I love Christmas. It is, without a doubt, my favorite holiday because it is a season. Yes I am usually that human who starts playing Christmas music around midnight on November 1st. I could give Buddy the Elf a run for his Christmas cheer, and our likeness this time of year has been referenced more than a few times.
I really did dress up just for this picture. I was not feeling it at all… and actually cried a fair bit of today.
Normally I bake like I’m Mrs. Claus trying to take on world hunger. I fill my Instagram feed with all the Christmassy things I’m dragging everyone in my circle to do. I dress in ridiculously over the top red and green ensembles for a month straight. I read and review all the latest Christmas rom-coms. All the new and cringey Hallmark movies are watched, along with Netflix and Hulu. I am not normally the gooey romantic type, but at Christmas I become a trope steeped in tradition and sentimentality.
Today is Christmas Day, and I’m sitting in a Starbucks watching the sun rise writing this. Christmas has always been that one time of year that I could not be stopped… But over the last few years, I have been not so slowly losing my Christmas spirit. To the point that this year the only reason I even have a tree in the house is because of my pawtner. I don’t think I would have bothered to get one. The reason my office tree is set up is because he brought it into the house and stuck it in my way until I decorated it. Very few Christmas cookies were baked. I have watched all of five Christmas movies, zero Hallmark, and only because of other people. I have taken a total of none Christmassy pictures. I’ve posted zero Christmas book reviews. I didn’t even do anything for Christmas Eve yesterday. My person is in town, who I have spent eleven years of my life with, and all we did was lay on the couch and watch movies and order Chinese.
What the fuck is wrong with me?!?
Depression. Anxiety. PTSD.
I hate using these things as crutches or excuses, but I’m finally to a point where I can/have to admit: They have been seriously affecting my life. I have been in survival mode for so fucking long. Doing what I can to get by and make everyone around me feel better. Things had to go. Pieces of my soul, life, person, career, heart have been left behind bit by bit.. So much in my life has been sacrificed to maintain the status quo, to make it through, to keep existing. The struggle to not give in to the parts of me that just wants to call it quits. I have too many dogs who depend on me for that bullshit. Although, it’s not just depression, anxiety, and PTSD, there are outside factors that have been exacerbating and contributing to my current less than optimal mental status. I spent 2020 being a mess at the heart of puppy chaos. 2021 has been spent figuring out what needs to go, what needs to change, and what I want. 2022 will be the year I get the hell out of this dark pit I’ve called home for about 30 and a half years. I think I know who I am again… for once. If I don’t, I’m at least heading in a direction I don’t gutterally hate.
It’s Christmas. People always use the New Year or birthdays as a starting over point, but Christmas has always been my time to shine. It’s always been a starting and end point. The place where the year ends and I can begin looking forward to next year. I doubt this will make sense to anyone, but it’s what works for me. I’m using today as my reset button. Things have to change. I need to get back to me. I want to love Christmas again. Next year, I will.
I let Christmas go this year; it’s what I needed to do. I took it easy and posted nothing. I celebrated a little with the people I care about most. Today, the day of, will be a good day. It’s a simple day. I get to spend it with the people I want to, and those who I don’t get to see, I’ll call. I’ll cook, watch movies, drink hot cocoa, and go see Christmas lights. I’m healthy. The dogs are fed and happy. I have a home. I’m not where I want to be, but I think I’m on my way. I’m starting to do things for me again… for the first time? I’m tired, but I am looking forward to what the next year will bring. I’m going to put my head down and work, work, work to get to where I need to be for myself, for my dogs, for those I love.
It may not feel like Christmas for me now, but a lot can change in 365 days.
A picture I took of Beau and I even before COVID and the puppy invasion… We were hiding from responsibilities then, and I we didn’t know what was coming yet.
Rescuing Tess, raising thirteen puppies, keeping four, dealing with rare doggy disorders, and surviving the pandemic did not ruin my life. BUT it did give me a really good reason to put off all my good habits.
In my defense, I’ve been busy.
The reality: I am no longer motivated to do all the good things I had been consistently doing in my life before becoming a pack mama. That’s right, I’m no longer a dog mom. I am a pack mama, which I can only equate to the feeling of being the very stressed Polar Express conductor as it mercilessly careens across the ice. If you haven’t seen the movie, the Polar Express does safely make it across the frozen lake… I think I see land.
Back to my point. I had been working on developing really solid, unbreakable, healthy habits for myself in 2019 and 2020. Then Tess arrived. Then puppies arrived. Then COVID arrived. Then life stopped. Not stopped, slowed, drastically. Life changed very suddenly in very concrete ways. I stopped doing so many things I had worked really hard at doing on a regular if not daily basis.
I had the goal of having a consistent routine before I turned 30. Hello, 30. You came exactly when you were supposed to, and yet I was completely unprepared. I wanted a routine of healthy and good habits before I turned 30 because it seemed like a good milestone. Creating a lifestyle is hard, but once it’s been done, maintaining it becomes a lot easier. I wanted to have a lifestyle I could maintain with relative ease by the time I hit 30.
In a way, I did! Not the lifestyle I want, but an easy one to maintain. Wake up. Feed and let the dogs out. Work. Read. Eat. Enjoy exorbitant couch time with the dogs. See very few people. Sleep. These are easy things. A very manageable lifestyle, but not the one I want.
I’m actively living my best life… aka not wearing any pants and barely managing to keep the dogs alive.
So this summer is about reforming the habits I lost in 2020 and maybe even forming some new ones!
Exercise I don’t like exercise. Actually, I quite loathe it. But moving is so important. It helps just about everything. From sleep to mental acuity to aging to mood. Exercise is the key. I’m not looking to lose weight or really even change the way my body looks, I’m good with all that, but I put in the effort for my mind. My mind is the most important thing, the thing I love best about myself, the thing I want to maintain for the entirety of my life. Moving, exercise is the way to do just that. I am going to get back into doing yoga and pilates and barre and ballet. I slowed down because of the dogs, but I stopped when I got COVID. My lungs are starting to get back to a place where moving is an option again.
Writing Book Critiques As a blogger with a big focus on books… I have done very little book critiquing even though I’ve been reading very regularly. I need to write like it’s my job… Oh wait, it is.
Sticking to My Diet This isn’t a diet that I want to stick to. It’s a diet I need to stick to. I have a whole lot of pretty serious health issues. Staying on my diet can be hard and inconvenient and unfun, but it helps my body continue doing its job, which is staying alive. I fell out of being really strict about it because with everything going on it was just another thing on top of all the other things, and so I stopped being diligent.
Not Turning On the TV I used to be so good at waking up and not turning on the TV. Once I turn that sucker on, I have a hard time extricating myself from it. I started turning the TV on in the morning while the puppies played. I couldn’t leave them alone because they were very chewy. So TV was the easiest way to keep an eye on them without being distracted. So I’m going to start waking up and not turning the damn TV on.
Maintaining A Sleep Schedule I lost my sleep schedule because of the puppies. I’ve always been bad about maintaining sleep patterns anyways; I do whatever my body wants. The problem: with my unfortunate health issues, sleep is essential. So I need to sleep regularly and enough even when my body and brain don’t feel like it, which is always.
Reaching Out On Birthdays and Anniversaries I was pretty good at remembering birthdays and anniversaries for friends and family with cards. 2020 ruined that. I need to be better about it again.
Getting Dressed I haven’t had many reasons to get dressed let alone get dressed up in 2020 or 2021… Or really since 2016 when I moved to Houston and became a full-time freelance writer. I love getting dressed up and wearing all the pretty clothes I’ve spent too many monies on. So I’m going to work on taking the few extra minutes to put effort into the way I look again. I do miss it.
Journaling This is not something I have ever done. As a writer, I’m a weirdo. I don’t like journaling. As a writer, I think it’s important. I’m also hoping it will help me process my anxieties, depression, life, and all those other things.
Going for Walks I used to go for walks with Beau and/or friends on a regular basis. I love walks because they get me out of the house and let me be in nature. I’ve always enjoyed walks. Plus this will help me leash train the puppies. Having a backyard has not beneficial to leash training.
Seeing Friends Again COVID really put a dent in my social life. I have missed so many friends because of social distancing and staying inside. I’m hoping as more and more people get the vaccine and restrictions are lifted, I can start seeing my people again. They’re wonderful and I miss them all.
Working Regularly I used to be a bit of a workaholic. I worked a lot. Like a whole shitload. After the puppies were born and COVID affected a giant percentage of my clients, I have only been working the bare minimum. If I don’t have to do it. I don’t. This is not getting me ahead in any ways. Being a workaholic isn’t necessarily sustainable but neither is being a couch schlub. I need to find a balance between the two.
I started slowly adding some of these habits into my life after the New Year to varying success. Starting small with the ones that are sustainable. I know I can’t make huge and sustainable lifestyle changes and immediately jump back to and improve upon what my life was before the puppies and COVID. That will only end up with nothing at all changing. I’m working on slowly adding the changes and habits in, guilt free. I’m giving myself grace to fail and sit in front of the TV for a day because change and habits don’t happen overnight. But I’m striving to do better, be consistent, show up, and work at getting into a new normal. Life will never be what it was with only one dog. That’s okay, I don’t want it to be, but I also can’t continue being a bare minimum human.
Celebrating Tess’ Gotcha Day with a cookie and her sister. I’m embracing the chaos of my life as it is without trying to make it beautiful for Instagram or the blog. Having six dogs, four under a year, is messy, and I’m okay with that.
A year ago last Friday, I was headed to an event in Houston. Dressed up in heels and a skirt, I stopped traffic to herd a very pregnant dog to the side of the road. Ignoring the honking and middle fingers, I persuaded this sad, scared looking dog into the back of my car. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do with her or what I was going to tell Dylan, but in my soul, I knew she was mine. A vet trip, Amazon shopping, several pet store runs, and six days later, Tessa had a name, a home, and thirteen healthy puppies. And I was embarking on the longest year of my life.
Today, Tessa is a 35 pound ball of energy, cuddles, and love. She may be the smallest being in the house—except for the bugs Texas insists upon—but she refuses to get lost in the fray or be pushed around. She was a good dog from the moment I gently plopped her in my backseat, but she has come so far. She’s healthy, happy, and goofy. She is obsessed with her sister, Beau. Intermittent wrestling with her four ginormous babies on her very specific terms between sun-naps and mama-snuggles is how she likes to spend her days. She’s sproingy and gentle. I could go on forever about how fabulous she is, but y’all would get bored, and I would never finish writing this because I would have to take many breaks to give her gratitude kisses.
I cannot imagine my life pre-Tessa. That’s 100% a lie. I can absolutely imagine my life pre-Tessa. It was not lacking for anything, but my life is more complete because of her.
A year and a week ago, I would have never been able to picture the way my life looks today. I wouldn’t be surprised because this past year is exactly something I could have seen myself doing, but I would not have planned it. I learned so much about myself from and because of Tessa. I learned my heart has no shortage of love to give and I am able to willingly give up everything I can for those I love and those who need me. I learned to draw boundaries and stand up for myself. I learned to take and ask for help. I am a better person because I stopped traffic for a desperate dog. I am a more tired person because I decided to keep that desperate dog. I am a happier, more blessed person because I embraced the challenges of keeping that desperate dog and four of her babies.
They sure enjoyed that!
Tess changed my life in far more than eleven ways. Without a doubt in my mind, she changed my life in ways I have yet to grasp. She is a blessing and a challenge. But she is mine, and I am hers.
Financially—Oh goodness… I haven’t done the exact math on the amount of money that has been spent because Tessa found her forever home in my home. The least I can say is, bye-bye savings! Hello, debt. I made responsible choices, but the financial impact of taking on a heartworm positive, massively pregnant street dog was not small. Between her health and making sure the puppies were alive, healthy, and thriving, I will be feeling it for a good long while. I say this without complaint. But it is definitely a big life change that cannot go unnoted. I don’t think people realize the financial commitment it is to take on a street dog, let alone a pregnant one. She and the puppies—those I kept and those I did not—are worth every penny spent, knowing they are happy, healthy, and forever loved.
Worry—The amount I worried about Tessa while she was pregnant, while she was momming, and during her heartworm treatments has been all-consuming. I worry about her and her babies constantly. It’s the mama in me, I know. I just want them to be safe.
Sleep… What is that?—I think I am still catching up on all the sleep I lost while I was taking care of the puppies. Tessa had thirteen puppies and eight lactating nipples. Even after the puppies were weaned, they did not sleep through the night. It took months to get them into a rhythm. Even now, they are early birds… I am not. It’s a process.
Home Ownership—Buying a home was a process we had already started when I picked Tess up. Having her expedited the whole experience and dictated the houses we were looking at. Bigger became better in both square footage and yard size. I love my home, but it’s not the one I would have picked if I were still a one dog mom.
Taking Breaks—2020 would have been a taxing year without raising a pack. It felt like the emotional and psychological Olympics. I all but signed off of social media, blogging, and doing everything but the bare minimum in my social, work, and personal life. I did not and still do not have the emotional bandwidth to take on a lot. As a perfectionist managing my workaholism, having to settle for done and not working has been hard. I have finally been able to accept the fact that all the dogs are alive and healthy can be enough. That taking breaks from life (outside of responsibilities) is acceptable and necessary and sometimes even the healthiest thing to do. I will get back to being my Type A, workaholic self, but until I can, I’m not going to beat myself up about it.
Waking Up—I hate waking up. Tessa does not love lounging in bed past eight without getting up for breakfast and a potty break. Her preferred method of waking me up is by howling if she’s in her box or pouncing straight on my face if she’s sleeping in bed. Neither of which are my preferred method of waking up, so it’s an ongoing adjustment.
Cleaning—Cleaning has never been my favorite activity, but I am a neat freak. There’s a lot of letting go that happens when you have six dogs. Cleaning has not been one of them. Things are messier than they used to be, but I do not want my house to smell like dog. So I clean. I clean often.
Pack Discount—I have so many dogs, I get a pack discount at the vet. It’s something, and I’ll take it.
Embracing The Casual—I am a casual person, but casual is not my style. I love to look great, and I love having a house that looks pristine. Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! I have six dogs now, so casual has become the de facto. I live in sweatpants and tshirts. I have accepted my legs and arms will be covered in scratches from Tessa’s playful and attention seeking sproings. I sadly cover my beautiful couch with blankets so it will last. I have begrudgingly accepted the casualness of my new life.
Pants—Speaking of sweatpants… I never wore pants around the house until Tessa and the puppies. She loves to jump around and throw her paws. Little she may be; gentle she is not. To protect myself, I have made the ultimate sacrifice. Every morning as I get out of bed, with sadness in my heart, I submit to leg prisons. This is the meaning of a mother’s love.
Love—The first night Tessa was in the house. I lay in bed listening to her breath. I was distraught with worry. I didn’t know if I could love another dog as much as I loved Beau. I was terrified Beau would feel less loved. I did not know if I had enough love to give Tessa and the puppies. I was an idiot. Love has been just about the only thing I have enough of. Love for them has given me the strength to lean on people, ask for help, accept my limitations, stand up for myself, set boundaries, and know when to say enough. As much as I love them, they have given it all back to me and so much more. Beau, Tess, Knight, Duke, Makeda, and Bear love me intensely. I have never felt more whole, more loved, more secure in the world than I do today. Tessa has changed so much of my life. So much of those changes have been challenging and heartbreaking, but it is completely worth it because of the love she and they give me every minute of every day. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.
It’s hard to fathom a year has gone by. Feeling simultaneously short and long, I had no idea what was coming at me 366 (leap year) days ago. The moment Dylan and I decided to keep Tess and take on the challenge of raising puppies and finding them homes, I knew it would be an adventure. Oh boy, has it been an adventure. The adventure of my life. Tess was a life altering decision. One that I made without really thinking about it. All I knew was I had to save that desperate dog from being hit by a car. Here we are.
Today is a joyous, historic day. Joyous because the people spoke. Hatred was voted out of the Oval Office. Historic because the people chose a woman of color to lead us as Vice President. We chose change and progress, love and acceptance, hope and perseverance. We chose to strive for better, to embrace diversity in this country, to trust a woman with an office we should have been represented in a long fucking time ago.
If I am being incredibly honest, it’s not joy I’m feeling today but relief. The depth of which is overwhelming because tomorrow, I will wake up not having to suffer through the quotidian knowledge that the vitriol spewing Donald Trump is President of the United States.
I am not living under the delusion that when I wake up, the world of tomorrow is brand new. No, it is the same world as today. The fight is not over; it has just begun. Biden and Harris will not miraculously change the hearts of every man and woman who voted for Trump, who has turned a blind eye to systemic racism, who has decided police brutality is acceptable, who thinks the immigration policies of the last four years are humane, who has believed women are inferior, who has perpetually chosen to hate. In a world where information is more readily available than ever before, it is a choice to be ignorant of the devastating reality rooted in history, policy, and the heart of America so many people live in on a daily basis.
This is the world we live in. 74 MILLION Americans voted for Trump. Not just men. Not just white women. People from all backgrounds voted for Trump. 74 million Americans will not disappear or change their hearts and minds by tomorrow morning. Nope. They are still here. They are still our friends, coworkers, neighbors, family, parents. They are all around us, and it is our mission to show them a better world.
I believe in love and kindness and peaceful protest. My activism is fueled by loving those akin to myself as much as those who have different beliefs. In my heart, I believe love and kindness is the only way to change the world, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fight, I don’t call out ignorance, I don’t push boundaries, I don’t stand up for what’s right. It means I do it from a place of love. I also believe in anger.
I am angry. I am furious that Trump was elected in 2016. It didn’t come as a surprise, but it crushed my soul. I have spoken up in the past four years, and I have marched. Mostly I have read and listened and learned. I educated myself more deeply in areas I have been passionate about but lacked information. On a personal level, I was deeply devastated by Trump’s election. I have not spoken about my life as a rape survivor, a domestic abuse survivor, as a sex worker outside of a brief mention here and there. None of these define me, but they are an integral part of my identity, my career, my activism, my existence. Trump’s election cut to the deepest corners of my pain as a broken woman. This man fueled by hatred was elected to the most powerful role in this country after he proved time and time again that he was unworthy. I am angry because people I love voted for him in 2016 and again in 2020. They’re not bad people; in fact, they’re great people, but they searched within themselves and were still able to support a despicable man.
On Friday, January 20, 2017, I woke up at 3:43 in the morning in tears. I was filled with the need to write a letter to the man I have loved and looked up to my entire life. A man who is kind and loving beyond words. A man who voted for Trump. A man I call Dad. I have no idea who he voted for in 2020, and frankly, I have no desire to. Even if he did vote for Biden, it wouldn’t change my hurt. This is a letter I never sent. Instead it is a letter to my father and every father who voted for Trump. It is a letter to every man and woman I love who voted for Trump. It is a letter for every Trump supporter. It is a letter that is unchanged, and yet I stand by every word exactly four years later. Biden may have won, but 74 million people voted to reelect Trump.
Dear Dad,
I didn’t need to ask who you voted for. I already knew, but I asked anyway. I couldn’t validate my feelings without knowing for sure. Maybe it was hope that kept me from asking for so long, or I was delaying the depression that I knew would set in the moment you answered: Trump.
It’s there now and always will be. In every hug, laugh, kiss, kind word. You love me, I don’t doubt that. But your vote tells me something else. Whether you realize it or not, your vote showed me where I stand. I am not worth the same as you. Your tiny act of filling out one tiny circle with your one tiny voice as one tiny vote in a sea of other tiny votes is not tiny to me.
You are my father. You gave me half of my existence. I see you in the mirror and in my mannerisms. I am yours. I carry your last name and my face is recognizably yours. You were with me every day of my life for nineteen years. You watched my first steps, heard my first words, changed my diapers. You woke me up early to breakfast together before work and put me back to bed. You taught me long division and gave me my first coffee. You showed me what perspective is in art and life. You were at every dance and piano recital with words of encouragement. You watched band concerts and sat through cold football games to watch me in the marching band at half time. You were there at high school graduation and the real reason I walked at my college graduation. You have held my hand and shed tears in a hospital room. You celebrated my successes, but bought me ice cream through my failures and missteps. You chose to support me when you didn’t want to. You have been a part of my entire life. You were not an absentee father. You knew me. You raised me. I am your first born. As birthdays passed, your role turned from caregiver to being the person I wanted to emulate more than anyone in the world. You have been the hero, the guiding light my entire life, and I don’t think I can say that today.
I am your daughter; the only you will ever have. On November 8, 2016, you silently told me I am less than you, less than your son. My future looks different than yours or your sons. Going into the world tomorrow, I will face challenges and obstacles you or my brother have never and will never have to face. Because I am a woman. It shouldn’t matter but it does. My genitals affect my existence in this world, and your vote made that existence even harder.
Anger is a part of my soul. I am angry for so many reasons. I am irrationally angry that you couldn’t save me from pain men have put me through. With time, I will forgive you for not saving me in the past. I am familiar with the reality that it isn’t your fault, but you are my father. You were there, and I have the human wish that you could have just known something was wrong, someone was hurting me. You didn’t see. I hoped you would look in my eyes and see the pain, the pleas for help, the need to be saved, the desire to be believed. People talk about a parent’s intuition, but you didn’t have it all those days I was silently dying. You never saw the subtle signs as the little girl you watched dance around the house disappeared every time a boy you shook hands hit and raped me. I wish you could have seen all of those things in my eyes because they are your eyes. I am your daughter. I was hiding inside a body that looks like a female version of yours. I forgive you all of these things because I know it was not your fault; just like it was not my fault. Something I will have to continue telling myself everyday until the day I die hoping to believe it myself. You are not culpable for that boy’s actions or any of the other boys who came after. Men have hurt me in ways, I’m sure, you once prayed would never happen. But I carry their actions with me everyday as a permanent part of my psyche and history.
You didn’t know then. You had no way of knowing. You know now. I have started making a career fighting against the kind of men who hurt me, the kind of man who is being inaugurated today. I speak out against violence against women by using my story to create positive change. You know now; yet, you do not believe me.
You voted for Trump. You invalidated my struggle as a woman and supported every man who has ever hurt me. You normalized violence in an instant. With your one tiny vote you gave power to predators by electing a predator, a rapist to the most powerful office in this country. You helped make him a role model to little boys and young men. They will say, “Well, the President did it.” and “I’m just quoting the President.” Your vote made it even harder for me to get out of bed everyday because I always wonder if today will be the day I’m going to get raped again. Your vote told me it’s fine for men to act like your president. A man who thinks it’s totally fine for men, like my ex-boyfriend, college best friend, childhood friend, friend from church—all men you welcomed into your home—to take me without my consent because they are men, I am a woman, and they wanted me.
By voting for Trump, you showed me I am not equal to my brother in your eyes or my country’s eyes. My brother who has just graduated college, who has a better job than I will have for years to come if ever because not only have I overcome being a woman, I have overcome so many obstacles he will never face because our genders differ. I have to worry about employers seeing this to only question if I am a viable candidate, someone who can be trusted to not make claims about sexual assault or cause problems in the workplace. I am shamed for overcoming and surviving repeated rapes and violence instead of being lauded for my vulnerability, transparency, and fight for equity because I am a woman, and this is my plight. My brother and I are not equals in your eyes; your vote told me that.
Stories of how women prevent rape and assault circulate constantly when men should jut not be raping. I do not walk in fear to my car with keys entwined between my fingers. I do not call friends to chat on the phone so I don’t look vulnerable. I do not ask a friend who is both trusted and male to walk me home. I do not wear pants instead of skirts. I do not back down when men intimidate me. I do not stay in well lit areas. I do none of these things because I am not scared of the worst thing that could happen to a woman. I am not scared because I have already been gang raped. What else could be worse for me? It happening again? It already has happened on repeat for years. I am not scared of men because they cannot bring worse. And being murdered sounds like the most uninterrupted sleep I’ve had in over a decade. You do not know these things because you are a man, and you don’t live them. You could know them, but you don’t believe me when I tell you. Instead you choose to label me a liar, troubled, in need of help. All I need is a world that believes I deserve to be treated like a human.
Your vote says everything to me because of who you voted for. Even if I agreed with all of his policies (which I absolutely do not), I cannot overlook his humanity. Or lack thereof. You voted for a man who treats women worse than the dirt he walks on. He says it is his right to grab me by the pussy. Well, someone did.
Someone did for years, and several men after him did too. Some stopped at just grabbing, but others took it further. I have been harassed and groped by male “friends” in a bar while I was sober wearing a turtleneck. But it was fine because they were friends, and I was inexcusably in a bar. A liberal, Black president was in his second term, at the time. A man who believes women are equal and deserve respect and have the right to autonomy. Yet, you voted someone into office who has done what those men have done to me. What kind of world do you think he will create for me? If I was already living in hell? What will this man lead us to? For women, for minorities, for immigrants. I cannot imagine, and I am not looking forward to seeing what plays out. I just pray that we elect someone better in 2020.
You helped make a man President, and he will be the “role model” for every man, son, brother, father, and everything male in between in this culture that surrounds me, your daughter, who has to live next to these men. I have survived in a world where this has not been the male “role model,” but yet all of these struggles have still been my reality. If this has been my world, what will it look like with this President leading us? Your President believes it’s fair to take me because I am pretty and female. Well, at least, I’m pretty because that means I’m worth being seen. Being a woman is not an asset with this President, who you helped elect.
How do I move forward? I have always been proud to be your daughter. I have always worked to earn your approval. As your daughter, since the beginning of my time on this earth, I have never wanted to distance myself from you because I had always been proud to be your daughter. I don’t know how to feel now. I’m not proud of you.
I will never again hug you the way I once did because this stands firmly between us. How do I pretend things are fine when you have helped institutionalize discrimination based on the one thing I will never be able to change: my sex?
I love you less because of this. Just admitting that causes me more pain than you or anyone else will ever know because I have loved you intensely, loyally, blindly, and to a fault my entire life. You have been who I have idolized most. In my heart, I have always defined myself as your daughter. Not because you are my genetic benefactor or because we share the same name or because society and culture tell me I have to for patriarchal reasons, but because you are a good, kind, intelligent human.
I can forgive everyone else their vote. Friends, family, acquaintances, etc. because it is their right in this country to vote for whomever they believe most fit. I can forgive them, though I will never agree. I can’t forgive you this.
At 25, I now know where you believe I belong as a woman. This will not cripple my future. Your vote showed me I am less than. I cannot forgive you. Even though it is your right to cast your ballot as you see fit, it is still your obligation to protect me as a father. You took on this role willingly not at conception but when you decided to parent me. Parenting never ends. Not when I left for college or when you stopped financially supporting me or when I began a career or moved cross country. You are and always will be a father, and it is and always will be your obligation to protect me. You did not protect me when you voted for Donald Trump. What happens during his presidency lays squarely on your shoulders. It is your fault and every other person’s who voted him into office.
It’s a little wobbly, but look at this awesome and delicious crêpe cake!
I’m a big lover of food. Like a BIG lover of food. I’m the epitome of a foodie. I love everything about it. From grocery shopping to cooking to eating to talking about food to watching cooking shows. I’m an adventurous cook and an even more adventurous eater. There’s really nothing I won’t try once. By once I mean, I’ll keep on trying to make sure I wasn’t wrong the fourth or seventh times. Sure, there are a few things that I’m not a huge fan of, but there’s really nothing I won’t eat if it’s put before me. The only real things I don’t love and avoid are ketchup and mustard. I don’t love them, but again, I will eat them if they’re placed in front of me.
Cooking and baking are things I do for fun, to show my love, to get creative, to destress, to have something to eat. Food is one of my love languages. If you enter my house and stay for long, I will try and feed you… By try, I mean, I almost always succeed.
I’ve never been one for setting goals or resolutions. I am creating an In The Kitchen To Do List for 2021. There are things I’ve never made but have always wanted to or things I just haven’t gotten around to or things I’ve been scared to take on. I’m going to try my hand and some of these things… Finally.
Full English Breakfast
Bûche de Noël
Jägerschnitzel
Kringla
Beef Wellington
Croissants
Black Bean Burgers
Pelmeni or пельмени
Black Forest Cake
Gluten free bread (gluten free baking scares me)
Italian Beef ala Portillos
January is pretty much a wash for me baking and cooking for a variety of reasons. That being said, if I tackle one of these every month, I can have the list done by next year. One a month… That’s not too daunting. I can do it. Probably.
Alright, I’m using a picture of a Chocolate Mousse Crêpe Cake with Candied Pecans I’ve made more than a few times over the years. I won’t be mean and not include the recipe. It’s delicious. All the parts individually are really easy. A crêpe cake seems far more daunting than it actually is. The hardest part is making the crêpes, and I promise you can do it… Just make a double batch and throw the first five out.
A delicious Chocolate Mousse Crêpe Cake!
Ingredients Crêpes
1 cup flour
1¼ cup milk
3 eggs
3 tbs. melted butter
¼ tsp. salt
2 tbs. sugar
1 tbs. vanilla extract
Chocolate Mousse
8 oz. cream cheese
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1½ cups powdered sugar
½ cup cocoa powder
2 tbs. vanilla extract
Candied Pecans
1 cup halved pecans
¼ heavy whipping cream
2 tbs. butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. nutmeg
¼ tsp. cloves
Directions Crêpes
Sift flour into a large bowl, and mix in dry ingredients.
Whisk in milk, eggs, and vanilla.
Fold in the melted butter.
Let rest for an hour. This really is an important step. (You can make the mousse!)
In a hot pan, (you don’t have to have a crêpe pan, just as flat as possible, nonstick is easiest) melt butter. Pour in enough batter to thinly coat the pan. Swirl the pan to evenly spread the batter.
Once little bubbles start to form, flip the crêpe.
When the crêpe is done, put on a plate to cool. (I put a sheet of wax paper on top so I can stack the crêpes without them sticking together.)
Repeat the cooking of the crêpes until all the batter is gone. Try and keep them equally sized and shaped… to the best of your ability.
Set aside to cool completely.
Chocolate Mousse
Make sure cream cheese is room temperature.
In a glass bowl, whip the heavy whipping cream until it becomes whipped cream. Set aside.
Whisk (either by hand or in an electric mixer) together the remaining ingredients until they are well blended. You can always add more or less cocoa powder to whatever your tastes are.
With a spatula, gently fold the whipped cream into the cream cheese mixture.
Place in the refrigerator until ready to assemble.
Candied Pecans
If you prefer walnuts (weirdo), you can do this with walnuts.
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a skillet, melt butter, brown sugar and spices.
Once the sugar mixture is bubbling and sugar is no longer grainy, pour in heavy whipping cream. Whisk until combined and bubbling.
Pour in the nuts and stir until they are completely coated in the sugar mixture.
Spread the nuts onto the baking sheet to cool completely.
Once cooled, crumble and separate the nuts so they’re not one giant glob.
Assembly
On whatever serving platter you’re going to use, lay the first crêpe down in the center.
Spread a thin layer of chocolate mousse on the crêpe.
Place the second crêpe as centered as you can on the first, then spread a thin layer of chocolate mousse.
Continue this process until you have used all the crêpes or it’s as tall as you want.
Cover the top of the cake with a thick layer of chocolate mousse. If you want, you can also cover the sides… I like a rustic looking cake, so I leave the sides bare.
Sprinkle the candied pecans over the top of the cake in whatever quantity makes you happy.
Place in the refrigerator to set for at least one hour.
Finding happiness on the beach in Galveston, Texas. | Swimsuit | Hat | Cover Up |
Like most people in the world, I am happy to wave goodbye to 2020. It was quite the year filled with historic events that we could have all lived without.
I’m sure that I’m in the minority with this view, but I will look back on 2020 with a certain amount of fondness. Sure it was a shit year, one might even say: It was quite the shituation. Okay, I say that. For me, 2020 brought a host of wonderful things that I am choosing to focus on instead of the globally pervasive catastrophes.
Doing my best to be cute and not ridiculous… But probably both.
I brought life into this world! Well, not personally. I did enable life to be brought into this world when I rescued a pregnant dog off the street. She had thirteen puppies. She and all the babies are alive and thriving.
I bought a house. Fuck was that a fiasco. But it happened, and I’m thankful for it.
The world started paying attention to racial inequity in a meaningful way. That being said, I hate that it’s still a problem and everything that transpired in order to draw attention to the systemic racism existing in this country. A lot of people have definitely lost interest in the issue, but so many people’s eyes were opened to the problem. I’m hoping good will continue to come out of the atrocities of 2020.
I got a lot of reading done. I was able to really plow through my reading list. Unfortunately, I have even more books on my reading pile now… So hopefully, I can keep up the reading stream.
Trump did not win the election. Thank fucking God.
My priorities were evaluated. Being stranded at home with six dogs, I had a lot of time at home with my immediate family to think about life. So many of my life choices, I am very proud of. Going forward in a post-pandemic world, I’m looking forward to continuing to chase my dreams and happiness.
We elected a woman of color to the Vice Presidency. I am so thrilled about this.
I made new friends.
I took a semi-break from writing and fell back in love with it. It wasn’t so much of a conscious break as it was a break due to circumstance. I didn’t have time to write and COVID put a dent in the amount of projects I was receiving. Being forced into taking a break from writing helped me solidify my love of my job. So hopefully, you’ll be seeing more consistent and more interesting writing coming from this lady.
I worked the election as a poll worker. It was a fascinating experience, and it solidified a lot of opinions I had and opinions I didn’t even know I held. It opened my eyes to so many things, I was never even aware of as a voter. It was exhausting emotionally and physically, but I am so glad I did it.
I hit ten thousand followers on Instagram. Yay! That number has fluctuated up and down, but I hit it and I have stayed over 10k, which means I can do the swipe up thingy. Woo!!!
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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