Teeni asked. I answered.
1. Why did you cry on September 5?
Several years ago, on September 5th, I had a bad day. That was the day I had to admit defeat, wave a little white flag and end a 3 year relationship. I had never broken up with someone before. Usually, I’m the one being kicked to the curb, the one left with unreturned phone calls, empty dinner tables… But, for the first time, I was the one saying “We need to talk…”
I couldn’t stop crying afterwards. Felt like my heart had been ripped out, I couldn’t catch my breath and I had a ringing pounding headache for days afterward. I know I did the right thing (the situation had reached a stalemate/standstill that was never going to be resolved and I wasn’t willing to just blindly ignore all the problems and pretend to be happy) but that was the most difficult decision I have ever had to make. It broke my heart.
2. If you could open your own restaurant, what type of food would you serve and what type of clientele would you like to see enjoying your food there?
Oh what a great question! Anyone who reads my blog, knows I love to cook. I ran restaurants for years and the idea of opening my own place is a dream I would love to realize. I do alot of cooking for my friends and according to them, I should open up a restaurant of comfort foods, specializing in breakfast foods and diner staples. My friends are what you may call “stoners” and, even though they know I don’t smoke and I rarely drink, according to them, I’m a stoner at heart because of my cooking skills and the “strange” recipes I make up on the spot. Aparently, my cooking imagination has a stoner spirit.
A simple example: I made chocolate sundaes for everyone one night…I took some chocolate fudge bread from When Pigs Fly bakery (thick chocolate flavored bread with chunks of chocolate spread throughout) chopped into large chunks and toasted it all in the oven. The toasted chunks were tossed into a bowl, topped with ice cream, fruit, sauce and whipped cream. I would love to feature this recipe on a menu….and what would be the name of my “stoner” diner?
“4:20“, of course! For those not familiar with stoner culture, ask a stoner sometime what 420 means… Course the ultimate irony of this restaurant would be that a guy who doesn’t smoke pot at all was running it.
And I think a name like “4:20” would be vague enough so as not to alienate any other potential clientele. And I would specialize in big food, huge portions and outrageous recipes. Most of my menu would be high impact on the calories (no such thing as light french toast, you know) so I would need to bring in a partner to work on the lighter side….any takers??
3. Tell us a little bit about your pet cat.
Thomas is a great cat.
The cat I had before him was a refugee from an abused home. His name was Ebony and he loved the outdoors, only coming inside when it was raining or too cold, but even then, he made at least one daily jaunt outside. In his old home, he had obviously been abused. The first few months I had him, he refused to come near me. He would come in the house and sit in a corner meowing to himself. He was so skittish and seemed so upset all the time, didn’t know what to do. Finally, I spent a day with him and he came to me and jumped in my lap. After that, he was the perfect cat. He let me pick him up and he would curl up like a little baby in my arms. If I was working on the computer, he would jump up in the chair, climb to the top and warp himself around my neck and sleep with his head on my shoulder. I would wake up with him curled up on the pillow next to me. The ex used to hate that!
Poor Ebony. He loved the outdoors too much. He disapeared one night. I found signs of a struggle behind the house. Ebony’s black fur mixed with orange, red and white fur, tell tale signs of a fox. I was heartbroken.
For a year, I vowed I was done with pets. Then, I suddenly found myself wandering through the animal shelter. I don’t know what brought me there. I told the people working there that I was only looking. I walked into the cat room. There were 20 cats in there, all of varying colors and ages. I noticed a black short hair cat standing on a runner (carpeted ledge that ran the length of the wall). I smiled because he looked just like Ebony. The cat must have known I was looking at him because he came running towards me. The runner was right at head level for me. I was now face to face with this black cat. He was purring loudly. I reached out to pet him and he headbutted me right on the forehead. I laughed. I hadn’t picked out a cat, the cat had picked me.
I found out his name was Thomas, adopted him right then and took him home the next night. Thomas is not as overtly affectionate as Ebony was, but he is friendly with everyone and especially seems to adore me since I wake up almost every morning with him next to me or at the foot of my bed, waiting for me to click on the tv. He seems to be a big fan of the flickering images on the screen.
4. I peeked into your blog a bit and want to know under what circumstances were you kicked by a horse? There has to be a story here. 😉
A friend of mine in high school had a barn we used to party in. The farm was fairly isolated and we would have bonfires outside and such and party rather loudly in the barn til the wee hours of the morning. On one such night, my friend G and I decided to taunt the horse that was stabled in the barn.
We were just being loud and obnoxious and being rather obliterated at the time, we were not thinking about the consequences of pissing off a large animal. The horse, after about an hour of us taunting and teasing it, decided he had enough of our foolishness. The horse turned around in it’s stall. We were leaning on the gate that had the horse locked in and I remember thinking that the horse was going to pee on us or something, so I started to step back when the horse suddenly kicked. The gate, as it turned out, had a rather flimsy lock on it. The lock broke and the door rocketed open with enough force to send us both flying across the barn. I had been moving away from the door but my friend G was hit full force by the door. He ended up with bruised ribs and a concussion. I smacked my head on a post a good 10 feet away and ended up with a huge knot on my head and some bruises all over. We were lucky that door was in the way of that kick….
5. Just what is it about redheads? Do ALL redheads, even the bottled ones, have the same appeal?
I really think my fascination with redheads started when I was a little kid. My first kiss in kindergarten was with a redhead. Ok, strawberry blonde, but still….
Bottled or natural, red hair has always caught my attention. I can spot a redhead at 100 yards. And yes, I have actually stepped onto the wrong train in Boston when I was distracted by someone with red hair. Not to mention the times I’ve almost crashed my car due to redhead distractions.
As fascinated as I have been by redheads, I have only ever dated the bottled variety. The natural redheads have always eluded me. Sadly every redhead relationship has ended in disaster. Usually I’m being dumped and discarded by the redheads in my life. And recently, I have even been used and abused by redheads. Despite all this, I still find myself looking, still find myself drooling a little. I still can’t tell you why… Maybe I have a masochistic relationship with the idea of redheads: no matter how badly I’m treated, I keep going back for more…
Hmm…wonder if theres a blond or brunette out there to distract me from the redheads….heehee. Actually, I can think of at least one…but thats a blog for another another time….. 🙂
So, do you want to be interviewed? Here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Edited to Add: I was lazy and found all these pics on Photobucket. To my shame, I realized I don’t have any pictures of my cat, so instead of finding him when I wrote this and taking his picture and uploading it, I blatantly stole some pics from Photobucket instead…sorry, should have added this note to begin with. I take no credit for any of these pictures….I love that horse pic though! 🙂