Dinner in my house was the time of day that my brother, mom and I would gather after school and work to be together. No matter what we were doing, dinner time was family time. We’d turn off the TV and sit at the table. I remember the laughs, the fights and the family meetings that we would have. I remember just how bland my mom’s cooking used to be too. Oh. My. God. Bland is really an understatement; to her benefit, I’d say that it’s improved over the years. Maybe she cooked that way because we were young children, figuring anything seasoned would be rejected very audibly with much exaggeration. As a parent, I am yet to be in the realm of fussy eating but can imagine cooking for two young children must be faced with great trepidation on the best of days.

I am a lover of food. I wouldn’t say that I was a very picky eater growing up, though boiled potatoes and a slab of grey pork; lacking any imagination or even colour to conceal the consistency of the shriveled animal flesh really leaves much to be desired.
I’d say for many years I carried on the cooking habits of my mothers, which I was accustomed to. No seasonings, no imagination.
When I moved to college my diet consisted of Kraft Dinner, spaghetti, Zoodles, chocolate pudding, junk food and alcohol. The only ethnic foods I had ever really enjoyed to this point in my life was Chinese food. That was until I met some people. People that ate. People that had imagination, pizazz - and tasty food!

One thing that made a significant improvement in my limited food selections was moving to the city. This city has more then enough culture to make your head spin. I’ve tried almost everything whether it was a favourite or not is negotiable.

I love to eat. I love everything about food. I love that it’s always there, to comfort, to console, never to pass judgment and will never leave.

I admit it.

I am an emotional eater.

I eat when I am happy, sad, angry, anxious, and depressed.

I have been eating like it’s going out of style for the past 2 weeks. I can’t stop. I think about it a lot, I want everything and anything.

It’s like I’m pregnant, even though I am not.

I contribute it to the overwhelming anxiety over Britney Spears and her manic behaviour as of late. What? You don’t believe me? You don’t think that a celebrity could have that much ply over moi?

You’re right.

It’s work.

I notice a considerable change in my eating habits when I am over worked and stressed.

I’ve had a very busy and extremely overextending couple of weeks with 2 out of 3 members of my department on vacation at the same time. Seems fair right?

Anyone for a snack?

Today a colleague and I went to a job fair at my alma mater to recruit some staff. I was a bit leary of returning. Not sure why. It’s been five years and a lot’s changed in my life since those days. The days I have had fond memories of, yet little recollection. Is that possible? I remember that I had a great time, but doing what, I’m not sure.

Once I stepped foot on campus it all came back. I remember chatting out in the smokin’ section with coffee in hand before class started. I remember drinks in the campus bar after a challenging test. I remember our free time spent in the upstairs pub where we played Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf (which is older then me, but still a wicked song) on the jukebox continuously until we were cursed at repeatedly.
I remember where I met certain people the first time, conversations, parties, everything. It all came back. The rush of the first day walking on campus, not knowing a soul; the panic, the worry, everything.

For two short years that I was at college, the impact of that time is unbelievable. Post-secondary school is more then just an academic necessity these days; the social aspect, the experimenting, the freedom and lack of parental control all sculpts us into the adults we ultimately become. The trouble one causes, the heartbreak, the responsibility incurred… all make us or break us.

Over the past year or so I have been having reoccurring thoughts about what I would have done differently had I been able to go back. I wouldn’t goof off and ruin a great academic career; don’t get me wrong, I learned a lot; but there is more I could have learned had I been a more mature student and realized the impact these years would have. Other then that, I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t change one single thing; thanks to today.
It did, however, really make me miss the friends I had made, the freedom I had and the intensity (or lack there of) in college life. But had it not been for that place at that time, I wouldn’t have met Mike and I wouldn’t be where I am today.

I haven’t decided if that was a blessing or a hindrance.

As for the job fair itself; it was enlightening and somewhat beneficial. I hope that we have a couple prospective employees, because GAWD knows I need some relief.

Is hi-jinx a word? My thesaurus doesn’t know it, am I even close the right spelling?

When I was a child I remember trips to the dentist as being a bit intimidating. They take you in a small room, little to no natural light, seat you in a chair, shine a bright light in your face and ask questions. Do you floss? Afraid to say no for fear of what they may do to me I would lie. I’d lie like my life depended on it. A big hearty nod, “Of course.” I’d say, not really knowing that as soon as I opened my mouth he’d know different. I didn’t have many cavities while I was growing up. I’d make sure that I brushed well, and often, to avoid the scrutinizingly evil glares I would get from my mom when the dentist announced I had a cavity. Those glares could melt steel. Put Superman’s heat vision to shame.
Plus, as much as I feared my mom, I was scared of needles more; and every filling meant two needles in the gums. That’s enough to (almost) swear any child off candy and pop for life.

I’m not entirely sure where my fear of needles came from. I can definitely tell you where it escalated though. My memory is a bit jagged, but I can still envision most of it.
I was no more the six years old. I had to get a booster shot, or a needle for something. My doctor used to scare the shit out of me. I was young, innocent, and unknowing; but he had a stroke years before and was paralyzed on the right side of his body and required a cane to walk. Actually it was more of a shuffle. As a child I can remember how I used to stare, and be scared that if he touched me “it” would transfer and I would get “it” too.
So, I was there for this needle; I can’t remember what provoked me, but I know that I ran. I ran and hid under the secretary’s desk, he shuffled along behind me trying to catch up, all the while my mom is yelling at me. Scared out of my mind I huddled in the corner trying to avoid his grasp. I didn’t want to catch “it”, and at this rate, I was doomed. No where to go. I had to act fast. As he bent down and tried to reach me again I bit him. I bit him hard. Right square in the hand. Must have hurt like a bitch too because he backed a way really fast and made me mom come in and get me.
I was in for it now. She was going to beat me like I was a redheaded step child when we got home. I surrendered and went back to the room. At this point my little brother was sitting there crying in hysterics; waiting his turn for a needle too. I hadn’t heard him while I was running for my life, but I could hear him now, and the rest of the office was looking at my mom (with what was probably pity or hatred) because of us.
I must have blacked out after that because I have no recollection of the needle itself, just a fear that has been with me to this day.

Which brings me to this.

Went to the dentist today. We’re so fortunate? to have one that open on Saturdays. He’s really good - sensitive, understanding, gentle and fast! Which is great for me because I have anxiety when it comes to the dentist. Not a fear, just anxiety. Maybe it’s the bright lights and the big chair?
I have one cavity again. I am really good about brushing… but yet it seems once a year (almost) I have a cavity. Meanwhile Mike eats shit food all the time and yet, he has nothing. So I have to go back in a weeks time to get a filling. So, if you read above you understand. I’m far from thrilled about this.