Of Potatoes and Present

November 1, 2025November 8, 2025 ~ Theodora Vanyar ~ Leave a comment

14,737 Days Alive

2 Trays of Potato Nachos Made for Dinner

1 Panic Attack

I am trying not to doom-spiral right now. I’m worried what the future will bring. I’m doing my best. I’m using the limited resources available to me. But gods is it hard.

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Of Alfredo and Accountability

October 31, 2025November 8, 2025 ~ Theodora Vanyar ~ Leave a comment

14,736 Days Alive

I’m still not doing all right today. I did however make an absolutely delicious chicken Alfredo casserole with frozen ravioli. Ridiculously delicious.

I’m really struggling right now and I’m doing the best I can. All I can do is keep going. I really don’t know what else to do.

Happiest of birthdays to my darling, dear friend J. And happy Halloween to everyone else!

Take your meds, folks.

Of Gwenders and Grumpiness

October 29, 2025November 8, 2025 ~ Theodora Vanyar ~ Leave a comment

14,734 Days Alive

5 Hours of Sleep

11 Subpoenas Drafted for Work

1 Possible Contract Job

Today was one of those days where I stayed up far too late last night. I mean, I was still awake at 6:27 AM. And I don’t know why. I just couldn’t get my brain to shut off.

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Of Black Paint and Batty Bats

August 18, 2025August 19, 2025 ~ Theodora Vanyar ~ Leave a comment

14,662 Days Alive

$32.99 to Make my Artistic Dreams Come to Life

1 Ridiculous, Amazing Idea

I want to buy a bottle of Stuart Semple’s Black 2.0 paint. Why? So I can make ART.

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Of Windy Nights and Wings

October 31, 2024 ~ Theodora Vanyar ~ Leave a comment

14,370 Days Alive

10 Hot Boneless Wings Eaten

2nd Anniversary of Being with Mac

1 Witchy New Year

Blessed Samhain, Happy Halloween, and to those that don’t like today, happy almost Friday.

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Of Meat Sauce and Memories

October 30, 2024 ~ Theodora Vanyar ~ Leave a comment

14,369 Days Alive

It’s J and Charles’ ninth wedding anniversary , J’s *mumbles a number because you never tell a lady’s age* birthday, and Mac’s and my second anniversary of dating tomorrow.

I’m stuck on sad. My Papa B isn’t really talking to me. My bio donor is about as communicative as a Philly cheesesteak sandwich unless I reach out repeatedly. And I’m missing Daddy.

Im gonna go snuggle Mac and be sad.

Take your meds, folks.