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...

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...

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?

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*

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!!!

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!!!

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....