Sunday, December 27, 2015

The Bang Bang Blues

I've got a steep case of the post-holiday blues, Reader.  I don't know if they're really holiday blues or just blue-blues, but they've settled in and seem to want to stay and visit for a while. So I'm allowing them in, and just figure I"ll settle in on the couch next to 'em and we can chat and figure out why they're here and how long they plan on staying. 

I think I was too much on "go" for the past few days, and I'm a little worn down.  That seems to be when they like to come and visit. Now don't go getting all concerned, Reader, this isn't going to become a place where we chat about our various depressions or anything like that. I rarely get down, but today it was a full-out bawl. The kind of bawl where I have to repeat words because my therapist couldn't understand a word I was sobbing into her ear on the phone. 

She's not really my therapist. She's my friendie, but she's had the horror privilege of undressing my drunk self on vacation, so she's qualified. And needed her own therapist after that debacle, but this isn't about her, it's about ME, and right now Bang Bang has the blues so let's stay focused. Sheesh. 

Christmas hasn't been very magical since my mom died, which was 20 years ago yesterday. She basically died in my arms, of heart failure, in the early morning hours, and so yeah, tough times. The holidays sort of fell apart without her there to ground us all in the tidings of good cheer. She was the glue. 

Maybe if I had had kids it would have been different. But I didn't need to carry on holiday traditions for anyone, and so while I'd often do some things like baking and some decorating, etc, it was never quite the same. And then some years I'd get busy and tired from work, and would do even less. 

This year started our holiday strong. I'm in a great place with work, which leaves me energy to have a life after the day there is done.   I addressed cards.  I did a lot of baking. I made chocolates, for crying out loud.   I toyed with the idea of putting up a live Christmas tree! But that had a lot of complications to that plan, including how the hell I was going to strap one onto the roof of my convertible, and the possibility of spider's nests living in the branches, so that holiday joy was skipped.  

However, I wasn't treeless by a long shot, because my therapist beau made me a pallet tree! Reader. It was like he handed me the Christmas Star with this gift.  It's the first Pinterest project at Chez Bang Bang that  turned out worth a fuck. See? Nifty!!

So Christmas was happening. And the actual holiday days were really nice. And then somewhere along the line, maybe around 4 a.m. last night, when I was dragged-out-tired because I was preparing to host a baby shower for today, I just got tired and looked at other people's lives on social media too much and I sunk right into woe-is-me. 

Because everyone, absolutely everyone, is more accomplished, successful, beautiful, kind, wealthy, organized, smart, lucky, loved, normal, sane, skinny, longer-haired, tan, less man-handed, whiter-teethed blah blah blah, than I am. 

Obviously, because I'm an unlovable stupid loozer who's accomplished zilch in my life, 

That's the track in my brain. I'm trying hard to jump the track. Because I don't normally get on that track, and I don't like that train at all. I know all the "tricks" to josh yourself out of it, Reader. "Practice Gratitude." "Do a nice thing." "Count your blessings." 

I've tried all that and none of it wanted to matter.  

So I just let it in and sit awhile with it and had a hard cry and my lip pouted and my eyes keep puddling up and now I'm telling you this side of Trixie that isn't the funnyish side, and that's okay, too, because I'd hate for you to think I have a Norman Rockwell life over here and it's all tequila and burritos every day. 

Because it couldn't be further from the truth, unless Norman Rockwell had 8 cats who on occasion peed in inappropriate places. Then it would be a lot like Norman Rockwell. 

So yeah. I'm working on it. It'll pass. Probably by tomorrow, because I already feel it starting to lift a little. But some days just beg for a good hard bawl. So let it rain.  

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Like Picasso, Only Less Appreciated

Let's just call December a blogging-wash, okay? Can we still be friends, Reader?  Paww-weeze?? I know I made promises of sharing my nonsensical self more, and I didn't deliver, and your days were dry, like Triskets-without-a-dip dry.  I mean, like they still had some flavor, but could have used just a little sumpin'-sumpin'.  That sumpin' being ME. Ammiright??

Okay, good.  Now we've cleared the air on that, we can get down to some real bidniz.

For some reason this month I lost my mind and decided to handmake chocolate candy treats. Because I think I must have been looking for a reason to buy a gazillion-pound-bag of chocolate.

And that was a swell idea, because how hard could this be? Ya melt some chocolate, ya dip some stuff, ya put it in your mouf, voila. 

But then I said to myself, "Well, hey, let's also add some caramel, because yum!" 

My kitchen has been a disaster for a good week now, with trays of chocolates and pretzels and almonds and caramel and other things just strewn about, in various phases of complete. 

Because the major problem with the "I'm just gonna whip up some chocolate treats" line of thinking is that I never have time to complete the task in one fell swoop.

As I've been told by my lovah, I have no concept of how time works. 

And therein lies the problemo.

I had a tray of pretzel rods dunked for their first bath in caramel, and then I had to pack it up and wait for another day with more time for the chocolate dipping.  So I wrapped them in my handy dandy Press & Seal, to keep 'em fresh until I had time to get back to my craft. 

Today was the day I had to make the time to finish it all up. Because I can't stand the disheveled-ness of the entire house any longer and it was time to put everything away. And it's Christmas Eve. 

Did I mention I'm also a dolt and volunteered to host a baby shower in my house on Sunday? The Sunday after Christmas? Yep, this coming Sunday. So I've been making blue & white candy treats for that shebang, too, and have to have a spic & span house in time to greet guests. And create a candy bar area because I saw it on Pinterest and thought "I can do that!" but I really can't, but it's too late to stop that train, so I'm on for the ride and just need to get it done. Fucking Pinterest. Sticks it to me again. 

Anyway, back to my caramel pretzel rods.  Did you know, Reader, that caramel is sticky?? 

Well, it is.  

And my pretzel rods, drenched in caramel and rolled up in press & seal became a giant blob of sticky deliciousness. 

I still have 8 lbs. of chocolate to do something with, so I started breaking up this caramel heap and decided to just go with the abstract shapes and call it pretzel candy art. Because like Picasso, my art is interpretative. 

I threw in some crushed up Reese's Cups to add a little extra taste surprise for whomever gets the treat of putting this in their mouf. It may be you, Reader. I'm giving away treat bags to the first 3 responders.  

Why do I have a feeling this is the surest way to hear crickets from you?   

So yeah.  Aren't you glad you decided we could still be friends? I'm going to shower you with abstract candy art. 

And also, stay tuned, I'll be sharing how I almost burned down the neighborhood by lighting my outdoor Christmas decorations. Because I thought "Indoor Use" was a suggestion. 

Basically I do Christmas like a boss. 

Monday, December 14, 2015


Hey, Reader! I have failed on my mission to find a method to writing more often.  Obvi.  

The winter is hard on Trixie Bang Bang! It's pajama-time at 6 p.m., because it's dark outside.  And the cats agree, and don't have to be convinced it's bedtime at 6:45 p.m. 

It's not that I lack things to say. Oh, nosirree, that is not the case at all. You have missed so much! But trust me, nothing that would change your life. Like for instance, we are trying out a new cat litter pan here.  It was just installed tonight, so I don't have a read on it's success or lack thereof yet, but I did come home and one of my little assholes had pooped on the kitchen floor, so really? Anywhere has to be up from here, ammiright?! 

So that's one of the most recent things you're missing out on by my not oversharing with you, Dear Reader.  

Something else? I went to Walmart tonight, to purchase said litter box and a few various other things and did not wear a bra.  Again. With a  white clingy long-sleeved t-shirt. So yeah, that happened.  I'm just not into bras on the weekend. I hate-hate-hate slipping them on and don't do it whenever I can get away with not, which is pretty much any trip to Walmart. But to not end up on a people-of-walmart post, I did wear a zip-up vest/coat thing.  

What had so MUCH I wanted to say, but really can't think of any of it at the moment. So since it's after midnight, it's time for more bed for me, and maybe tomorrow I'll think of the really important stuff.  

Consider this your teaser.  I'm not always one to put out all the way. Usually. But it's not a guarantee. I'm a lady of mystery, remember? 

*which part of that made you laugh harder, the "lady" reference, or the "mystery" part?? Because whew, we both know that's not really true.