What. A. Week.
I have been at my new workplace every day except Monday. It’s been wonderful to actually look forward to going to work each day. This position is much more relevant to my career goal than was the fast-food cashier or the nonprofit receptionist.
Being a part-time pharmacy technician is really working out for me. I have plenty of time to get other things done around the house or in town, and I have plenty of time on the clock to accomplish quite a bit. It’s worked out that I’ve learned a little bit of custom compounding each day, and today I finally made an entire order from start to finish on my own! Hurrah!
The Beloved is also back at work. However, his days are twice as long as mine–three times if you count the amount of time he’s spent Christmas shopping and fighting that dreadful traffic. I miss him…
Last night was another bad night for me. I was thinking back to our earlier years; I pictured happy scenes, full of light and laughter and love. But when they faded I was left in the dark, eyes shut tightly against the pain of their demise. When I once relaxed my hold, the water works began and I was defenseless against the waves of inner turmoil. He wonders at my still-high levels of emotional distress over Their Divorce; after all, it’s been over two years since it all became public. I know, I know, this is how it’s going to be, and my tears won’t change anything. But I can’t just forget how much it hurts me to see his beautiful family so broken. (His beautiful family, perhaps soon-to-be my family as well.)
Don’t focus on the negative side of it. Don’t think of visiting them as a chore, a grudging duty. They are still his parents, not manipulators who scheme to snatch away your guiltless idle hours with your beloved. You are so self-centered; how else could you convince yourself that your feelings carry any weight in this mess?
Back and forth my mind and my heart bicker. My heart is a wounded dog gone feral–instead of whimpering for comfort from its Master, it lashes out at whoever happens to be nearby. All it knows regarding Them is anger, angst, and anguish, and it wants nothing to do with any of it. My mind, on the other hand, knows more appropriate responses and attempts to teach them to my belligerent heart. So far, little headway has been made in taming that beast; I really need a better Teacher to accomplish it. It’s just a matter of giving Him room to work… tell me, why is that so difficult?
This morning I managed to distract myself in the kitchen for a few hours before returning to the pharmacy. The subject? Fudge. Ohhh yes. Too bad the doctors haven’t discovered that by prescribing chocolate they can help many a woman in need. My goal was to concoct as many different flavors as possible using only the materials from the pantry, no more. Well, the limiting factor was the sweetened condensed milk. Four batches it was.
The first, I thought, would be the most labor-intensive (until I got to the third, but that comes later), which is why I chose to make it first before I lost my will to fight. Previously, I unwrapped individual caramel cubes and cut them in half to place in the center of my fudge pieces. This time, since I was taking the easy route by letting it all harden in the same square pan, I thought I’d cut them into quarters and let them melt a bit to create a Caramel Swirl. Not only did the caramel not get evenly mixed in, but I decided to use a bigger pan to reduce the thickness of my pieces. Too bad it was too big; my fudge was far too thin to be of much use. Oh well, on to the next batch.
My second one was easy. Chocolatey Peanut Butter Fudge. This time I used my regular square cake pan, and it turned out well. Yum.
The third, once I settled on the added ingredient, was to be my piece de resistance. I used white chocolate morsels instead of the milk chocolate semi-sweets and mixed in crushed pecans (which took me at least half an hour to shell!). Once poured in the pan, I methodically laid out perfect pecan halves on the surface in neat rows and columns. Thirty-six in all. It would have been a masterpiece… except I discovered that I used too much sweetened condensed milk and not enough white chocolate. It wouldn’t harden and even after long refrigeration it had the consistency of runny cheesecake. So, I dubbed it The White Chocolate Pecan Mess. Thank goodness it still tastes alright. Perhaps if I freeze it it will be safe to transport to the gathering tomorrow.
Finally, I arrived at my staple fudge: White Chocolate Marble. Simply mix in your white morsels at the last minute and let them melt just enough to create beautiful creamy swirls in the rich chocolate brick. To even better distinguish them from the other “plain brown” fudges, I used a ripply potato slicer to cut it in pieces. Much easier (and prettier) than taking a knife to it.
After making (and consuming) more of this confectionary delight than I really should have, I am still a bit on the brash side. So, to cap my frustrations with a bittersweet ending, I say to my woes of yester-evening:
FUDGE YOU!
