Just Cyd.

The update to the update is that there is no update. There has been no change to the delivery status; the day after the show I filed a claim for the package.

I've had an initial response from the local post office, and tomorrow I'll reach out again. If the package still exists, just return it to me. I don't care if it has been marked "refused" or "undeliverable" or whatever - I just need closure on this.

The package is still in transit, but should land tomorrow. The recipient won't be at the destination until Thursday. That was Mistake #1 for sure. I worried it'd get there too late, but when I discovered it'd get there too early, I should've said "i'll be back on Saturday" for a better target date.

Travel time still won't affect the fact that the contents will be a full week old by the time he gets them. The cookies were under-baked and not fully cooled when I packed them up. I used butter, so they were still super gooey, and in the TX heat I'm sure things just got worse, not better. I won't be surprised if he transfers the bags from the box to the garbage, not willing to risk it.

my note to him was written on this postcard from the Mincing Mockingbird that reads "the risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math" which, in hindsight, might be too forward for someone only after friendship. I wrote out the ingredients on a separate sheet (an attitude is a terrible thing to waste), another indicator of my personality.

so that's three (or more!) major mistakes, all inside a box that perhaps should've never been sent at all. ND is on a month-long tour in the plains/TX, and that's a long time to be away from home. Yes, he's got a ton of friends around those parts from past tours and festivals and competitions, and his daughter lives in Memphis, and he plans to visit her for a bit. Was this really necessary?

in my mind, yes. "a little something from home" is what I believe I called the honey from Saxapahaw General Store. The cookies were from my kitchen SW OH. The tea was a no-brainer if not a repeat, but he's a singer and all singers I know live by Throat Coat tea. He mentioned before that my goodie bag of tea and honey came in handy in VA/MD/DC, so I will forever connect him with that stuff.

There was no hint of "miss you" or "see you soon" or "when will you be home" or any of that clingy stuff-that's not the point. But he doesn't know that committing Random Acts of Cookies used to be A Thing I'd Do, Frequently. Baking for anyone and everyone back when I was working in an office full of people, and had a ton of close online friends. COVID and time and distance killed a lot of that. I mentioned it to John, and said it was nothing that I wouldn't do for him or JDF should either of them be on a month-long tour out of state. I want him to know he's thought of, cared for, not alone in the world.

I used a Mary Englebreit return address label with my full name and home address on the box. so it's all out there now - my full name, my actual home address, the not-actually-Dayton city of residence. If I wasn't sincere, if I was playing games and trying to hide who or what I am, I'd have figured something else out for the return address.

My actual, honest, prediction is that he'll say absolutely nothing about it. not to me, not to friends or band mates or colleagues. He'll take the tea and add it to his stash, because there's nothing about that tea that says "SOME FREAK FAN MAILED THIS TO ME!" but he'll quietly put everything else in the garbage, and move on with his life and hope I, too, never speak of it.

and the various scenarios in my head are no better. the brainweasels have decided that he'll probably freak a little, and either cease-and-desist me into next year, or get Andrew or FJ to order me to stand down. (If it goes that way, I hope it's FJ - I think I'd take it better coming from him, and he'd be able to get the point across without destroying me directly.) the little fuckers ran wild the other night, convincing me that Andrew would take his phone and call me via messenger while ND is on stage and grill me over the whole thing, saying the things ND can't/won't say.

I can't decide what would be worse, being told to bugger off or just have the whole thing ignored.
his tour schedule is public (out of necessity) so I can solve for X any time I need to. The waiting this week is going to be the worst.

I guess I'll find out Thursday. or Friday. or never?

the last week has been, inexplicably, just fine. Even with having to be in the office on Wednesday, the violent mood swings were mostly something that didn't follow me home from NC. Sure, the snark kicked up a bit when I had one too many tickets with zero info logged by people who knew better (and a couple that I just could not decipher by people who clearly did NOT understand the assignment), but there was no rage monster to quell, there was no thoughts of driving off the road or any of the ping-pong ponderings that plagued me the prior week.

is it the altitude change? I'm taking my meds, so it's not like that time that I just -didn't- take the happy pills and had the nerve to be surprised at the results.

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Ben arrives in one month. I have 18 days at home to make this place habitable. and in my head, I have pretty much already written this off as the beginning of the end. I'd sent him a letter as a way of working out a bunch of my pre-visit/planning anxiety, knowing if I didn't get it out somehow, I'd end up driving him (and me) crazy. he acknowledged receiving the letter, and I figured I'd get his reply via post as well. he got a postcard I'd sent from NC, and this reply:

I do not have nearly enough brain space to try to figure out our schedule with you. Also, that's not really how I travel. I secure transportation, lodging, and a cat sitter, and then just kinda figure out once I get there what I want to do. I know your brain works differently, so how about a compromise? you plan all you want, and when I get there, we can talk things over and see what we both feel like?

upon reflection, perhaps this isn't the assumed attack I took it as, but rather just a statement on how we function differently. But, I've met me, and I'm pretty sure once he lands it's going to be a mess. I don't know.

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tomorrow I head up to dad's to collect something he offered and which he's frantic to be rid of: granola bars. my god, who knew that two family-size boxes of crunch granola bars would be such a disturbance to him. or maybe he's acting too much like how I act, and it's triggery AF?

he got pissy that I wouldn't drop everything on Sunday and come up right that second. he's got some pants with drawstrings knotted tighter than he can manage, so that's on the docket.

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a week or so ago, in a doom-scroll-avoidance tactic, I got a wild hair and scrolled back far enough to find J's ex-wife. not at all who I pictured, and it sort of changes my mental picture of how that all shook out. did confirm that their kid was a teen, not a tiny human, but I still wonder what the catalyst was that landed him with the responsibility of raising said kid. he's told me he was the stable one; guess I should just take him at his word.

he again sent me a direct insta message with the show info, and replied many hours later that I was looking forward to seeing him on his home turf. he replied only a few hours later (and at a much more reasonable hour) with "and seeing you !" i'd swoon, but his gf is watching.

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tons of pain lately, can't figure out why. annoying, and limiting. DO NOT LIKE.

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Watched a live-stream of a film about/by a band. among the few attendees was ND, which surprised me, but I should have known he'd be there - they're longtime friends after all. waited til most of the way through to DM him a hello. posted to the group about crying, and a line from a song that set me off big-time. can't remember it just now, but it fully/totally sums up my "bliss" ring in many more eloquent words.
Asked ND if I'd see him on Friday, but if he replied, the chat cut off before I saw it. Tempted to ask him to meet for coffee on Saturday - every single day since I got home from the last trip I've debated IF and WHEN to ask. how do I know he isn't salty over the whole mess I made?

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overnight trip with Dan coming up in two weeks. it's been a LONG time since we've done one of these. and I'm the one planning this one. Need to book a hotel room, buy my concert ticket, and form a plan of attack to get us from NE to central OH on that Monday.

debated contacting don Dixon to see if he'd want to meet up for lunch. less inclined, now, since it appears Joe is not joining us. Dan won't care, other than to brag to Joe.

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need to figure out the money acquisition for all of this. still running in the red for Reasons. need to get the tax return filed (assuming felon in chief doesn't destroy that, too), and start squirreling away pennies so Ben's visit isn't made of suck. plus all these other trips. I think i've already scheduled 2/5 of my vacation time.

I need help. I KNOW I need help. LOTS of help. Do you want the list alphabetically? Chronologically from when I first identified or asked? by order of importance or overall financial expense?

Historically, asking for help has not gone well. Asked for help with my flowerbeds once, only for the helpers to show up to take me to dinner, after which it was too dark to do anything outside. "oh, ha ha, sorry, we were hungry and wanted to treat you" was the wildly troubling response. Other requests were met with "oh, well, first we must take this trip, and then that trip, and see these people and then those, and how does the second Tuesday of never work for you?" My failure to pair-bond and spawn held against me with the most saccharine smile.

Asking friends for help at my rock-bottom lowest also backfired. I was in constant, unmanaged pain, my house was a wreck, but I was too [whatever the words are] to articulate what I needed. So the day was spent with a few friends helping with what ended up being mostly cosmetic things: removing wallpaper border from bathrooms, moving some other things around. one friend (since dropped) chastised me for my request not being "serious" enough, that she had given up a day with her husband & family for this, and how dare I ..... The entire day I was a hair's breadth away from losing my shit, having put myself out there so far to even ASK, then to be met with this.

I'm not sure I've asked for help from friends since. A single friend, maybe, if I'd keep an eye on her littles, her assistance also providing an escape from the confines of her house in the dead of winter.

more recently, friends have helped, in the form of readying my house for a roommate, moving and building furniture, appliances, hauling unwanted things off. Their kindness given freely, readily, if only I know what I want.

Since The Wreck (always capitalized, and usually assumed that others know what I mean, five years on), very few people have been to my house, tapering off as I got better and then the arrival of Covid restrictions. D has been the only one to see the horror of what it has become, The opening scenes of a Bravo TV Series. Those issues are fueled and compounded by the mental and physical issues, and the growing disconnect from reality. I am too embarrassed to list the things that need to be dealt with, but the cat tree in the corner might give you an idea.

Meds are off. I know they are. Or they're insufficient, or just plain wrong for what my grey matter needs right now. manic manic manic and oh, yes, manic. can't be depressed if you can't slow down long enough to wallow in it. the physical effects are starting to show, and the financial ramifications are blindingly clear week after week when I get the e-notices from my bank.

A friend recently told me the tale of her now-adult (how?!) daughter's "grippy socks vacation" and how it came about. my unspoken, knee-jerk, response was "oh, how lovely to have the freedom to spend two+ months focusing on mental health!". There's been half a dozen times this year alone that I wanted to scream "UNCLE!" and do whatever it takes to get whatever help I need, but then I look at my calendar, and realize "nope, that's not a good time for me." Hotels are non-refundable, and the trips are too tied to my happiness, that missing seeing my friends might do more damage than just letting this all go unchecked. I find myself getting hopeful over ND (among others), and then pull back, knowing I have no right to foist this level of crazy on him, especially without his express consent.

Driving down here, I cried no fewer than six times. Three for sure on the first leg, and at least on the second leg, believing for sure that Show #1 would add to the count. Last night it snuck up on me, pain being the catalyst, along with a jolt of nostalgia of seeing Darren, Holden remembering me, that full-circle moment of this journey. Today, I'm mostly OK, but starting to tense up knowing that tomorrow I must head home.

Am I delusional? perhaps. Am I separating realities in a possibly unhealthy way? signs point to yes. will I get to the point that my reality, and actual reality, become a Venn Diagram of two circles on opposite sides of a chart?

I've been baking in some form for 45 years; it stands to reason that pretty much any baked good should be well within my ability. Pies? my crust rules. cookies? I can do chocolate chip on auto-pilot. Cakes? easy-peasy.

Now some things do have environmental factors - divinity needs to be made when it's dry outside, and breads will vary in the amount of flour needed based on several factors. The one factor I always forget to consider is Room Temperature. According to The Kitchn, they cite Cook’s Illustrated’s The Science of Good Cooking, which defines room temperature as "an environment that is 70° Fahrenheit or 21° Celsius." My house is currently an unheated 66°F.

Oops.

The goal was a trial run of shortbread using this recipe. When baking to impress, untested recipes are risky, and from prior attempts at shortbread, I knew it was finicky. I put the butter on the counter about 1pm, knowing I'd be napping after work. When I checked it, it was still somewhat firm, but I soldiered on. My second mistake was not using my stand mixer. 1/2 cup powdered sugar, 1 1/2c flour, 10Tb butter, surely my standard mixing bowl can handle that? negatron. Because the butter was too cold, the ingredients didn't want to blend, so I was sending the dry ingredients all over me and my kitchen. the butter chunks were a tad smaller, but they were not emulsifying like they should be. Grabbed a fork and went at it like I do pie crust, cutting the butter into the flour. it sorta worked, but it was still white powders with chunks of butter. Tried the mixer again, failed again, and while not totally admitting defeat, I dumped the contents into a freezer bag, mushed it together, and tossed it in the fridge to think about its life choices, while I retired to the couch to do the same.

After a couple hours of sulking, I decided that I could salvage this. Fired up the oven, and scooped heaping cookie-scoop-fuls into paper lined jumbo muffin tins. I got 12 total, and tamped them down into a firm-ish glob. baked for 10 minutes (flipping things after 5), and now they're cooling on the counter. The papers sucked out some of the moisture/fat, so we'll see how the cookies do after a bit of time.

If I decide to try this for the event on the 24th, I will make sure my butter is actually softened. Or I'll stick to what I know. Trying to impress people is hard.