Ring of Fire

Despite the fact that I was born in Alaska and lived in several places including Guam, Idaho, Georgia, Washington and California, I consider myself a proud Texas girl. I feel as if I grew up there, having lived there from kindergarten through 5th grade and then again from 10th grade until I moved to Idaho in my late 20s. I'm not sure if it's my Texas roots, or my father's influence, but I absolutely love spicy food! Growing up, my father also loved hot foods and I may have just gotten used to this, loving his cooking. My mother did most of the cooking in our house but my father was a truly great cook the few times he did cook, mostly on holidays and sometimes weekends. Spicy foods have never bothered my stomach at all.

Being slightly lactose intolerant I know what it feels like to love to eat something (cheese/ice cream) and then suffer the stomach pain and toilet sitting that follow an indulgence. This is why I am ever so glad spicy foods do not give me this issue like they do so many other people.

Now, I'm not saying I'm one of the crazy ones who will eat the hottest chicken wings. I like spice and flavor but if it's so hot my eyes water and my nose runs and my mouth and throat and stomach burns like its on fire this is just torture. Why would one do this to oneself? I love to taste my food and enjoy it, not be in pain because of it.

For example, Josh one time, as a joke, put a ton of wasabi on sushi for me to try. I had no idea what wasabi was at the time and didn't expect the burning that followed the huge bite I swallowed. I've never liked wasabi since then.

My mother in law is Puerto Rican and has been teaching me to cook. She loves cooking with chillis and I'm a huge fan. Her cooking is delicious and despite being the palest gringo in Texas I hope one day to cook Hispanic food that well. It's one of my favorite types of food.

Uplifting

I will miss the beautiful cherry tree in our front yard but am very excited about the plum and apple trees in the backyard of our new house.

Can't Get it Out of My Head

Two teen girls, who hadn't hung out since childhood, bored and trying to find something to do together. My old childhood gal pal introduced me to a computer game neither of us knew at the time would follow me into adulthood as an obsession. The game: Sims! At this time we played the first series. She helped me make a person and decorate my house. Now, years later, Sims 4 will come out soon and I still play Sims 3 when I can find time between keeping house, cooking, watching a toddler and keeping our church going and clean. I think, for me, playing this game gives me the chance to live lives I can not afford to live in my own real life. I love creating myself and Josh as super hot and in shape, which I wish I really was. I give us different jobs and life goals so I can do anything I want to do. I have kids and raise them how I want to. I think it's the feeling of having that control, of getting to play God for a little bit, even if just in a game. My own life seems to be so out of my own control at least in this fantasy dollhouse type game I can live any life I want and do what I want.

Fight the Power

I'm the most non confrontational person in the world. I will do anything, go out of my way, to avoid any type of confrontation. However, there have been a few times in my life when the injustice of something overwhelmed me to the point where I took action against it. I recently read an article online about several Air Force MTI's who have been in trouble due to being too aggressive and abusive with trainees. I have my own experience, though admittedly a minor one, with this when I went through basic training. My own MTI was harsh but fair, only harsh enough to push us to our limits and make us stronger without crossing the line into abuse. However, as an older flight, one week, several of us volunteered to go and help out a brand new baby flight of trainees. It was these girls' first week at training, and almost our last before becoming airmen. While helping the girls and giving them some advice on things we'd learned for surviving basic we discovered pee in the bathroom sinks and wet urinated in clothing. Thoroughly disgusted by these finds we confronted the girls. Their MTI was absent at this time. Now, let it be known, peeing was a very annoying issue at basic training. We were made to drink large amounts of water and couldn't just go the bathroom at any given moment. We were given breaks to do so and if it was a major major emergency were allowed, with some making fun of in front of the flight, to go use the toilet. However, it turned out, the MTI for this baby flight had made the girls stand at attention until they had all peed themselves in front of her. Then she had yelled at them all and told them to use the bathroom. At other points the girls were forced to hold it so long when they were finally given a break they used the sinks because there weren't enough toilets and they couldn't hold it any longer. Being the oldest in my flight, most of the trainees were 18. I was 27. I was horrified at this story. I was also terrified to go to the higher ups with this information. I just wanted to be invisible and make it through, not take any kind of stand or stand out in any way so as to make myself a target. However, I knew this wasn't right. I talked to the girls in my flight and we decided, as a group, to take it to the chaplain that Sunday at church service. We did so and found out the following week that MTI was taken out and the baby flight was given a new trainer. The chaplain also talked to everyone at church and said to make sure to report any abuse happening to the higher ups. I was glad taking a stand and doing something actually resulted in something good happening for once.

Express Yourself

Why is it I find it so incredibly difficult to write? It's in my soul. It's what I was born to do I know and yet it's almost like torture each word or sentence my fingers type. Is it because I know I can not lie. My best writings come from truth. Truth I have experienced or felt. My best writing exposes me to the word like a naked woman trying to cover herself and hide all her flaws, so afraid of the judgment of others, not wanting anyone to see her nakedness or her ugly scars. And yet, if this is what I was born to do, if it's in me beating on my heart to get out, it's also torture to keep all these words inward to myself, to not use the gift I've been given. And so, like that naked and scarred woman, I must stop hiding and be free. I must let the word see all of me...the beautiful as well as the ugly. Keeping it inside will just make it fester and rot and slowly kill any gift I may have left to offer the world.