I just wrote an entire post about how disappointed I am in Cookie Crisp, and my iPad just ate it. Just crashed and the whole beautiful thing is gone. Sad times.

I guess I'll have to write it again. Right now.

Except it wasn't really that good, it was more of a warning to people. A warning about the lie that is Cookie Crisp.

I wanted it my whole life. My mom wouldn't buy it, even with brilliant arguments like, "Mother. It's a bowl full of chocolate chip cookies and milk. We need this, like, pronto!" She wasn't having that. We got Rice Krispies instead. A big bowl of loud nothing.

Except I now know that I prefer them to Cookie Crisp, so there you go.

At any rate, when I saw the big generic bags of Cookie Crisp (except these are called Chip Mates), I was pretty excited. I assumed my first bowl would go along with angels singing a duet with kittens, puppies and unicorns on a glittery rainbow. 

It was not. Not at all. It was just okay.

After a twenty-some odd year buildup, I just expected more. More buttery chocolate chip cookie goodness. It was basically a bowl of crispy sugar.

And now I have a ginormous bag of it. Which I will finish, because I don't throw away food.

I also have yet another thing to add to my list of stuff that sucks about being an adult. Ugh.

As our society shifts more and more into written communications, rather than spoken ones, maybe it would be a good idea to...I don't know...learn how to write at some point.

For example, there is a local page that I read frequently, mostly to see the battles that are waged between people due to misunderstandings that would never have happened if the parties involved had even the slightest idea of how much snark their little comments convey. Seriously. It's the reason some of us close everything with a smiley face. That little smiley face can make a slightly sarcastic comment okay.

Its absence can mean war. Facebook style.

But, I mean it. People need to read that stuff before hitting send. There's one guy in particular who, I have heard, is a really mellow, nice guy in person. His comments are rude and hard to understand, due to the fact that maybe one in ten words is spelled even close to correctly, and they make me cringe every time.

Of course, I don't get involved. That would require a level of "I give a crap" that I just don't have.

At any rate, this morning I read a thread in which he alienated every single person involved in the discussion, including the admins of the page. And he's trying to raise money for some people.

Oops.

It's a good idea to remember that Facebook is a free form of entertainment which no one has any control over, except their very own page. Any time a person opens up another person's page, she's stepping into the land of no control. So deal with it or get out. Don't get your feelings all hurt and threaten violence in the real world because you disagree with someone's poster about the starving ponies in Waikiki.

That's not a real poster, by the way. Starving ponies in Waikiki? I think not.

Just calm it. I know some people like to debate (I sure don't, but whatever), but try to keep it civil. A person is entitled to post whatever he likes on his own page, just as you can on your page. And no one else gets to have a say. That's your online room. You mess that up however you like, but don't go throwing your crap in anyone else's space.

And also, take an English class, please, please, please. Because, for reals, I'm dying over here. I'm not perfect, myself, but some of this stuff looks like they gave a keyboard to a baby and just let her randomly peck at the keys. It hurts my brain.

Yesterday, I was kind of having a day. You know, one of those days where a person is just going to feel kind of generally crappy, no matter what? So, on my way to an appointment, I stopped at Target.

Why? Because Target is one of the happiest places on Earth, along with Baskin Robbins and anywhere that serves a cheese plate.

Anyway, I only had 20 minutes or so, so I went straight to the clothes clearance section, and what I saw there cheered me up considerably: Jumpsuits.

Yes, rows and rows of jumpsuits. All shapes and colors and materials, many with short short bottoms, just hanging there, unpurchased.  The first thought in my head was, "Way to go, women of Albuquerque! Resist the jumpsuit!"

Although, to be fair, I have seen two people in jumpsuits that looked really cute. Both of them were extremely thin and modelly looking, so there you go.

Anyway, my next thought was that if I had enough time, I would go into the dressing room and try some on, because that would be hilarious. It would have set the tone for the rest of my day, for reals, because jumpsuits are never going to be a good choice for me. I'm too big, too tall, and just too unmodelly.

It did, however, make me very, very happy to see all of those rows of untouched jumpsuits.

Then I started wondering what they do with stuff that just doesn't sell. Do they end up donating it to a Goodwill or something? If so, I really hope they don't start heading jumpsuits out to people. That could be dangerous. Those things are just a bad, bad idea.

Unless you're doing surgery or handling nuclear materials or something like that. They could use them that way.

At any rate, I left with two new pairs of shoes ($8 apiece, yo!) and a good ten minutes of giggling from picturing different people in jumpsuits (my sister and I should get matching ones for Christmas picture time). Thanks, Target.

And thanks again, Albuquerque. Because friends don't let friends wear adult onesies. 

Life is really messy. I realize that's not exactly an earth-shattering revelation, but it's something that's difficult for me to accept, so I try to avoid thinking about it.

There it is, though, in black and white. Life is messy.

And I think trying to not have your life be a mess is completely a waste of time; however, I will continue to try because I like lost causes and also because giving up would just be ridiculous.

I know myself. I can't stop trying.

The only bright spot I can see is the fact that everyone else is messed up, too. That makes it feel friendlier and less like I'm the only one who has tangled herself in a situation from which there is no escape. Also, if I try to remember that most of my messes are due to my super mega high expectations for myself, and that no one else really expects or needs these things from me, that should help.

Right?

But it stinks when you've disappointed yourself.

Oh, well. Another week to conquer, and maybe this time I'll do slightly better than last time. Which is progress. Progress is good. I think. Sigh. 

Mondays are evil.

Most people feel the need to talk at length about feelings. I feel that talking about feelings is gross and creepy, unless you're with a therapist and paying to do so. In that case, have at it.

Otherwise, can't we all just make fart jokes until the situation goes away?

Every once in a while, probably due to some stupid nonsense, such as lack of sleep or estrogen, I feel feelings coming on. At those times, I've discovered it's best to just not. You know, go eat a brownie or something, but for heaven's sake, keep it in.

Keep. It. In.

If it's allowed to come out, there's just too much hiding in my shirt to be done, and what if I'm not wearing something stretchy? What are we going to do then, because you know there's no way I'm sticking around to deal?

That's not my strong suit. I'm more of a sarcastic comment behind your back sort of gal.

At any rate, let's all just do jokes about feelings today. I just can't.

So this past Saturday was my parents' 45th wedding anniversary. We all wanted to make sure it was special, so we had a big family shindig in Chama, NM, which involved riding the train and stuff, and it was great. Before all that, though, I decided to make it extra special by making my mom a fancy dessert...a dairy-free chocolate coconut tofu cheesecake.

Just let that sink into your brain.

Apparently, they sell tofu cream cheese. Let that sink in, too, because I had no idea that was even a thing. When I went to the store to look for it, I was expecting some kind of nut-based cream cheese, but I live in the boonies, and there is just none of that at our grocery store. But there was, lo and behold, soy cream cheese. This:

It does cost way more than regular cream cheese, but since my Mom hasn't been able to have a cheesecake without becoming violently ill (and, let me tell you, she makes that choice occasionally) since 2002, I thought it was totally worth it.

And then I tasted some of the actual tofu cream cheese.

Let me just say that the name, "Better Than Cream Cheese" is a lie. A big, big, big lie. It is not better than any cream cheese I've ever eaten. It is, in all truthfulness, only slightly better tasting than spoiled, moldy cream cheese. It is slightly sour, but with no other flavor component besides a faint chemical aftertaste. Needless to say, I was not too optimistic about the outcome, especially as I couldn't find a decent-looking recipe so I took a regular one and modified it, and I don't really bake that way. I like instructions and preciseness and all of that.

Big surprise.

So, anyway, made my graham cracker crust:

Threw that dark chocolate coconut filling together:

Et voilá! Baked it up, made some ganachey stuff with chocolate chips and (gasp) margarine, and threw that in a baggie and snipped off the corner and piped on some decorations because that's how I roll, and here is the final product:

Not bad, eh? It looked so pretty, I felt like even if it tasted like poo, at least my parents got a pretty cake.

And then, my Mom called and let me know how it was (we sent it over but couldn't come that night ourselves, so we missed out). I made sure to not tell them what was in it, because I knew they would think it was gross.

Apparently, my Dad thought it tasted even better than the regular normal cheesecake I made for my sister's birthday. Seriously. And my Mom thought it was really good, too, and they said the texture was perfect. Phew!

I was just glad it was edible. I need to pick up my piece so I can try it out, but I feel like my first adventure with non-dairy baking was a success.

And I learned that soy cream cheese, like most other healthy foods, is only edible if it's mixed with sugar and chocolate chips.

Well, last night sucked.

A lot.

I thought it was going to be an awesome day. I had my new dress on, I got to see my favorite friend, and I got all my work done in time to go home before my voice lesson and do a good warmup. Stuff was on track.

Then, we went to the press dinner.

I should've known something was awry. How? I don't know, but I should've. We got to the parking lot and we parked, then got in the shuttle. On the way in, I felt something give on the front of my knee.

It was my pantyhose, and my dress was knee-length. Yep. Huge run, right down the front of my hose. Good times.

Oh, but wait. It gets better. On the shuttle, we noticed all the men were in suit jackets and stuff. Let's just say we got the feeling that we were just nowhere near fancy enough, but I figured it should be okay. It was a dinner on a weeknight, and they didn't specify black tie or anything, so nice khakis and a button up should've been just fine for my husband, right?

Um, yeah.

Anyway, the shuttle dropped us off and we headed to the lady with the clipboard. She informed us that we were not part of the gathering they were having at that location. Our dinner is up the hill.

So we walked. Me, in my heels, with my messed up hose, up the hill. For like half a mile.

Aaaaaand then we got up the hill. Yep. Our feeling about everyone else being dressed real fancy was, indeed, correct.

Apparently, no one else had just come from work. It was all fancy suits and gowns and whatnot.

Great.

So we just kept walking, back to the car.

The upside was that my husband made me some delicious eggs at home, and I got to watch my shows.

But still, so embarrassing. And I ruined my pantyhose. Ugh.

Well, opera season is over. Sigh.

I feel like I always dread it a little, because it means every weekend for five weeks in a row is tied up, but once it gets here, it makes me so happy. Because opera and dresses and fancy time. 

Then it's over, and there's no more reason to be fancy.

I'm pretty sure I loved dress-up a lot when I was little. I love jewelry and shiny bags and shoes and elegant dresses. Opera is just like that, except that I can wear as much makeup as I want and there's also usually booze involved.

Yay champagne!

Also, for the opera, I have never painted my lips with nail polish because my mom wouldn't let me wear lipstick. For the record, don't do that. I still remember the burning and the removal process. Yeah, it was every bit as painful as it sounds.

At any rate, it's nice to be able to make plans (or not) again on the weekends, and not to have to worry about writing reviews that can't be over five hundred words when I need a thousand or more to say what I really want to say. I hate that part.

I will also enjoy not having creepy guy come ask me to the opera for another ten months.

But all in all, even with how hot and humid it's been, and how annoying certain aspects of the opera process are, I am sad it's over. Well, for now, anyway.

And I may just wear my fancy shoes and makeup to work. 

Hahahahahahaha. Not happening.