The short version. . .
Hi! I’m BethAnne. Welcome to Kitchy Witchen. I’m so glad you’re here.
The name of my blog is a spoonerism.
spoon • er • ism: noun. A verbal error in which the speaker accidentally transposes the initial letters or sounds of two or more words.
I have determined that this is a disease, and I have it. It used to drive me crazy, but I’ve made the decision to embrace it. I don’t even correct myself anymore, and others find it rather amusing so. . .The name Kitchy Witchen is in honor of my inability to say anything correctly.
I created Kitchy Witchen as a place to share all the things I love. Art, crafts, recipes, articles, and everything I hope will inspire others to live a life so magical they can’t wait to get up in the morning.
10 quick things about me.
1. I live in an RV full time and travel the country.
2. I began my Wiccan journey 15 years ago.
3. I am married to the love of my life.
4. I raised 4 children, and have 4 stepchildren. 2 boys and 2 girls on each side.
5. Art, reading, writing, and cooking are my favorite things to do.
6. I have a small fur baby named Nosey Rosey.
7. I have a serious addiction to coffee.
8. I am an introvert and don’t handle crowds well.
9. but I love people.
10. I dislike writing about pages.
That’s the short version. If you have time and are so inclined, please see the long version below. Thanks so much for taking the time to stop by and I hope you enjoy your time here!
The extended version. (You’ve been warned.)
Isn’t it always so
much fun hard to write about yourself? I’ve never found it an easy thing to do, but from the advice that I’ve read, and other blogs I’ve checked out, it seems it’s a requisite. Of course, how else would you get to know who I am?
I wish I could tell you I was raised in the woods in an ancestral home by my witch mother, surrounded by herbs, and magic, and lore, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Would be cool though huh?
Talking about myself back in high school was easy. I was creative and rebellious. The whole plan was to learn french and study art in Paris. Then I was moving back to NYC where I would have one of those open plan loft apartments with the big rounded windows. I had a vision of myself wearing jean overalls, sipping wine, and slinging paint at a giant canvas inspired by the music of Billy Idol (Hey, it was the 80’s). I knew everything, and I could talk your ear off.
The trip to Paris never happened. I met what I thought was the love of my life and got married instead. Ten years later, I was divorced with three young children. The joys of domestic violence landed me in therapy where I talked about myself a lot.
I was remarried a few years later and gave birth to my fourth child. This marriage lasted all of five years. It was way too much like my first marriage on a mental level, and so began years of dating, growing, and supporting myself.
A career opportunity came along for me at a local call center. Now, working as an in-home health aid, the thought of sitting in a comfy chair and talking on the phone for 8 hours was much more appealing. It didn’t take long to realize I didn’t like it, so I set my sights on being promoted. Eight months later, I applied for, and received, a position in the office as an administrative assistant. (Yeah me!)
Off to corporate headquarters I went to learn to be “professional”. We had all of these fun little exercises where we got to talk about ourselves (Oh, that again.), and we learned all the do’s and don’ts of our new “professional” role. Let me tell ya, I’m not professional. I’ve got a business suit still surviving in my closet. Let me go put that on, slap on some knock your socks off red lipstick, and some pearl earrings, and I’ll do professional but it isn’t me. (Secretly under my desk, I’m wearing my bunny slippers. Shhh. . .). I don’t like professional, I like real. Don’t get me wrong, I’m forever grateful for a career that supported me and mine, for the things I learned, the wonderful people I had the pleasure of working with, and the friends I made.
Six years later, I’m coming out of my third failed dating relationship. Brokenhearted, at this point, I’ve sworn off men all together. Nope. That’s it. I’m done. Life will just be about me and mine from now on. I will just have to love me enough for me. Funny thing happened when I got that. You know, you can hear advice for years. You have to learn to love yourself first. Until you have that ‘A ha’ moment, and you “get it”, it’s elusive. What the hell does that mean anyway? But, I got it, and everything changed. When I didn’t need anymore, I got everything I wanted. My whole perspective changed from what do I need, to what do I have to offer.
Now, here’s where I get a little hoodoo on you (this happens a lot). There’s someone I talk to “out there” whom is yet to be identified. I don’t know who it is, my grandmother, a friend, a guardian angel? Point being, I have no name or identifier for this. I suppose in the overall scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. but sometimes I talk to this being. Sometimes I rage and stomp my feet, depending on the current situation. So as I’m talking one day about still wishing I had a special someone to share my life with , even though I’ve got this whole self-love thing down, it would still be nice you know. I was told, “In 14 days you will receive a miracle if you believe.” and “Write it down.” I’ve come to trust this voice so I ran and grabbed my journal and started writing out my perfect man. Everything I wanted. Think Practical Magic without the fairy dust and flower petals or whatever. 14 days huh? Ok, let’s do this!
Now, this isn’t exactly a voice in my head. It’s more like thoughts and impressions I receive. I’m not even going to make any ‘I hear voices’ jokes. I’m not crazy, but my mother, she’s crazy. We have weekly talk time, and during our very next conversation she says to me, “You know what you should do? You should get on one of those dating sites.”
“What you’re crazy!” I say.
“No, seriously. Just go out and have some fun. You don’t have to get serious.”
Ok wait. Get on a dating site? Could I do it? Could I put myself out there like that? Talk about myself to lots of other people? I really had to think about this, but with a little more prodding and encouraging from my mother and friends, I got online and scoped out several dating sites. I went with Plenty of Fish because it was free, and because it was free.
All was going well with the sign up until I hit the about section and everything came to a screeching halt. What do I say? I knew what I wanted, knew what I was looking for, but did I really even know myself. Out came the journal and the pen and I spent three agonizing days trying to write a paragraph about myself. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I go back and read it again now and then. I see lots of room for improvement and have a bit of a laugh.
With the about completed, finally, I reached the end of the sign up process and hit the button to go live. I sat and stared at the screen with the wide-eyed deer in the headlights expression on my face. What happens now? What do I do? What if nobody likes me? The voice in the back of my head says “Just be yourself.”, and I swear I hear a chuckle.
Within seconds someone dings me and starts a conversation. Within minutes I am relaxed and happily chatting away. I’m browsing around the site and discover the “Guys who would like to talk to you” list. This page is fabulous for self esteem. Within a few days I had several profiles to browse through and it was so much fun! I joked with the girls at work that it was like choosing an ice cream flavor.
As I’m scrolling through my list of choices at my desk (only on my lunch break I swear.), this one pic pops out at me. He’s all dimples and blue eyes and my heart skipped a beat. I jumped up from my desk and ran around the office exclaiming to the girls, “I found him! This is it! He’s the one! Come see how cute he is! I’m going to message him!” And I did. Then the waiting. . . “Is he going to answer me? What if he doesn’t answer me?” And then, “There it is! There it is! Woooo.”
We hit it off from the moment we started talking. We set up a place to meet for coffee the next evening. The girls gave me an hour and thirty minutes to text them and let them know I was ok. You know, safety precautions. We talked for five hours and didn’t want it to end. We parted reluctantly just after 11 p.m. We shared our first kiss in the freezing cold standing by my car in the parking lot of Perkins. We all know that first kiss tells the rest of the story. Luckily, for me, it was magical.
We went our separate ways that night, but got back together the following evening and talked, and talked, and talked. Moment by moment, I discovered he was the one I’d written about in my journal. He embodied everything I wished for, and we haven’t been apart since.
Three years later, on December 1, 2014, we were married. Not going to go into detail here. That’s it’s own story. Every now and then I’ll thank him and he’ll say, “What for?”
“For being my miracle.”
We have a pretty amazing relationship. I tell him all the time that I finally understand what it means to be married and it feels like family. I’ve never felt this way before. I am eternally grateful to said being, and my mom and her crazy. If Jim ever has a moment of doubt about how I feel I say. “Remember, I picked you. You’re my favorite flavor!” I’m joking, but I’m not. It means so much more than that.
Three years ago when we met, we both worked full time jobs. We weren’t satisfied with that. We wanted something more. We wanted to do awesome things and lead a more fulfilling life together. I had always wanted to open my own little restaurant, and my husband, being the wonderful supporter and cheerleader that he is, was all for it. We pooled all of our resources together and jumped with both feet. I loved my little corner restaurant. I loved feeding people. And, I have to say, one of the best presents I ever received was a hand painted chalkboard from my coworkers and friends. Their well wishes and support meant the world to me.
We made it only a short six months. I knew, going in, there would be a lot of work. A lot of work. I really didn’t mind it. We had so much fun. Standing in my kitchen one day, after a particularly busy lunch (awesome right?) I paused and looked around and thought, “Do I really want to do this for the rest of my life?” No. No. I love this, but I’m so tired. I decided I was happiest when we were camping, so we sold everything we owned and went camping permanently. And my chalkboard is still hanging in my kitchen where I can enjoy it and say a silent thank you to my friends everyday.This is Clementine. We love Clementine. She’s a little older but she still looks great. We take care of her and she gives us a place to sleep at night. She’s parked in Alabama at the moment, and in the spring we’ll move to our next location. We love this way of life. It’s slower, stress-free, and so much more enriching. Sunday never comes. We never have to pack up and go home, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Well, if I lucked into a million bucks (I meant dollars!), then maybe I could be more thrilled. I mean you know. . .
But wait a minute. So you can just shift gears like that? Yes. Yes you can. That’s the awesome thing about life. You can do whatever it is you can conceive of. The universe supports you and will always make a way. Always.
This brings us current. At no point have I given you a list of likes or dislikes so here are a few. I’ve really gotten to know myself since that last about page.
I love coffee. Love it. Can’t and won’t function without it. I love all coffee. Breakfast blend, dark roast, lattes, macchiatos, whatever. I also have a secret addiction to coffee mugs. I don’t even look at them anymore because we don’t have room for them. I’ve made a deal with myself that I can swap them out when the urge gets too strong.
I love the color purple. Mostly dark royal purple, not lavender so much. My entire wardrobe is purple, black, and beige. I really need to work on this.
A blank canvas and medium of choice is the best thing ever. It doesn’t matter if its canvas and acrylics, or construction paper and a new box of crayolas. I love doing my nails and makeup, not so much because I’m worried about how I look, but because it’s a blank canvas I get to color.
Moons, stars, and all things magical and mystical. I love my witchy ways, spells, herbs, crystals, candles, and all associated items.
Recipes, cooking, and baking. The most basic form of magic starts in your kitchen on your stove. I love creating new recipes, but what I enjoy even more is watching others enjoy what I’ve created.
Reading. I’ve always said I don’t read books. I devour them. Cover to cover preface and all. Let me tell you, the day I discovered Bookbub was like letting a child loose in a candy store. The heavens opened up and the angels sang. Ahhhhh. . .
Writing is next in line with reading. I love to write short stories, poetry, really long about pages 🙂 I have at least two novels in various stages of incomplete. I’m working on this. I swear.
The “F” word. I love it. It’s got to be my favorite word of all time and I use it frequently and often. I find it very expressive and fitting on many occasions. Two more words I like (Yes, I’m creating a list.) are actually names. Those would be sperdute and foolicky. I like words that are fun to say.
People, I love people. They’re just awesome! I truly enjoy getting to know new people. I love their creativity, resourcefulness, style, talent, and grit.
Jim is my husband and he is an amazing human being. He’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever known and a level of stamina and determination that only a veteran of the army could have. (God bless the men and women of our armed forces.)
I call Jim a jack of all trades. He can do just about anything from fixing a car to building a house. He bakes cakes, is an awesome photographer, and one of the best painters I’ve ever met. I actually had an epiphany a few weeks ago. I mentioned previously that I like to paint my nails and I see all of these awesome designs on Pinterest and xovain.com, but I can’t paint my right hand with my left, so how do I get these awesome designs on my nails? Oh, wait a minute, . .(lightbulb moment) Jim can paint. . .Oh honey. . .Needless to say he has now painted designs on my nails twice, Once for Christmas and once for good luck for the Steelers game.
Jim is an unnatural Steelers fan freak. If they had a contest for the craziest Steeler fan of all time, he would definitely win. He now has a complete Steelers golf cart, and who knows, maybe someday i’ll have that million and surprise him with one of those Ford Steelers trucks.
Between the two of us, we’ve raised 8 children, two boys and two girls each. We have one left at home. Abbey is just about to turn 15. Three years and counting. Actually 3 years, two weeks, three days. . .just kidding.
All of our children are just as awesome as they choose to be in any given moment. In addition, we now have four grandchildren. They are the lights of our lives and we are enjoying our revenge on our now adult children.
The last member of our family is our fur baby Nosey Rosey. I call her Hairdo. Rosey enjoys belly rubs, her giant stuffed pony, car rides, and bacon. She’s actually a warrior princess. A light puppy from a distant galaxy. Her fluffy puppy persona is just a cover. Her mission: to seek out and destroy all squeakers. She truly is a special soul, and I’m so grateful I get to share my life with her.
So there you have it in a nutshell. Ok, maybe a watermelon. The longest about page ever written by someone who hates to write about themselves. If you’ve made it to this point you deserve a cookie and a hug. Ok two cookies. 🙂 Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoy your time here in my little space.