On This Day of Your Birth CMG.

On this day eighteen years ago I became an aunt for the first time.


Gotta make this quick kid, your mom is getting that feral mom bear look again. 

I was twenty-two years old, and when Karen asked me to come to New York to “help” her during the last bit of her pregnancy, I had no problem ditching my job, (The job we shall not speak of) and a particular very soon to be ex-boyfriend. (Buh-Bye Bill B.)

Aaron picked me up from the airport and took me to Chili’s to wait for my sister.

Finally, for the first time in my life, I could legally drink, and I ordered a fishbowl margarita. It was huge. Oh, the joys of finally being able to drink in public.

I remember it as if it happened a moment ago. Karen walking over to the table, she was wearing a black t-shirt, and her whole face was glowing. Like 95% happy to be pregnant and 5% glad to see me. At this time in my life children and pregnancy were the farthest thing in my mind, but seeing the look of permanent absolute joy on my sister’s face was both beautiful and bittersweet.

Before this trip, I had never spent any time with a pregnant person. But I have spent my whole life watching my sister.


Best Friends Est. 1978

This was no different, but even though she had gained baby weight, I noticed that she held a grace that she didn’t have before. A stillness that seemed soul deep. I saw that the anger from losing our dad had diminished and replaced with softness and it was like she heard a voice that no one else could hear. I think she was listening to Christian.

It snowed that St. Patrick’s Day. I had never seen snow falling from the sky, and I remember Nilla, Pepper, and Payton running around the yard with me. I had taken the task up to get my sister to drink more water. I could get her to drink it with citrus, which gave her heartburn. I believe breathing also gave her indigestion.


Christian with Pepper, Nilla, and Payton. 

We ditched Aaron for Lamaze class, and I went instead. Because hello not only am I Karen’s ideal Pictionary Partner I am her memory. I thought we would get kicked out. I don’t remember what made us laugh but my abs hurt once it was over. I tried to pay attention; I was worried that this was all going to come up on some crazy test and that I would not be prepared for it. (Kinda like showing up at the delivery room naked and without your homework.) I remember nothing. Not a single thing.


Oh man this would’ve been handy for that Lamaze Class. 

I was in New York to help Karen, and instead, I was continually trying to sneak loads of baby clothes to wash instead of her. I don’t know if it was so much as a help, but once you’ve smelt Dreft baby wash, you want to just stick your whole face into the washing machine and inhale deeply. Even though at this point she had to waddle to move around she still regularly baby blocked my attempts for a Dreft high.

March 21st, Karen went to the doctor, and they pretty much said, she had to stop her nesting and go directly to the hospital. Pre-Eclampsia decided it was time. She would be having this baby not in April as we both wanted because of March and it’s Marchiness. She came home, and although Christian’s bag had been packed and ready to go since he was about 21 weeks gestation, her suitcase (totally took too much to the hospital) was not. I was filled with terror and trying so hard to be cool because I wanted to keep Karen calm. I prayed a lot. I bargained with God. I told him that I needed Karen to be alive because I couldn’t lose her and dad. I prayed that Christian would be healthy and that he would come home and meet his fur-siblings, but over and over I prayed that the light that shone inside of my sister wouldn’t be dimmed at all.


I showed this picture to every single human I knew in California. I had to add this to my public blog. Sorry kid. Not sorry. 

I watched Karen and Aaron leave for the hospital from Christian’s bedroom window, and I took a deep breath and waited.

I have no memory of the what I did, but the next day Aaron picked me up, and we went to Long Island Jewish Medical Center. I went in expecting my sister would be on some heavy duty drugs. Maybe I thought she’d be holding Christian and ready to get the hell outta dodge. I am not sure what I expected, but like so much in my life, I did not get anything remotely what I anticipated.

It was absolute chaos. Okay maybe that is a strong word, but to this day I believe that Sandy Lovato is an angel sent from maternity heaven. Being induced is not an easy thing. My whole life I have watched my sister and been amazed by her lack of pain gene. I believe I got them all, but she would break a leg and laugh about it.


This lady right here is a total Angel. Both while she was on Earth and in Heaven where she is now. She is so missed. 

She was not laughing at all at 2cm dilation. In fact, her level of pain terrified me. Sandy held her hand, and I was amazed by the calmness that this woman just pumped into the room. I wanted Sandy to hold my hand. The nurse came and said only two people could stay. I volunteered as if I was on the Hunger Games. At the very least I wanted Aaron to leave. He didn’t go to Lamaze and the classes he did go, I know he didn’t pay attention.

But I didn’t either, and now this test had a sudden and scary bell curve that I just knew I wasn’t prepared for.

Finally, they gave Karen an epidural, and the pain receded. I began the mental repeat of.. Thank you, god, thank you, Sandy, Thank you, Dr. Wolfson.


I think she still loves this guy… Dr. Wolfson and Karen after Christian peed on him. 

Some idiot (Aaron) handed me a video camera and told me to stand at my sister’s legs and film Christian’s birth.

I will never be a filmmaker. Neither horror movies, snuff, or even porn. I think I was freaking out, my hands were shaking and I had a front-row seat for the horror show that was my sister’s vagina looking like Saturn.


Once you get it, you’ll want mind bleach too. 

That very moment Karen Burroughs Gryder topped the best road rage line of all time “LEARN HOW TO DRIVE TOMORROW!!” with…


Oh, so much shit was happening. So. Much. Was. Happening.

I remember trying to think of something motivating. Like.. Keep on pushing. Focus! Breath! Stop accusing Aaron of being a Lamaze flunky…

What I meant to say… You can do it, Karen! Keep Going! Push this baby out!

What I said was.

Internally (holy fuck) I see hair that isn’t yours…

While all of this is happening, I have confused record and pause on the video camera.

Dr. Wolfson: Karen, stop pushing for a moment.

(He picks up silver scissors the kind they use in Horror Movies that are made out of super duper shiny silver.)

My Brain: Where in the hell are those going.


My Brain: What the absolute fuck.

Dr. Wolfson: *Giggles. He giggled* **He then snipped my sisters taint with his big monster killer scissors.** Okay, Karen, you can push.


They went on to use the scissors for this scene in Exorcist 3. True Story. 

My Brain: Oh my sweet baby Jesus. She is bleeding on Christian’s head. MAKE THIS STOP!

Christian Michael Gryder launched himself into the arms of Dr. Wolfson at 9:39 pm. The doctor caught him like a cute little cheesy gunk covered football, and it was almost as if he had bungee-jumped from my sister’s vag in a James Bond escape mission. Dr. Wolfson held him up, he’s still giggling by the way, and Christian decided to weigh on the whole thing and peed all over him.


And he’d pee all over that doctor again. You can see it in the eyes. 

At this point, the relief that it seemed everyone was okay settled in and I started to cry and laugh at the same time. Christian passed the first big test of his life by scoring high on his Apgar.

What a Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong played. I remember that so clearly and I looked at Karen and said, Oh my god, you’re a mommy.


See I told you something was happening down there. 

I have wanted to be a writer my whole life. Karen has wanted to be a Mommy, a Mooter, and a Ma. At that moment it all aligned and for a second I felt the universe relax and hum along with the happiness that I felt. Karen ordered me to keep my eyes on Christian at all times, so I followed him to the nursery. I was happy to get the hell out of the room because the doctor was sewing her up. I had seen more than enough of my sister’s naughty bits to last me a lifetime.


Passing his Apgar like a Champ. 

I glared at the nursery nurse who made him cry. I checked out the other babies, but my eyes kept finding that tiny baby who was my nephew. They wrapped him up like a burrito, and I felt like I was at some weird Baby Exhibit. Aaron took me home, and I got used to the idea that I was an Auntie. Finally.

The next day we went first thing to the hospital, and Karen was trembling. She needed drugs to control the high blood pressure that came from her Pre-E, and all she wanted was Christian. Aaron went to handle the that. We were finally moved into a private room, and I helped Karen take a shower. We got her settled, and they brought Christian in.

Once that baby was in her arms I could’ve set off a canon, and she would’ve missed it. All she had eyes for was Christian. I took her wallet, and I went downstairs to Au Bon Pain, I don’t know what I ordered but I know it was costly and it nearly broke my arms to get it upstairs.


Feral Karens respond well to Turkey On Wheat and Broccoli and Cheese Soup from here. 

I tried to approach the baby, and my sister hissed at me. (She didn’t.. much.) I waved a turkey sandwich on wheat at her, her eyes shifted. She needed food, and I needed to hold that baby. I tossed in one of the organic lemonades I dragged upstairs in a heavy glass bottle, and I stole the baby while Karen ate.



Aaron showed up and wanted to do the first diaper change. Baby’s first poop is like second only to gorilla glue mixed with black tar. Aaron set the bar low and blew it. Karen kinda slapped him out of the way. (no that happened) (Okay maybe not slap, but nudged him with force) She handled that first diaper like a pro, picked up the baby and I didn’t get to hold him until he was two years old.

Okay that’s not true. I got to hold him if I promised I wouldn’t walk around with him, or go down the stairs with him, or loudly breathe while holding him.


My Brain: Oh god those scissors. Me to Karen: I swear I won’t move. 

I got lost in Queen’s while trying to get to CVS for some baby Gatorade.


I took this picture and then promptly got lost in Queens in Tony Soprano’s car. 

I bonded with Payton, who had the best facial expressions.

I got to watch my sister finally get some sleep with Christian on her chest. So began co-sleeping for them and many nights of actually getting sleep.

Christian was so small. He would tuck his legs up and wrap his arms around your neck on instinct. He smelled like heaven, and I never wanted to put him down. I had no idea what I was doing, but oh it didn’t matter. He was perfect and splendid.


I can’t handle how cute they are! 

He is turning eighteen today and the man who he is today is directly related to that sweet baby. I have watched him grow up, perhaps not as close as I wished, but living 2500 miles away makes that hard.

He is going to join the Marines soon, and this is his last birthday that is ours. The rest of his birthdays will be spent with family, yes, but also with the family, he will make in the Marines, the people he will encounter out in the world. I wanted to write this all down so I could remember that day he was born all over again.


I love being their Auntie ❤ 

I am so proud of the man he is. For his unwavering desire to serve his country. He has brought the stars to our family of stripes. Even though he is tall and strong and entirely grown up, I will always see him as that tiny baby. I will forever see how my sister would just gaze at him with absolute unconditional love and how she still looks at him that way.

Happy Birthday Christian Michael. Thank you for being you, and for bringing back a piece of your grandpa that lives on in you. He would be so proud of you. My dad was always proud of the friendship that his daughters shared and how close we were. I know he would doubly proud of how you’ve grown into the man you are today.

I love you! I wish I could be there with you, but like always you’re in my heart.


I love you sweet boy! ❤ 


A shocker

This is worth a read. Please do so.

Sam Thorne Scribblings

It was late in the day of an already-trying week. I was in the playground for the afternoon pick-up, where several little ones storm the roost before their older siblings emerge from their classrooms.

I saw rather than heard a few of these teeny beings (some toddlers, others nursery age) getting into a tangle in the corner. I observed two of the mums turning exactly the moment that their own children cried out. I admired this parental precision. Once the errant toddlers had been hailed and hauled into place, I casually admitted “I could never do that. I have no idea what my son’s up to unless he confesses or someone complains.”

“Should you be a parent, then?”

I was… dumb-struck.

Sure, I’d make a terrible penguin, but in many respects, I’m still a good parent. I play footie with him. I do his homework with him. I find furtive…

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Writer’s Block. Other Musings.

I have been a naughty unicorn.

No. Not in any way that is fun or interesting.

I have neglected my blog. I have a good excuse. Well maybe not good but it’s an excuse.

Writer’s block.

Not so much writer’s block as a deep vein of crippling self-doubt.

I still have stories to tell. I have been infested with the feeling that no one wants to read them though.

When I finished my Archer novel, the Divine Death, I was overcome with a sense of profound sadness. I had ultimately expected to feel like a badass and that I could defeat the world. Instead, I wanted to shield this delicate flower that I crafted from anyone who would read it and hate it.

I am currently working on edits for it, and no one has yet to read it. Sorry, Beta Team Voltron.

I also have considered putting this whole writer thing on hold until my son is older, or if I have more time to devote to it. Which as you know will never happen. Because time no matter how much you want, just never shows up in the form that you want it to.

I spent about a month being a whiny bitch about this. Mostly to myself. I made the colossal mistake of whining to the wrong person and walked away with a crack in my heart that I still haven’t seemed to fill in. I learned a valuable lesson that some dark emotions need just to stay inside and you don’t need to seek validation from anyone but you.

Fucking fuck, I sound like a lousy motivation poster meme. I just need a picture of a sunrise and a jogger. Or in my life a sunset and a jogger being chased by a masked serial killer.

I can’t say how else I am going to feel tomorrow or the day after. Today I just want to finish stories. I can’t worry about who will eventually read them. Mostly because the right people will read them and those opinions matter. Sure I’d love to be a paid author, but I don’t write because of that. I do it because I have stories that need telling.

Even if I am telling them to myself.

I guess my point of this blog is to remind myself that I love putting words on the screen. Love the stack of pages that creep up higher and higher. It has so little to do with anything besides the need to craft a world that is entirely my own.

But yeah if you want to pay me for all of that… I would be cool with it.

A Unicorn Looks at 40.

Recently I turned 40. I dreaded this birthday with so much vigor and angst I was a walking mental soap opera. I finished my novel, yet I felt like I was a failure because I was turning 40 and was still not published. I think if it were possible I would’ve refused to have this birthday and just live on the rest of my life as a stunted 39-year-old.


This is an actual photo of me. *Not Really. It’s a farting Unicorn holding tacos. See why it could be me?* 

Thankfully that wasn’t an option. I had a lovely birthday and finally when I woke up, and I felt the same as I had the day before I finally stopped being a total asshole about it.

I spent most of the day thinking of my life. 40 years is a lot of time. I thought about who I was as a person today, and I made a point of going back over the years to other significant moments in my life and the person I was then.

Sometime in April 1977, my dad had a twinkle in his eyes, and my mom picked up a special pack of seeds from a magical nursery. *I wish I was fucking kidding about this… My mom actually used the seed thing in explaining my conception.* **Yes this confused the shit out of me for years and made me slightly uncomfortable around Cabbage Patch Kids.** I have no memory of this. Thank you, sweet Jesus.


I was actually in this picture.  *1977*

The week of my birth the Bee Gee’s album Saturday Night Fever went to #1 and stayed there for 24 weeks. I have no memory of this.

My dad celebrated my arrival a month early by taking everyone to In and Out Burgers. My mom celebrated by being in ICU. I have no memory of this.


That’s me right there… The “fat, bastard baby.” *Long story lol* 

Enough with the things, I can’t remember…

It was a couple of days past my 8th birthday when the Space Shuttle Challenger prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and “slipped the surly bonds of earth” to “touch the face of God.”

I watched it live with a whole classroom of children. We had no idea what was happening, and I remember crying my eyes out. I recalled the red, white, and blue ribbons in my hair my mom had tied special. I remember my parents both hugging me and telling me it would be okay.

I won my first award. A creative writing award for my story of a pear that grew on a tulip tree. My prize was a free small french fry from Burger King. I count this as my first payment for my dream job. My mom told everyone that one day I would be a writer. It was all in my last name, which I am not sharing on this blog. *Sorry, not sorry. It is a cool name.*

Around this time my mom explained to me why Ryan White was not being allowed to go to school and she helped me write a letter to the school board because it hurt me to think he could not go to school if he wanted to. AIDS was something that seemed like it held hands with the boogeyman and I remember being scared of the idea of it. I also remember walking out of Ralph’s Grocery Store with my mom, and she stopped and hugged a young man who looked like a skeleton. He had a sign about having AIDS. The man cried, and I never understood why until I was much older. My mom became my hero that day.

The same year the Berlin Wall was torn down. It was terrific, and I knew it was something that would change something. What I didn’t know exactly, but it was huge. I felt weird when I saw pieces of it for sale at Macy’s.

So many other moments that mean so much to me. Moving to another school, moving back to another school. Making friends, I still have today. Brownies, Girl Scouts, science fairs, learning to read, loving to read and magic. So much magic that even now when I look back on those childhood memories I think they are covered in glitter.

There was a lot of bad in there, but the good was there too. I don’t forget one in sake for the other. I always try to take the sweet with the sour.

When I was 13, I watched with the rest of the world as Rodney King was nearly beaten to death. On the day that my mom married my step-dad the Los Angeles Riots happened. I remember all of us crowding around a small TV that played in the back, each of us trying to make sense of what we were watching.

I remember O.J. Simpson taking a tour of the freeway in his White Bronco. I remember watching his trial after school and learning about our judicial system from Court TV.

So many books I picked up and read. So many movies I saw and loved. So many weekends spent with dad and my sister. So many pitches I pitched for my brother. So much life.

My father died when I was 18 years old. A stupid car accident removed him from my life like someone came in and cut half of my heart out of my chest with a katana. It felt so fast and surgical that I often felt baffled that a person could live with half a heart. It is so humbling to me that one of the humans that is directly responsible for you having that hair, or those eyes are just suddenly no longer a substantial presence in your life. They still infuse your space, your mind, your everything with their spirit. My soul was cut from the fabric of theirs, right? Maybe? I think so.


Thank you for teaching me to laugh with all my heart. *Sometime in the 90s*

I was sound asleep when my friend Kris called me to tell me that a meteor hit the Empire State building. I told him he was watching Armaggedon and to fuck off. It was after all six something in the morning. He called back and insisted I turn on the news. I finally crawled out of bed, regretful of my lost sleep, because I had a job that started at 5 pm and ended at 2 am. I sat on the coffee table holding the phone in one hand and the remote in the other. My mom saw across from me, and we both watched with wide, scared eyes as another plane flew into the other tower.

I didn’t leave sight of a TV for several days. As the events of 9/11 happened, I felt panic and fear.

More happened that I don’t to touch on. I fell in love; I fell out of love. I found myself. I accepted myself. Some of the confusion of my youth dissolved into awareness. I made art, I wrote stories, and I laughed again. I still missed my dad every day, but I learned to laugh again.

When I was 27 years old, my mother died. Her death was not fast and quick like my fathers. It was slow, and she suffered. I felt both sides of the grief coin. No matter what I told myself in my selfish moments, that losing her would not kill me if losing my father didn’t. I was right and wrong at the same time. I know what her heart sounded like from the inside. Just as my son knows what my heart sounds like. Its a line of love that does not become severed when they cut the cord that connects us to each other.


I miss you every day, so much more than I thought possible. *1981*

The end of this year I met my future husband. I came to him empty and tired. It had been a hard year. He saw all my light and my dark, and he loved me so much that when I walked into his arms at the Birmingham Airport, it felt like I had finally found a home.

I went to college, I became a state officer for a club and traveled… A LOT. I did clinicals, I nursed people and gave bedbaths It was crazy and intense, and a part of me wanted to stop. I wanted to write stories and novels and finally see the potential that my mom always saw. But I finished and graduated.

I moved away from California, to Alabama. I had a baby. A sweet boy who helped grow back the part of my heart that was missing. He soothed the rage I felt, and with his smile, I saw my parents all over again. I learned to live with the bittersweet pain, that no matter how much I needed it, neither of them would every tickle him or hug him.

From Alabama to New Mexico. Met new people who I collected into my tribe, my other family. Those people who hear the song of my heart and sing it with me.

New Mexico back to Alabama and finally to the beach. Finally, a nest that has sand in it. I still miss California, but here in Florida, it feels like home. A new kind of home. My son finally speaks, the school is close by, and he walks with his dad most mornings. Its just pure and everything I didn’t think I would obtain for a few years back in my twenties. Remember to be thankful for those unanswered prayers, or the unheard requests to the universe.


I took this picture myself. Sunrise as seen off the Atlantic Ocean. *2017*

40 isn’t that bad, its nice and I am sorry I resisted it so much. I have my family, my PR, my mini unicorn and my tribe. *My peeps I must speak to practically daily* My Viking Wife, My Smutty Wife, My Banana, and T-Bones. I have my sweet Caps and Liz who lets me write her into my stories as a badass assassin because she gets it.

I drink tea, I knit pretty weird things, I write stories, I play with playdoh, and I tell stories to my baby. I laugh a lot. So much joy. Thank you, mom and dad, for having me. Thank you for my life. Thank you for me. Thank you, God, the universe for who I am today. I know who I am and I am beginning to like her.


Sums me up nicely. 

I want to live the rest of my life like the quote from Walt Whitman. My most favorite poet.


I am so much random and glitter in one unicorn. 

Butterfly Pea Flower Tea Review!

*Please excuse British spelling on some words. I like the u a lot so I kept it from my grammar checker. Long story.*


My Viking Wife sent me some dried Butterfly Pea flowers for my birthday.

Before I begin any tea review, I start with research. I love research so this in itself is part of the present of giving me tea.

As many of my readers can attest (All 3 of you glorious bastards) I have the sense of humour of a 12-year-old. I have no plans to curb this anytime shortly.

So when I first googled what a Butterfly Pea flower was and I immediately thought. “Wow, Georgia O’Keefe would love to paint these flowers.”


Well I totally get the Clitoria part of the name. 

In case you didn’t know that Georgia O’Keefe is famous for painting lady naughty parts.

Butterfly Pea flowers real name is Clitoria Ternatea from the Fabaceae family. A whole lot of food that we humans ingest is from the Fabaceae family. I could write an entire blog post just on that, but back to the Clitoria tea.


I love lemons. I love when it’s used in Fanfiction. 😉 

It is found and widely used in South East Asia for centuries. You read that right… CENTURIES.

It has become fashionable all over in the last few years; we can probably thank Pinterest for this. With the trend of veggie water or tinctures made for health benefits, it’s not surprising that this would be appealing in this vein.

Also with more people travel blogging it would be safe to assume this is another reason this tea has made it’s way to me all the way in the states. I had such a hard time finding a local place to purchase this tea, thankfully my Viking Wife ordered some and shared.

Immediately as I brewed it, I could tell this would make a lovely dye. I wished I had raw cotton yarn that I could pour the tea over and let it soak in color. The blue is deep and bright. Sapphire would be a right way to describe it.


*sigh* I really need to make that light box. Nothing screams professional like kid toys in the background. 

In Thailand and Vietnam, the tea is commonly called nam dok anchan. The beverage is mixed with honey and cinnamon and served after dinner. It is used the same way Chamomile tea is used in some countries. A soothing before bedtime tea.

The flower is also used in some main dishes such as nasi kerabu, a beautiful blue rice dish that is widely found in Malaysia.


Magic, AKA SCIENCE! Is currently happening in this glass. 

I brewed it and served it cold. I wanted to be able to catch the fantastic colour change when I added lemon to it and changed the pH balance of the tea. Adding lemon makes the tea change from blue to purple. The more lemon, the deeper the purple. Hibiscus flowers would change the tea to a rosy red colour.


This is pink because I added a very small amount of lemon I wanted to show off how it could be two toned. The more lemon you add, the deeper the purple. 

This tea would be excellent for teaching your children about science and pH balances of certain foods. The mini unicorn was amazed by the colour change, and I let him have some in a bowl. He was surprised by the drops of lemon leaving purple spots in the blue.

In my research, I found a stupid article from Bon Appetit that made a point of saying that the flavour was more earthy and woodsy than Jolly Ranchers. As if anything in nature would taste like a Jolly Rancher? It annoys me greatly that we have removed ourselves from natural food and flavours to the point that if we drink something blue, it appears that we should expect it to taste like raspberries or candy.

I would recommend this tea to anyone. The taste on its own is good; it reminds me of a green tea. However it is tasty served cold with lemon, honey and cinnamon. It screams summer lunches outside in the sunshine and kids thinking you’re a wizard when you add the twist of lemon to it. Hot or cold it is a light and refreshing drink that I rather enjoyed. Will be ordering more!

Welcome 2018: The Slightly Salty Edition.


So I took an unexpected break from here. I have to be honest. It was a combination of The Twins from Project Runway and the stress of telling the world about what I was doing in my life regarding my weight loss. It was just too hard to do both.

I immediately felt burnt out, and that lead me not to write anything at all, which was terrible considering I had a novel in the works.


This is basically how burnt out I was. Fuck those twins. *Shakes fist*

So now that Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the celebration for New Year’s is finally over and put to bed. (I know it’s January 1st which means it is barely asleep.) I can focus on this blog again.

First, there will be no more Monday postings. I will talk about my yoga attempts, my meatless meals and other exciting weight loss related items. But nothing set or expected. I am not a person who thrives under a deadline for something that I don’t like much. I hate talking about myself, which is utterly amusing that I am sitting here writing in a blog that is all about me. I am a Capricorn born so close to Aquarius that I think it makes me changeable.

2017 is over. Let’s not dwell, shall we?

I want to be selfish in 2018. I want to spend more time away from the internet and more time lost in my words or lost in my kid. I want to sit by the ocean and not think. I want to be kind to myself and learn that I am beautiful.

It is not going to be easy. I have a bottomless pit of rage, and murder butterflies inside of me and most of this is directed directly at myself. I have forgotten why. Why do I feel this way? Maybe it’s time to let it all go, and there is no better time than in 2018.

The last few months I have been obsessed with lighthouses, I used one as the main plot point for a novella I wrote around July. I believe that I am mentally looking for one, something that can navigate me towards the shore and away from the rocks that I seem so set upon crashing against.


Just so peaceful to me…

Another obsession that has recently popped up. Julia Child. I know, I was equally surprised, but I feel like I was lead to her by the universe. She did not publish her first cookbook until she was 49 years old. It took her ten years to complete it.

In seventeen days I will turn 40. I am not thrilled about this. It depresses me greatly. I wanted so many things for myself by this time in my life, and I have failed to do them. (More rage for the rage pit I am afraid.)

January 1st, 2018 I completed a novel-length story.

That’s right friends. The first case in the Archer Universe is finished. I want to throw up. But in a good way?

The title is The Divine Death. I kinda love it so much I don’t want to share it with you people. I want to print it out and swaddle it and carry it around in a baby carrier against my chest at all times. I felt this way for the first short story that I felt was publishable. So this bodes well I think. Maybe. I don’t know, don’t look at it.


I want to be just like her. Knife and all. 

Julia Child didn’t know what she was meant to do until she was in her 30s. I know what I want to do and I am doing it. Hopefully, I won’t be 49 when I publish my first book, but even if I am that’s okay too. I will still write and build places, and hopefully, someday someone will read it and be amazed by it. That would be nice.

“The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking, you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.”

Julia Child said this.

I think it applies to writing. I know I have a fear of failure, and it cuts me deeply, but I need to get past it. I think it is normal.

“I’m afraid that surprise, shock, and regret is the fate of authors when they finally see themselves on the page.” – Julia Child

I think it has to be universal.

2018 is new and fresh, and I want to keep it that way, I want to move out into the sunshine and stop limiting myself. I could make grand plans here and say:


But I don’t need to. I want to write every day that I am able. I want to cuddle my kid. I want to make my PR laugh every day. I want sand in my shoes. I want to paint a vanilla sky. I want to tell stories. I want to cook a few recipes. I want to be healthier. I want to do yoga that I love. I want.

For me wanting things is new again, really wanting and moving forward to get it. Maybe the last spectre of PPD is finally loosened its wispy grasp on me, and I can ultimately just want…

Project Runway Recap: The Drinking Game Edition.


Forgive my lack of pictures. Blame the twins. 


Oh, my goodness. I am so sorry this is late. I have no excuse for this. None. Other than I have no wanted to watch it again because the Tweedledee Twins make me want to punch a wall.

Also, my kid was home for a million days because of Hurricane Irma. I love my child; I love that he is getting an education and socialization. I lovvvvvvvvvvvvvve the absolute silence that is my home right now, as he has finally returned to the hallowed halls of education.

When I started the recap thing, I didn’t want to score easy points off any of the designers. I have always felt they are creative out of thin in, in a fishbowl and until I have been there, I can’t make fun of them.

I have watched every season of Project Runway, and I can say that the Buitendorp twins are without a doubt in my top five most disliked contestants ever.

*Here is a little secret. The Unicorn watches these before writing these up. I tend to Recap as if it’s real time, but I usually have to watch each episode about four times.*

Legit. I don’t want to watch this again. Right, this second I am looking at a crochet pattern for a mystery crochet along because it’s not the twins. *Fighting the urge to get yarn and do that instead of this recap.*


Recap time.

So there is a Disney thing where the kids of the villains make a movie and do cool stuff. They are promoting the sequel. My child isn’t at this stage of Disney so I honestly have no idea what this is and I am not going to talk about it.

Cause. Reasons.

So the designers need to make something that fits under good, or evil. Michael since he won last week, gets to pick. I have to say his choices were a bit impressive because he split up the twins. It has to be an evening wear look. Not costumey. *haha good luck with this challenge Margarita*

Good Designers:


Evil Designers:


Tim tells them all that they have 300 bucks for this plus two days.

*Claire at this point says that she is thrilllled to have two days. Keep a pin right here because we’re coming the fuck back to this.*

C&S are in the rose garden sketching, and Claire is thrilled with her willowy model. She calls hers a stunning creature. *Who will be the perfect representation of good. Because that’s the twins in a nutshell. Tall skinny = Good.*

I hate when people talk like that. You know what I’m talking about. Everyone has that one friend who tries to sound avant-garde. Like they stepped out of the Great Gatsby.

This episode’s designer who gets the plus size model is: Margarita! *At first I thought this would be awesome because Margarita is always mentioning how she designs for women.*

Ohhh. But she meant tiny little women. Got it.

WHAT EPISODE IS THIS? WHY IS STILL A THING? For bloody fuck sake, I hope Project Runway is paying for the therapy the models will need after this season. We got someone calling a size 6- HUGE and Jasmine the model has to deal with the weekly designer who gets her and hates it.

Kenya’s model is my favorite. She is fierce, and I can’t wait to see her this week.

Kentaro and Brandon’s little Bromance gives me a breath of fresh air for this episode. I adore them.

*Insert throwaway shots of Mood. I love Swatch, the dog, so I like those bits*

Tim wants to know how the twins will handle the fact they are on opposite sides of the room.

I know that the other designers will feel it with joy in their hearts.

Samantha who I like, she has something on her dress form that looks like it would be good for an unconditional challenge.

Aaron is making his whole dress as practice. Has he never seen this show? He has two days, not two weeks.

*Now let’s go back to that pin about Claire. She is saying that two days could be a designer’s worst nightmare.*

Margarita is in her head, and she is telling everyone who will listen that she designs for REAL women and not avant-garde. They are designing evening wear.

She is now crying to her parents about how she makes women beautiful. *I rolled my eyes. I admit it. Rolled them so hard I saw the wrinkles on my brain.*

Like legit crying because she has a plus-size model. Grow the fuck up. *I should make this a drinking game for my readers. Each time I say fuck. You guys drink.* ** Don’t fucking die from alcohol poisoning.**

Kenya is complaining about her lack of fabric, that she knew but she still got it.

Claire is the bigger problem of the twins. Shawn did well last week, this week Claire is losing her mind. Dragging her sister across the room.

Margarita hates Brandon’s look. It’s pink and sweet. Well, he has good, so that has to be good right? I happen to like it. I love the print he got. I think the top is way too much like everything he’s done. But I love it.

Michael’s fabric is fabulous, and he has a plus-size model, and he’s not bitching at all.

Oh, Amy. I love you, but your cape thing is weird. WEIRD. Her design is so costume like.

Ayana’s dress is confusing me. It’s like little house on the prairie. Someone page Half Pint and let her know that Ayana has her dress.

I’m worried about Kentaro. I have no idea what he’s doing. Either does Tim. Kentaro just admitted he is lost too. Brandon get our friend a map, please!

Samantha mentions that she loves Disney and fairy-tales. She says that she isn’t even embarrassed about it. Her look reminds me of Hot Topic from 1997. It’s missing a little Jack Skellington head on it. Tim hurt her feelings because this is how she designs. She identifies as spooky. I love horror and scary things, and I don’t see it. I also don’t get why people qualify things. I like this, and I’m not embarrassed by it! Great? Just like it then. The rest is useless information. Let your freak flag fly.

Michaels model loves her dress, and I love her personality. They have knocked this look out of the park. He listened to her, and they made it work. He hasn’t complained.
Claire can’t-do this without Shawn. It’s 100% obvious. I have barely seen Shawn’s dress because she has been helping Claire the whole time.

Samantha is reigning in her spookiness. I JUST DON’T SEE IT. Almost 40 years of horror-loving and I don’t see the “spooky” at all in any part of Samantha’s dress. She’s worried she’ll be at the bottom and I agree. It’s ugly.

Claire and her sun visor hat that she is wearing indoors is unreal. Her dress looks like a costume. It’s a gossamer pile of fairy puke.

I legit have no idea what the fuck Aaron’s dress is about.

Claire hates Brandon’s dress.

Samantha just zippered her model’s nipple in her dress. I’m am telling you. Therapy and medical attention for all the models.

Shawn: Kenya’s look is an oxblood mariachi band I think it’s heinous. <~ Hi I’m a jealous twat. *Wait did I say that out loud in the quote box? Fuck.* **Take a drink bitches**

I fucking love Kenya’s look. That outfit I would wear right now. I would wear it in parts because it’s brilliantly made.

Claire think’s Samantha’s is a hot mess.

Amy burns Claire’s dress, does it calmly and with big words. Someone will have to explain it to Claire when they rewatch the series.

I feel so bad for Aaron’s model. I have never seen a dress like that come out on the runway.

Michael’s model is going to slay the fucking runway. She knows it. You should be aware it too.

The Unicorn’s Rank:

  1. Kenya 
  2. Brandon **
  3. Michael 
  4. Margarita (She listened to her model and knocked it out of the park. Thank god with all that crying and hysterics.)
  5. Amy
  6. Kentaro
  7. Batani (I feel like we hardly see her dress at all this episode.)
  8. Ayana
  9. Samantha
  10. Shawn
  11. Claire
  12. Aaron **


I feel like Claire’s dress is country music, Taylor Swift. While Shawn’s dress is off her new album – Look what you made me do. INDEED.

Tim Gunn always waves and blows kisses at the same time. He’s so adorable.

Shawn talks about her dress, and she can’t even sell it.

Brandon’s dress is so him. Which is good, the judges have to know that he made that.

So Aaron’s design almost made Zac puke. It looks like a cross between a pantsuit pinata. My friend KS said “Sea Witch of Period Toilet Paper” I have to agree.

Batani hardly was seen from this whole show, but her dress is very well done. Utterly forgettable. I think she’ll be safe.

Ayana’s dress looked better when her Model’s hair was uncovered in my opinion. It gave her a chic boho feel.

Kenya’s design slays. Her model killed it.


The Top Three:

Brandon, Michael, and Kenya. (WOW! I agree with this!! Will never happen again.)

The Bottom Three:

Aaron, Claire, and Samantha.

Brandon won. Aaron went home.


This is like a P.S. To this episode. I usually stop at this point. But I felt like I needed to talk about it.

Watching Claire during this whole thing is just pissing me off. They love Brandon’s, and she’s unable to hide her hate on her face.

Zac and Nina rip her apart, and she just takes it. But I can tell that disagrees. She agrees out loud, but her face is screaming something different.

The reason I am doing this P.S. because as a writer I need and value criticism. It is part of what I do. Designers also deal with it. You can’t move forward without it, in my opinion.

I am not going to gravel and say OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! I’ll do better next week. I don’t feel I deserve to be on the bottom. – Claire

Everyone was shocked when she came back, and she refuses to accept her design sucked. I have to believe it’s a lack of taste. I don’t know how much longer the twins will be able to do each other’s work.

I’m so over the twins. The complaining, the whining, the venom towards other designers looks. It’s just not fun to watch.

Thanks for tuning into this recap. It’s been real. It’s been fun, but this episode wasn’t real fun.

The Monday after Irma.

I am without power at this time. I’ll post when I do get power.
I want to say a huge thank you to the people out there working on the lines to restore power. Our water was out this morning and we had it back by noon. 

I hope the power is back soon. I miss a/c!

Hope everyone is well. I’ll post my Monday soon as I can! 
Oxox Unicorn. 

Project Runway: The Empire State of Twins.

I live in near Cocoa Beach Florida, which is currently evacuated for Hurricane Irma. I am worried about the Southern part of the state as Irma is slowly crawling from Cuba. I feel as if Key West is a part of my soul and I hope that it faces the storm and comes out the winner. But I know whatever damage occurs that they will rebuild and flourish. The home of Ernest Hemingway is filled with his beloved polydactyl cats; they are waiting out the storm tonight with their friends the managers of the Hemingway Museum. Conch Republic Strong! Stay safe friends. ❤


Stay safe Florida! ❤ 

Now for the Empire State of Recaps.

Obviously, at the end of the last runway, Tim and Heidi reappear with sleeping bags and a key to the Empire State Building.


This is from Pride 2014. I just loved the picture. 

Claire and Shawn look as if someone has just told them they both would be getting LARGER MODELS of a size two variety.

I love this challenge already. They have to sleep on the 86th floor.

Heidi is asking them to design something that will be featured in her sleepwear collection. *So after I wrote this I went to the website. They made the winning look longer, which I like. However, I checked it out, and Heidi’s mission statement is all about women feeling natural and intimates fitting their bodies. Nothing is over an XL. So the show is allllllllllllll about inclusion, but Heidi’s brand is not.* **This is me, right now, being totally not fucking surprised.**

I wish the twins would change their lipstick color. It hurts my eyes. Especially when they both open it wide and it turns their mouths into fuschia O’s of doom.

Hey, Brandon is safe. I wonder how badly he’ll bomb. I notice that most people do badly when they are safe.

All of the designers are in matching jammies. *I love it!*

I love the inside of the Empire State building. It’s lovely. It’s filled with Art Deco and magic. I went there in the winter of 1993, and it inspired in me an immense love for that style. It has stayed with me all these years.

I am so jelly of these designers! I would love to sleep up there!

It’s interesting how all of the designers have their phones. I wonder if they’re not allowed to use them during the work time, or if everyone is usually smart and doesn’t?

I always love watching them design, because they rarely end up with that as a finished product.

Poor Kentaro is doubting himself. But I think his design is cool.

Margarita has sleep shades. I love it. I love that the designers took selfies together. This is the first time in a long time that I felt the players were friendly towards each other and not playing some fabric store version of Survivor.

I can’t tell you how often I have fantasized about waking up to Tim Gunn holding bags of breakfast sandwiches. *le sigh* **Yes he’s wearing a perfectly tailored double breasted suit.**


Look at that vision in the sunrise. I ❤ Tim. 

Eleven hours in the work room. Heidi and Tim will be in at 11 o’clock. I can’t stand it usually when Heidi visits. Her comments are vapid, and she often comes across like a ditzy airhead. I can’t believe that to be true so I am always left wondering why she puts the act on so thick?

*I love Batani’s crochet earrings.* 


I took this off the TV, but you get the idea. 

Who french braided Brandon’s hair? *Heart eyes*

They’re showing Kenya’s work, and I love it. She’s dying fabric right now, and I hope it works out for her. That color matches the twins lipstick shade. *blarg*

They have to make their own textiles, and they are all freaking out.

Shawn has fallen. I am going to start doing shots for every time one of the twins falls, slips, or says something stupid. *I’m only going to play this game once, cause I’m gonna die.*

I love Brandon and Kentaro’s little bromance! ❤ Cuties.

Heidi has shown up with Tim. Tim totally whispers about how Shawn actually has something on her dress form and then Heidi blasts her about it.

I love Ayana. I might be modest in public! But I like being naked at home.

Poor Margarita. Tim doesn’t dig her ombre, and he just see’s menstrual cycle. I didn’t see it. But it’s been tossed.

They hate Amy’s design. I kinda agree. I feel bad cause I am still #teamamy

I’m not feeling most of these designs. I think it’s a combo between Hurricane Irma and women’s bed clothes don’t do it for me.

I am surprised by how put together Heidi is this time around. It’s a lovely surprise.

Wow. I think Tim Gunn just said Kentaro was being anal. Heidi looks as stunned as I feel.
Wow. Tim just said the models would be in for their fitting in two hours. I think the walk around took several hours. Thank god for editing.

The twins are totally cheating. There is helping someone with a few seams. But the twins are totally working in tandem. It’s like having extra hands. Several other designers are mumbling about it. I wonder if this is the crux of the cheating scandal they hinted at in the season preview?

Kentaro is listening to his model. I love it.

Deyonte has changed totally, and I hate it. The color is basic. The cut is basic, and it’s so not flattering.

The twins are totally helping each other way too much. I hope if this isn’t the cheating thing, that someone addresses this and tells them to stop. It’s really unfair.

OMG Kentaro is incredible. He keeps saying anal, and Samantha is going to die. I may die with her.

Samantha: You make me laugh.

Kentaro: You make me feel anal.

Unicorn: I love you both.

I have seen Deyonte’s design at Walmart. I think it was exactly that color too.

I like Shawn’s design, but who did it? Like both, their outfits are 50/50 credit for each other.

I love Kentaro’s nightgown, and I would buy it right now if I were able to. *I looked at the price of the winning design, and I don’t love it 200 bucks worth. Kentaro didn’t win. I’m just saying that the price is insane.*


Ok, so they are on the runway. Aaron is wearing sheer panty short things. Plus tighty whities. I am not sure what the hell is going on. He’s distracting Zac.


My Best to Worst:

Michael **
Aaron *just for the print*
Deyonte **


So the judges top are Michael, Kentaro, and Shawn. I liked Brandon, but he’s safe, and I think they’re tired of seeing the same thing from him. I still liked it better than most.

The bottom picks Kenya, Deyonte, and Aaron. I think they called up Aaron because of his shorts.

Heidi and Zac mention those shorts. Please don’t wear them again was the gist of their comments.


The winner is Michael! The person going home is Deyonte. I think that’s good because now he can be there for when his baby is born.

So that is this week. The preview next week as Kentaro and Brandon sitting together on the grass in a rose garden.

Now KISS! ❤


Heidi Klum Intimates

A Week of Monday.

This weekend my PR said to me, “You’ve just been in a bad mood for two weeks.”

When I immediately had a brain freeze because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to cry or flip him off, I knew that he was probably correct. *But I still flipped him off because I need to keep it normal for him.*

Monday here in my world was a holiday, so both child and PR were home. I didn’t feel like carving anytime on my computer because my kid wants to help me type. Which means I never get any work done while he is awake and at home.

I used this as a sneaky excuse not to write my blog on Monday.

Well, there was that, and there were other things. I was stressed and worried this weekend. My emotions were normal I think for what I was dealing with. *I’m so vague. You’d think I was posting on Facebook. Sorry, it has to deal without people who probably don’t want their business all over my blog.*

Tuesday rolled in, and I thought. OKAY, Unicorn. Time to write your Monday blog. However, that just turned Tuesday into a Monday.


Seriously. It was a long day yesterday. 

I keep reminding myself that I am allowed not to blog if I don’t want to. It shouldn’t feel like a chore because if it does, it’ll read like a chore. Over my life, I have tried a lot of diets and “lifestyle changes” that didn’t stick. I feel like this is holding because I know that I have to write this blog. I want to be honest and bare for anyone who takes a moment to read this. It means a lot that maybe someone will read this and know how I feel.

I have kept up my workout, and it’s been going well. I’m still getting over the kid started school plague, but it’s mostly gone.

When I was in school, I was taught that man is a bio-psycho-social being. That our bodies cannot be healthy if our mind is unwell.

I have been working on my mind. All of my life I have struggled with self-loathing. Where did it start? I have no idea. I know the childhood memories that are huge red flags for my weight issues. Like my father having me stand on a scale, and then my younger smaller cousin and my dad telling me that I should weigh as much as she did. Which was probably true. I did weigh a lot more. I was taller, older and had “baby fat.”

That memory is wrapped in shame like someone would wrap something breakable in tissue. I know that if my dad was alive and I told him how that moment made me feel he would be mortified. He was just scared and worried. I often wonder if my current weight would be something my parents would be horrified by. *This could be my self-loathing talking.*

Recently I unwrapped that shame memory, and I let it go. It’s still here I know it, it happened to me. I left off the shame when I put it back. I can’t change it; I can only change right now.

The whole ditching of red meat has been good. I have enjoyed it. The plus side is PR has switched with me on a few nights, and we are finding more things that we both enjoy eating.

He has lost weight, and I am so glad for it. I have lost weight, and I keep putting off buying a scale. I am going to stop that.

I hope anyone reading this knows that I appreciate your time. I hope that you are kind to yourself. It’s so easy to beat yourself up and tear yourself down. I’ve been so dreading writing this, being so late with it. But right now I feel good because I am writing it.

Anytime I outsmart my subconscious who occasionally enjoys sabotaging us, is a great day.


A serving of pretzels is 17. I hate odd numbers so I used 16. 

So this week in addition to Hurricane Irma I am going to work on portions. Being smart about snacks and adding more time to my work out. Probably more yoga. I love yoga. I am going to try to figure out why I’ve been in a bad mood for two weeks. Hopefully this week it won’t be so bad.

I hope you guys have a good week! I will see you next Monday. If I have power lol.