Caution, for those not yet there, | may contain spoilers

I’ve just finished watching the last episode of season 5 of The Walking Dead, and I’m pretty heartbroken – for a multiple of reasons, like: A) The cliffhanger wasn’t half as spectacular as I had expected (in my opinion, Coda was waaaay tougher to suffer through and would’ve made such a horrificly amazing cliffhanger); B) I’m still not onboard the whole Rick + Jessie ship (and probably won’t ever be; incredibly pretty as she may be, I prefer him single… Or, like, give me that particular role…), but Pete‘s stunt made it possible (and seriously, dude, did no one ever tell you not to play with sharp objects, especially while under any kind of influence?); C) REG! I really, really, really liked Reg, and it just doesn’t seem fair, especially considering his bond with Noah, his positive influence over Deanna and, fine, the Monroe family’s recent loss of Aiden, whom I did not care for (but thought he was totes cute) and D) the W A I T. Seriously, October? I’m likely to become a Walker/Biter myself if I have to wait for that long.

I was (…am) contemplating re-watching the first seasons, but oh my gosh, LORI. Some people claim that Andrea was the most hated charcter of TWD – until Father Gabriel – but I have to disagree. Lori beats Andrea by miles and miles and miles

On the possibly positive side, something I found equally amusing and distracting was the fact that you could totally tell that Sonequa Martin-Green was VERY pregnant during the last couple of episodes (she gave birth to a boy in January). In fact, in this, the last ep. of season 5, confusingly – and possibly misleadingly – named Conquer, it was almost ridiculuous.
The beautiful Sonequa (Sasha), wore Bob‘s military (?) jacket to help with the cover up, to little, in my opinion, success, as well as a black t-shirt (because “we all know that black makes you look smaller” – unless you’re pregnant), carrying around big weapons, being filmed either from a “working” angle or from above the baby bump.
My favorite “amusing/distracting” moment was when she laid down on top of the dead Walkers she was busy burying.

Anyway…

Some might call it a mean streak…

Personally I prefer calling it a good sense of humor. To each his or her own!
(See, I suspect that my brother’ll probably be leaning more towards mean streak than a good sense of humor.)

The eldest of my two brothers (to quote – or possibly paraphrase? – a bit of lyric that I have, apparently, misheard since the mid 90’s, “I’m the baby of the bunch”, from Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch‘s Good Vibrations, so I get away with… a lot), is terribly at keeping in touch. It can literally go months before he remembers that he said, in December, that’d he’d “call you next week”.

Of course Mom, my other brother or myself could all remind him, but we’ve done that so many times that most of us have just “given up” (i.e. wait for him to actually remember that he has a mother and two siblings, too, apart from a wife and two sons).

The day before yesterday, Mom had asked me if I realized that it had now gone three months since my brother had said he’d call “the next week”. Which is probably why I decided that it was about time that someone did remind him. At least this one more time.

So I called him, reaching only his voicemail (and I would’ve been very surprised if he’d actually picked up, to say the least; I might actually have had a coronary!). Of course I left a voicemail:

“Hi Anders. This is Erica… You know, your sister, in case you’d forgotten… Umm, did you know that there are 417 people with the same name as you and you’re one of the few with no number listed? Just found that interesting, is all.
…Anyway. I was just calling to hear if you’re still alive. If you are, and you get this message, umm, maybe you could… I don’t know… Call back? Bye.”

I wasn’t expecting him to call back during the weekend, he very rarely does. But it was as if Lucifer (the charming one from Supernatural [gif] ), was sitting right next to me and begging me to pay attention to him, saying he had this really great idea. And all it would cost me was my soul.
So, I decided to send him –  my brother, not Lucifer –  a text, too, you know, to remind him. Again. This afternoon.

“Not to be that person, ’cause I’m not – I’m most certainly not that person, most certainly not! – but it might be so that there’s a pretty penny on the line… You see, I MIGHT’VE mentioned (as a joke – at least it started out that way), that maybe you’d been bitten by a vampire, and due to a drastically changed sleeping routine, are no longer ABLE to to get in touch during the day OR that you are Patient Zero – or had been chewed on by said patient – and therefore no longer were able to use technical devices such as cell phones (I’m not saying that zombies, NECESSARILY, can’t use technology, but in movies and books they can’t, and that’s really all the fact I have at my disposal, so I’m hoping that if you ARE a tech-savvy zombie, that you’ll forgive my ignorance… If you’re able to read this, that is.) Anyway, the joke escalated and now there’s money on the line… So if you ARE a Living Dead, maybe you could just find a way to convey this somehow?”

A few hours later, I realized that I was having a lot of fun (probably more so than I should), and decided to send him another text. Just ’cause.

“P.S. If you ARE a vampire, are you more of a Gary Oldman’s aristocratic Dracula or Twilight’s… sparkling *brr* “vampire”?

I’m not saying that I won’t be seen in public with him, should he be of the sparkling variety, but I think we’d see a lot more of each other during cloudy days…
Not that we see each a lot as it is. (That’s for you, Anders, if you should find your way here.)

I’m not saying I’m a genius…

(’cause that could be intepreted as me being vain, which I rarely am), but clearly someone does.
(Thanks Mom and Dad.)

I actually only brag about my technical skills – which include, but are NOT limited to, a vast knowledge of keywords to use while searching Google for solutions and “Have you tried turning it off and on again?”.

IMAG1073

I got this along with a recipe notepad (which I’m guessing I’m supposed to take as a hint of some sort, since I’d recently gotten a new stove from my landlord). So far I’ve had (much) less use of the recipe pad than my genius pad, but that’s only ’cause we – the stove and I – are measuring each other up to find the other’s weaknesses (mine should be obvious – I can’t cook; whenever someone enters the ER with signs of food poisoning the staff start by asking if they’re somehow related to me and if the answer’s yes, what did I serve; it makes for quicker treatment.)

Kidding. Sort of. At least about the ER-thing. I’m honestly not very good with a spatula. Though it could just be because of  a lack of interest. Maybe, somewhere deep, deep, deeeeeeep inside, there lies a dormant masterchef just waiting to be let out of it’s dusty cage?

Parental bliss

Parental bliss. A phrase usually used when describing the first few days with a (preferably your) newborn baby – you know, before they start keeping you awake at night and using alien language to try and communicate with you.

In my case, however, I’m using the phrase to describe my relationship with my parents (and I don’t care if that’s a misusage of words), who not only tolerate me at my worst, but actually still love me afterwards – and considering that I know myself pretty well by now, I’d say that that’s nothing less than a herculean feat.

I know that I say that I love you a lot, but I don’t show it nearly enough.
I know that you’ve fought for me for what seems like ages, and you’ve gotten little to no reward.
I know that you’re tired, because how could you not be?
But I promise that I am trying, some days the fighting is just harder than others.

You mean the world to me and I want you to know that you’re the reason I won’t give up.

Happy birthday, Dad

Today would’ve been my Dad’s 64th birthday.

I don’t have many memories of him, not nearly enough, as he passed away when I was just 8½.
One of my most vivid, and happy, memories of him would probably be him, wearing his torn-from-genuine-wear jeans and “comfy” clogs and a worn t-shirt, tending his vegetable patch in the garden during Summer.

I know from what Mom’s told me, that he was a very compassionate man, and that while I get my stubborness (as well as my unyielding loyalty and support to those I care deeply about) from her, I get my sometimes black&white and non-negotiable sense of what’s just and fair from him.
I also know from what Mom’s told me, that Dad was the kind of man I would’ve admired and looked up to.
And I know that I’ll always love him, I’ll always miss him and even though it’s been years since his passing, and even though I have this amazing and incredible stepdad in Mom’s husband, some days will be harder than others.

Happy birthday, Dad.

Bakers trade recipes on a knead to know basis

Now that I have your (well deserved, if I may say so myself – it’s a great pun, admit it) attention – onwards to what’s really on my mind this eve, which is to share a(nother) story of how awesome my parents are.

My parents are both up-to-date with most of the newest technology (Dad has a slight advantage, but that’s ’cause he’s a bit of a nerd, which I personally think is awesome – our biggest, and perhaps only, collision bears the name of George R. R. Martin; I’m not a fan, to say the least, though to be honest that has a lot to do with the killing of Sean Bean (and probably My not having read the books) and demon-smoke-hybrid-babies, but that’s for another time).

Anyway, they’re both smartphone-knowledgable and users of Facebook and I’m guessing they – or at least Mom <3 – had seen my pro-Valentine's post, so, when I saw them earlier this week I might've mentioned Valentine as well as possibly gushing over this really cute HVS (heating, ventilation and sanitation) guy while, in the same sentence, also happen to say something about never being on the receiving end of a Valentine's card from a secret admirer.

Dad jokingly asked if all it took was a card signed "secret admirer", to which I replied "no, because I'd recognize both of your handwriting immediately."
Today, they showed up with the cutest Valentine's Bear I've ever seen and I love him (He's named Rudolph after Valentino), and this is him:

image

To paraphrase Agnes: “He’s so cute I could die!” <3

That’s so relatable!

Spending, as per usual, a shameful… No, you know what? I’m not going to get all self-judgemental. Not today, okay.
So, where was I? Right, spending a lot of time hitting the gnarly waves of webformation… Actually, that’s a lie, I’m not being very productive tonight, or, y’know, at all; but since I did spend an entire morning coping with a seemingly endless flow of handimen, I feel entitled to my midday nap, my afternoon spent in PJs and furry slippers and my copious amount of social networking.

Aaaanyway. It was during this extended social networking that I came across a few veeeeery accurate someecards –

– when it suddenly hit me that most, if not my entire, life could actually be retold using only cards from someecards.
This could come in handy.

Sore throat? Someecards.
Trying to eavesdrop on someone (and therefore not being able to talk): Someecards.
Being sarcastic whilst not on speaking terms with someone: Someecards.
Dropping obvious hints without being that obvious: Someecards.

There’s a someecards for every occasion! Figuratively, at least! (I would go with “literally”, but I haven’t actually been through every situation that I can think of – and I have a very fanciful imagination, if I may say so myself – so… better be safe than sorry.)

Mom

Dedicated to my amazing Mom, who’s done everything she’s possibly been able to do, to help me during a very difficult time in my life. She’s even been able to do some pretty neat impossible things, too, like making me smile when that’s the last thing on my mind.

I’m finally beginning to imagine accepting not knowing what the future holds for me, and even trying to picture letting go of the past. I’m nowhere near where I need to be, or where I wish to be, but thanks to you, Mom, I’m a few steps closer.

Thank you for always being there for me. I love you so much <3

Congratulations on…

… finding someone who’ll put up with you, flaws and all?

Recently, a Facebook friend (a really good Facebook friend, but still… a Facebook friend), posted an interesting question, more out of annoyance (with the, apparently, overwhelming Christmas/ New Year’s couple announcements on Facebook) than actual curiosity: why do we congratulate people when they “announce” on social media that they’re involved with someone?

At first I didn’t really think about it, ok, so if you do think about it, maybe it is kinda weird, but it’s something you do, something you’re expected to do.
“Oh, you’ve met someone? Congrats!”; “You’re moving in together? Congrats!”; “You’re engaged? Congrats!”, I could actually continue this in absurdum (“You’re getting married? Congrats on finding someone who wants to marry you, flaws and all!”), but, like I said, in absurdum…

But one sleepless night, I actually got to thinking about it. Mostly because I’ve also been flooded with news of “is now in a relationship with” and “got engaged”. And the more I started thinking about it, the more odd it seemed. It’s like when you repeat a word over and over and over in your head until it makes no sense at all.

Still, I’m not likely to stop saying (writing) it, because that might be construed as rude, but I’m probably going to think about it more and maybe burst out in out-of-place giggle fits at the wrongest of times, like, at a wedding or something…