Brain Vomit

By Laura Hall

From the hilarity of family traditions and internet flirting, to the mortifying things our bodies do as we age, Brain Vomit is a debut of humorous essays lending wit to everyday struggles and triumphs.
It shares lessons learned and takes a hard look at the questions:
•Why do so many people annoy us?
•What is the big deal with math?
•Why do we fall for the lure and broken promises of infomercials?
•Where is the balance in life and why is there no one on the other side of the teeter-totter?
With a unique perspective and lighthearted humor, Brain Vomit dissects life through the lens of a serial optimist with a knack for finding trouble.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Hall
• Release date: Oct 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005830366

Laura Hall

Laura is a cheeky writer and a talented editor and proofreader. She is currently trapped in Houston, frantically planning her tiny home build to retire and travel the breathtaking country.This is her first frightening foray into publishing. She has been repeatedly tortured with denial of a BA degree due to nightmare Math Nazi requirements.Laura is Editor Extraordinaire for wordswiz editing (www.wordswizediting.com) where she encourages fiction authors to fearlessly and ferociously express their brilliant imaginings. When not reading fantastic adventures or empowering authors, you can find her passionately preparing another blog post at The Barefoot Editor.You can contact Laura at [e-mail] or visit her author website at www.lauraghallauthor.com.Laura is a member of the Non-Fiction Authors Association, the Professional Editors Network, the National Association of Independent Writers and Editors, and the Freelancers Union.

Book preview

Brain Vomit

Heavily edited stream of consciousness essays, memories, ramblings, and short fiction

By Laura G. Hall

Copyright © 2019 by Laura G. Hall

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher.

Any reference to real people or resemblance to actual people is entirely coincidental and a product of the author’s imagination. Mostly.

First Printing, 2019

Editing Angela Walker

For Mom

Because she said so

Contents

Recipes

Flow

Skates

Brains

Declaration

Fire

Balance

Twelve

Crisis

Choices

Shopping

Infomercials

CL vs BL

Gadgets

Flirting

Resume

Getting Old

Flavors

Family

Road Trips

Lies

Life

Death

100 Things

Recipes

My mother and I have a special holiday tradition. We spend a day making homemade candy to share as gifts. We’ve done this for more years than I can remember.

My great-grandmother, my grandmother, my mother, her three sisters—even cousins—are kitchen dwellers. Growing up, we never ate out; that was for special occasions. Everything was as homemade as could be. Holidays are packed with homemade dishes and goodies with no can, box, or premix around.

I did not get that gene. I don’t cook or bake and have no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen than I must. For dinner last night, I ripped open a bag of salad and poured half in a bowl, added a handful of croutons and a little salad dressing—and I spent more time washing the bowl than I took preparing the meal.

Tonight, I slapped a piece of cheese on a slice of bread, folded it in half, and that’s my recipe for dinner in under a minute. No condiments (that was too much trouble), bread and cheese were perfect. I’d rather pay more for already-cut-up watermelon than buy a whole watermelon I must cut myself; too much time in the kitchen. Get the picture?

But every year, I make candy with Mom. As I’m waddling out the door after homemade-everything on Thanksgiving, Mom always catches me.

Be here early on Saturday.

"Oh, crap, do I have to?"

"No, you don’t have to, but if you don’t, you won’t have candy for your office and friends."

No problem.

Brat! Be here at 9.

For as long as I can remember, we’ve made the same things every year: fifteen tons of peanut brittle; three flavors of fudge; three flavors of rolled, dipped candy (like bonbons); and chocolate-covered cherries.

By the time I arrive, there are containers filled with other types of candy she’s already made and recipes she’s been experimenting with. And she’ll make more after I leave. She doesn’t need me there; she’d get through much faster without me. I don’t even do much, mostly stir (constantly, with peanut brittle) and roll bonbons.

But it’s a tradition. It’s our day, the only full day we can fit into our schedules all year. While I’m stirring and rolling and she’s measuring and mixing, we’re talking and laughing and, "Oh, yeah, did I tell you?"

So when I got there this morning, I was expecting a regular candy day. The weather was spot-on for candy; there was snow the previous night, so this morning was crisp and cold with no humidity. Our usual weather during candy making is warm and humid, which makes the brittle sticky and the fudge difficult to set. But today was perfect for candy.

I’ve decided we’re doing something different this year, were the words that changed it all. No candy this year… this year we’re making cookies. And we did. Dozens and tons and galaxies of cookies.

Did I mention I spend no time in the kitchen? The only recipe I follow are the time and temperature on a box of frozen lasagna, and only to know how high to set the stove thingy.

To make homemade cookies, you must follow a recipe. And for real, not like Rachel Ray, with a pinch of this and a palmful of that. I have made cookies at home before. I can rip open that Duncan Hines Peanut Butter Cookie Mix and stir in my egg and stuff, whatever it says on the recipe on the back. And I can turn on the stove thingy and remember to pull them out before they burn. So there, homemade peanut butter cookies, am I right?

Mom had no peanut butter cookie mix. She had a recipe. Not a recipe in a book or ripped out of a magazine—a family recipe, handwritten in a three-ring binder. I don’t have it in front of me, but I’m sure this is what it says:

Peanut Butter Cookies

350 for 10 minutes

1-1/4 cups shortening or lard or whatever that white stuff is

1-1/2 cups sugar

2 eggs

1 t-something vanilla (I think it was a big T)

2 cups peanut butter

3 cups flour

½ t-something salt (little t this time, I think)

½ t-something baking soda or powder or… no, I think it was soda

Mix first four ingredients, add dry, then peanut butter.

I pull all the ingredients out of their various nooks and crannies and set them on the counter. Okay, Mom did that; I never know where to find things there.

I can do this. I can follow a recipe. Go chop nuts and I’ll get the first batch started, I say confidently.

I grab the shortening and turn to the mixer.

Turn the oven on first.

Three minutes later, Mom, please come turn this oven on.

You’re going to double the recipe.

So…

What’s two times 1-1/4?

"I have to do math?"

Yes, you have to do math.

Umm… 2-1/2!

I’m sure I heard a sigh. I turn back to the mixer. Five minutes later, I’ve figured out how to raise and lower it. Shortly after, I find the start button by accident. I thought it was the button to release the whippy thing. But I can do this. See? I already figured out the mixer—piece of cake!

I measure the right amount of shortening and sugar into the mixing bowl, then reach for the eggs.

Cream those first before you add the eggs.

On the recipe, it says ‘mix first four ingredients.’

You always cream your shortening and sugar first.

Where does it say that? Why isn’t it written down?

It doesn’t need to be; it’s my recipe, and I already know that.

Well, how is anybody else supposed to follow it?

Just cream.

While it’s creaming (whatever that means) I turn around and grab two eggs.

Stop. Use this egg cup to break your eggs so you don’t get shells in your mix.

It doesn’t say that in the recipe.

Sigh.

Fine. I crack one egg into the egg cup thingy and reach for the second egg.

One at a time.

I drop the eggs into the mixer, one at a time, out of the egg cup. I didn’t even know such a thing existed.

While I’ve been getting acquainted with the mixer and making a gawdawful mess, Mom is measuring the peanut butter and combining the dry ingredients. At least, I assume that’s what she was doing; that’s what the recipe said to do, and apparently, I lack the skills necessary to handle that part of the job.

I add the vanilla and mix like the recipe says. I grab the dry ingredients and pour. Amidst a cloud of flour, I hear, STOP!!! Slowly, a little at a time, on low speed! You’re making a mess!

The recipe doesn’t say…

JUST DO IT!

Sheesh, fine! Slowly, a little at a time, on low speed, I add the dry ingredients and play with the speed thingy on the mixer to get it all nice and mixed. I reach for the peanut butter.

Wait, you stir that in.

That’s what I was doing.

Sigh. Turn the mixer off and take the bowl out.

I turn the mixer off. Three minutes later, Mom, get this damn bowl off!

Finally, the bowl is on the counter.

Now what?

Stir in the peanut butter.

I scoop it into the mixer and look at it.

Where’s the rest of it?

The rest of what?

The rest of the peanut butter.

That’s all you need.

Are you sure? Shouldn’t there be, like, almost a full jar?

No! That’s enough.

For one dozen maybe, not five dozen.

Just stir.

Are you sure we shouldn’t add just a little more?

No, stir.

Fine. I stir the peanut butter into the mixer gunk.

Now what?

Start rolling them.

Like bonbons?

Yes.

I roll.