It seems I can only taste sweet. The other 2 corners of flavor, plus salt, are busted in my mouth, DO NOT PASS GO, do not taste the 4 beauties ever again. Okay, maybe just this week.

No idea why, except maybe a slight tongue/roof of mouth burning earlier this week tasting spoons while making soup, but historically, that has never been a tongue twister. Long story made short about my Dad: in/out of the hospital lately & keeping him hydrated is the priority. With dad’s dementia & a long ago defeated mother (by dad), this is a tricky wicket. So far, soup is working, but I’m still pissed off

* haven’t slept well in 4 days with menopausal night heats, mind runnings, existential dread & my old Mookie kicking around the house at 3 am as if it’s party time

* Daddy

* Mommy

* The Mid~Terms, oh my fucking gawd on skates. This alone could generate a mental/verbal spin out.

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* Sent Mr. 4th’s & my beagler~dog to heaven this week

* Breaking in to the market circuit/circle with my biscuits & myself sometimes feels like a contest that I never signed up for. I do good anyway & I’ve made some dear women artist friends along the way that I truly adore & respect. BUT! The people running the show that I pay money for space at these markets? They’re pretty awful, mostly.

Here is one example from this morning, and I mean 6 am: Aren’t Yoga people supposed to be kind, connected & honest? I was actively recruited last week for a Yoga Ladies event at a landmark event space near me. Mind, they came to me. I expressed doubts about the hours & the turnout. I said, “thanks, but no thanks, because I think there is too much quiet yoga time for shopping & the event is too short & too early.”

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I promised to send dog food & a cash donation anyway. She assured me it would be swarmed with people & since part of the charity was for animal shelters, she needed me because there were no vendors for pets. And she dropped the table space down from $100 to $50.... I said “yes.”

FUCKING GUESS WHAT HAPPENED???

I DID make my table price back & a bit more, but my gut was right. I spent hours baking, then hours at a function to absolutely break even because I didn’t listen to MYSELF, and because she lied. I gave myself away for free. I keep my prices super fair for all natural biscuits, so I baked for 6 hours, then set up my booth for 4 hours, to break even on a lie.

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None of this would have crossed my radar if she hadn’t come to my table, ignored my fussing over her chi~chi mutt, free biscuits given with oooos & ahhh, nose booping & love. She never even looked me in the eye, then walked away.

She fucking knew who I was...duh, biscuit lady. I had never seen her before. It wasn’t until she got up on a stage to LITERALLY PRAISE HERSELF that I realized I’d been blown off & played.

Friends, I am not exaggerating...She stood on a fucking stage to congratulate HERSELF for being amazing. I’m a stupid asshole, for sure.