Wait… It’s June???? WTF!!!

It’s been hectic as hell.

Since my last post I started work, then we went to Confest, teething begun, Rabbit got sick, I applied to uni, then I got sick, then Daddy got sick, then we all got better, then we all got sick again and now we are right here….

Sick. We’re always sick. Goddamned Kindy

It’s been hectic. Really hectic, and to top it off I’m dropping another dose of my meds. Which brings me down to a quarter of what I was on in January. Today is the first day.

I feel like death.

Misadventures in the Kitchen: Custard Buns

Today was the epitome of frustrating baking.

I was trying out a recipe for gluten free danish custard buns by Gluten Free on a Shoestring. I LOVE custard buns. I wanted nutella filled baked goods as well so, why the fuck not?

Ok ok, before I start ranting about misadventures in Charlie’s kitchen I just want to take 20 seconds out to thank Nicole of Gluten Free on a Shoestring for even providing this damned recipe. It may have frustrated the hell out of me, but the results were edible and I can (and will) try it again with some changes. 

Ok, firstly don’t even look at this recipe unless you have time to kill. Lots of it. This is a long, multistep, chill and work, chill and work, recipe. Hours of your fucking time. So yeah, that’s one thing. Sick girls who just want to sleep should not be trying this shit.

Second thing, Nicole uses a particular gluten free flour that she likes… which bears exactly zero resemblance to my homemade gf flour mix because gluten free flour is a bitch like that. Following the recipe as it was gave me a very soft, wet, dough. I persevered, having no idea what I was doing anyway so what the fuck lets just keep working with it and see what happens…

Round 1: Nutella!

Several frustrating, irritating, hours later I tossed the knife and rolling pin in the sink. I bundled the dough up into two balls – one for custard and the other for nutella – threw the former into the fridge wrapped in cling film and the later broke up into even-ish chunks and smoothed them into rounds with my fingers. A table spoon of nutella, wrap these soft hunks of dough up into balls and threw them on a pan. I didn’t wait for them to rise after they didn’t budge in the first half our and damned near burnt them cooking them…

That said. They were pretty damned good nutella pastries, if a bit flat and doughy.

Next round will involve changing up the dough big time. I’m debating between my bread base with almond flour and a small amount of polenta (I can’t find proper maize here) and my general GF mix with almond flour to get a more resiliant dough. Milk will be added slowly to manage the dough’s texture in much the same way as I’d make bread dough.

I’m gonna do the custard ones tomorrow. Hopefully a night in the fridge will help the dough out a bit.

Maybe.

Round 2: Actual real life custard buns

[UPDATE: The second half of the dough lived in the fridge for 2 days and I finally got around to using it today with the custard filling. Again no rise, but they look better. They’re wayyyyy too hot right now to eat so I’ll report back.

UPDATE 2: OMNOMNOM!!! These turned out much better. I had added more flour to the dough to dry it up a bit and it worked much better.]

To Draw Lines in the Sand.

February 2012 – Sober I said no. Drunk I was easy picking. A week later I dragged him back into bed, a stupid attempt at regaining the control he took away.

May 2013 – When I finally couldn’t pretend anymore. 18 months of trying desperately to find a way to make it ok. To believe that he loved me, that it wasn’t rape, that I had no reason to be afraid, that we could move on. I finally gave up, surrendered, admitted that being alone with him was terrifying and that I didn’t want him anywhere near me.

May 2013 – I told people what happened. I will never forget, nor ever lack gratitude, for the anger and support that came from Arrow in those first few weeks. She held me together in so many ways as my life came undone.

May 2015 – Engaged, in love, moving on…

Except that I’m still afraid. I still live in terror of being in the same place as him. I fear the day mutual friends put us in the same room. Except that I’m still blaming myself for trusting him, for believing him, for letting him be in a position to take advantage of me – to violate me. Except I’m still feeling betrayed in every possible way – by him, by the people who believe there is somehow a way he redeems himself.

I’m not the first. Other women known to me have similar experiences, yet somehow he’s still redeemable.

I’m tired of hurting, of being scared and feeling one step from falling down. I need to heal, and I have to draw the line in the sand for my own sanity.

 

 

1am is not my friend

I wake up at 1am. Head aching for no apparent reason and not enough sleep.

I am alone. Nothing new, nothing unusual.

My brain fixates on him. Last night I removed him from intant message programs, facebook, google, twitter… all the places he can reach me online. He still has access to phone and email, but calls and emails can be ignored.

It fixates on confrontation. Public places can be safe, but here, in my home, is another matter.

I get distressed wondering if I can ask the housemates to not let him in when I’m around. I know it’s stupid. The Peacock will do as he’s told. He’s about to move out and has no reason to be anything but behaved. Arrow will understand, she’s brilliant and I have no reason to question that…

And my brain just keeps at it, over and over, throwing the scenario of being home alone into the mix just to fuck me up a little more.

And I’m alone.

There’s no one to tell me I’m ok. There’s no one to roll over to and hold. There’s just me in a big bed crying quietly.

I’m alone and can’t remember the last time I hated my life this much.

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