A Ghost of Daisies

Read more…

My boyfriend lent me his camera to take photos of the local Tea Party rally but that didn’t pan out. So I came home and took photos from around the house instead!

Recipe can be found here.

These AMAZING mint brownies’ recipe.

All photos by Thomas Kozak.

My favorite parts of these unfrosted Oreo cupcakes is the fine texture that is a result of the cocoa powder. The second is that there is a whole Oreo cookie in the bottom of each cupcake.

I was in a hurry to go to a potluck, so I didn’t have time to make the first batch of cupcakes, take them out, and then reuse the pan. So instead I squashed about 8 Oreos in a sandwich bag with my rolling pin, then put them in this glass pie pan. I then poured the remaining cupcake batter on top to make this delicious dessert!

Made from this recipe.

Using this recipe, I made mint brownies for my boyfriend to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

The ingredients

The brownie mix

The icing

The finished product

Unfortunately, I didn’t take a photo of the top layer of icing which resulted in the brown finished product above. My boyfriend said it was like biting into an Andes mint. I loved making this. The brownie batter was so good that I was licking it off my fingers so I wouldn’t miss any.

I hope you had someone to share the love with today!

First, let me say that I abhor shopping. Clothes never fit right (too curvy and too short) and I hate spending money. However, today I went out on a mission to buy some boots and dressy shoes for work. Rack Room Shoes was not open yet when I got there so I went and killed some time at Ross’. I lost my heart to this measuring bowl set:

It’s pink! With flowers! And tiny! <3 They range in size from 1/8 cup to 2 cups.

Then I lucked out at Rack Room Shoes and found my dream boots: right below the knee, low heel, slim, with no decorations. They put me back a very worthwhile $30. I’m especially pleased that they’re pretty much the identical twins of my old boots which are falling apart after 8-9 years of wear.

I then found these babies for work:

You can’t really tell, but they’re embossed with crowns, a family crest, and who knows what else. My left foot is wider than my right so despite three other cute choices, these are the ones I had to settle on.

Finally, I found a 3.5 x 5″ journal set to fit into my purse for work. There are three books (ruled, blank, and grid) which will be perfect for working with websites and taking general notes! I’m so pleased that things went well. Yesterday I also purchased a peacoat online from Delias that I’ve been lusting after for a year. I wish it was gray to match my cloche hat, but this was the only one they had in my size left. I figure that with my tax refund, I should spruce up my closet a bit as I try to present a professional, mature image.

Amanda, Jr., Sherry, Jerry, Grandma, and Grandpa in 1986

I got the call last night that my Grandpa isn’t expected to live more than a few hours—no more than a week–longer. This is my maternal Grandpa John born December 4, 1937. He was raised by his maternal grandparents, Daniel and Alice. At twenty-five, he married my fifteen year old Grandma, Shirley. This is 1962. He fought in the Korean War but a fire in Kentucky robbed him of his VA dues for his old age. Over the next 19 years he and Grandma would have four girls—two whom died shortly after birth–and two sons. They named their children Clara (my mom), Johnny, Jerry, Shirley (dead), Sherry, and Rebecca (dead and my namesake). They have thirteen grandchildren with an age range of twenty-one years.

Jr., Grandpa, Amanda in 1989
Read more…
He’s someone I don’t know very well. But he’s my grandpa and I absolutely hate that he no longer knows anyone is beside him. Aunt Sherry said Grandma is sitting next to his bed, holding his hand, and neither does she acknowledge the world. She stares at him, waiting and watching. This is their 47th year of life together and soon it will end.

The waiting is terrible.

She was twelve years old when I realized something was wrong.

Dollbaby’s story begins in 1996 when my family went to a Humane Society animal fair looking for the cat the landlord finally said we could have. She was huddled at the back of the cage while April, the orange tabby that shared her space, pushed herself forward against the metal bars. However, my Dad saw something special in the shy gray and white kitten. We gathered around and then decided to take her home. She was the one. Unfortunately, her shyness is more complex and we realized that she had been abused. Even all these years later, she’s timid and can barely assert herself except when no one else is around.

She and I have a complicated relationship. I was in sixth grade the year we adopted her and very lonely. I took solace in Dollbaby having chosen me to be her preferred human. When I’d get home, she’s emerge from under my bed and we would cuddle as I did my homework, her white paw batting at my school books. During my parents’ divorce and then after the move, she got outside. For two miserable months, I waited to catch her. She was afraid to come too close. The divorce had been difficult on all of us. When I caught her, Dollbaby gave me a small scar to remember the struggle as I held her tight and rushed indoors. She has not moved towards an open outside door since.

The years have moved by so quickly and we were poor. I saw her weight fluctuate high and low till it moved to the point of knowing something was wrong. She was all bones, her vertebrae thrusting upwards with her skin hanging from that curtain rod of a spine. She was too weak to leave her solace in Dad’s room (we had adopted two more cats who chased her but loved me, so she moved to his room). However, Dad said she was just fine, leave her alone. I dawdled, knowing my income was sparse, but Dollbaby was taking a turn for the worse.

In June of 2008, Dollbaby was diagnosed as a diabetic that was six weeks from death. Read more…

Dollbaby will be fourteen this year. Her vision is slowly being blocked by cataracts from age and aggravated further by her diabetes. Yet she sleeps on my pillow next to my head and nuzzles my face for attention. It takes her longer to prepare herself for the jump from the floor to the bed. When she hops down she lands much heavier than her “sisters” who are half her age. In November 2009, she had to have all her teeth removed due to dental decay. Side note on that: it has not slowed down her eating one bit and the puffiness in her face went away. She looks a little funny without her teeth, but it does not hamper her lifestyle. She still snuggles with me when I read, rubbing her head on the edge of my grad school textbooks (a bit different than the novels I read in sixth grade). She lies still as I administer the insulin. There was no choice in taking care of her diabetes. She’s my best friend and I can’t imagine life without her.

Inspired by I Used To Be Younger

Animals from the Natural Science Center of Greensboro

Ten years ago my dad gave me these three keys. Two opened the door to our house and the other the mailbox. I was fourteen and had been abandoned by my family to live with my stepdad. He had known me from the time I was two/three years old and I had lived with him since I was seven. However, we were more or less strangers because I was a quiet child that preferred my books to interacting with people other than my siblings. But then with the strange fates, my life changed into what I would call, “living like two bachelors” in our house for the next ten years.

I moved out formally on August 1st of this year. Due to the unemployment in my hometown, Dad has been unable to secure a job and has sold my childhood home. As part of the deal, I mailed my keys back. I feel that this is the real goodbye.