So I’m taking a little hiatus because well, health stuff and my brain’s just shot.

Watching a lot of Chopped. Realize people have absolutely no idea what to do with noodles. Of course I sure as hell wouldn’t know what to do with an elk heart. I mean I could fake it but let’s face it, it’ll probably come out like a hard rock. Or I’d make stuffing out of it. *grins*

It’s always interesting to see what throws people when they open that basket. And how they just tap out of using something. And then there are people who have never seen or heard of a crumpet but claim they are reps of world cuisine.

Dude, if you’ve never seen or heard of a crumpet, you can’t claim world cuisine. That’s like not knowing what a pop tart is.

I watch Chopped to judge people. Pretty much.

Tests came back okay.

Guts are a mess but that’ll be dealt with.

I do need some breathing time.

Now I’m watching Chopped.

Why does the chef judge need to “get up out of her chair to see what’s going on”?

Like I’d want someone coming to talk to me while I’m trying to deal with some bastard food basket.

I’ve got some funky health things going on and I won’t talk to the next doc until Tuesday.

Now, I’m by nature a worrier and I can stress like no one else. Anxiety attacks? Not a problem, I’ve got all flavours.

But man, waiting tires you out, even if you know for pretty certain that it’s something fixable. Because…suppose it isn’t?

So, lots of water… no rockets in my salad… and walk around the building a couple of times when I’m feeling squirrely in the head.

And write. That’s hard to do when your brain’s running into walls. But damn it, I’m going to get this book done!

I actually want to talk about an event in my life that embedded something inside of me. I think I’ve talked about this before but if you’ve heard the story, feel free to skip it.

I was probably about eleven or twelve and we were living in Waianae on the leeward side of O’ahu. Now, there were a lot of issues with me back then. And I’m not to go into them here but needless to say, I was struggling to stay afloat. I was being bombarded at all sides and the support system I had recently disintegrated following the deaths of my two grandfathers as well as the collie I’d been given as a baby. This led to an escalation of violence and abuse by my father who no longer had anyone to tell him to stop.

See, I was trying so hard to find out who I was and to survive should’ve loved and protected me but pretty much was willing to kill me, both physically and psychologically. My world was an upside down mess of a labyrinth and I was lost.

One day I’d gone out with my younger sister — she’s four years younger than I am — and I had some money on me. We stopped at a bakery because I was going to buy us donuts. She picked out one and I picked out another but I didn’t have enough money on me.

The woman behind the counter told me to come back tomorrow with the difference. Her coworker who was standing behind her told her that was the wrong thing to do because I would not return with the money. I remember her looking at that other woman and say sometimes you have to trust, sometimes you have to give people the opportunity to do the right thing.

It was like fifteen cents and I made sure I stopped by after school the next day and gave it to her. She turned to her coworker said, “See?”.

I still can’t even talk about this without crying.

She gave me something very special that day. She taught me what integrity was.

It wasn’t something I understood and there was a dual purpose to be returning, one because she extended her trust to me and I kind of wanted to say fuck you to the other woman. Because she made me less than what I was, or at least less who I wanted to be.

I didn’t practice that lesson until I turned nineteen and realized I didn’t care for the person I was. And it’s not like I’m a fantastic person. I am envious and jealous and spiteful and angry and I still question the value and whether or not I make a difference. My legacy will not be children or a groundbreaking, life altering discovery that changes the world. And I question that too because why are we here if only to exist?

I think we have to do better than just survive our lives. Or at least I hope that’s the point of all of this. That woman changed who I was, who I was going to be. And it may sound stupid but it was a single defining moment I can point to and say, someone believed there was a bit of humanity in me and I refused to let them down.

So, to the nameless woman who worked in a Waianae bakery over forty years ago, I say thank you. You did something for someone. Something they carried with them their entire lives. I cannot repay you for the gift you gave but I hope to give it to others. I hope your life is wonderful and joy filled and I am eternally grateful for your faith.

Take what you want out of this post. I just needed to share this today. Hope it reminds you there are good people out there, and maybe even remind you that you’re one too. ❤

I adore Manny. He seems like a very heartfelt person. He also does some great makeup. But like many of us, life sometimes is a struggle and I admire he and his father for making this video. Kudos to their love and strength.