Torn

So, it has been officially confirmed that my parents will be moving. I've mentioned this to most of my friends, but the house is for sale, and this is definitely happening.

Though my time has been split between family, little kids, wrapping (and unwrapping) presents, and perusing Pinterest, I find myself completely anxious when I think about moving away from here. Sure, it's my parents that will be moving (technically), but this is still my house.

Things are packed and stored, there is a 'For Sale' sign in the front yard, and strangers come in periodically to view the house. Everything points to the obvious conclusion that my parents are indeed moving within the next few months.

My Daddy starts his new job on the first, he's going to rent a house in Austin, and he and my Mama will continue with the house hunt for their new dwelling. Since the semester hasn't started yet, all I'm worried about is how I'll deal with navigating back roads and a new territory -- I've lived here for over half of my life, and now it's all going to change. 

There are people that I love here -- my sister and her three kids, the few people from high school I still talk to.... Essentially, I'll be leaving them all behind. It's a difficult pill to swallow.

I didn't write this to bring anyone's mood down, or to gain pity or whatnot. I simply needed to vent, and this is, I think, one of the safest ways for me to do it.

Cravings

A while ago, I started writing what’s called ‘fanfiction.’ I’ve written for several shows, the most being for a show called ‘Bones’ with David Boreanaz and Emily Deschanel (on FOX). I hope that this gives you a reason to smile. If you can, I’d love for you to take a minute and comment. I’d love to know what you think. Thanks! :D

Cravings

Temperance Brennan was no friend of mood swings, appetite changes, and frequent (and increasing) trips to the bathroom. While she was fascinated by the process of carrying and delivering a child, as well as the marks on the bones that would never fade, pregnancy was making her weary.
 For the first, she noticed that she (however much she loathed to admit it) would get emotional at a crime scene -- a crime scene. Where Booth told her, "Never look happy at a crime scene," she could also tag on, "Never cry at a crime scene." Booth plus a camera while her eyes were overflowing with moisture? Not good.
 The second portion of pregnancy woes that plagued her was the food. Brennan couldn't fathom what possessed her to take a bite of that piece of Booth's pie at the diner. Without waiting for a definitive yes or no answer, Brennan picked up her fork and started shoveling pie into her mouth. The fact that the fruit was cooked made no difference to her -- she just wanted food. Lately, her cravings had gone so far as to stealing not only Booth's fries, but part of his double bacon cheeseburger, as well. Brennan shuddered at the memory of eating that huge piece of meat, then groaned as the memory caused more cravings.
 Thankfully, Brennan had the foresight to surround herself with bathrooms. In both hers and Booth's apartments, the bathroom was quite close to the main bedroom, and subsequently the bed. This made for an easy time of getting up in the middle of the night, without having to wander halls as she did at the Jeffersonian.
 What irked her now, however, was that she couldn't put a name to her craving of food. Brennan, having just returned from the ladies' restroom in the lab, was sitting at her office desk, hoping to put an end to the never-ending thought of food.
 That statement was contradictory -- by definition, something that is never-ending cannot be ended. Hence the specific phrase, "never-ending".
 Brennan smiled at her own ridiculous train of thought, wondering if this was what it felt like to have no purpose. Although, she reasoned, she did have purpose. She was trying to ferret out what exactly her body was currently craving sustenance from. There were no current cases, and unless Booth were to show up at her door with his signature charm smile and a, "It's lunch time, Bones," she was stuck in her office, her feet unable to take too much standing pressure. Having already worked in Bone Storage, Brennan was now competing paperwork on the remains she had identified earlier.
 "It's lunch time, Bones!"
 Jolted from Brennan's inner thoughts, she had to smile at what Booth said. If she believed in such things, she'd say he had read her mind. But, of course, that would be if she believed such things, which she most definitely did not. Complete and utter nonsensical ramblings.
 Looking up from her desk, she frowned at Booth. "I am having difficulty --"
 "What? Difficulty with what? Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Do you need to sit down?" Booth cut her off before she could finish her train of thought.
 Laughing slightly, Brennan quickly assured Booth, "Booth, I am already sitting down. Yes, the baby and I are both fine. and I would tell you what I am having difficulty with if you wouldn't jump to conclusions before I finish my thought."
 At this, Booth had the grace to blush and give a sheepish grin, the one that told her he was sorry, and he couldn't help but jump to conclusions. He had what he called a "Daddy Brain," which was absolutely ridiculous. Although, Brennan thought to herself, Booth is very good with Parker...perhaps the same will be true with our child. Brennan cleared her throat before continuing to say, "As I said earlier, I am having difficulties with the food craving element of pregnancy. I was doing a bit of online research, and I found articles suggesting that women who are pregnant would enjoy most combinations of oddly paired foods, such as coconut and peanut butter, pickles and ice cream, watermelon and steak, and such. I could not believe that any woman, pregnant or not, would choose to enjoy pickles and ice cream mixed together in the same bowl. Not only is that unhealthy, but it just ... seems a bit strange, don't you think?" At this, she turned her body to face Booth, relieving her neck of the strain of keeping it turned in one direction for too long a time.
 Booth snickered, and reminded Brennan that the website didn't mean to suggest that every pregnant woman would enjoy those things, but that it was showing that odd combinations of food is considered normal to consume when pregnant. Satisfied that she would not be expected to eat any of those things, Brennan continued her earlier statements.
 "I cannot seem to place my phalange on what it is that I am craving, Booth. I know I want something cold, but I cannot imagine what it might be," Brennan finished with a heavy sigh.
 "Well then, Bones, let's blow this popsicle stand and go get some lunch!" Booth smiled and patted his stomach, his rumbling stomach audible to even Brennan's ears.
 Amused by his antics, Brennan proceeded to put her computer on standby, grab her purse, and followed Booth out into the parking garage and to his SUV.
 While driving, Brennan stayed quiet, still trying to riddle out exactly what she was craving. As she told Booth, she wanted something cold, but had only one other clue: fruity. Cold and fruity.
 "Booth, stop," Brennan said suddenly.
 She had seen it, exactly what she craved: the multicolored words, the cool stone exterior of the building, and the brightly colored signs in the window.
 "What? Are you okay?" Booth questioned, slowing but not stopping.
 "Booth, turn around!"
 Sighing with confusion, Booth complied with her re         quest. He pulled a safe U-turn, conscious of the precious cargo he was driving around -- both of them -- and started along back towards the Jeffersonian. At Brennan's direction, he signaled and turned left, into a parking lot. Chuckling in both mild irritation and wondrous confusion, Booth pulled into a space, and killed the engine. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
 "Yes, Booth. While I have never been here before, I am fairly certain that this will satisfy the need I have for cold and fruity. Besides, Parker and Angela have mentioned this place, and assures me that it's well worth visiting," came the reply.
 "Okay, Bones. If this is what you want."
 Ten minutes, fruit, a blender, and a straw later, both partners were back in Booth's SUV, arguing the benefits of fresh orange juice compared to pre-prepared juice. All the while, Brennan held on to her extra-large cup from Jamba Juice, the smoothie store those nearest her had spoken of. Grateful that she had seen the building, Brennan happily sucked her smoothie through the straw. Finally, her craving had passed.
 At least there was one good thing about pregnancy cravings: it's forcing Booth to eat healthier, whether he was aware of it or not. Brennan certainly was, and smiled as she looked over to him, holding a cup the same size as hers.
 Now she was thinking about intercourse again.

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who takes time to read anything I've posted. You have no idea what it means to me to see that so many people have even accessed the page that holds my work. However, it takes courage to post these things, and it would mean the world to me if you would leave a comment, even if it's just a smiley face. :) Now that I've basically asked for reviews, I guess I can let you all go back to your own realities. Thank you for visiting my version of Bones reality. :) Come again soon.

French Dip Sandwiches

About two weeks ago, my Mama and I were at the grocery store, and what was supposed to be a quick "in-n-out" trip soon became a "let's scan almost every single aisle" trip.

While we were scanning, we happened upon the manager's special items. Many of these items were marked down in price for the simple reason that they were missing pieces to them. Thankfully, Mama spotted a crock pot and an electric can opener, and bought them for me. Since I live just off campus in an apartment, Mama said those things would be good for me to have.

Going along with my new crock pot, I started looking for slow cooker recipes that I could easily make, and found several that sounded appealing.

In my search for recipes, I looked in the Sandwich section of the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book, 15th Edition. In the pages I found a recipe for what was called 'French Dip Sandwiches', and I must say, it sounded amazing.

I made them earlier today for lunch, and they taste as good as they sound. If you want to taste for yourself, try it and find out.

French Dip Sandwiches
Start to Finish: 30 minutes
Serves: 4

     Ingredients:
1 large onion, sliced and separated into rings (2 cups)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon butter or margarine
1 14-ounce can beef broth (can substitute consomme)
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme, marjoram, or oregano, crushed (I used oregano)
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
12 ounces thinly sliced, cooked roast beef (can buy prepackaged, if from deli, 3/4 pound)
4 French-style rolls, split (be fancy--use hamburger buns)

     Directions:
1. In a large saucepan, cook onion and garlic in hot butter until tender. Stir in broth, oregano, and pepper. Bring to boiling; reduce heat. Simmer, uncovered, for 10 minutes. Add beef. Return to boiling, reduce heat. Simmer, uncovered, about 5 minutes more or until beef is heated through.
2. If desired, toast rolls. (I broiled mine. If you're going to do this, I suggest toasting/broiling the tops at the very end, to prevent burning.) Remove meat and onion from broth mixture. Arrange on rolls. If desired, serve with dishes of broth mixture for dipping. (I dipped, and it was better with the broth.)

If desired:
  --Add 1/2 to 1 cup sliced fresh mushrooms to simmer with onions and garlic.
  --Place a slice of provolone, Swiss, or muenster cheese on each sandwich. Place on broiler pan, about 4 inches from heat until cheese melts. Add tops of rolls; serve. (I was able to use both provolone and muenster cheese, and found the muenster gave a richer taste.)



After having tried this recipe once, I would most definitely make it again.

Happy dining!

Love and Laughter to you and yours.

The Sun

O familiar face,
gone is the sun that shines in his glorious fashion, but behold the moon.
The moon shifts her face from us every so often, yet she is there in the sky.
Such is my love for you—it may not always be present on my face, but it is forever in my heart.

O Familiar Face - The Beginning

When I was about 17 years old, I started sending ‘good morning’ text messages to a few of my friends. After a few weeks, I added ‘good night’ messages to the mix.

A few entries are date-specific, while others were written in the morning and others at night. A few had simply come to me, wanting to be shared with the world.

The whole point, in my mind, was just to put a smile on peoples’ faces. I didn’t quite realize just how big of a smile that was, nor did I realize that I was one of the only reasons they smiled that day. That’s a really big weight to carry, especially for a teenager.

Some asked me to discontinue texting them, but that did not mean that I had to discontinue thinking about them.

Now that I'm a little bit older, I can only hope that, with these becoming public, the words help to brighten your day, whomever you may be.