Friday, August 19, 2005

Tartlets, Shmartlets

Sixty tartlet shells

Rum pastry cream

Framboise pastry cream

Lemon curd




They were the cutest things at the party, which actually made me feel like a shmuck. So I hid in a corner until it was time to go home. Maybe I should have taken my sisters suggestion and done cupcakes from a box.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

An Open Letter To M


Since one of my posts deepened our drama, I'm putting this one out there as well.

I can totally understand why you feel I was being cruel/unnecessary. But please know, it was not with intent or to make you feel that way.

I'm sure that doesn't lessen your feelings of betrayal any, but I promise you, I would NEVER purposely hurt you. Even if we were not friends anymore. Doesn't mean you wont still get hurt, but I did/do/will always hold you in a very odd place in my heart.

Theres a lot of stuff that came up before leaving that would make me say and still think what I did, but I'm not trying to do the "I'm right and you're wrong" or "you're right and I'm wrong" thing either. You ARE under a huge amount of stress and having lifestyle changes. That affects ANYONE'S coping skills and behaviors. Same for me.

I know you said you were fine after our phone convo, but obviously, I wasn't, and to an extent still am not. It's a matter of different perceptions to words/actions/situations and to the intent of them, or lack thereof ( I am so confusing myself now). Point is, friends or not, in any relationship both people can start taking others for granted. I'd hope we've gone through enough that we're more like family ( but possibly without the hairpulling or wedgies, and PLEASE don't pin me in a corner and try and smooch on me like my drunk brother did) .

So maybe we'll get over this. Maybe not. Either way, please know you are very much loved by me, even if you hurt me/piss me off, and even if you hurt me/piss me off and don't think you have or should have.

To anyone reading this for pug/ghetto/medical dramas, well, this post may not be interesting to you. But as I told M, it's still a personal diary/writing exercise that happens to be very public. And it's still written because it's for me.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Oh, Just Shoot Me Now

MONDAY: Movers arrive in NYC. There is lots of sweating involved. Mommy drives me to DC.

TUESDAY: Movers arrive in DC. I set off my new alarm system multiple times, scaring myself and the puglets senseless. I go set up a new bank account and realize I've left my drivers licsence in NYC while closing THAT bank account. Luckily, this means instead of going to the DMV to renew said lost licsence, I drink many iced coffees while locating the whereabouts of the lost ID and arranging to have it mailed to me. Whilst locating lost ID, I check the balance of the NYC account I was forced to leave open since my landlords have yet to cash my July 1st rent check, and find they have still not cashed it yet tried to cash my August 1st check which they claimed was lost in an office fire, forcing me to put a stop payment on it and issue a new check.

WEDNESDAY: I visit my new doctor, who is thoroughly impressed with all my Itis-es and doles out appropriate referrals and prescriptions. Mommy and I hit many huge chain stores looking for apartment stuff, like towels and flatware, when I realize I can't purchase any of these items because I dont have a debit, PIN card, checks or much cash yet, and have no idea what size lamp I actually need until I've unpacked the many boxes now stacked in my kitchen and living room. The pugs start to love the back garden, and I experience the joy of multiple mosquito bites. I didn't know ghettos had 'squitos. I'm used to rats and roaches, and just so I don't forget the roaches I realize some have hitched a ride to DC in my moving boxes while trying to find out exactly where I packed the clean sheets. Now clean sheets with roachie germs

THURSDAY: The pugs are shuttled to the new vet, I do phone concults for the desserts I'm catering on Saturday, make my shopping list for Friday, and try to recall in exactly WHICh box my pastry implements are located in. My little brother shows up completely drunk to say hi to me, crushes me in a bear hug, and traps me in my apartment for many minutes bawling and kissing me and telling me what a horrible brother he's been, how he's so glad his family is all here now and I've agreed to make his wedding cake, what a wonderful sister I am and how screwed up our family is. We go up to my parents house where he passes out on the sofa, I get some dinner, and my parents go to drive him home before he pukes. Once back, I make myself scarce before the alcholic family drama insues..the one where the alcoholic parents try and decide if the alcoholic child is truly alcoholic or just stupid, and I laugh in nervous hysteria once safely back in my apartment, whilst reminding myself this is why I ran away in the first place. Oh, and he totally did puke while in the car, apparently.

The phone line has been turned on, at last, and I open emails to find a "Dear John" best friend breakup letter citing references from two posts down. WOOHOO! This day keeps getting better!
I LOVE moving!