthy of respect by those involved with this association.
The 'end' of the game has consistently/every time so far, been determined that the 'last' inning always ends at 7:14. It doesn’t. Or that they started late…
They can’t conceive or understand that the game is over…or our Coach just quits in the middle of an inning he argued to have!
Last night the boys understood that the game had ended…the dad's didn’t.

My son’s Coach continues to verbally abuse the boys and one Mom had to say last night that he wasn’t to talk to her son that way…
I understand a need for sternness but…
They will drop balls.
They will strike out.
They don’t know yet where to throw the ball.
They are 7 and 8 and will get bored sitting on the bench.

My Ex is out of town for a bit, has been most of the month it seems. He knows of my frustration but doesn’t know I want to take my son out of this mess because I don’t want him to think this is how adults should treat Children. I’m embarrassed of my own behavior because I refuse to sit by as all of us on the stands and those Children in the dugout are disrespected.

I want this to be my last rant about Little League. It has left a very bad impression on me. The behavior of the Men involved is sad…

Ps
If they want to have a dick measuring contest I’ll go out and find the longest, thickest strap on I can.

Pss
I’m so classy.