** Breaking Point **

This is the most personal, serious, and difficult post I've ever written. Regular programming will resume after the break.

Some of you may have noticed, when I forgot about the Chocolate Blogfest, that I haven't been myself. I wish the following story was fictional, but it's not.

Once upon a time in 2005, I met my Prince Charming - or so I believed. We married in 2007. Just a year later, he ended our marriage in a fit of mad rage and for no logical reason. 

I moved out and on, pushed through a depression, and happily reclaimed my maiden name --thereby dropping an "F" word.

During that time, I  also started Life by Chocolate. Never did I imagine I'd be continuing it years later, with hundreds of followers (much less more than 6, whose arms I twisted). You've been much more than a "virtual" community to me. Your support, caring, and laughter have kept me going. 

In a weird and tragic way, my life has come full circle. The aforementioned man recently died. For many or most ex-spouses, this is a dream come true. For me, well, it was too. Until reality hit. Since I learned the news, and the tragic/shocking circumstances, I've been off-kilter, at best. I've reached a breaking point, at worst.

Please be patient, as I scale down on visiting and posting. I'll be away for about a week on a spiritual and literal journey. On the other hand, I need to be here. You're a very important part of my life. As long as I'm able to blog, I plan on it. More personal and serious anecdotes will surface in other venues (e.g., examiner.com), but I'll resume and maintain a mostly humorous Life by Chocolate. In fact, I'm enjoying a Dagoba bar, splattered with peanut butter, as I type.



Since I'll miss the Insecure Writer's Support Group for the first time, I'm going to spew some insecurities here: Should I have made myself so vulnerable with this post? Will I lose followers? Will I be able to tickle their funny bones again?  Will I be able to get back to writing my book, which is based on my life story and is supposed to be humorous? Oy gevalt! Do they know what that means? Do I know what that means? No, I just like saying "Oy gevalt," but spellcheck doesn't accept it. Then again, spellcheck doesn't accept "spellcheck" either. Damn spellcheck! I'll end on that note.                       
                                     
                                  ~ Not The End, just a Breaking Point~

I love you all.

            painted by me, age 15

Sundays in My City and Weirdness

Unknown Mami hosts a picturesque worldwide blog tour on Sundays. 

As the sun sets this Sunday, I welcome you to California's true North. 

 

Los Molinas or thereabouts

Deer on a golf course in Chico

Happy Fall to you from Deer Creek Falls, Lassen National Park

Enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells of Fall.
Have a great week!
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                                                                 II. WEIRD AWARD

Alex J. Cavanaugh gave me this weird Daisy Award, even though he has 1,646 other (non-weird) followers. Thanks, Alex! I'm to list seven weird things about me. Here goes:

(1) I haven't owned a TV in four years, and I don't miss it.

 (2) Some people dream about sex. I dream about chocolate, and the title of my blog came to me in a dream. 

(3) I like liver and cilantro and the two in combination.

(4) I've cleared the room with my karaoke rendition of Barry Manilow's Copacabana.

(5) I used to hate to read.

(6) I like short men, none in particular (and not Tom Cruise), just short men in general.

(7) Except on very rare occasion (e.g., when invited by a cute short man), and no more than once a year, I'll go see a movie in the theater. 

(8) The weirdest thing about me is that --- oh, I'm supposed to stop at 7. Never mind. 

I'm passing this award onto a woman whose talent, spunk, and humor I truly admire: Melissa Bradley. No need to follow through if you don't want to, Melissa. It's just that you're always fun, so I chose you. ;-)

The Latest in Chocolate & The Frisky Virgin

I. The Chocolate Creme Twinkie

An old time favorite, the Twinkie, was born back in 1930. Over the years, Hostess has grown to produce over 500 million Twinkies per year.  In 2011, they introduced this baby. While it's not "the latest" in chocolate, I never saw the Chocolate Creme Twinkie in stores until recently.  Needless to say, I took it upon myself to sample one, and then another...

The chocolate is not high quality, but I'm not picky about chocolate. It's not the old time classic. If you were/are a Twinkie fan, you might deem this product "wrong." I was/am more of a Ding Dong fan, so I'm good with the Chocolate Twinkie. Actually, I like it. I write this without excitement. It's pretty good and worth a try.

I give the Hostess Chocolate Creme Twinkie a 7 on a scale of 1 to 10.

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II. On an entirely different note, see my interview with a long-time blog friend,The Frisky Virgin, here. She's stellar. It's worth the read!

Finding the Way, Sundays in My City

UnknownMami hosts an extraordinary blog party on Sundays. Visit sites from across the globe here. It's a small blog world after all.
 
Welcome to Northern California.

Here in Paradise, three deer dashed by,
and the middle one kindly paused for this photo.

When every move gets you nowhere fast,

                                                                         

 think about this:

 

                                            posted in an office building in Chico

Have a great Sunday and new week.

The Final Pizza Delivery, Part V

Part IV is here. This Pizza Delivery series, written several months in retrospect, loosely stems this post. Hint: pizza represents something else.

Enjoy this and/or good pizza. Wink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We sat on his couch, where we’d shared our first pizza a few months earlier.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I told him. “Without hope for a future, it just, it hurts too much.”

“Okay," he said quietly. "I mean, I don't want this, but I understand.”

I leaned over and rested against Delivery Boy’s chest. He wrapped his arms around me and tenderly kissed the top of my head. Then, he moved down to my forehead. Gradually our lips met. Soon, we were having breakup pizza. And then some more.

After the final serving, hungry for real food, Delivery Boy suggested a bite at In ‘N Out. I’d never had a breakup lunch (or breakup pizza), but I wasn’t ready to say “goodbye.”

So there we sat next to a sweet elderly couple that sipped milkshakes and grinned at us. I felt jealous of both their coupledom and the fact that I didn’t order a milkshake. Note to self: he paid; you should’ve ordered a chocolate milkshake. Note in response to note to self: I know, damnit. This is weird, I thought. They think we’re another loving couple, yet we just broke up.

I put my burger down and looked into Delivery Boy’s brown eyes. “Do you see the irony in us having our last meal at In ‘N Out?” He paused for a moment, before we burst into laughter.

“Let’s not lose this, Robyn. I want to keep you in my life.”

I couldn’t talk and felt a tear inch down my face. I watched it drip onto the darkened end of a french fry. Loosening my hand from his, I picked up the fry, pressed it between my lips, and slowly munched.

In retrospect, I savor the aftertaste of a lot of good pizza…and one extra salty fry.

I’m left wondering if it was all worth it, knowing that it was.

Now, back to pizza-for-one.

Chocolate Bar Talk for the Chocolate Blogfest

Oops, I'm dealing with some things that are too heavy for Life by Chocolate and forgot about the Chocolate Blogfest. How could I forget? Since it's still September 10th, I'll re-post this morsel of chocolate bar talk. I hope you like it.

Be well, and savor good chocolate.

Oh Henry, Oh Henry. Give me a Kiss, Big Hunk. Babe Ruth might score the home runs with his Lady Fingers, but I prefer your Whopper to that Dud's Curly Wurly. Let's hit the dark bar for some nibbling. After all, it's Pay Day, and we've got $100,000 to eat up. I know it's been a Rocky Road, Toots, but we made it Twix all the Snickers and Crunch. I'm not into M&M or a 3 Musketeers. I just want S'more of your Nutty self. No Junior Mints or Raisinettes for this Kit Kat. I'm talking the most organic Whatchamacallit this side of the Milky Way. 

Pizza Delivery, Part IV

This series, written several months in retrospect, loosely follows from this post. Hint: “pizza” represents something else. Part III is here. Enjoy this and/or good pizza.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all seemed so unreal.

Delivery Boy called, as promised, the next day. Our connection evolved into a sweet and steamy summer romance. Between binges, there were frequent “I’m here for you” phone calls, strolls through the park hand-in-hand, and laughter about the absurd. I hadn’t giggled so much in years.

Wow. I ordered good pizza, and that’s exactly what I got – toppings placed in ways I’d never thought possible, prepared and delivered with more passion than I’d ever experienced. On the side, loving sensations marinated. It was a first since my divorce three years earlier.

One night after a frenzied take-out, I asked Delivery Boy about his route, expecting the typical reassurance he was apt to convey. “I’m the only one you deliver to, right? Do you see possible long-term arrangement for us?”

He answered decisively: yes, of course I was the only one. No, we had no future. Delivery Boy wouldn’t commit to an exclusive partnership with anyone, not now or later. If another woman placed an order, though, he’d do the honorable thing and tell me before filling it.

Note to self: I warned you! No string cheese, remember? What were you thinking?

Note in response to note to self: I wasn’t. I wanted the whole pizza pie. But so do you. Doesn’t everyone? Shut up and cut me some slack, or a thick hot slice of deep dish – no, no, never mind. I can’t eat it without string cheese. And that’s too fatty, and goes straight to the thighs, and leaves an all-consuming and confusing aftertaste. Damn string cheese!

Needless to say, Delivery Boy’s response was hard to swallow.

“I need to sleep on it,” I told him. We’d have a heart-to-heart the next day.

Stay tuned for the final delivery.

Kim Kardashian Visits Life by Chocolate: IWSG

Sometimes insecurities wreak havoc with the creative process. Because of this, Alex J. Cavanaugh  founded the blogosphere's one-and-only Insecure Writer’s Support Group. We’re posting monthly, exposing our vulnerabilities and/or offering support to one another. Please check out Alex’s blog to visit others’ posts. It’s a group of kindhearted bloggers/writers and great people.  Join us, if you haven't already! All that's required is an insecurity or two hundred.

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Robyn: Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from somewhere expensive, Kim Kardashian is here. So sorry. I mean, let's welcome her.

Kim struts to the center of the stage, flinging her hair back, and takes a seat.

Robyn: Thanks for joining us, Kim. I know you have a lot of work to do, pretending to work and all. You write a lot too, if tweeting counts. I'll start by saying I didn't invite you here because I respect you. Quite the opposite. I asked you here because you have no insecurities, and no talent, brains or moral fiber. How do you do it? I mean, I'm slammed by insecurities. But I've more to offer than you. We all do.

Kim pulls her Kardashian compact out of her Kardashian handbag and reapplies her Kardashian mascara. Her Kardashian phone rings. She takes the call. "Uh huh, hm mm, seriously! I'll tell her." She puts her K. phone back in her K. handbag. "Kanye says he's going to *bleep* your *bleepin* *bleep* for being a *bleepin* *bleep*!"

Robyn: Sweetie, from him, that's a compliment. What I was saying is that you're a fine example of what it takes: selfishness, and being born into billions, and making sex videos. I figure I have the best odds with the selfishness angle. Can you give me some pointers?

Kim: Are you serious? She rolls her eyes. I don't even like shellfish.

Robyn: That says it all.

Kim flings her hair back and struts off stage. The cameraman zooms in on her backside, but his wide angle lens isn't wide enough, so he turns back to Robyn.

Robyn: To all insecure writers and people everywhere, if she can have that kind of confidence, we can and should have a lot more. Believe it. Believe in you. Know that talent, brains, and values matter. Keep faith, and persist in tilting the world towards substance and quality. We need your gifts now more than ever.

Thanks for visiting!

PS This post wasn't meant to insult anyone it wasn't meant to insult. Wink.