It's almost five in the evening and I have a pretty good buzz.
Am I a corrupt woman you ask?
Nope...
I kind of got fired today.
What does that mean, Tammie?
Well...I am a firm believer in volunteering. I think that if I am home and don't have anything else to do, then I should volunteer my time and help others out.
Whether it's mowing the Little League field or sewing costumes for the show choir, I'm helping out.
So while I'm not a professional mower or sewer, I help out. I'm suppose you could say that I'm just somebody's mom who like to try to save money.
Well...seems that the occasion arises when being someone's mom and wanting to help is not sufficient.
I was told today that they had made the decision to get a professional to sew the dresses for show choir. Then they told me I probably could still do the vests, but I declined.
I mean I'm not trying to be mean about it, but if they don't have enough confidence in me to sew the dresses, then I doubt they would have any confidence in me sewing anything at all.
I'm trying to not be like a baby about it, but it really was a huge blow to my self-esteem.
Last year I did over 101 costumes for this same show choir. I had a huge amount of work to do, but I managed to do it and got it done. I think I did it well. BUT what I think and the reality are apparently different things.
So it makes me wonder and I sit here in my PJs, drinking an alcoholic beverage and writing in my blog....
Have I over exaggerated my importance to myself?
Do I think I'm greater than I really am?
*sigh*
Meh...it's just things like this that really pull me out of my own little world and catapult me straight back into the shit pile of reality.
Perhaps I am a greater legend in my own mind than I am in real life.
Who knows?
I just try my best and if my best isn't good enough there's always severance pay and retraining, right?
Oh wait a minute.
I forget.
This isn't a real job. It's a volunteer job which means I don't get paid and I definitely don't get any severance either.
As for the retraining?
I plan to 'retrain' myself to relax more. Watch more TV, read more books, sew for my kids, my home, and drink.
Let's not forget the drinking, which has helped immensely tonight.
Call me mellow...
Yeah, so while this whole thing wasn't very funny, it was none the less, necessary and now I can let it go.
And just for good measure, I will dance naked and drunk in the back yard this evening, burning the patterns I made and saying about a million "FUCK's" as I chant the litany of disappointment and self-flagellation.
And no...I won't beat myself up over it anymore after today. I know what I did. I did the best to my ability and that's all there is to it.
Now I shall indulge in the comfort food of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and corn.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Just typical stuff...
So what have I been doing today you ask...
Weellll...
I got up and got the kids ready and off to school. Then I came home and had coffee, called a friend, fed the animals and began to sew.
About an hour into the sewing, the dentist office called. The same asshole who refused to pull my wisdom tooth because I'm "too old".
Yeah, well anyhow, my regular dentist explained that whole thing to me and it's not that I'm too old, it's just that since I'm 41 and it's never bothered me before, he doesn't see any reason to pull it. It's very close to my sinuses and he figured the risks weren't worth it if it doesn't bother me.
He apparently has difficulty communicating and that's why he didn't know how to explain it to me.
So...while I was sewing the dentist office calls me and reminds me of my appointment to get the other two teeth extracted on Monday.
Flipping whoop-de-do!!!
So this gets me thinking.
I'm going to be miserable and unable to eat next week. So I rationalize in my head that I can go ahead and eat that ice cream for breakfast because I'll be fasting next week.
So I stop sewing and eat some ice cream.
Man oh man, was it a GREAT breakfast. Beats the hell out of shredded wheat any day!
After breakfast I notice that the dog is looking longingly outside. I feel kind of guilty about not walking her this morning, so I decide to play with her inside for a few minutes.
My house is set up so you can walk in the front door, go into the living room, then dining room, then kitchen and back into the foyer where you came in. It's a circle. So the dog and I are running around my house in a circle. When I passed through the kitchen I noticed a can of whipped cream on the counter. So the next trip around, I stop, open the can and start squirting that stuff down my throat.
Great fun!
Then, with the can of whipped cream in my hand, I begin to run through the house with the dog again, periodically squirting whipped cream in my mouth.
Several trips around, I think I catch a glimpse of someone at the front door.
I do.
It's my oldest daughter's boyfriend. He is standing at the door with his mouth hanging open with a horrified expression on his face.
I open the door and ask him,"What's up?"
He tells me that my daughter sent him over for the cat carrier because their cat Miss Kitty is sick and needs to go to the vet.
"Ok." I tell him. "I'll get the carrier and be right back. Would you like some whipped cream?"
"No...no," he declines politely,(although I can see by the look on his face, he's terrified I'm going to squirt him with it or something.)
Heh heh heh....
I walk down the steps to the basement while he remains on the porch waiting and get the cat carrier.
When I get back upstairs he grabs it and runs for the car, yelling "Thank you" over his shoulder.
I resume running through the house with the dog and squirting whipped cream in my mouth.
I wonder how many calories is in that stuff?
Meh...it doesn't matter.
What does matter is that my neighbor that lives right across the street is watching me now.
She's pregnant.
When I saw her outside the other day, I asked her if she was going to have any more children after this one.
"NO!!!" she almost screamed at me.
I wonder if she watches my house more often than I think she does and has decided having children makes me the way I am?
Maybe she is afraid she'll turn out like me?
What a shame that she doesn't realize I'm just like this. Having children hasn't changed anything about me except the flop and flab factors. Other than that, I'm still the same as I've always been.
On the last lap around the house, I waved at her. She grabbed her belly and ran into her house.
Why do I get the feeling that I'll be a prayer request in church on Sunday?
Anyway...that's my day so far. My friends say I should get a webcam and charge for people to access it. I'm considering the whole thing, although I'm concerned I would forget I was being watched and end up arrested for indecent exposure. I mean, sometimes I get crazy ideas like trying to make prints using finger paints and different parts of my body.
I stained my nipples blue once trying to make my honey a love note with blue boob prints. I couldn't believe that it stained them, but it did. Took a couple days at least for it to wash off all the way.
Yeah..it's almost 11:30. I have to get busy and do something responsible now.
Occasionally I do that, you know.
Act responsibly...
*wink*
Weellll...
I got up and got the kids ready and off to school. Then I came home and had coffee, called a friend, fed the animals and began to sew.
About an hour into the sewing, the dentist office called. The same asshole who refused to pull my wisdom tooth because I'm "too old".
Yeah, well anyhow, my regular dentist explained that whole thing to me and it's not that I'm too old, it's just that since I'm 41 and it's never bothered me before, he doesn't see any reason to pull it. It's very close to my sinuses and he figured the risks weren't worth it if it doesn't bother me.
He apparently has difficulty communicating and that's why he didn't know how to explain it to me.
So...while I was sewing the dentist office calls me and reminds me of my appointment to get the other two teeth extracted on Monday.
Flipping whoop-de-do!!!
So this gets me thinking.
I'm going to be miserable and unable to eat next week. So I rationalize in my head that I can go ahead and eat that ice cream for breakfast because I'll be fasting next week.
So I stop sewing and eat some ice cream.
Man oh man, was it a GREAT breakfast. Beats the hell out of shredded wheat any day!
After breakfast I notice that the dog is looking longingly outside. I feel kind of guilty about not walking her this morning, so I decide to play with her inside for a few minutes.
My house is set up so you can walk in the front door, go into the living room, then dining room, then kitchen and back into the foyer where you came in. It's a circle. So the dog and I are running around my house in a circle. When I passed through the kitchen I noticed a can of whipped cream on the counter. So the next trip around, I stop, open the can and start squirting that stuff down my throat.
Great fun!
Then, with the can of whipped cream in my hand, I begin to run through the house with the dog again, periodically squirting whipped cream in my mouth.
Several trips around, I think I catch a glimpse of someone at the front door.
I do.
It's my oldest daughter's boyfriend. He is standing at the door with his mouth hanging open with a horrified expression on his face.
I open the door and ask him,"What's up?"
He tells me that my daughter sent him over for the cat carrier because their cat Miss Kitty is sick and needs to go to the vet.
"Ok." I tell him. "I'll get the carrier and be right back. Would you like some whipped cream?"
"No...no," he declines politely,(although I can see by the look on his face, he's terrified I'm going to squirt him with it or something.)
Heh heh heh....
I walk down the steps to the basement while he remains on the porch waiting and get the cat carrier.
When I get back upstairs he grabs it and runs for the car, yelling "Thank you" over his shoulder.
I resume running through the house with the dog and squirting whipped cream in my mouth.
I wonder how many calories is in that stuff?
Meh...it doesn't matter.
What does matter is that my neighbor that lives right across the street is watching me now.
She's pregnant.
When I saw her outside the other day, I asked her if she was going to have any more children after this one.
"NO!!!" she almost screamed at me.
I wonder if she watches my house more often than I think she does and has decided having children makes me the way I am?
Maybe she is afraid she'll turn out like me?
What a shame that she doesn't realize I'm just like this. Having children hasn't changed anything about me except the flop and flab factors. Other than that, I'm still the same as I've always been.
On the last lap around the house, I waved at her. She grabbed her belly and ran into her house.
Why do I get the feeling that I'll be a prayer request in church on Sunday?
Anyway...that's my day so far. My friends say I should get a webcam and charge for people to access it. I'm considering the whole thing, although I'm concerned I would forget I was being watched and end up arrested for indecent exposure. I mean, sometimes I get crazy ideas like trying to make prints using finger paints and different parts of my body.
I stained my nipples blue once trying to make my honey a love note with blue boob prints. I couldn't believe that it stained them, but it did. Took a couple days at least for it to wash off all the way.
Yeah..it's almost 11:30. I have to get busy and do something responsible now.
Occasionally I do that, you know.
Act responsibly...
*wink*
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I'm as great as I want to be....
I love saving money. My husband fondly calls me the "Tightwad Swede."
I'm telling you something...I can squeeze water from a rock if properly motivated.
I guess that desire to save money and be frugal comes from growing up with little and being forced to scrimp and save to get by.
My family had a farm and while we never went hungry, I did wear a lot of yard sale clothing and hand me downs.
So...out of necessity, I learned how to sew and make due with almost anything I could find. I learned how to cook everything from scratch. I helped on the farm and I helped in the barn and potato cellar. I picked apples, strawberries and harvested the garden. Picked clover for clover honey...
I even helped with butchering...
Some people would consider that to be strange. It was an invention of necessity though.
I learned to cook when I was 13. My great grandmother has cataracts and couldn't see very well (because it was still 1979 and they hadn't invented the laser technology yet) so I was elected to help her and stay with her to cook, clean and do laundry.
It was in the fall of the year and time for harvest(we had a potato farm) so my responsibility would be to cook for her, my uncle and the other men who worked the harvest. This meant that I had to get up at 4:30am and make breakfast. The breakfast consisted of bacon or ham,eggs, homemade cinnamon rolls that had been mixed up the night before and placed in the refrigerator to rise so they could be baked fresh, coffee, juice, fruit and cheese.
No skimping on breakfast at harvest time....
After making breakfast, it was time to wash the dishes up and begin preparing for the morning coffee break, (which would be brought out into the field.)
Coffee was made on the stove in a glass percolator. Grammie had two of them and they were always full of brewing coffee on the stove. That's one of the best memories I have of walking into her house. The smell of coffee brewing. Anyway, I would make coffee and homemade hot chocolate, with sugar, cocoa and milk. Then both hot liquids would go into four thermos' and would be packed into a box with several different pastries of one kind or another. It varied from day to day, basically because everything had to be baked the day before so it might be sweet rolls or homemade donuts or muffins. Rusks and jam filled cookies were two of the normal morning coffee items. I don't ever remember there not being rusks or jam filled cookies in the huge glass cookie jars at grammie's house. Then of course there was cheese, because sliced homemade cheese went with every meal of the day. I'm not kidding either. We were some cheese eating fools.
So, I would take care of morning coffee and then wash up those dishes, only to begin making lunch.
Lunch during harvest wasn't really lunch. It was more like the first supper of the day. There was mashed potatoes every day for lunch and supper, meat with homemade gravy, vegetables from the garden (fresh or canned at home),homemade bread with side dishes of canned at home pickles and homemade cheese.Oh yeah...plus dessert if you can believe it. Homemade pies or cakes or puddings.As if the morning and afternoon coffees weren't enough...LOL.
Then there was afternoon coffee which was basically a repeat of the morning coffee except with a larger variety of cookies,(chocolate chip, oatmeal, molasses, peanut butter, fudgie no bakes, etc)...squares,(like brownies, apple pie squares,graham cracker squares, rice krispie treats, etc)...and a cake. There was always some kind of cake and it was completely made from scratch and had fudge frosting. If it was a spice cake, it had a butterscotch flavored fudge frosting on it. I believe it's made from brown sugar, cream and butter. Unfortunately, that's one of the few recipes NOT in grammie's "Tried Out" recipe book I inherited when she passed away. It's really just a notebook with her handwritten recipes in it, but it's the more treasured cook book I own.
And then there was the evening supper to consider. Because there was more time in the afternoon, laundry could be washed and hung out. Normally the combination of the breezes and the sun dried things exceptionally quick so this worked out well during harvest.
Then it was time to make dinner, which was a repeat of lunch. Lots of work and lots of cooking.
All of this, food except for possibly the pickled items and cheese and bread, was prepared daily. First in the morning and then again that afternoon. If you can only imagine the constant work involved you can understand what a thorough experience it was for someone just learning how to cook.
Let's just say that my 13 year old experience that year laid a solid foundation for my love of cooking.
So...I cook almost every single say of the week. We very seldom eat out.
Plus it's less expensive and I enjoy trying new recipes that challenge my thriftiness.
I also learned how to sew from my great grandmother too. When I was roughly the same age, I complained that my cousin's hand me downs didn't fit me well. So grammie sat down at her treadle sewing machine and I watched as she threaded the needle and bobbin. Then she had me sit down, use the treadle and take in the side of my pants. She looked at me and said if I didn't like how the clothes fit, then I needed to learn how to fix them. Then she handed me a seam ripper and said it was the only way to learn how to do it.
Trial and error.
She taught me about knitting, crocheting, rug making, quilting, gardening, flowers, canning...basically everything she had learned when she was a young woman back in the early 1900's.
So needless to say, I'm pretty handy with a few things because of my experiences.
I know how to make things and make due. If you have an old flannel shirt, it can be used to make a braided rug, along with old work pants and ripped bed spreads.
I suppose you could say that while I remember it being a lot of work, I am happy I had that experience.
I learned how to do a lot.
I learned how to be self sufficient.
I learned hot to use things up and not waste.
And I learned work ethics. How to take pride in the things you do and feel satisfaction at a job well done.
I sometimes wonder if I'm teaching my children the same values or not.
There are plenty of times that I don't push things, like making them wash dishes or run the vacuum cleaner.
I think I'm helping them to have a childhood, but really, is it helping or is it making them into less than what they could be?
This has been a LONG post but you know, it's been on my mind. I've been thinking a lot about the differences between me and my two younger daughters.
It bothers me that they don't seem to have the fire to work.
I worry about it....
I want them to be a great as they want to be....but they can't be as great as they want to be, if they don't have any work ethic propelling them in the direction the desire to go.
I hope I'm not being too lenient...
I'm telling you something...I can squeeze water from a rock if properly motivated.
I guess that desire to save money and be frugal comes from growing up with little and being forced to scrimp and save to get by.
My family had a farm and while we never went hungry, I did wear a lot of yard sale clothing and hand me downs.
So...out of necessity, I learned how to sew and make due with almost anything I could find. I learned how to cook everything from scratch. I helped on the farm and I helped in the barn and potato cellar. I picked apples, strawberries and harvested the garden. Picked clover for clover honey...
I even helped with butchering...
Some people would consider that to be strange. It was an invention of necessity though.
I learned to cook when I was 13. My great grandmother has cataracts and couldn't see very well (because it was still 1979 and they hadn't invented the laser technology yet) so I was elected to help her and stay with her to cook, clean and do laundry.
It was in the fall of the year and time for harvest(we had a potato farm) so my responsibility would be to cook for her, my uncle and the other men who worked the harvest. This meant that I had to get up at 4:30am and make breakfast. The breakfast consisted of bacon or ham,eggs, homemade cinnamon rolls that had been mixed up the night before and placed in the refrigerator to rise so they could be baked fresh, coffee, juice, fruit and cheese.
No skimping on breakfast at harvest time....
After making breakfast, it was time to wash the dishes up and begin preparing for the morning coffee break, (which would be brought out into the field.)
Coffee was made on the stove in a glass percolator. Grammie had two of them and they were always full of brewing coffee on the stove. That's one of the best memories I have of walking into her house. The smell of coffee brewing. Anyway, I would make coffee and homemade hot chocolate, with sugar, cocoa and milk. Then both hot liquids would go into four thermos' and would be packed into a box with several different pastries of one kind or another. It varied from day to day, basically because everything had to be baked the day before so it might be sweet rolls or homemade donuts or muffins. Rusks and jam filled cookies were two of the normal morning coffee items. I don't ever remember there not being rusks or jam filled cookies in the huge glass cookie jars at grammie's house. Then of course there was cheese, because sliced homemade cheese went with every meal of the day. I'm not kidding either. We were some cheese eating fools.
So, I would take care of morning coffee and then wash up those dishes, only to begin making lunch.
Lunch during harvest wasn't really lunch. It was more like the first supper of the day. There was mashed potatoes every day for lunch and supper, meat with homemade gravy, vegetables from the garden (fresh or canned at home),homemade bread with side dishes of canned at home pickles and homemade cheese.Oh yeah...plus dessert if you can believe it. Homemade pies or cakes or puddings.As if the morning and afternoon coffees weren't enough...LOL.
Then there was afternoon coffee which was basically a repeat of the morning coffee except with a larger variety of cookies,(chocolate chip, oatmeal, molasses, peanut butter, fudgie no bakes, etc)...squares,(like brownies, apple pie squares,graham cracker squares, rice krispie treats, etc)...and a cake. There was always some kind of cake and it was completely made from scratch and had fudge frosting. If it was a spice cake, it had a butterscotch flavored fudge frosting on it. I believe it's made from brown sugar, cream and butter. Unfortunately, that's one of the few recipes NOT in grammie's "Tried Out" recipe book I inherited when she passed away. It's really just a notebook with her handwritten recipes in it, but it's the more treasured cook book I own.
And then there was the evening supper to consider. Because there was more time in the afternoon, laundry could be washed and hung out. Normally the combination of the breezes and the sun dried things exceptionally quick so this worked out well during harvest.
Then it was time to make dinner, which was a repeat of lunch. Lots of work and lots of cooking.
All of this, food except for possibly the pickled items and cheese and bread, was prepared daily. First in the morning and then again that afternoon. If you can only imagine the constant work involved you can understand what a thorough experience it was for someone just learning how to cook.
Let's just say that my 13 year old experience that year laid a solid foundation for my love of cooking.
So...I cook almost every single say of the week. We very seldom eat out.
Plus it's less expensive and I enjoy trying new recipes that challenge my thriftiness.
I also learned how to sew from my great grandmother too. When I was roughly the same age, I complained that my cousin's hand me downs didn't fit me well. So grammie sat down at her treadle sewing machine and I watched as she threaded the needle and bobbin. Then she had me sit down, use the treadle and take in the side of my pants. She looked at me and said if I didn't like how the clothes fit, then I needed to learn how to fix them. Then she handed me a seam ripper and said it was the only way to learn how to do it.
Trial and error.
She taught me about knitting, crocheting, rug making, quilting, gardening, flowers, canning...basically everything she had learned when she was a young woman back in the early 1900's.
So needless to say, I'm pretty handy with a few things because of my experiences.
I know how to make things and make due. If you have an old flannel shirt, it can be used to make a braided rug, along with old work pants and ripped bed spreads.
I suppose you could say that while I remember it being a lot of work, I am happy I had that experience.
I learned how to do a lot.
I learned how to be self sufficient.
I learned hot to use things up and not waste.
And I learned work ethics. How to take pride in the things you do and feel satisfaction at a job well done.
I sometimes wonder if I'm teaching my children the same values or not.
There are plenty of times that I don't push things, like making them wash dishes or run the vacuum cleaner.
I think I'm helping them to have a childhood, but really, is it helping or is it making them into less than what they could be?
This has been a LONG post but you know, it's been on my mind. I've been thinking a lot about the differences between me and my two younger daughters.
It bothers me that they don't seem to have the fire to work.
I worry about it....
I want them to be a great as they want to be....but they can't be as great as they want to be, if they don't have any work ethic propelling them in the direction the desire to go.
I hope I'm not being too lenient...
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I believe I am suffering from ROAD RAGE today...
I had to drive to the school to pick up my 9th grader for a dental appointment. I spent a few too many minutes pooping and I was running late.(actually I began reading something in Mental Floss while I was pooping and then continued to read, not really aware that I has finished already, you know?)
BUT ANYWAY...I was running late and speeding a little teensy weensy bit and wouldn't ya know it?
This DUMBASS pulls in front of me and goes twenty miles an hour in a fifty five mile an hour zone!!!
I backed off him, thinking he was slowing down to 'teach me a lesson' about tailgating, but then HE SLOWED DOWN TOO!
I looked to see if he was ninety or older than death itself because it is Tuesday and Tuesdays are Elderly Hell Days,
but no...the guy looked a little younger than me.
So I backed off again, thinking he was just being a FREAKIN ASSHOLE because somehow he must know I'm in a hurry, AND HE SLOWED DOWN AGAIN!!!
By this time, my hair was standing straight up in the air and I'm sure veins were popping out of my forehead.I had gripped the steering wheel so hard, my cushioned steering wheel cover was beginning to tear in half. I think I ground half an inch off my teeth too.
Then he did something to make me go completely ballistic.
He looked up in his rear view mirror and waved at me.
WAVED AT ME!!!!
WTF???
He grinned at me and waved his WIDDLE FUCKING FINGERS IN A TWINKLY WIDDLE WIGGLE!!!
THEN HE WINKED!!!
I was so pissed off I thought I was going to swallow my tongue!!! WHAT AN IDIOT!!!
I got right on his ass and that dumb son-of-a-bitch continued to wave and wink and looked more at me in the rear view mirror than he did at the road.
ARRRGGG!!!
I think he was FLIRTING with me! For fuck's sake buddy! Just because I had the misfortune to get behind you in traffic doesn't mean I'm interested in you!!!
As soon as we hit the stop light where the four lanes begin, I pulled out around him and stopped in the lane next to him.
He looked over at me with googoo moon eyes and smiled, and smiled and smiled!!!
It was creepy....
That's when I saw the light turn green and peeled out to get ahead of him.
He sped up to try to catch me but there were two other vehicles in between us by that time and I managed to lose him by turning on a side street after running a yellow (well..kind of red) light and swerving around some old lady pushing a walker (no I didn't hit her..not really) and then speeding on two wheels around a corner to pull in to a store and hide my car behind the dumpster.
I'm used to being a weirdo magnet, but the road rage is new.
Normally I'm pretty easy going and let idiots behind the wheel zoom past me or hold up a mile of traffic. I turn the radio on and sing with it and don't sweat it.
But today was really annoying. I ended up being ten minutes late for the dentist and that's terribly rude. I HATE being late for stuff.
Yeah, well that's it for now. I need to go take my aggression out on the ball field lawn. There is a game tonight and I need to mow.
It's either mowing or biting people I don't know and you know in this day and age, you never know what you're going to get if you bite a complete stranger.
I'd better mow...
BUT ANYWAY...I was running late and speeding a little teensy weensy bit and wouldn't ya know it?
This DUMBASS pulls in front of me and goes twenty miles an hour in a fifty five mile an hour zone!!!
I backed off him, thinking he was slowing down to 'teach me a lesson' about tailgating, but then HE SLOWED DOWN TOO!
I looked to see if he was ninety or older than death itself because it is Tuesday and Tuesdays are Elderly Hell Days,
but no...the guy looked a little younger than me.
So I backed off again, thinking he was just being a FREAKIN ASSHOLE because somehow he must know I'm in a hurry, AND HE SLOWED DOWN AGAIN!!!
By this time, my hair was standing straight up in the air and I'm sure veins were popping out of my forehead.I had gripped the steering wheel so hard, my cushioned steering wheel cover was beginning to tear in half. I think I ground half an inch off my teeth too.
Then he did something to make me go completely ballistic.
He looked up in his rear view mirror and waved at me.
WAVED AT ME!!!!
WTF???
He grinned at me and waved his WIDDLE FUCKING FINGERS IN A TWINKLY WIDDLE WIGGLE!!!
THEN HE WINKED!!!
I was so pissed off I thought I was going to swallow my tongue!!! WHAT AN IDIOT!!!
I got right on his ass and that dumb son-of-a-bitch continued to wave and wink and looked more at me in the rear view mirror than he did at the road.
ARRRGGG!!!
I think he was FLIRTING with me! For fuck's sake buddy! Just because I had the misfortune to get behind you in traffic doesn't mean I'm interested in you!!!
As soon as we hit the stop light where the four lanes begin, I pulled out around him and stopped in the lane next to him.
He looked over at me with googoo moon eyes and smiled, and smiled and smiled!!!
It was creepy....
That's when I saw the light turn green and peeled out to get ahead of him.
He sped up to try to catch me but there were two other vehicles in between us by that time and I managed to lose him by turning on a side street after running a yellow (well..kind of red) light and swerving around some old lady pushing a walker (no I didn't hit her..not really) and then speeding on two wheels around a corner to pull in to a store and hide my car behind the dumpster.
I'm used to being a weirdo magnet, but the road rage is new.
Normally I'm pretty easy going and let idiots behind the wheel zoom past me or hold up a mile of traffic. I turn the radio on and sing with it and don't sweat it.
But today was really annoying. I ended up being ten minutes late for the dentist and that's terribly rude. I HATE being late for stuff.
Yeah, well that's it for now. I need to go take my aggression out on the ball field lawn. There is a game tonight and I need to mow.
It's either mowing or biting people I don't know and you know in this day and age, you never know what you're going to get if you bite a complete stranger.
I'd better mow...
Monday, September 24, 2007
Mondays are the diarrhea of life
I fucking hate Mondays.
Yep...almost all Mondays suck.
Tuesdays are almost as bad but as long as I don't go out among the elderly hell patrol, I'm good to go.
I'm kind of stressed because I have a couple of deadlines looming over me. I feel like I'm being followed but that giant green dude who sells canned green beans. And I'm worried he's going to stomp me into the ground, smash me flat and it will all be over except for the crying.(Cause I like to think that people would cry if I wasn't around.)
How does a homemaker, a woman who doesn't even get paid end up with looming deadlines?
Because I'm a fucking idiot. I'm a complete and total dumbass who doesn't know how to say no.
Ok..I'm being hard on myself.
I do know how to say no. It's just that I always THINK I have more time to do things than I actually do.
Some people would say that's called "Procrastination."
I prefer to think of it as, "time comprehension impaired".
Come on...we all suffer from it.
We think we can do a forty hour job in a mere day. I know LOTS of people who go to work forty hours but actually only do eight hours of actual work.
I guess you could say that I'm convinced that my volunteer bullshit is like a normal job. So dammit, I can also accomplish forty hours of work in eight.
Is it too early for beer?
I'm beginning to wonder about the men I see in Krogers. I saw some dude scratching his head yesterday and looking at me. I wanted to walk up and ask him if he is a "WVSR surfer" but then I was concerned that maybe I'd met him under less than gracious circumstances before...
I'm not a bad girl by any means, but things happen to me that make me look like a bad girl.
But I'm not a bad girl.
Er....this is a picture of me in my Halloween costume. Really...I'm serious.
Anyway...stepping right along. What will all of you be for Halloween this year? I am going to be a Viking. Have I mentioned this before? Because I'm thinking that maybe I did.
I'll be a Viking with the first signs of dementia kicking in...hahaha
I have to get off here and work. I was almost forgetting that I had to do that, so I'm going to get busy now.
See? Not a procrastinator...
Yep...almost all Mondays suck.
Tuesdays are almost as bad but as long as I don't go out among the elderly hell patrol, I'm good to go.
I'm kind of stressed because I have a couple of deadlines looming over me. I feel like I'm being followed but that giant green dude who sells canned green beans. And I'm worried he's going to stomp me into the ground, smash me flat and it will all be over except for the crying.(Cause I like to think that people would cry if I wasn't around.)
How does a homemaker, a woman who doesn't even get paid end up with looming deadlines?
Because I'm a fucking idiot. I'm a complete and total dumbass who doesn't know how to say no.
Ok..I'm being hard on myself.
I do know how to say no. It's just that I always THINK I have more time to do things than I actually do.
Some people would say that's called "Procrastination."
I prefer to think of it as, "time comprehension impaired".
Come on...we all suffer from it.
We think we can do a forty hour job in a mere day. I know LOTS of people who go to work forty hours but actually only do eight hours of actual work.
I guess you could say that I'm convinced that my volunteer bullshit is like a normal job. So dammit, I can also accomplish forty hours of work in eight.
Is it too early for beer?
I'm beginning to wonder about the men I see in Krogers. I saw some dude scratching his head yesterday and looking at me. I wanted to walk up and ask him if he is a "WVSR surfer" but then I was concerned that maybe I'd met him under less than gracious circumstances before...
I'm not a bad girl by any means, but things happen to me that make me look like a bad girl.
But I'm not a bad girl.
Er....this is a picture of me in my Halloween costume. Really...I'm serious.
Anyway...stepping right along. What will all of you be for Halloween this year? I am going to be a Viking. Have I mentioned this before? Because I'm thinking that maybe I did.
I'll be a Viking with the first signs of dementia kicking in...hahaha
I have to get off here and work. I was almost forgetting that I had to do that, so I'm going to get busy now.
See? Not a procrastinator...
Friday, September 21, 2007
Nummies....
I just went upstairs and tried to get into the bathroom. But the door was locked. My husband is in there taking a shower and he locked the door.
What the hell is up with that?
I mean...it's just him and me here.
Does he think I'm going to run in there while he's showering and bite his willie off?
Or maybe he's worried I'll have to poop, and yeah, sometimes I can put a grown man to shame with my odorous endeavors.
But still...it upsets me that my man has locked me out.
We just don't do that. It's a communal bathroom. When the kids are home, he locks the door. I lock the door. But in the 17 years we've been married, we don't lock the door on eachother.
Hmmm....
Why on earth would he do that?
Maybe he's worried I'll molest him?
I mean, yeah, I'll admit to locking him in the bedroom with me one day and not unlocking the door until he gave me some lovings.
Then there was the time he fell between the bed and the wall, upside down and I took his pants off and...'ahem'...entertained myself before I'd help him get out.
But still...I know he loves it. I mean...what man wouldn't love it if his wife constantly wanted him?
Soo....I wonder what's up with the locked door thing....
Ah well...he just came out because I heard the door open.
Wait a minute....I wonder if he's still just wearing a towel...
*GRIN*
Gotta go check..hahahaha....
Have a great weekend!!!
What the hell is up with that?
I mean...it's just him and me here.
Does he think I'm going to run in there while he's showering and bite his willie off?
Or maybe he's worried I'll have to poop, and yeah, sometimes I can put a grown man to shame with my odorous endeavors.
But still...it upsets me that my man has locked me out.
We just don't do that. It's a communal bathroom. When the kids are home, he locks the door. I lock the door. But in the 17 years we've been married, we don't lock the door on eachother.
Hmmm....
Why on earth would he do that?
Maybe he's worried I'll molest him?
I mean, yeah, I'll admit to locking him in the bedroom with me one day and not unlocking the door until he gave me some lovings.
Then there was the time he fell between the bed and the wall, upside down and I took his pants off and...'ahem'...entertained myself before I'd help him get out.
But still...I know he loves it. I mean...what man wouldn't love it if his wife constantly wanted him?
Soo....I wonder what's up with the locked door thing....
Ah well...he just came out because I heard the door open.
Wait a minute....I wonder if he's still just wearing a towel...
*GRIN*
Gotta go check..hahahaha....
Have a great weekend!!!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
And the insanity continues....
Today I will be finishing a dress.
A dress, you ask?
Yes...a dress.
My daughters are involved in things that cause me considerable poverty and it forces me into situations that are unpleasant and sometimes exhausting.
And no...I do not solicit for money, although that would be considerably more exciting than what I am doing.
*GRIN*
Instead I am sewing to help defray the expense that goes along with my daughters performing group.
Yep...
I can sew...
Bet ya didn't know I was talented like that, did ya?
There is one teensy, weensy problem though.
I am making a dress without a pattern.
The director wanted this dress that was on this video and asked if I could do it.
Being the DUMBASS I am, I said, "Sure. No problem." (Was I drunk?)
Anyway...It's really not a problem. Given enough time I can make the same dress. As a matter of fact, I've already made the skirt pattern using sheets and can whip it up in less than a day.
My problem is TIME.
I NEEDS me some more time but I ain't gots NO TIME!!!
I'm still trying to figure out the top part. But the director is ready to stroke out because I'm not done.
FUCK! How do I get myself into these situations???
I'm just going around, living my life and trying to help people out and what do I get for it?
STRESS!!! STRESS!!! STRESS!!!
Man....
So today I need to figure out the solution. I've made three different tops and I'm not happy with any of them.
And before anyone says anything...NO...I will NOT show them just anything. It has to be PERFECT first.
So I'm feeling pressured and I hate it. But on the other hand, if I do pull this off and become a world famous designer, I plan to make clothing with easier access holes and gadgets for my undressing pleasure. Fredrick's of Hollywood will love me! And I will be rich enough that I can wear whatever the hell I want.
Hey...I do that already...hmmm...
In other news I mowed at the field yesterday. I guess I really don't mind it, but it would have been better with a beer. I think I'm going to have to plan on doing that the next time I mow, oh, like tomorrow. That damn field never seems to stay mowed. If it would just stop growing so goddamn fast, I could have a couple days off. I need a couple days off, but the beer will help motivate me. I need to be motivated sometimes. Who doesn't?
I'm not feeling motivated today.
My husband is sick and you know what that means....
I love him...I really do. But when I get sick, I prefer for everyone to leave me the hell alone. Just let me suffer alone and don't come near me. If I want you, I'll yell for you. And don't bitch at me if I want to sleep on the bathroom floor. Go get a bucket and head outdoors and leave me passed out on the linoleum.
But my honey needs CONSTANT attention when he is sick. The only reason he's not whining for me right now is because he is sleeping. It's amazing what a couple swigs of vodka can do in someone's orange juice, you know? Does anyone think that it might be bad to mix that with NyQuil?
Meh...he'll live.
I'm hoping for three maybe four hours before he wakes up.
Like I said...I love him. But a woman has got to do what a woman has to do...
Whelp...I gotta go. I have TONS of world famous stuff to be doing. It's hard being so talented and stuff, but you know how it is.
I deal with it...
A dress, you ask?
Yes...a dress.
My daughters are involved in things that cause me considerable poverty and it forces me into situations that are unpleasant and sometimes exhausting.
And no...I do not solicit for money, although that would be considerably more exciting than what I am doing.
*GRIN*
Instead I am sewing to help defray the expense that goes along with my daughters performing group.
Yep...
I can sew...
Bet ya didn't know I was talented like that, did ya?
There is one teensy, weensy problem though.
I am making a dress without a pattern.
The director wanted this dress that was on this video and asked if I could do it.
Being the DUMBASS I am, I said, "Sure. No problem." (Was I drunk?)
Anyway...It's really not a problem. Given enough time I can make the same dress. As a matter of fact, I've already made the skirt pattern using sheets and can whip it up in less than a day.
My problem is TIME.
I NEEDS me some more time but I ain't gots NO TIME!!!
I'm still trying to figure out the top part. But the director is ready to stroke out because I'm not done.
FUCK! How do I get myself into these situations???
I'm just going around, living my life and trying to help people out and what do I get for it?
STRESS!!! STRESS!!! STRESS!!!
Man....
So today I need to figure out the solution. I've made three different tops and I'm not happy with any of them.
And before anyone says anything...NO...I will NOT show them just anything. It has to be PERFECT first.
So I'm feeling pressured and I hate it. But on the other hand, if I do pull this off and become a world famous designer, I plan to make clothing with easier access holes and gadgets for my undressing pleasure. Fredrick's of Hollywood will love me! And I will be rich enough that I can wear whatever the hell I want.
Hey...I do that already...hmmm...
In other news I mowed at the field yesterday. I guess I really don't mind it, but it would have been better with a beer. I think I'm going to have to plan on doing that the next time I mow, oh, like tomorrow. That damn field never seems to stay mowed. If it would just stop growing so goddamn fast, I could have a couple days off. I need a couple days off, but the beer will help motivate me. I need to be motivated sometimes. Who doesn't?
I'm not feeling motivated today.
My husband is sick and you know what that means....
I love him...I really do. But when I get sick, I prefer for everyone to leave me the hell alone. Just let me suffer alone and don't come near me. If I want you, I'll yell for you. And don't bitch at me if I want to sleep on the bathroom floor. Go get a bucket and head outdoors and leave me passed out on the linoleum.
But my honey needs CONSTANT attention when he is sick. The only reason he's not whining for me right now is because he is sleeping. It's amazing what a couple swigs of vodka can do in someone's orange juice, you know? Does anyone think that it might be bad to mix that with NyQuil?
Meh...he'll live.
I'm hoping for three maybe four hours before he wakes up.
Like I said...I love him. But a woman has got to do what a woman has to do...
Whelp...I gotta go. I have TONS of world famous stuff to be doing. It's hard being so talented and stuff, but you know how it is.
I deal with it...
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Feeling spunky but looking shitty....
I'm tired. I need to cut this shit out...you know...working like a man but being built like a woman.
I am still sore from mowing the field Monday night. And it's not that I mind doing it. In fact, sitting on the riding lawn mower is like riding a giant vibrator...well...except not nearly as pleasurable and requiring more work BUT it's not completely terrible.
Ummm...let's move on, shall we?
I'm doing too much lifting and tugging and carrying and it's getting to me. The days of me working like a horse on the farm are long behind me and let's face it...I'm getting old. I don't even give a shit about that anymore either. I'm just irritated at getting tired all the time.
I'm tired of being tired.
And I'm tired of all work and no pleasure.
Am I mistaken in assuming that there's supposed to be some pleasure in living? Life is too damn short to waste all your time working yourself to death.
And while I'm on the subject of getting old....I still have lots of sexual energy but what's up with some other people my age who have NO desire to do anything?
You'd think I am an adolescent boy. It's crazy. I keep hoping it will just go away or something.
I mean, it's hard on me. I feel like a freak show. No one else my age that I know really cares one way or the other about getting some lovins.
You'd think their damn thing fell off or something. Or their hole grew shut. I feel like I'm an outcast because I'm over the age of 25 and I still have a sex drive. And I'm not a sex maniac, it's just that when you NEVER get any, you tend to think about it a little more than usual.
I like it. It's a natural thing and it's free.
Not fattening and not expensive.
So there...
Of course the inner thoughts don't jive with the outer appearance. I need to take an updated picture and put on here. A close up. I look like hell. Hell...I FEEL like hell.
Hell...Hell...Hell....
Speaking of hell...yesterday was Elderly Hell day and I went to Kroger's. THAT was special. Some of those nasty old ladies just need to stay home if they're going to be that hateful. I came 'this' close to telling one of them off. She stood in the middle of the aisle for close to ten minutes, blocking my way, even though I repeatedly asked her, politely, if she would move. I started to move her cart and she grabbed it and gave me a dirty look. I explained that I needed to get by her and she looked pissed off.
I HATE Tuesdays....
On a lighter note...When I stopped at the Post Office to mail some things for the Hubster, some old dude on Grosscup avenue, walked outside on his porch, took his dick out of his pants and started pissing off the side of his porch. He even waved at a car as it passed.
You've got to admire the elderly who just figure they've lived long enough that they ought to be able to do whatever the hell they want, you know?
I think I want to be like that.
I'm becoming more and more cynical and frustrated by the limitations set on me by others, like the Jesus Police and whatnot.
It would be SO LIBERATING to be able to just live my life and not worry about what other people are going to say or do.
And I'm not a bad person. I don't do nasty or mean things. I try to be helpful, a good mother, friend, etc...and I'm community minded. I volunteer for things to try to help out.
But of course, there is always someone who doesn't like what I'm doing or saying and they have a "problem" with it.
Whatfuckingever.....
Ha...and listen to this...One woman who "works for a living", as she put it, informed me that what I do is nothing compared to what she does.
"Oh really?", I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "You have no idea what real work is."
(No...I did not punch all her teeth out of her head like I wanted to. Instead I replied by saying this...)
"Actually, while I do not get paid for my work, I do work. I work very hard. I do all of the things that normally you and other parents who work during the day would have to do in the evenings or on the weekends if it weren't for a stay at home mother like me who does it while you're at work. Plus, since I don't work at a job,I have to be the one to care for my children during the day.I'm normally caring for your children and other children of people who are at work as well. Believe it or not, that is work."
I went on to explain that I, just like her, leave the house early in the day on most days and don't get home to clean my own house until late in the evening.
I don't know...it just REALLY rubbed me the wrong way. And the worst part is that she wasn't buying into what I was telling her. I could see it all over her face.
So I just stopped.
She was one of "them".
Let me explain...
I used to belong to a monthly bookclub discussion group with my friend Diana. Diana is a lawyer and most of the other women in the group were also young professionals. I was the oldest and the only stay at home mom.
Most times, I felt quite comfortable with the group and the conversations. And even though I stay at home, I was up to date on current events, the stock market, etc and could contribute to all of the conversations with ease. But occasionally, there was a comment or two directed at me, because I didn't work, didn't graduate from college, didn't have a career established, etc...
I point out my contributions to society but I could tell it wasn't making any impact on the person or people looking down at me so I'd just let it go.
Of course, two of the four women who believed I was a non-contributing member of society are now stay at home moms and believe me....they have seen the light.
Isn't it a shame though that women have to defend their decision to stay at home in today's society? And be viewed as having little or no worth because of it.
Meh...
This is completely random but I want a punching bag and gloves for Christmas. I checked them out at Sport Mart yesterday and I want the medium sized bag that goes for roughly 60 bucks.
Someone buy it for me...hahahaha....
I just need some therapy, you know...for the non-contributing member of society put downs, the elderly angst that I'm constantly accosted with and the sexual tension.
POW!! PUNCH!! POW!!! SLAM!!! POW!!!....
I am still sore from mowing the field Monday night. And it's not that I mind doing it. In fact, sitting on the riding lawn mower is like riding a giant vibrator...well...except not nearly as pleasurable and requiring more work BUT it's not completely terrible.
Ummm...let's move on, shall we?
I'm doing too much lifting and tugging and carrying and it's getting to me. The days of me working like a horse on the farm are long behind me and let's face it...I'm getting old. I don't even give a shit about that anymore either. I'm just irritated at getting tired all the time.
I'm tired of being tired.
And I'm tired of all work and no pleasure.
Am I mistaken in assuming that there's supposed to be some pleasure in living? Life is too damn short to waste all your time working yourself to death.
And while I'm on the subject of getting old....I still have lots of sexual energy but what's up with some other people my age who have NO desire to do anything?
You'd think I am an adolescent boy. It's crazy. I keep hoping it will just go away or something.
I mean, it's hard on me. I feel like a freak show. No one else my age that I know really cares one way or the other about getting some lovins.
You'd think their damn thing fell off or something. Or their hole grew shut. I feel like I'm an outcast because I'm over the age of 25 and I still have a sex drive. And I'm not a sex maniac, it's just that when you NEVER get any, you tend to think about it a little more than usual.
I like it. It's a natural thing and it's free.
Not fattening and not expensive.
So there...
Of course the inner thoughts don't jive with the outer appearance. I need to take an updated picture and put on here. A close up. I look like hell. Hell...I FEEL like hell.
Hell...Hell...Hell....
Speaking of hell...yesterday was Elderly Hell day and I went to Kroger's. THAT was special. Some of those nasty old ladies just need to stay home if they're going to be that hateful. I came 'this' close to telling one of them off. She stood in the middle of the aisle for close to ten minutes, blocking my way, even though I repeatedly asked her, politely, if she would move. I started to move her cart and she grabbed it and gave me a dirty look. I explained that I needed to get by her and she looked pissed off.
I HATE Tuesdays....
On a lighter note...When I stopped at the Post Office to mail some things for the Hubster, some old dude on Grosscup avenue, walked outside on his porch, took his dick out of his pants and started pissing off the side of his porch. He even waved at a car as it passed.
You've got to admire the elderly who just figure they've lived long enough that they ought to be able to do whatever the hell they want, you know?
I think I want to be like that.
I'm becoming more and more cynical and frustrated by the limitations set on me by others, like the Jesus Police and whatnot.
It would be SO LIBERATING to be able to just live my life and not worry about what other people are going to say or do.
And I'm not a bad person. I don't do nasty or mean things. I try to be helpful, a good mother, friend, etc...and I'm community minded. I volunteer for things to try to help out.
But of course, there is always someone who doesn't like what I'm doing or saying and they have a "problem" with it.
Whatfuckingever.....
Ha...and listen to this...One woman who "works for a living", as she put it, informed me that what I do is nothing compared to what she does.
"Oh really?", I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "You have no idea what real work is."
(No...I did not punch all her teeth out of her head like I wanted to. Instead I replied by saying this...)
"Actually, while I do not get paid for my work, I do work. I work very hard. I do all of the things that normally you and other parents who work during the day would have to do in the evenings or on the weekends if it weren't for a stay at home mother like me who does it while you're at work. Plus, since I don't work at a job,I have to be the one to care for my children during the day.I'm normally caring for your children and other children of people who are at work as well. Believe it or not, that is work."
I went on to explain that I, just like her, leave the house early in the day on most days and don't get home to clean my own house until late in the evening.
I don't know...it just REALLY rubbed me the wrong way. And the worst part is that she wasn't buying into what I was telling her. I could see it all over her face.
So I just stopped.
She was one of "them".
Let me explain...
I used to belong to a monthly bookclub discussion group with my friend Diana. Diana is a lawyer and most of the other women in the group were also young professionals. I was the oldest and the only stay at home mom.
Most times, I felt quite comfortable with the group and the conversations. And even though I stay at home, I was up to date on current events, the stock market, etc and could contribute to all of the conversations with ease. But occasionally, there was a comment or two directed at me, because I didn't work, didn't graduate from college, didn't have a career established, etc...
I point out my contributions to society but I could tell it wasn't making any impact on the person or people looking down at me so I'd just let it go.
Of course, two of the four women who believed I was a non-contributing member of society are now stay at home moms and believe me....they have seen the light.
Isn't it a shame though that women have to defend their decision to stay at home in today's society? And be viewed as having little or no worth because of it.
Meh...
This is completely random but I want a punching bag and gloves for Christmas. I checked them out at Sport Mart yesterday and I want the medium sized bag that goes for roughly 60 bucks.
Someone buy it for me...hahahaha....
I just need some therapy, you know...for the non-contributing member of society put downs, the elderly angst that I'm constantly accosted with and the sexual tension.
POW!! PUNCH!! POW!!! SLAM!!! POW!!!....
Monday, September 17, 2007
Just slightly better than a hair ball.....
This weekend kicked my ass. I am beat. And before I get started filling you in on the pleasures of the festival, let me say this....
If anyone happened to stop by the Little League stand and get a look at me this weekend, I just need to clarify a little something. I had been running non-stop with possibly a total of several hours of sleep over three days and my appearance was the equivalent to something the cat would hack up, with braids. We can't forget about the braids.
And no...there was no endorsement for Swiss Miss cocoa involved in the whole braid thing. I was simply trying to keep my hair up so I wouldn't get any in anyone's food.
So if you came and felt afraid, give me another chance. I'm not always that scary.
Ok.Now that I've cleared that up, let's continue.
Friday stayed pretty busy. We sold out of everything. I felt like my head was going to explode on more than one occasion. BUT...it wasn't because I was working at the speed of light. It was something else that made my head hurt. Two words...
Gospel Music.
I need to explain something. I had never even HEARD gospel music before I moved down here. Imagine my delight at hearing it ALL DAY LONG WITH SPEAKERS BLARING LOUD ENOUGH TO MAKE MY EARS BLEED!!!!
It wasn't terrible, mind you, the first couple of hours. I even enjoyed it. And I didn't have any thoughts of inflicting harm on other people even after five hours of it.
I think I began to hallucinate about Jesus sweeping down in a chariot and whisking me away after seven hours. And by the time the good performers game on, I was completely out of my mind.
That beautiful old gospel tune, "He touched me" just didn't have the same meaning for me after nine hours of blaring gospel music.
And then of course, there was the OWLH. Yeah...that's right. Old White Lady Hate. I suffered with it all day long. I'm telling you that if one more old woman would have approached me and been hateful to me after sitting and waving their hand in the air while singing along with "What a Day that Will Be"...I would have ripped my braids out of my head and stripped my clothes off in a wild fit while jumping up and down, swearing like a sailor. It probably would be the worst spectacle this town had ever seen at the fall festival. They would have been talking about me for years to come.
But my self control held out. I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. As a matter of fact, I was pretty darn quiet all day.
I'm very proud of myself too.
It's very hard for me to be quiet you know.
Sooo....I made my hotdogs and BBQ's and waited on people while being very polite.
I was a good girl.
And damn it. It wasn't easy.
Saturday was better. There wasn't a gospel fest all day long and the people were more diverse. I didn't get as tired because I got to sit down a little bit and the old woman who was working across the court yard who was trying to steal my husband was a little less aggressive.
She kept coming over on Friday and flirting with him. I shit you not. I'd say she was in her seventies but she kept telling him he was such a nice looking man, and then she'd say things like, "I don't need sugar in my coffee because looking at you makes it sweet enough."
HAHAHAHA!
My husband was horrified.
The best one was when she asked if the "hunk of burning love" working the grill would make her a special wiener.
LOL!!!
I bet she wasn't talking about a hot dog either....
So Saturday was better and the music was better too. It was a combination of several kinds, but when the Van-Dells came on that night, well...you know the Dr.Pepper wagon was a rockin. Margaret, Lisa and I were shaking our booties and twisting the night away.
All in all, we did pretty well. We made some money for Little League and got to watch the citizens of Dunbar do their thing.
So now today, I'm catching up. I'm catching up on laundry and dishes and paperwork. I walked two miles this morning and then my friends are taking me out to lunch. Seems like it's going to be a pretty good day.
Hope everyone else has a good day too....
If anyone happened to stop by the Little League stand and get a look at me this weekend, I just need to clarify a little something. I had been running non-stop with possibly a total of several hours of sleep over three days and my appearance was the equivalent to something the cat would hack up, with braids. We can't forget about the braids.
And no...there was no endorsement for Swiss Miss cocoa involved in the whole braid thing. I was simply trying to keep my hair up so I wouldn't get any in anyone's food.
So if you came and felt afraid, give me another chance. I'm not always that scary.
Ok.Now that I've cleared that up, let's continue.
Friday stayed pretty busy. We sold out of everything. I felt like my head was going to explode on more than one occasion. BUT...it wasn't because I was working at the speed of light. It was something else that made my head hurt. Two words...
Gospel Music.
I need to explain something. I had never even HEARD gospel music before I moved down here. Imagine my delight at hearing it ALL DAY LONG WITH SPEAKERS BLARING LOUD ENOUGH TO MAKE MY EARS BLEED!!!!
It wasn't terrible, mind you, the first couple of hours. I even enjoyed it. And I didn't have any thoughts of inflicting harm on other people even after five hours of it.
I think I began to hallucinate about Jesus sweeping down in a chariot and whisking me away after seven hours. And by the time the good performers game on, I was completely out of my mind.
That beautiful old gospel tune, "He touched me" just didn't have the same meaning for me after nine hours of blaring gospel music.
And then of course, there was the OWLH. Yeah...that's right. Old White Lady Hate. I suffered with it all day long. I'm telling you that if one more old woman would have approached me and been hateful to me after sitting and waving their hand in the air while singing along with "What a Day that Will Be"...I would have ripped my braids out of my head and stripped my clothes off in a wild fit while jumping up and down, swearing like a sailor. It probably would be the worst spectacle this town had ever seen at the fall festival. They would have been talking about me for years to come.
But my self control held out. I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. As a matter of fact, I was pretty darn quiet all day.
I'm very proud of myself too.
It's very hard for me to be quiet you know.
Sooo....I made my hotdogs and BBQ's and waited on people while being very polite.
I was a good girl.
And damn it. It wasn't easy.
Saturday was better. There wasn't a gospel fest all day long and the people were more diverse. I didn't get as tired because I got to sit down a little bit and the old woman who was working across the court yard who was trying to steal my husband was a little less aggressive.
She kept coming over on Friday and flirting with him. I shit you not. I'd say she was in her seventies but she kept telling him he was such a nice looking man, and then she'd say things like, "I don't need sugar in my coffee because looking at you makes it sweet enough."
HAHAHAHA!
My husband was horrified.
The best one was when she asked if the "hunk of burning love" working the grill would make her a special wiener.
LOL!!!
I bet she wasn't talking about a hot dog either....
So Saturday was better and the music was better too. It was a combination of several kinds, but when the Van-Dells came on that night, well...you know the Dr.Pepper wagon was a rockin. Margaret, Lisa and I were shaking our booties and twisting the night away.
All in all, we did pretty well. We made some money for Little League and got to watch the citizens of Dunbar do their thing.
So now today, I'm catching up. I'm catching up on laundry and dishes and paperwork. I walked two miles this morning and then my friends are taking me out to lunch. Seems like it's going to be a pretty good day.
Hope everyone else has a good day too....
Thursday, September 13, 2007
I did it !!! I did it !!!
I decided to do this thingy a couple of days ago but just now remembered I wanted to do it.
Is that considered a sign of senility?
Anyway....I got it from Brenda and I'm doing it now, which after all is all that matters. Better late than never huh?
Accent - I'm not sure anymore. People here in West Virginia tell me I have a northern accent and look at me funny when I say things like 'aunt' and 'car' and 'dooryard' but when I go home in the summer to Maine, everyone says I have a southern accent.
*SOB*
I'm an outsider where ever I go....
I Don't Drink - I DO drink because I am a mother. I live in the Florida of West Virginia with the Jesus Police picking apart my every move. I'm sorry but yes, I do drink occasionally but not in excess. Getting drunk is not my thing...never has been. But in order for me to remain somewhat sane enough to function, I need a little bit of alcohol in my system. Some people take Lexapro, I take Vodka.
Chore I Hate - God, there are so MANY chores I hate, but I think the worst one would have to be laundry. The laundry piles up to the point where I've lost furniture in it. Once, when Daniel couldn't find a pair of pants I told him to look in the pile of clean laundry in our bedroom. He took one look at it and exploded. "I CAN'T FIND ANY PANTS IN THERE!"
I said, "Honey, there's probably a guy beneath that pile and he's got your pants on."
Literally, that's how huge that pile of clean laundry was.
Yep...Hate laundry...
Pets - I have a husband and four children. Er...ok. Furry pets. I have a dog and two cats. I love them. My dog is my mid-life baby. She is the best. My cats are weird. Sven, the biggest cat, hates it when doors are closed and will sit and meow really loud until someone opens the door. Claudette is either a scaredy cat or she has Alzheimer's. One minute she loves us and the next she looks like she has no idea who we are.
Essential Electronic - My Ipod! I LIVE for music and listen to it while I'm cleaning, baking, cooking, walking, riding, you name it. I have it almost filled so there are over 900 songs on it. I could listen to it all day, every day...
Perfume/Cologne - I liked that Charlie "White" edition but they have discontinued it so now you're all stuck smelling me the way God intended.
Gold or Silver - I prefer silver and especially if it's handcrafted. My wedding band it gold and I have a ring from my aunt that is Black Hills gold, but other than that, I'm mainly a silver kind of person.
Insomnia- Not really. I mean sometimes no matter what I do I can't sleep. No amount of medication or alcohol will cure it. It's nerves that keep me awake, that's why I don't have an insomnia problem. I'm too laid back for that stuff...
Most Admired Trait - I admire anyone who can admit they are human. We all screw up and we all do dumb shit, but it takes a big person to be able to apologize or admit they've done something they shouldn't have done. That takes courage. It means swallowing your pride. I have more respect for someone like that, who is flawed and can show it, than someone who seems perfect but secretly lies to cover up their messes, hoping they don't get caught.
Kids - I got four of em. Three girls and one boy. Wow...What the hell was I thinking? HAHAHA
Religion - I'm very liberal about religion which incidentally I feel has nothing to do with my faith. Religion is an organized group of people who all believe in the same God or entity.
Now am I faithful? Yes, very and it's a private thing for me.
Siblings - A half brother on my mom's side, Art. Two half sisters on my dad's side, Heather and April.
Unusual Talent/Skill -I have several. I have no gag reflex. This talent speaks for itself. I can make this crazy music by humming and clicking my tongue at the same time. Yeah, that sounds lame, but other people have tried it and they can't do it. You'd have to know me and try this out in order to appreciate it. And I can talk like Elmo from Sesame Street. It's lots of fun to mess with the telemarketers or make new voice mail messages for my friends when they don't know it. Hahahaha...
Vegetable I Refuse to Eat - I eat them all. I don't care much for watermelons or cherries though. But basically I will eat everything. Can't you tell my my big boned and thick skinned figure?
Worst Habit - I have many. I fart in public. I belch. I snort when I laugh. I tell everything I know to everyone. I don't know...there are too many to tell. I'll have to make an entire post about that some other day.
X-Rays - Yeah...x-rays. I had one the other day when I went to see the condescending asshole oral surgeon.
My Favorite Meal - Hmmm...I love food. I have no real favorites, but I'm a huge fan of bread (no pun intended) and mashed potatoes are on the top of the list but what do you expect? I grew up on a potato farm....
Ok...so that's all you need to know about me. Hope this informative post will get you through the next couple of days. I have fall festival stuff happening and if you come to it, you'd better come see me at the Little League booth...
Is that considered a sign of senility?
Anyway....I got it from Brenda and I'm doing it now, which after all is all that matters. Better late than never huh?
Accent - I'm not sure anymore. People here in West Virginia tell me I have a northern accent and look at me funny when I say things like 'aunt' and 'car' and 'dooryard' but when I go home in the summer to Maine, everyone says I have a southern accent.
*SOB*
I'm an outsider where ever I go....
I Don't Drink - I DO drink because I am a mother. I live in the Florida of West Virginia with the Jesus Police picking apart my every move. I'm sorry but yes, I do drink occasionally but not in excess. Getting drunk is not my thing...never has been. But in order for me to remain somewhat sane enough to function, I need a little bit of alcohol in my system. Some people take Lexapro, I take Vodka.
Chore I Hate - God, there are so MANY chores I hate, but I think the worst one would have to be laundry. The laundry piles up to the point where I've lost furniture in it. Once, when Daniel couldn't find a pair of pants I told him to look in the pile of clean laundry in our bedroom. He took one look at it and exploded. "I CAN'T FIND ANY PANTS IN THERE!"
I said, "Honey, there's probably a guy beneath that pile and he's got your pants on."
Literally, that's how huge that pile of clean laundry was.
Yep...Hate laundry...
Pets - I have a husband and four children. Er...ok. Furry pets. I have a dog and two cats. I love them. My dog is my mid-life baby. She is the best. My cats are weird. Sven, the biggest cat, hates it when doors are closed and will sit and meow really loud until someone opens the door. Claudette is either a scaredy cat or she has Alzheimer's. One minute she loves us and the next she looks like she has no idea who we are.
Essential Electronic - My Ipod! I LIVE for music and listen to it while I'm cleaning, baking, cooking, walking, riding, you name it. I have it almost filled so there are over 900 songs on it. I could listen to it all day, every day...
Perfume/Cologne - I liked that Charlie "White" edition but they have discontinued it so now you're all stuck smelling me the way God intended.
Gold or Silver - I prefer silver and especially if it's handcrafted. My wedding band it gold and I have a ring from my aunt that is Black Hills gold, but other than that, I'm mainly a silver kind of person.
Insomnia- Not really. I mean sometimes no matter what I do I can't sleep. No amount of medication or alcohol will cure it. It's nerves that keep me awake, that's why I don't have an insomnia problem. I'm too laid back for that stuff...
Most Admired Trait - I admire anyone who can admit they are human. We all screw up and we all do dumb shit, but it takes a big person to be able to apologize or admit they've done something they shouldn't have done. That takes courage. It means swallowing your pride. I have more respect for someone like that, who is flawed and can show it, than someone who seems perfect but secretly lies to cover up their messes, hoping they don't get caught.
Kids - I got four of em. Three girls and one boy. Wow...What the hell was I thinking? HAHAHA
Religion - I'm very liberal about religion which incidentally I feel has nothing to do with my faith. Religion is an organized group of people who all believe in the same God or entity.
Now am I faithful? Yes, very and it's a private thing for me.
Siblings - A half brother on my mom's side, Art. Two half sisters on my dad's side, Heather and April.
Unusual Talent/Skill -I have several. I have no gag reflex. This talent speaks for itself. I can make this crazy music by humming and clicking my tongue at the same time. Yeah, that sounds lame, but other people have tried it and they can't do it. You'd have to know me and try this out in order to appreciate it. And I can talk like Elmo from Sesame Street. It's lots of fun to mess with the telemarketers or make new voice mail messages for my friends when they don't know it. Hahahaha...
Vegetable I Refuse to Eat - I eat them all. I don't care much for watermelons or cherries though. But basically I will eat everything. Can't you tell my my big boned and thick skinned figure?
Worst Habit - I have many. I fart in public. I belch. I snort when I laugh. I tell everything I know to everyone. I don't know...there are too many to tell. I'll have to make an entire post about that some other day.
X-Rays - Yeah...x-rays. I had one the other day when I went to see the condescending asshole oral surgeon.
My Favorite Meal - Hmmm...I love food. I have no real favorites, but I'm a huge fan of bread (no pun intended) and mashed potatoes are on the top of the list but what do you expect? I grew up on a potato farm....
Ok...so that's all you need to know about me. Hope this informative post will get you through the next couple of days. I have fall festival stuff happening and if you come to it, you'd better come see me at the Little League booth...
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Old hag my ass....
Sorry about not filling you in on the dentist visit yesterday, but let me tell you, I'm burning the candle at both ends. I'm just plain old worn out.
I did nothing but run, run, run yesterday.
*sigh*
Anyway, that's neither here not there. I lived through it so let's get on with the dentist story...
I ended up being late. Basically it's because there is some kind of bushy tree thingy that hangs over the top of the sign, and it's barely noticeable. I strained my eyes looking for the damn place and no, I'm not direction impaired. I knew where to go, just not how to get into the damn place.
So being late put me behind an hour. I filled out paperwork which took fifteen minutes and then waited for forty five.
Once I got into the office, Nurse Happy Pants, informed me that although they had an x-ray of my mouth, it was insufficient and they needed to take another one. "Free of charge, "she snorted at me.
"Great! I love free stuff!" I said in return.
She grunted and didn't even look up at me.
Guess I wasn't going to make friends with her any time soon...
SOOO...I waited in the chair and looked at the before and after pictures of this chick who had forty double chins. Then after surgery she looked better than my 14 year old daughter. Apparently this oral surgeon dude did surgery on her.
Hmmm.....
Do you think it was real pictures or fake?
I'm thinking it had to be fake. I mean, good grief. She had forty double chins!!! How could anyone possibly remove that much stuff? AND make her look 14 year old again???
I wasn't buying it.
So finally the condescending asshole...er...I mean the dental surgeon steps into the room. He glances at me and then looks at the x-rays (which, by the way, look exactly the same as the one's my dentist sent him. ???)
He doesn't introduce himself or anything. He just asks me if my impacted wisdom tooth bothers me.
I tell him,"No. Not really."
So he tells me...after only two minutes in the examining room with me...in these EXACT WORDS...
"Well since you're so old, I don't think I'm going to bother to take it out."
WTF???
Hey asshole. It's not like I have one foot in the grave or anything. I'm thinking I still have over half my life left to live. I still need my goddamn teeth and I'm trying not to have any more dental problems.
So I speak up and ask him, "If you don't take my tooth now, then what will happen if it keeps pushing against the other tooth?"
He says, "You may lose it."
I'm thinking in my head...I'm losing it already asshole....
but openly I ask him,
"Are you high?"
"Have you been in the laughing gas?"
"I could lose my other perfectly healthy tooth and you're not going to take it out because I'm too old?"
He and Nurse Happy Pants look at me horrified like I've just said 'FUCK ME' or something.
He ignores my question and says he'll make an appointment to take out the other two problem teeth and he'll send a letter of explanation to my dentist so she can explain it to me.
Explain it to me. Like I'm a freaking idiot.
It really pissed me off, so I got up without saying a word, walked out to the receptionist and she informed me I owed $57 for the "consultation."
"What consultation?" I asked. "He didn't seem terribly concerned about what I thought and told me what he had decided to do about me! I wasn't consulted!!"
She blinked her eyes a lot and looked at me like a deer in the headlights, so I took pity on her and stopped talking before the veins on my forehead stuck out.
I mean it's not her fault.
Then I paid, reluctantly, and left.
So now I'm going to wait and see what my dentist says. I do trust her, even though I think he's a prick and if she says to go ahead with what he's telling me, then I'll do it.
I won't like it, but I'll do it anyway.
And you know what? I think this pissy bastard is my age. He looks to be about 40ish.
Meh....the old age thing doesn't bother me. The part that bothers me is his seemingly indifference to me possibly losing my other tooth. I have to work hard at keeping my teeth. I have always had terrible teeth and plenty of dental problems. It's takes an act of congress just to keep them from being pulled. And then he 'decides' he doesn't want to mess with the impacted wisdom tooth? Because I'm too old?
I STILL don't get that one...
Maybe the pictures of the forty chinned, now I'm fourteen year old woman was his wife and he's forgotten how old she really is. Maybe he is delusional?
Freakin oral surgeon....piss on him.
Well that's enough bitching. I'm going to take my old hag ass off here and wash some laundry before it's time for my metamucil break.
At the rate I'm going, it'll be the only thing left that I can eat...
I did nothing but run, run, run yesterday.
*sigh*
Anyway, that's neither here not there. I lived through it so let's get on with the dentist story...
I ended up being late. Basically it's because there is some kind of bushy tree thingy that hangs over the top of the sign, and it's barely noticeable. I strained my eyes looking for the damn place and no, I'm not direction impaired. I knew where to go, just not how to get into the damn place.
So being late put me behind an hour. I filled out paperwork which took fifteen minutes and then waited for forty five.
Once I got into the office, Nurse Happy Pants, informed me that although they had an x-ray of my mouth, it was insufficient and they needed to take another one. "Free of charge, "she snorted at me.
"Great! I love free stuff!" I said in return.
She grunted and didn't even look up at me.
Guess I wasn't going to make friends with her any time soon...
SOOO...I waited in the chair and looked at the before and after pictures of this chick who had forty double chins. Then after surgery she looked better than my 14 year old daughter. Apparently this oral surgeon dude did surgery on her.
Hmmm.....
Do you think it was real pictures or fake?
I'm thinking it had to be fake. I mean, good grief. She had forty double chins!!! How could anyone possibly remove that much stuff? AND make her look 14 year old again???
I wasn't buying it.
So finally the condescending asshole...er...I mean the dental surgeon steps into the room. He glances at me and then looks at the x-rays (which, by the way, look exactly the same as the one's my dentist sent him. ???)
He doesn't introduce himself or anything. He just asks me if my impacted wisdom tooth bothers me.
I tell him,"No. Not really."
So he tells me...after only two minutes in the examining room with me...in these EXACT WORDS...
"Well since you're so old, I don't think I'm going to bother to take it out."
WTF???
Hey asshole. It's not like I have one foot in the grave or anything. I'm thinking I still have over half my life left to live. I still need my goddamn teeth and I'm trying not to have any more dental problems.
So I speak up and ask him, "If you don't take my tooth now, then what will happen if it keeps pushing against the other tooth?"
He says, "You may lose it."
I'm thinking in my head...I'm losing it already asshole....
but openly I ask him,
"Are you high?"
"Have you been in the laughing gas?"
"I could lose my other perfectly healthy tooth and you're not going to take it out because I'm too old?"
He and Nurse Happy Pants look at me horrified like I've just said 'FUCK ME' or something.
He ignores my question and says he'll make an appointment to take out the other two problem teeth and he'll send a letter of explanation to my dentist so she can explain it to me.
Explain it to me. Like I'm a freaking idiot.
It really pissed me off, so I got up without saying a word, walked out to the receptionist and she informed me I owed $57 for the "consultation."
"What consultation?" I asked. "He didn't seem terribly concerned about what I thought and told me what he had decided to do about me! I wasn't consulted!!"
She blinked her eyes a lot and looked at me like a deer in the headlights, so I took pity on her and stopped talking before the veins on my forehead stuck out.
I mean it's not her fault.
Then I paid, reluctantly, and left.
So now I'm going to wait and see what my dentist says. I do trust her, even though I think he's a prick and if she says to go ahead with what he's telling me, then I'll do it.
I won't like it, but I'll do it anyway.
And you know what? I think this pissy bastard is my age. He looks to be about 40ish.
Meh....the old age thing doesn't bother me. The part that bothers me is his seemingly indifference to me possibly losing my other tooth. I have to work hard at keeping my teeth. I have always had terrible teeth and plenty of dental problems. It's takes an act of congress just to keep them from being pulled. And then he 'decides' he doesn't want to mess with the impacted wisdom tooth? Because I'm too old?
I STILL don't get that one...
Maybe the pictures of the forty chinned, now I'm fourteen year old woman was his wife and he's forgotten how old she really is. Maybe he is delusional?
Freakin oral surgeon....piss on him.
Well that's enough bitching. I'm going to take my old hag ass off here and wash some laundry before it's time for my metamucil break.
At the rate I'm going, it'll be the only thing left that I can eat...
Monday, September 10, 2007
Just pull it ALL out!
In a short time I will be leaving for the oral surgeon. I'm terribly excited about the whole thing. I get to drive into Charleston and try to find a place to park, then sit in a waiting room that will most likely smell like old potpourri (which smells like the equivalent to dead grass that's been peed on), read magazines while I wait that I have no interest in at all,perhaps Golfer's Digest or Fisherman's weekly, finally getting to see the surgeon who will explain how they're going to put me to sleep, extract my teeth and ass-rape me while taking pictures for their secret web site while I'm unconscious.
Yeah...I know what they REALLY do while you're knocked out. They don't stick that air tube in your ass and mine ALWAYS hurts after those surgery things. True, it could be the HUGE bill that makes it hurt, but I get too many strange looks from people I don't know. I'm convinced I'm plastered all over some porno site somewhere, courtesy of several surgical experiences I've had.
Call me paranoid....
But this time, I'm not taking it lying down...well...you know what I mean.
I'm going to be right out there and just ask the surgeon if he'll remove all the stuff I don't need anymore.
I know he's just supposed to be extracting teeth, but I could stand to get rid of my uterus and some belly fat. I have no need for them any longer and I'm tired of dealing with them. If I'm going to be the star of some very profitable video for this surgeon, I feel that it's not unreasonable for me to expect a few perks.
A hysterectomy and a tummy tuck should keep me quiet.
I won't actually be having anything done today. Today will be the day for negotiating. And I am ready to bargain....if I have my way, this time next month I'll be living on liquids and pureed meals(while waiting for my partial to be made) slipping into my pants effortlessly and having frequent sex without worrying about pregnancy...
Now that will be sweet....
Who said having dental surgery is a bad thing?
Yeah...I know what they REALLY do while you're knocked out. They don't stick that air tube in your ass and mine ALWAYS hurts after those surgery things. True, it could be the HUGE bill that makes it hurt, but I get too many strange looks from people I don't know. I'm convinced I'm plastered all over some porno site somewhere, courtesy of several surgical experiences I've had.
Call me paranoid....
But this time, I'm not taking it lying down...well...you know what I mean.
I'm going to be right out there and just ask the surgeon if he'll remove all the stuff I don't need anymore.
I know he's just supposed to be extracting teeth, but I could stand to get rid of my uterus and some belly fat. I have no need for them any longer and I'm tired of dealing with them. If I'm going to be the star of some very profitable video for this surgeon, I feel that it's not unreasonable for me to expect a few perks.
A hysterectomy and a tummy tuck should keep me quiet.
I won't actually be having anything done today. Today will be the day for negotiating. And I am ready to bargain....if I have my way, this time next month I'll be living on liquids and pureed meals(while waiting for my partial to be made) slipping into my pants effortlessly and having frequent sex without worrying about pregnancy...
Now that will be sweet....
Who said having dental surgery is a bad thing?
Friday, September 7, 2007
Oh hell....
Here it is Friday and I have a Little League Board meeting tonight.
DAMN!
That's cutting into my drinking time!!!
I sound like someones dad don't I?
Seriously, I don't mind it but it's just better when the meetings take place on the week nights, when I have to get up the next day anyway. I avoid drinking on those nights because I can't sleep in if I want..er..need to.
Friday and Saturday nights are my nights to drink. Unless I have to work some volunteer thing or something, I always have a few to loosen up a bit. I don't get falling down drunk or throw up in the neighbors yard or anything. And MOST times I actually make it to my bedroom before I'm completely naked. But if I have to get up early the next morning or work some volunteer function Friday or Saturday night, then I don't drink anything (although that's when I really need some alcohol in my system).
I don't go to any of the "You're going to Hell to burn for all eternity if you allow a drop of alcohol to touch your lips " churches, so I can sleep in on Sundays too.
I know it might be hard to believe, because I am so saintly and angelic, but I don't go to church anywhere right now.
Speaking of church....why is it that going to church, temple, etc.. seem to be required in order to be considered a Christian, Buddhist, Scientologist, Jew etc?
I thought the entire point of it all is for it to be spiritual and personal?
I have difficulty getting spiritual and personal when someone in the third row behind me is blowing their nose and the people across the aisle from me are commenting on how low cut my dress is.
But that's just me....
I sometimes feel like a foreigner in a foreign land. I love the people in the town I live in, unless they are old and look like they want to kill me (which I get a lot for some reason) and I've even grown fond of the rolling hills and the river, complete with coal barges and the echo of trains and the interstate 24/7.
The thing I still have trouble with, is the intrusive way some people can be.
It's like people think it's their JOB to tell you when you're sinning or something. And no, it's not everyone in this town, but there's a few that live on every street and believe me, they keep their eyes peeled for someone doing the devil's work.
I may feel like sitting on my porch, in my tank top and shorts and have a beer. It's my porch, in my fenced in yard and it's even sheltered from the street by trees and bushes. But it NEVER fails that someone, normally someone OLD, who either lives on my street or drives up and down my street, (I refer to them as the Jesus Police) finds SOMETHING to discuss about my sinful ways. I'm either going to hell because I was drinking a beer in public where people could see me (as opposed to me hiding and drinking in secret which is apparently the accepted way of doing it here) OR I'm going to hell for not wearing a bra under my tank top, which incidentally covers everything and is loose enough that it's somewhat modest. It's not like I'm wearing a white tank top so tight my breasts are straining to get out of it.
The entire thing completely irritates me and leaves me frustrated.
It makes me want to stand out in my front yard, wearing nothing but a white tank top and douse myself in beer while playing ACDC's Highway To Hell, with "Fuck You" written across my ass in red lipstick.
Oh...the fantasies I have about my liberation from the Jesus Police....yeah...
Mostly though, except for that one teensy, weensy irritating thing, I like where I live now. I've made it my home and well...for the most part, I'm pretty settled in.
I know quite a few people. In fact my husband gets upset all the time because people refer to him as Tammie's husband instead of me as Daniel's wife...HAHAHA...
And on more than one occasion, his former classmates have looked shell shocked when I've informed them who my husband is. Apparently they think that my wild, outgoing personality is the complete opposite of my husbands. I've been told that I'm not what they would have pictured when picturing someone who would be married to Daniel.
Whatever that means....
Who would they picture him being married to then. For that matter who would they picture me being married to?
Maybe I don't want to know the answer...hahaha
Anyway, that's all I have for today. I need to pour some coffee down my throat because it's almost 2:30 and that pesky Swedish habit from my childhood has stuck with me, even here in this ungodly hot, Bible Belt in West Virginia. Afternoon coffee down here in the summer is like a sauna from the inside out but no self respecting Swede would go without afternoon coffee.
And we all know I am definitely a self-respecting Swede...or something along those lines anyway...
*wink*
DAMN!
That's cutting into my drinking time!!!
I sound like someones dad don't I?
Seriously, I don't mind it but it's just better when the meetings take place on the week nights, when I have to get up the next day anyway. I avoid drinking on those nights because I can't sleep in if I want..er..need to.
Friday and Saturday nights are my nights to drink. Unless I have to work some volunteer thing or something, I always have a few to loosen up a bit. I don't get falling down drunk or throw up in the neighbors yard or anything. And MOST times I actually make it to my bedroom before I'm completely naked. But if I have to get up early the next morning or work some volunteer function Friday or Saturday night, then I don't drink anything (although that's when I really need some alcohol in my system).
I don't go to any of the "You're going to Hell to burn for all eternity if you allow a drop of alcohol to touch your lips " churches, so I can sleep in on Sundays too.
I know it might be hard to believe, because I am so saintly and angelic, but I don't go to church anywhere right now.
Speaking of church....why is it that going to church, temple, etc.. seem to be required in order to be considered a Christian, Buddhist, Scientologist, Jew etc?
I thought the entire point of it all is for it to be spiritual and personal?
I have difficulty getting spiritual and personal when someone in the third row behind me is blowing their nose and the people across the aisle from me are commenting on how low cut my dress is.
But that's just me....
I sometimes feel like a foreigner in a foreign land. I love the people in the town I live in, unless they are old and look like they want to kill me (which I get a lot for some reason) and I've even grown fond of the rolling hills and the river, complete with coal barges and the echo of trains and the interstate 24/7.
The thing I still have trouble with, is the intrusive way some people can be.
It's like people think it's their JOB to tell you when you're sinning or something. And no, it's not everyone in this town, but there's a few that live on every street and believe me, they keep their eyes peeled for someone doing the devil's work.
I may feel like sitting on my porch, in my tank top and shorts and have a beer. It's my porch, in my fenced in yard and it's even sheltered from the street by trees and bushes. But it NEVER fails that someone, normally someone OLD, who either lives on my street or drives up and down my street, (I refer to them as the Jesus Police) finds SOMETHING to discuss about my sinful ways. I'm either going to hell because I was drinking a beer in public where people could see me (as opposed to me hiding and drinking in secret which is apparently the accepted way of doing it here) OR I'm going to hell for not wearing a bra under my tank top, which incidentally covers everything and is loose enough that it's somewhat modest. It's not like I'm wearing a white tank top so tight my breasts are straining to get out of it.
The entire thing completely irritates me and leaves me frustrated.
It makes me want to stand out in my front yard, wearing nothing but a white tank top and douse myself in beer while playing ACDC's Highway To Hell, with "Fuck You" written across my ass in red lipstick.
Oh...the fantasies I have about my liberation from the Jesus Police....yeah...
Mostly though, except for that one teensy, weensy irritating thing, I like where I live now. I've made it my home and well...for the most part, I'm pretty settled in.
I know quite a few people. In fact my husband gets upset all the time because people refer to him as Tammie's husband instead of me as Daniel's wife...HAHAHA...
And on more than one occasion, his former classmates have looked shell shocked when I've informed them who my husband is. Apparently they think that my wild, outgoing personality is the complete opposite of my husbands. I've been told that I'm not what they would have pictured when picturing someone who would be married to Daniel.
Whatever that means....
Who would they picture him being married to then. For that matter who would they picture me being married to?
Maybe I don't want to know the answer...hahaha
Anyway, that's all I have for today. I need to pour some coffee down my throat because it's almost 2:30 and that pesky Swedish habit from my childhood has stuck with me, even here in this ungodly hot, Bible Belt in West Virginia. Afternoon coffee down here in the summer is like a sauna from the inside out but no self respecting Swede would go without afternoon coffee.
And we all know I am definitely a self-respecting Swede...or something along those lines anyway...
*wink*
Thursday, September 6, 2007
But where are the shades?
I watched this Ikea Commercial this morning...It reminded me, that since our neighbors have not actually moved yet, I should probably put up some shades in the windows facing their house.
As it stand right now, they can see everything that goes on in my house.
EVERYTHING....
Yeah...watch the commercial and you'll understand WHY I need to get shades. Or I can go out on a limb and say that my husband and I are NOT uptight neighbors...hahahaha!!!
This is also a personal favorite of mine so I figured I'd put it on here as well. If you get a chance, watch them all. They're pretty funny...
Have a great day everyone!!!
As it stand right now, they can see everything that goes on in my house.
EVERYTHING....
Yeah...watch the commercial and you'll understand WHY I need to get shades. Or I can go out on a limb and say that my husband and I are NOT uptight neighbors...hahahaha!!!
This is also a personal favorite of mine so I figured I'd put it on here as well. If you get a chance, watch them all. They're pretty funny...
Have a great day everyone!!!
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
In New England, most people suffer from it...
I am a Red Sox fan. A DIE HARD FAN! I've been either watching or listening to Red Sox games as long as I can remember.
I can remember watching the Red Sox play on our old black and white TV on channel 8. Channel 8 was one of the three channels we got. The other two were PBS and CBC, Public tv and a Canadian channel. Not that I would have turned the channel or anything. I mean, come on here...it's the Red Sox!!!
There were days working in the field, haying or picking rocks out of the rows to keep the digger from breaking, with the transistor radio blaring the Sox game. Our sweaty brows and parched lips either frowning with disgust at a losing score (ESPECIALLY to the YANKEES!!) or uplifted and radiant as the Red Sox pounded hit after hit, scoring run after run toward another win...(ESPECIALLY against the YANKEES!!!)
Yeah...my family suffers from the disease. If there is no Red Sox game on TV, including the reruns of winning games, then we look for a game where the Yankees are getting their ass kicked. It's equally as pleasurable for us. We own the assorted hats, banners, t-shirts, St.Patrick's honorary t-shirts, mugs, jackets....you name it. I even have a few panties...LOL. I haven't found a bra yet, but if I did...well..that would probably be bad. I wouldn't want to wear a shirt over it...haha...
This morning I ordered my son two more Red Sox t-shirts and myself two as well. My husband has four or five already and I do too, but you can never own enough of them. If my camera was working, I'd take a picture of myself in one of my Red Sox caps, but I need new discs to take any pictures and I had to order them off line because I couldn't find them locally.
Stupid camera...
So as I re-read the stats for the Sox this year, I felt my chest swell with pride. I can't help it. I love them. It's just how things are in New England. They are everywhere. In Maine, New Hampshire, Mass, Connecticut and Rhode Island. All the stores carry banners, hats, mugs, bumper stickers, etc...
I'm like any other self-repecting New Englander.
My favorite is Varitek.
I practically fall apart at a close up shot of him. He's the best catcher and stays on top of things.
Of course to my Nana, Manny is the MAN...
My son and nephews love Coco...
My brother? Well he likes them all...he's just a huge fan of the whole team...
By the way...let's hear it for Papelbon pitching in three straight games...not bad...not bad...
The Sox beat the Blue Jays for those of you who didn't know that. I get my Sox fix off the internet....
The don't show many Red Sox games on the stations here in West Virginia. I am deprived....deprived I tell you....
BUT...next week I will be sporting new Red Sox shirts and so will my son. That will help satisfy me until next summer when I can return to a place where everyone eats, breathes and sleeps Red Sox...
How I MISS IT!!!
I can remember watching the Red Sox play on our old black and white TV on channel 8. Channel 8 was one of the three channels we got. The other two were PBS and CBC, Public tv and a Canadian channel. Not that I would have turned the channel or anything. I mean, come on here...it's the Red Sox!!!
There were days working in the field, haying or picking rocks out of the rows to keep the digger from breaking, with the transistor radio blaring the Sox game. Our sweaty brows and parched lips either frowning with disgust at a losing score (ESPECIALLY to the YANKEES!!) or uplifted and radiant as the Red Sox pounded hit after hit, scoring run after run toward another win...(ESPECIALLY against the YANKEES!!!)
Yeah...my family suffers from the disease. If there is no Red Sox game on TV, including the reruns of winning games, then we look for a game where the Yankees are getting their ass kicked. It's equally as pleasurable for us. We own the assorted hats, banners, t-shirts, St.Patrick's honorary t-shirts, mugs, jackets....you name it. I even have a few panties...LOL. I haven't found a bra yet, but if I did...well..that would probably be bad. I wouldn't want to wear a shirt over it...haha...
This morning I ordered my son two more Red Sox t-shirts and myself two as well. My husband has four or five already and I do too, but you can never own enough of them. If my camera was working, I'd take a picture of myself in one of my Red Sox caps, but I need new discs to take any pictures and I had to order them off line because I couldn't find them locally.
Stupid camera...
So as I re-read the stats for the Sox this year, I felt my chest swell with pride. I can't help it. I love them. It's just how things are in New England. They are everywhere. In Maine, New Hampshire, Mass, Connecticut and Rhode Island. All the stores carry banners, hats, mugs, bumper stickers, etc...
I'm like any other self-repecting New Englander.
My favorite is Varitek.
I practically fall apart at a close up shot of him. He's the best catcher and stays on top of things.
Of course to my Nana, Manny is the MAN...
My son and nephews love Coco...
My brother? Well he likes them all...he's just a huge fan of the whole team...
By the way...let's hear it for Papelbon pitching in three straight games...not bad...not bad...
The Sox beat the Blue Jays for those of you who didn't know that. I get my Sox fix off the internet....
The don't show many Red Sox games on the stations here in West Virginia. I am deprived....deprived I tell you....
BUT...next week I will be sporting new Red Sox shirts and so will my son. That will help satisfy me until next summer when I can return to a place where everyone eats, breathes and sleeps Red Sox...
How I MISS IT!!!
Monday, September 3, 2007
Family...you can't live with them but you wouldn't be the same without them...
So my mother came to visit me this past weekend. She and I are nothing alike. Really...
She is small, flat and little and has short dark hair. I am bigger all over,have boobs and have long blonde hair. If our asses were cars, hers would be a VW and mine would be a Tahoe.
We are as different as night and day. The only thing that distinguishes her as my mother is our eyes, the same green with flecks of blue and brown, and our smile...crooked on one side.
Her personality is high strung, controlling and anxious.
Mine is insanity, laid back and casual, and comedic. I see something good and funny in everything. She sees doom and gloom.
Trust me, we make for a great pair.
Anyway, I survived and so did she. I do a million things that drive her crazy and she let's me know it. I do a lot of ignoring and shrugging it off. If I didn't, I'd be doing 30 to life in prison and my step-dad would be putting flowers on her grave.
The "touchy" subject this weekend was my failure to keep the family farm in the family. I was married before. I got married when I was 17 to the guy I dated in high school. We had a little girl and yes, I got pregnant and had her at 16. I just didn't want to get married to him at the time, but after a year of his family and mine bullying us to do the right thing, we gave in and got married.
I believe he hated me for it. He had plans to go to Alaska and they were all shot to hell when we got married. So let's just say that after the first year, he stopped being very nice to me. We were married for almost six years, so yes, stupid me put up with it for five before finally walking away, still alive thankfully, but that's a different story for a different time.
This farm issue became an issue when my great-grandmother died. She had promised us the first option to buy the farm when she passed away. So we went to the bank, got a loan and bought the farm.
We lived there for two whole years together too, before I escaped with my life and the clothes on my back.
My daughter was safely deposited at my mother-in-law's house, where it was customary for her to be. Thank god for my mother-in-law. And my family, famous for their denial skills, turned their backs on me and I found myself alone.
My friend Rebecka took me in and I got two jobs to support myself. The economy isn't the greatest where I'm from and I ended up waitressing all day and hostessing every night. It still wasn't enough to live on and if it hadn't been for the kindness of my employers, I wouldn't have eaten.
Like I said, thank god for my mother-in-law who stayed neutral in the whole matter and took care of my daughter. I'd go see her in between jobs and spend my free days or nights with her. It was still horrible, but what choice did I have?
So, if I wasn't even making enough money to support myself, how in the world do you think I was going to be able to make payments on a farm, let alone utilities and taxes?
It wasn't going to happen.
So he kept the farm in the divorce. The way I figured it, at least our daughter would have part of it some day. It would still remain in the family.
Plus I was still alive. I assumed my life was more important than a piece of land. Maybe I assumed too much?
It's still a sore spot with my family on occasion. They don't like the changes he's made to the property. They don't like it that he doesn't farm it anymore. And somehow it ends up being my fault. My fault for leaving.
This happened 18 years ago, but they won't let it go.
I feel bad about it, but I look at my husband now and my life with him and I wouldn't trade it for a million family farms. He's good to me. He loves me and he is kind. He treats me with respect and he is faithful to me. I love him with all my heart and would follow him to the ends of the earth.
I am happy. You would think that would mean something to my family. I'm not being fair I suppose. I'm sure it does mean something to them...but occasionally this subject comes up and then nothing else matters. Everything is lost to memories of grassy meadows and fields filled with potatoes blossoming in July. The smell of bread coming from the house to greet you as you stepped up on the porch.
I miss the farm too. But the farm I miss is the one that existed when Grammy was still alive. That farm died with her. It didn't exist for anyone after she was gone...even while I was living there.
So the visit was pretty good up until yesterday when she brought that up and then I just kind of withdrew into myself. I tend to do that a lot, so any time I share something in my journal it's a good thing. She left to go home today and I sat down to write so the process of forgiving and forgetting could begin.
I've talked to her and my nana about how much it hurts me when they bring this up. I've told them both it's the memories, not the land that they miss. I've cried and told them I don't think it's fair that they keep making me suffer for leaving a horrifying marriage.
It goes in one ear and out the other.
So I forgive. I forget. Until the next time.
And there will be a next time. But I won't allow myself to be poisoned by it. As soon as I feel that venom fill my body, I suck it out.
And that...is all I have to say about that for today....
She is small, flat and little and has short dark hair. I am bigger all over,have boobs and have long blonde hair. If our asses were cars, hers would be a VW and mine would be a Tahoe.
We are as different as night and day. The only thing that distinguishes her as my mother is our eyes, the same green with flecks of blue and brown, and our smile...crooked on one side.
Her personality is high strung, controlling and anxious.
Mine is insanity, laid back and casual, and comedic. I see something good and funny in everything. She sees doom and gloom.
Trust me, we make for a great pair.
Anyway, I survived and so did she. I do a million things that drive her crazy and she let's me know it. I do a lot of ignoring and shrugging it off. If I didn't, I'd be doing 30 to life in prison and my step-dad would be putting flowers on her grave.
The "touchy" subject this weekend was my failure to keep the family farm in the family. I was married before. I got married when I was 17 to the guy I dated in high school. We had a little girl and yes, I got pregnant and had her at 16. I just didn't want to get married to him at the time, but after a year of his family and mine bullying us to do the right thing, we gave in and got married.
I believe he hated me for it. He had plans to go to Alaska and they were all shot to hell when we got married. So let's just say that after the first year, he stopped being very nice to me. We were married for almost six years, so yes, stupid me put up with it for five before finally walking away, still alive thankfully, but that's a different story for a different time.
This farm issue became an issue when my great-grandmother died. She had promised us the first option to buy the farm when she passed away. So we went to the bank, got a loan and bought the farm.
We lived there for two whole years together too, before I escaped with my life and the clothes on my back.
My daughter was safely deposited at my mother-in-law's house, where it was customary for her to be. Thank god for my mother-in-law. And my family, famous for their denial skills, turned their backs on me and I found myself alone.
My friend Rebecka took me in and I got two jobs to support myself. The economy isn't the greatest where I'm from and I ended up waitressing all day and hostessing every night. It still wasn't enough to live on and if it hadn't been for the kindness of my employers, I wouldn't have eaten.
Like I said, thank god for my mother-in-law who stayed neutral in the whole matter and took care of my daughter. I'd go see her in between jobs and spend my free days or nights with her. It was still horrible, but what choice did I have?
So, if I wasn't even making enough money to support myself, how in the world do you think I was going to be able to make payments on a farm, let alone utilities and taxes?
It wasn't going to happen.
So he kept the farm in the divorce. The way I figured it, at least our daughter would have part of it some day. It would still remain in the family.
Plus I was still alive. I assumed my life was more important than a piece of land. Maybe I assumed too much?
It's still a sore spot with my family on occasion. They don't like the changes he's made to the property. They don't like it that he doesn't farm it anymore. And somehow it ends up being my fault. My fault for leaving.
This happened 18 years ago, but they won't let it go.
I feel bad about it, but I look at my husband now and my life with him and I wouldn't trade it for a million family farms. He's good to me. He loves me and he is kind. He treats me with respect and he is faithful to me. I love him with all my heart and would follow him to the ends of the earth.
I am happy. You would think that would mean something to my family. I'm not being fair I suppose. I'm sure it does mean something to them...but occasionally this subject comes up and then nothing else matters. Everything is lost to memories of grassy meadows and fields filled with potatoes blossoming in July. The smell of bread coming from the house to greet you as you stepped up on the porch.
I miss the farm too. But the farm I miss is the one that existed when Grammy was still alive. That farm died with her. It didn't exist for anyone after she was gone...even while I was living there.
So the visit was pretty good up until yesterday when she brought that up and then I just kind of withdrew into myself. I tend to do that a lot, so any time I share something in my journal it's a good thing. She left to go home today and I sat down to write so the process of forgiving and forgetting could begin.
I've talked to her and my nana about how much it hurts me when they bring this up. I've told them both it's the memories, not the land that they miss. I've cried and told them I don't think it's fair that they keep making me suffer for leaving a horrifying marriage.
It goes in one ear and out the other.
So I forgive. I forget. Until the next time.
And there will be a next time. But I won't allow myself to be poisoned by it. As soon as I feel that venom fill my body, I suck it out.
And that...is all I have to say about that for today....
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