Friday, August 27, 2010

So; just to let you know. I'm okay and doing well after revealing one of my worst secrets. I feel a sense of release. I know that shedding light on a subject, and some examination is always good.

Does keeping that secret make one suseptible to certain calamities and afflictions?

I was cohearsed that revealing this truth would result in the death of loved ones or myself. Classic abuser mentality.

I am taking charge of my future. He will not continue to keep me silent. I'm no longer willing to let him keep me in the shadows. I thought that my anger and disgust towards him would subside if he was to ever pass; but I just felt like I had picked off the scab.

Time to allow the wound to close again.

I have no intention of letting him win again.


Thursday, August 19, 2010

How To Put A Name To This?

(This image found here.)

One of my earliest memories involves meeting my mother's older brother when I was about four years old. He was in his thirties, and for some unknown reason, he was very interested in me. Next to the dishwasher; by my grandmother's kitchen window on Kiowa Street. Warm sun rays streaming in the window. I remember the hair on the back of my neck standing up straight, and a tightening in the pit of my stomach.

A gut feeling; if you will.

Forty five years ago.

Several encounters in between.

Fragmented bits of recollection.

Flash forward to now. I am forty-nine. I drink too much. I can't shut my mind off at bedtime. I have closed off most of my wants and desires and my confidence is non-existent. I used to be able to bury this crap. I thought I was "dealing" with it. Getting over it. Moving on somehow. But this stuff keeps foaming to the surface.

It doesn't help that my father worked on the road. *Or that my mother felt that I must have done something to provoke illicit desires on her brother's part. I was just too irresistible. At four years of age. I know logically that is not possible, but in my child-heart; it's my fault.

To make matters worse, when we talk now of what I endured; my mother insists that I should have told of all the times he came into my room under the guise of a restroom break while they were all playing cards: the music up loud.

Selective memory on her part. I told her more than once.*

Then after several tries, I just gave up on the notion of anyone ever believing me. Or helping me. Why bother. I wasn't worth the effort, obviously.

I did tell her, but never my dad. I was too ashamed. I waited many years to tell her, because he had said that they would never believe me. That he would kill them or me--what ever suited his frigging mindset at the time. Totally textbook for a pedophile. I was too horrified to think otherwise.

Last winter, she called to inform me that he had passed away. Of liver cancer. Like I was supposed to feel some kind of something for the son-of-a-bitch. And her for her "loss." My thought was, "I'm supposed to feel what?"

What sucks is a part of me has guilt for feeling nothing of the passing of another human being. It goes against everything that I believe in. Liver cancer is a terrible way to die. I would normally feel awful for anyone suffering this sort of anguish. Not this time. I have a bit of trouble reconciling that with myself.

There was so much more between my first encounter with this bastard; and my last.

I know that forgiveness is freedom, but how do you reach that pinnacle?

I can't seem to quash the shame, the self-hatred.

Can I ever get over wondering of "What did I do to warrant this treatment?"

It still influences every day of my life!

How many bad choices have I made due to this history? Can I get a grip, and do better, instead of trying to numb the feeling of inadequacy?

I hope so. I'm not sure how a person sorts through something like this; but I must find a way.

If and when I do; I vow to help others who have been through similar situations.

I'd better get to work.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Native American Tacos

I was goofing off on Face book the other day, and someone mentioned Navajo Tacos. We all know what happens when a craving is planted around here. I had to make some!

They're quite easy to make. You just need a few items.

1-2 16oz. cans of Ranch style beans. I usually make my own version from a recipe that Sis taught me years ago; but for the sake of ease, this will do.

1/2-1 chopped white onion.

1/2-1 tsp. chopped garlic.

1-2 lbs. ground beef seasoned for tacos.

1-2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, grated.

1-2 cups shredded ice burg lettuce.

1 large red tomato, diced.

4-8 pieces of fry bread.*

Break up the ground beef into a large cast iron skillet heated to medium high heat, stirring and breaking into crumbles as you go. Add the onions and salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle in your favorite seasonings for tacos. At this point; I add my favorite green chile, and about 2 table spoons of good salsa. Reduce the heat to simmer. Place the beans into a small sauce pan, heating them up on a medium setting. Let these two pans simmer for about 10-15 minutes, until nice and warm. Turn off the heat and set into a warm oven until you finish with the bread.

*Recipe for fry bread found here. I tweaked it a little by rounding up the baking powder rather than leveling it off to puff the bread up a bit more. This one tastes like the fry bread I remember from home.

Have everything ready before you start the bread so you can assemble plates right after the fry bread is done.

I just sprinkle a bit of grated cheese over the bread, and spoon a layer of beans, then a layer of meat. Add another healthy handful of cheese, and distribute lettuce and diced tomatoes on top. Serve with a good dollop of sour cream and a nice side of salsa.


Sunday, August 8, 2010

Saturday Snack and Sunday Serenade

This is by far the best sandwich I have ever had the pleasure of eating! Thanks to Dave and Sarah for introducing us to it.

Such an easy thing to make, and simple ingredients! I'm sure it can become one of your go-to's as well.

Fry up a mess of wonderful applewood smoked bacon. Be generous! You can never have TOO much bacon! Trust me on this! ;) Next, you'll need a good wedge of brie. Let it soften a bit and slice it in rather thick portions. Then, peel and slice thin a Granny Smith apple.
Now, divide and slice open a nice baguette. Brush with a light layer of unsalted butter or olive oil. Toast in the broiler or on the grill, just slightly.

Spread the brie slices on the toasted bread and add the bacon and apple slices. Add a smear of your favorite apricot preserves, and viola!


And now, a bit of nostalgia.

(This image found here.)

Happy What's Left of Sunday!