It's 3 am I must be lonely....

I always used to get so angry when my grandma would literally force me to bake. I'd throw fits, spit angry words, and eventually bake or make whatever it was that she requested. Which is funny considering I’ve actually always been pretty partial to baking and mostly enjoy it. I always claimed myself more of a baker until recently when I've tried my hand in cooking.

But I distinctively remember my grandmother always wanting me to make Banana bread. If there were over ripe bananas in the kitchen, it meant I had to make bread. It used to drive me crazy, I always thought she hated me being idle and would make me do something despite the fact that whatever occupied my idleness was satisfying to me. It used to Anger me a great deal. Really I hate being forced to do anything, but who likes demands?

It’s late and I’m up avoiding sleep by talking with Wendy as we usually do, a treasured ritual and after listening to my stomach growl for the hundredth time, I turned around to grab something to snack on when I saw the bananas. I picked them up to move them out of the way and they were so ripe they were literally falling out of the peels.

And then her voice was there. “Go make some banana bread out of the over ripe banana’s in the kitchen.”

I miss her. I almost felt obligated to bang things around in protest.

And besides, 3 AM is the perfect time to bake, right?

My Heart's Sittin' on Go

Creating a play list for the Great Epic Adventure with Wendy has been a fun little trip through all the music I have on my computer (50g.) And you know what? I’m not ashamed that I follow Garth Brooks with Eminem. Or that I have every album the Spice Girls ever released. And yes, I do have almost every boy band to ever come out in the late 90’s early Millennium) represented (5ive, BSB, N’Sync, Westlife, Soul Decision…etc.) And come to think of it I do in fact have Metallica followed by Avril Lavigne, and Evanescence and Flo Rida. Don't judge.

I also have the My Little Pony’s Theme song and Mortal Combat. So, I collect music like I collect memories (usually they coincide.)

And how could I forget The Beatles? Every album they've ever released is on there too.

What was the point of this? Oh yes, I’m incredibly moved by music and it shapes my life. It also has me feeling pretty good lately. Yes, a change in the game was exactly what the doctor ordered.

As much as I want this week to progress slowly, I also want it to pass quickly.

"My heart's Sittin' on Go"

Never really knew she could dance like this...

Shakira’s song “Hips Don’t Lie” makes me feel like I could probably dance…If I weren’t so clumsy. And of course I would never look as flawless and sexy as she does in her video…



But 3 minutes and 43 seconds I totally can.

Please don't let me go, I desperately need you.

I’m sitting at my desk eating a powdered Bavarian crème donut. Its sweet and it tastes like my youth. Instantly I am transformed back to Sundays with my grandparents.

I’m seven, maybe eight and the air is hot; I can feel the sweat pool behind the back of my knees. Its summer in Tucson, which means the weather, is unbearable. And still, children are dashing around the grass in their dresses and khaki’s while parents and friends gather in small groups talking to one another. My grandfather is giving the okay as we hurry over to select a donut that’s being sold after the service. I can see him with his pressed pants, his crisp button up, bald head reflecting the sun. He stirs his coffee as my siblings and I wait, pushing in front of each other to be the first to collect our prize. My grandmother scolds us, tells us to behave, we try, but we’re really no good at it.

Besides the donut counters are two orange coolers of lemonade, they’re the perfect combination for this hot Sunday. I try not to be greedy but I know want to grab all of the donuts, maybe sneak another selfishly away for later. They’re treats for me, and I want them all. I carefully select a powdered crème filled donut. I do this every time and it taste so good. I’m content in my life and nothing seems to matter as I smudge myself with the sugary-confection.

Looking back, It was really the only reason I ever enjoyed going to church that or the rare occasion that my grandparents would take us to a late breakfast or lunch. I was destined to be fat. I loved food even then.

Shortly after we’ll pack ourselves into my grandparent’s car, it smells like leather and when my grandma drives, I get car sick. When grandpa drives, I watch him, carefully. I watch where he turns, what roads he takes. This helps me later when I get my licenses and never really struggle with how to get somewhere. I act worried when my grandma screeches my grandfathers name and clings to the armrest, but inside I know she’s over reacting, like he’d ever hit anyone, we’re safe. I’m safe when I’m with my grandparents. And I’m happy.