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Reccurring dreams…

All images were found on Pinterest.

For the last few years, I have had three stressful recurring dreams. How I feel in these dreams is being lost, unprepared, stressed, and bewildered. 

I know the places in these three places. I spent significant time in these places and sometimes felt like I didn’t belong. 

One dream is returning to a job and returning to the same shit show I had in reality.

Another dream is being lost in a city I thought I knew and couldn’t understand why things weren’t where I thought they were. 

The last dream is going down the stairs in a train station and always being on the wrong side of the track, unable to get to work or home. 

As soon as I wake up from these dreams, I remember them in detail, reviewing how the scenario differed from the last. 

I have these dreams every other week or so. Having these dreams without a positive or better outcome is stressful and tiring. 

As I dream, I am aware I am having these dreams again. I dread that I am in these situations again. I say to myself in the dream things like, oh no! This shit is happening again, or why? What the fuck?

God knows I have written about my mental health since the beginning of this blog. People who experience reoccurring dreams and nightmares are usually dealing with depression, PTSD, anxiety, and panic disorder. That’s me.

These are common recurring dreams with definite meanings. Researching the implications of these dreams includes feeling lost, not fitting in, and not where I should be at this point in my life, either spiritually or physically.

I never feel lost or do not fit in because I am highly adaptable. I am confident about who I am—not being at the right place at this point in my life? Well, hell, I’m not a millionaire yet. Lol. 

Am I at a point in my life where I am stuck? I had one of these dreams again last night after having one just a few days ago. I felt compelled to write about it today.

I’m not looking for advice; I’m writing about it because I want to share important things about my life. This has turned into a more significant something lately.

From the beginning of this blog, my goal was to be my true, honest, authentic self. A fucked up person at times, yet someone who tries her hardest to be kind, loyal, supportive, and loving with all her heart.

I’ve been told I am a highly evolved soul, which you can read about in the “My Gifts” section of the blog. Older souls agree to help people in their soul cluster learn lessons.

Perhaps I feel this way because the relationships and lessons I agreed to weren’t fulfilled in this life again. Am I the problem? Are they my lessons or the other people’s in agreement? I don’t know.

Some agreements crashed and burned even though I tried my hardest with different people in different scenarios. People who constantly manipulated me and caused me heartache, stress, and pain.

However, I’ve said for years that I must have been one stupid son of a bitch in a past lifetime; to deserve hurt and pain. Was it karma?

Ironically, that was the name, stupid son of a bitch; my mother screamed at me when I was a child. 😞 What kind of person does that?

These complex agreements and scenarios have made me the strong person I am. A person who never wants another person to feel the way I felt.

This makes sense to me now. My message could be to let go of the past and move on, which is much easier said than done, and how?

Many hours later, as I researched more answers to this piece, I stumbled upon an article about whether these are recurring dreams or lost parts of my soul.

Bingo! As I read the title, I realized I had lost pieces of my soul whenever I had to go into survival mode. This usually comes from trauma, sickness, and abuse, whether it’s mental, physical, or emotional.

As I am thinking about where I lost pieces of my soul, I can pinpoint where and when it happened. I went into survival mode when I was a child. I have lived in survival mode for most of my adult life.

Wow! I’ve done soul retrievals on myself in past life regressions, and one occurred when I was a baby in this lifetime. It’s time for me to get back to work.

Whenever I am troubled, writing is therapeutic for me. In my report, such as today, I found an excellent place to start finding ways to get all of me back.

Writing certainly helps with healing, but I still have a long way to go. I didn’t realize until my mother passed away how broken, hurt, disappointed, and angry she left me.

The part that hit me the hardest was that she never apologized for anything she did to me, and now she never will. This goes back to the agreement I mentioned earlier, which crashed and burned.

Could taking pieces of my soul back help me leave those traumas and abuse in the past?

Have any of you had recurring dreams? You don’t have to answer in the comment section, but you can email me at julziestyle@gmail.com if you would like to share your experiences with me.

Enjoy your day tomorrow; we are in for another snowy day here in Arlington, VT, which is fine with me. ❄️

Update…I lost a few more readers with this post. Some people can’t handle things I write about concerning past lives and spiritual things that aren’t their own.

I can’t take it personally or let it bother me. I know I am not everyone’s cup of tea. 🫖

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Unsubscribe…

It was one of my first posts of the year when I talked about subscribing to my go-to food blogs, hoping to have dinner ideas galore waiting for me in my email inbox.

Yeah, in theory, it was a good idea, but as I suspected, I was inundated with multiple emails from the five blogs I subscribed to.

The worst part was nothing inspired me. Most recipes call for a slow cooker or an instant pot. I have neither by choice.

Today, here in Arlington, VT, it was a gray, foggy, rainy, mixed precipitation kind of day. The miserable kind of day that makes you not want to leave the house.

When I look at the weather on Wednesdays for dance class, Marty tells me when there is snow in the forecast, I will be fine by explaining our truck is all-wheel drive, has good tires, and to just drive slow. Yup.

This morning, he told me things looked iffy for my drive home from dance. I thought about what to do while we were working in the production kitchen.

I came up with my decision and called my dance partner Kathleen.

I told her I was staying home tonight and explained why. She told me to relax and that things would be fine without me. I already knew that.

Kathleen and I have been dancing together for 20 years. We’ve danced and spent untold hours together. We are growing older together and getting wiser.

As we age, she tells me, since we don’t have any estrogen left, we give less fucks about things. True. ✔️

We also do what we want to do and not feel obligated to say yes to things we don’t want to do. ✔️

We listen to our bodies and common sense and don’t feel guilty about our decisions. ✔️

So instead of teaching dance class right now, I unsubscribed to those five food blogs. It feels good to get rid of things that drive me nuts.

Getting rid of things right away is freeing. Such as, stopping a TV show only after 1 episode helps me not waste my time.

Deleting a music playlist or Kindle book that doesn’t do anything for me or getting rid of old recipes that turned out like shit.

Ah, the power of the delete button. I’ve deleted many blog posts after I go back to edit them. I like to let them simmer for a bit and reread them.

This happens when I hear Jon Katz’s voice boom in my head; it was one of the first things he told me about writing. Ask yourself why would anyone give a shit?

I am proud I am not such a lazy ass anymore since I am better about returning things right away that I don’t like or am disappointed in.

Money is tight, so returning shit right away is cash back in my pocket. I used to let them sit in my backseat for weeks.

I missed class tonight and my friends but needed to play hooky and hunker down. I never would have done this ten years ago or known what self-care was.

As far as all those pesky emails from the blogs, they are gone. That is the beauty of the unsubscribe button way down the bottom of emails in a print so small you need a fucking magnifying glass to see it.

While typing this, I received emails from each site telling me I unsubscribed.

I appreciate you guys for not hitting the unsubscribe button and continuing to read my spontaneous blog.

I always say that sometimes I never know what the post will be or turn into until I start typing.

When I started typing about unsubscribing, I had no idea it would turn into talking about getting older and wiser. 😜

***Update the roads were horrible last night! The plow truck drove by our house at least 6 times while I would have been at dance. Cars off the road everywhere. Thanks Marty for the heads up. ♥️

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Back to the drawing board…

Last year, we had a tiny garden on our new terrace using two raised beds.

We made a lot of mistakes with this new type of gardening and have learned a lot from it.

One of the things that drove me nuts was the terrace layout.

It was difficult to get to the veggie plants since the beds were too close together.

The potting table needs to be near the hose and will take up less space being up against the house.

I am asymmetrical and the way things were placed has to be changed.

I started to think about it after the holidays and wanted to design a new layout.

This is hygge wintering at its best.

My drawing of the new terrace layout is very crude on paper, but it helps me see my idea come to life.

We planted way too much in the two raised beds and used the wrong compost resulting in a poor harvest and plant growth.

I put together a must-have list of plants I wanted to have in my kitchen garden.

Many will be in pots this year along with herbs and flowers that are companions to the veggie plants.

Ugh! Current layout. I can’t wait to change it!

I moved the seating area to the center of the terrace facing the mountains instead of looking at the place next door.

The flower boxes on top of the wall will be more symmetrical as well. They also drive me nuts last summer.

I am researching what types of plant and flower varietys that would be best for our terrace garden.

Gardening is something I am looking forward to and using this wintering time to plan is a first for me.

By the way, I still am enjoying winter this year. Another first. ❄️

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It’s a grilled cheese kind of day…

Sometimes you just need a warm and gooey grilled cheese sandwich. Today, was that kind of morning.

These single-digit numbers we’ve been waking up to in the mornings make you want warm fuzzy everything.

This is the first winter I’ve enjoyed since I was a kid. I stared winter right in the face and said, “Hi, remember me?”

I was always a summer person but now after a horrendous year, I am appreciative of every season.

I am “wintering” like the nature and animals around me. It’s like a “when in Rome” kind of feeling. A feeling of acceptance.

Nelly is lying on a heated blanket after coming in from doing her business early this morning. She’s no dummy!

Instead of hating to put on winter shit to go out, I am appreciative for my warm fuzzy hat, gloves, scarf, socks and down jacket. I love my winter muck boots and leg warmers.

No, I haven’t gone off my nut, even though I’ve gotten pretty close, I’m slowing down, and looking around, and living in the moment.

Last year, at this time I would have said what a bunch of bullshit like many of you are.

However, when faced with the notion you may be lucky enough to be here for another winter or two, shit changes. Big time.

Last year’s health crisis took its toll on my mind and body; and now it’s showing.

All that stress and anxiety has caused my hair to shed, I hate to use those words “fall out” like crazy.

I’ve lost 50% of my hair all over not in clumps thank God. I am lucky I started with a thick head of hair.

My hair still looks good but it’s thin. Let me tell you it’s been scary as hell with every handful or brush full that comes out.

It has made me cry for weeks on end creating even more stress. My strong thick hair is a part of who I am.

I don’t want to jinx myself but I think it’s finally slowing down. My doctor said it would grow back and I’ll have my thick hair back in no time. 🙏🤞🏼

I had a small bout of psoriasis show up again but I’m showing it who’s boss.

It rears its ugly head when I am very stressed. It started when I was 9 years old, I had a nervous breakdown of the skin.

That was the year we moved away from family and friends, I went to a new school, and my mother turned on me and started treating me like Cinderella.

Right now it’s pretty much under control. I dealt with it for the first two years of the pandemic. I know what to do.

I’ve been exhausted after months and months of stress which I am giving into while I am “wintering.”

Sometimes you just need a grilled cheese sandwich, a kiss on the head, and be told everything will be fine.

Everything will be fine. I haven’t been able to share this until today. I had no idea I would write about it until the words formed easily.

As always, thanks for reading and following me on this rollercoaster of life. ❤️

Happy Friday my friends! Cheers…

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Butternut manigutt (manicotti)…

By now, most of my readers know I am from New Jersey. I grew up in Elizabeth for the first nine years of my life; then we moved to Iselin. It felt far away, far away from the Italian section of Elizabeth.

It wasn’t until I moved to Vermont that I realized that people outside of downstate NY & NJ didn’t understand the Italian American lingo. You didn’t have to be Italian to know the lingo; people just did.

It felt so weird to me when I had to pronounce Italian food “properly” if I wanted people to understand what the fuck I was saying.

I still tawk the way I tawk at home, but I have learned to speak broadcast news when need be. Here is what I’m talking about:

Written by Peter Genovese from NJ Advance Media

Rule Number One for Speaking Jersey Italian: Drop the vowel at the end of each word. Most of the time, anyway. This is like that “i before e except after c” rule you learned in fifth grade. It holds true except when it doesn’t. So, “cavadeel” instead of cavatelli, cappacol or gabbagool instead of cappacola,  “manicot” or “manigott”  instead of manicotti.

Pasta fagiole is “pasta fazool,” right? Not so fast. Several chefs pronounced every last syllable – “fa-gee-o-li.” Others pronounced every letter in “cavatelli,” not the widely accepted “cavadeel.”

Rule Number Two for Speaking Jersey Italian:  Get the “easy” words right, then proceed to the tougher ones. “Gnocchi” looks uncomplicated, but to speak it like a true Italian, you must roll the “gno” – “gnawww-ki.”  It is certainly not “knock-ki.” Same with “ravioli.” Give the “ioli” a little operatic flourish, prolonging the three syllables a bit, but not so much that people start thinking you learned Italian by reading cans of Chef Boyardee.

Rule Number Three for Speaking Jersey Italian: Impress your Italian friends with the proper pronounciation of words they thought they had been pronouncing right all along. One good example: bruschetta. It’s “broos-ketta-a,” says Filippo Russo, the chef/owner of da Filippo in Somerville. “That’s all over Italy.”

Rule Number Four for Speaking Jersey Italian: It’s “sauce.” Unless the chef insists it’s “gravy.” Which is correct?

Here is how I understand the difference between the two. Marinara sauce contains no meats. The sauce is made and cooked quickly, in under an hour, and is bright red.

I call “gravy” Sunday sauce. It’s a 50/50 split, as people call it. Sunday sauce is always eaten on, you guessed it, on a Sunday as a family Sunday dinner.

Sunday Sauce is usually made on a Friday or Saturday since the prep time is lengthy and the sauce cooks on a slow simmer all day. This type of sauce always tastes better when prepared a day or two ahead.

“Gravy” is used because it contains several kinds of meats such as braciole, pork ribs or neck, sausage, and meatballs.

The meats are browned before adding them to the sauce, giving it a rich, brownish-red color. Meats are used when making any gravy; see how it makes sense now.

Yesterday, I made butternut squash manicotti with a creamy parmesan sauce with shallots and thyme. I served it with chicken Milanese. The two dishes were delicious and worth the time and effort.

While I was working in the kitchen yesterday, Marty asked me if a bomb had gone off in the kitchen. I have to admit the kitchen was bad even though I usually clean as I go, but that didn’t happen yesterday. When I have to pivot while I am cooking, things get wild.

Here is why I had to pivot. After attempting to make butternut squash ravioli, which failed miserably, I decided to make manicotti. Here’s what happened.

I rolled out my pasta dough. It was perfect, and it wasn’t sticking to the workbench. I used a small scoop when portioning out the squash filling on the dough.

I was holding my breath as I placed the other piece of pasta dough over the top. I carefully began to press the top to the bottom around the filling, and the dough started to break, and the squash was squishing through the top. Mother fucker! Ugh!!

After swearing, I took the top off, wiped the filling from the dough, and put it back in the bowl. The dough was very wet, so I needed to add more flour and knead it until it was smooth. This is gluten-free mind out so things were iffy at this point.

This was the point I had to decide what to do. Do I make lasagna like last time, or do I make manicotti? After I rolled out some rectangles, I blanched, filled, and rolled them.

The next step I didn’t plan on, but the manicotti needed a bechamel sauce. I’m a great sauce maker, so this extra step was no biggie.

I still had one last messy thing I had to do, pound out chicken breasts, bread them, and fry them. I popped them into a warm oven while the manicotti baked.

Then I tackled the inevitable clean-up, which was not that bad.

Here is the kitchen all cleaned up with the manicotti waiting to be popped into the oven. This cooking project was way more work and effort than I had planned.

I’ve yet to successfully make gluten-free ravioli after trying many times. It took me seven years to perfect our spatzle, so this is no different. I’ll figure it out. Someday.

Have a great week, guys! ♥️

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Nelly’s new winter coat…

My sweet little Nelly is fully grown. She outgrew many of her “clothes.” By clothes I mean coats, raincoats, and fleece shirts.

Frenchies can’t regulate their body temperature leaving it up to their owners to make sure they don’t overheat or get too cold.

In the beginning, I had fantasies about Nelly wearing cute little outfits. Nelly is not a girlie girl kind of Frenchie.

She will leave a vest or jacket on when it’s cold out. She is no dummy that’s for sure.

Before the weather turned cold, we had no problem harnessing her into her car bed.

Then we hit a roadblock trying to get her winter coat over her harness.

That’s when I found jackets with built-in harnesses. Then I found ones made especially for Frenchie bodies.

Her coat arrived just in time, today she went on deliveries with us and into TJ Maxx with me.

She’s not a girlie girl, but she’s a girl who loves to go shopping. She makes everyone smile and loves it when people stop to pet or talk to her.

When we got home, she immediately attempted to get her winter coat off.

She wiggled in every direction on the carpet like a person trying to get out of a straight jacket.

After I took off her new pink winter coat. She jumped up on the loveseat and fell right to sleep. What a little sweetheart she is.

I haven’t given any Nelly updates for a while, so I thought showcasing her new coat was a good reason. 🩷

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Fresh ideas…

Me on Saturday night before heading out to a party.

Now that I am back to thinking about food again, I decided to improve the kitchen skills I already have and look at alternative techniques.

When someone has an interview for a chef position in a restaurant, many times they are asked to make eggs.

Eggs are harder than you would think and to get them absolutely perfect is even harder.

I’ve been making soft and hard-boiled eggs the way I watched my parents make them.

I’ve perfected hard boil and 6-minute eggs, but I didn’t even think about soft-boiled eggs.

I loved soft-boiled eggs when I was little, I liked any kind of dippy eggs. The only time I got soft-boiled eggs was when I was sick.

Why? Was it because they are easy to overcook? It could have been.

Was it a pain in the ass to cut the egg in half and scoop the insides into a bowl? Served with buttered toast.

Mmmmm, a good childhood memory. Again, about food. It’s always been about food for me.

I felt like having grits with soft-boiled eggs on Sunday morning and wanted to try a different technique.

I followed a recipe and was shocked at how many different ways people prepare soft-boiled eggs.

I decided on the foolproof 6-minute egg technique that people swear by.

The difference between the way I made soft boiled eggs and the recipe was mine started in cold water, and the new way used boiling water.

My way, when the water came to a rolling boil, the heat was turned off and the pot was covered for two minutes.

The new technique had you add the egg to a smaller amount of simmering water.

You set a 6-minute timer and let the egg cook in the simmering water uncovered.

When the timer goes off, you lift out the egg and put it into an ice bath immediately.

When the egg was cool enough to handle, instead of cutting it in half and scooping out the insides I peeled the egg: easily.

I was skeptical as I placed the egg on top of the creamy grits. I took my knife and opened the egg.

It was perfect and professional looking. I was tickled pink!

There were no shell bits like when you scoop out the insides. Amazing!

The title of this blog post, Fresh Ideas, also refers to hunting for recipes each week.

Let’s face it, thinking of things to make for dinner is the hardest part of cooking. It’s no different for me.

Every week I would search for ideas and inspiration for dinner ideas. I would usually find a recipe from one of my favorite food blogs.

That’s when the lightbulb went off Sunday afternoon. I thought, “Hey dumbass, why don’t you subscribe to your favorite food blogs and have ideas and inspiration in your inbox.”

I subscribed to blogs that cover different cuisines such as vegetarian, ethnic, classic, gluten-free, Italian, and comfort food.

I’m looking forward to challenging myself in the kitchen and using more hard-to-find fresh ingredients used in ethnic cooking, especially in Asian and Indian dishes.

My quest for fresh ideas started with one egg. One perfect egg yesterday morning.

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Back in the kitchen…

A shelf in our kitchen with one of my Christmas gifts from Noah & Aja. They found this couple for me when they were in Mexico!

I cooked and baked a lot of food between December 18-30. I haven’t cooked since.

Besides heating up leftovers from the freezer or frozen chicken nuggets and tater tots, I haven’t cooked.

We were invited to dinners at friend’s homes which was well appreciated.

I guess I cooked myself out. I didn’t want to think about food, look at food on my Instagram page, or go food shopping.

So, I didn’t. I was exhausted and listened to my body and rested.

Today, I had an inkling to make Thai food. I made Thai red curry with shrimp and jasmine rice.

Thai shrimp red curry.

Then I tried something new. I make pretty good Thai food for a white girl and understand what a Thai dish needs to be in balance.

I made warm silken tofu with a sauce I never saw or tried before. I never ate silken tofu as an appetizer either.

I loved it. Marty loved the sauce. He had a hard time getting used to the texture but ate it. I think he liked it.

The texture of the silken tofu was like a panna cotta and the sauce was sour, sweet, salty, and an umami flavor bomb.

The time I’ve spent not cooking was divided by reorganizing everything and cleaning.

The house looked like someone took random shit and threw it in every corner of the house.

I had laundry up the ass which I am almost caught up with. Lots of dirty cloth napkins, several tablecloths, kitchen and bath towels, and our regular laundry. Ugh!

My pantry looked like a bomb went off with platters, bowls, and other shit piled up on the floor in front of the shelves.

I’m about 80% done. You have to understand I am a total maniac when it comes to having a clean and organized home.

At one point during the holiday week, I said fuck it and stopped being stressed by the chaos and didn’t care.

I knew everything would be cleaned up eventually. I don’t run around like an energizer bunny anymore and kill myself to get done in one or two days.

Nope, I am not doing that anymore.

I felt free doing things when I felt like it and didn’t dread the chores like I used to.

I rested when I needed to. I realized there are no awards for killing yourself and overdoing it.

I really did learn a lot about myself last year.

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That’s a wrap Christmas ‘23…

My kitchen looked like a woodland forest yesterday when I took down the decorations.

This was the first Christmas season where I had an actual Christmas spirit since the boys grew up.

Celebrating Christmas this year was very different for me. I had some extraordinary moments with my family.

I cooked a lot and was in my glory. I forgot to take photos of some of the dishes like the tiramisu cream puffs.

The Saturday before Christmas, my oldest son Noah, came over to wrap his girlfriend, Aja’s gifts.

It was no secret that Noah was a terrible gift wrapper. I taught him how to wrap gifts.

It was like watching a light bulb going off, he was a pro right away. We talked and ate Christmas cookies.

A perfect mother and son time spent together. I’ll cherish that day forever, it was really special.

Christmas morning with family was relaxed and very enjoyable.

Christmas Day was a lazy day, it was only the three of us. We had simple and delicious food.

We had a delayed Christmas Eve dinner on the 26th. It was great that we were able to get together and enjoy the feast of the fishes.

Sam left after breakfast this morning. My kitchen is now clean and back to normal.

All the Christmas decorations have been taken down signaling the end of another Christmas season.

Here’s to better days ahead and time to say goodbye to 2023; probably the hardest, most significant, and life-changing year.

Happy New Years my friends. I wish you all a happy and healthy year full of abundance and prosperity.

What I mean about abundance isn’t physical things but about the things you can’t see or touch like love, peace, and well-being.

I’ll talk to you all next year. Be well. Lots of love to each and every one of you. ♥️

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Hi…

Yes, this is me, having tea immediately after waking up.

No filter, no make up, my face ruddy and my eyes like slits. All I have is a smile.

I have that post holiday exhaustion and this weather isn’t helping my joints, which makes me even more tired.

I wanted to say hello and check in. I have a post in my head I just haven’t gotten to yet.

We are in production soon so I have to get hopping. Have a great day!

Happy Friday my friends, the last one of the year. Cheers.