Monthly Archives: February 2020

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Busy schedules

I don’t have a busy schedule; I don’t go to many events; I don’t attend book signings or Let me Share my Experience talks. So, some might think me a pancake. But I believe I think about a lot of things, read a lot of things, research a lot of things and argue with myself about a lot of things. I like to think that I am defined by what is in me, not by the events around me – that I shape myself, rather than fads and phases and bandwagon movements shape me.

Well, I wish I’d used another expression than “shape me” because that reminded me of my plumpness. I don’t like to feed my awareness of plumpness. Oh, I should have warned about a bad, awful pun coming up. Sorry. I suppose plumpness does depend on what is in me, but what is in me comes from without. So this is a nonsense paragraph birthed by my disgust at my shape – that is, eating.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Somebody to Love- Sex and Disability

This is a show from 2017 about people with mental and physical disabilities. It was hard to watch because I felt so bad for those people who had no problems with cognitive matters but were paralyzed or contorted form Cerebral Palsy. And then I felt myself feeling scared about those people who had Down’s Syndrome because I started thinking about the difference between me and a genius. I must seem the R-word to them and it upsets me that I can’t understand some things. All these thoughts seemed wrong and I reached the point of a mini-panic of not wanting to think about this anymore.

So, no apologies, I have to find something else to think about, but I am having trouble shaking the unsettling feeling that the show elicited from me. I almost feel like running and running and running until brain hormones alter my mood. I feel I need the sense of running away from this.

Life is not always easy. It is supposed to be what you make of it, how you look at it, and all those things so worthy of post-it notes on your mirror. Yet, the ingredients are in your genes, in fate . . . and Heaven knows what.

This and That at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Wednesday night

It’s 600 lb.Life night. And while I watch, I am eating a cheese ball and sourdough pizza pieces. Not exactly a cultural event, but then the weather outside is awful. That was the way that song began originally, but, of course, it was decided by the powers that be that it wouldn’t sell and so it was turned into a Wintertime/Christmas tune. And that will make no sense unless you are in an off the wall mood with a whimsical garnish.

It started snowing yesterday and it is still snowing. The flakes are little and wet and moving with a strong horizontal wind. The radar had indicated that it should have stopped by now, but that isn’t happening. Tomorrow the high is supposed to be 23 and on Sunday it is predicted to be 51 degrees. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, back in the present, I’m not sure this lady is 600 pounds. She looks a lot lighter to me than that. She’s walking, riding in the front seat of a car . . . but is barefoot all the time. Is her weight in her feet?

You would think this would inspire me to crack down on my weight. What I need is a house that has mirrors that show me from the shoulders down. It’s amazing how misleading a face can be.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

So, I missed yesterday

Yes, I wasn’t here yesterday. I didn’t think it would be wise (or maybe I forgot). I had stated that we didn’t talk politics here and I’m not going to. BUT, yesterday, I was so pissed at the people who get on Facebook and talk politics in a low class, third-rate manner. I read through some comments on a post and as I scrolled, one person called another a “stupid bitch” and the other replied with a “Kiss my Ass.”

And that was only the start of it. Jeez. To sort of quote Bette Davis, This year is going to be a bumpy ride.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

No bread making today

So, the domestic, kitchen phase has probably passed. I mean it was really old-school: Put water in the bread pan, oil, salt, sugar, floor, and then make a hole and add yeast. Lift the pan and put it into the white machine and press the Express button and then the start button. Phew. Perhaps I will enter an air fryer phase. Insta-Pot? I don’t know; it’s a pressure type thing and I can see it going KABOOM.

Ah, that reminds me I have always wanted to lean out a second story window and lower a frozen turkey into an outdoor oil fryer and watch it explode. Well, not really, I wouldn’t do that. I just like to see the image in my head of me leaning out with a turkey on a rope.et

It will take a while for me to get used to blog expressing again. Right now, I am going to have to guard against careless confession.

This and That at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Making bread

Gee, I wonder about the power of urinary tract infections. I had one for Heaven knows how long. I thought I was feeling sluggish because of age, and maybe I was. However, after taking a week’s worth or medicine, I actually felt like doing something. And I did.

I went down into the basement and brought up a bread maker and I MADE BREAD. For anyone who really knows me, this is totally out of character. It takes a lot of “perk” for me to do anything involving the kitchen. I dropped the jar of yeast, but it didn’t break. The lid wasn’t on tightly and some yeast bounced out. If I hear creaking tonight, I will know the floor is rising.

The bread wasn’t that good, but, wow, does butter melt nicely on hot bread! Now, I need to remember where the bread knife is. And maybe the cake knife?

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Comments? You got comments?

1 Comment

Cripe, I leave the place for a while and vandals get in (or out) and things change. I have always had comments on, but somehow they were turned off. I have been looking for a specific box about comments and have not found a simple little one to check.

I have some simple entertainment right now; I am watching the UPS truck on a GPS map get nearer to my house. It has a copy of my marriage certificate so that I can go in and get a REAL ID that shows I am an American citizen. I am an un-hyphenated American, well, if you don’t count the one I just used. Once when my younger son was in fourth grade, he came home and said they were studying Ellis Island and he needed to know where his “old country” was. It was a question that took me totally by surprise. I kept telling him he was an American but that didn’t cut it with the teacher. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

Woo-Hoo. The UPS truck is behind the old Wal-Mart. I feel sort of stupid doing this . . . so maybe I’ll pretend I’m a derring-do WWII secret agent monitoring enemy movement. ooOf course, war is not a good thing, but just think about how many movies wouldn’t have been made if GPS had been in the forties.

And that reminds me, I want to see Five Graves to Cairo again; it’s on my bucket list.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Dusting off the jukebox

2 Comments

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s old school but it’s fun to flip through the choices. I like it now that I’m here pretty much by myself because I can pick a song and play it over and over and over and over and no one complains. Foo gives me a look, but then she sighs and puts on her earphones and starts bopping to her own tune. I have no idea what she is listening to in her cute little earphones, but her head shakes and dance moves are entertaining.

I just starting thinking about it being an election year – a contentious one, to say the very least. We don’t talk politics in this joint; when one walks in and hears the screen door slam behind them in the summer or the warmth of the Franklin Stove draw them closer in winter, one finds a respite zone.

Oh, Joe Biden. Yes. We are not on the fence about that BOZO. We admit it. We celebrate it.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

I have no other place to go.

1 Comment

Well, I’m back and I am hoping that it is not for just a day or so. It’s not that I have been lost, but that I have accepted the fact that I just don’t belong in the world of “nice people who hand out MEMES OF GOODNESS and ride on bandwagons heading toward Utopia.”

No one is really here but me, and that’s okay. I mean, really, who wants to get naked in front of a window, especially if they are overweight. It’s more graphic than overweight; that description just expands you sort of evenly. My overweightness is in the form of pooches and bulges that sometimes rub together. Yes, look no more into your imagination; it might get too vivid.

Other than that, I’m okay. I’m unlocking this place and moving into the upstairs living quarters in The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse. Foo is re-opening the FooBar and has I’m looking to hire a fellow to man the grill and serve up tasty sandwiches and sides. So far, I’ve got an applicationf from this blond-going-grey guy with the initials G.R. He might be just the ticket.