Mad Mags

Much ado has been made about our newest Scottish Terrier, Dewey.

Lest we forget wee, sweet 9 year old Maggie ... Well, I felt she must be mentioned.

She's the Scottie on the right. At the time this photo was taken, we had taken them both to the beach house. Dewey had been with us for 3 weeks.

The look in her eyes says it all, doesn't it?

After much fussing about when Dewey came (he even got a vet visit after one of their more nasty arguments), Maggie has settled down into being a couple.

Where Dewey is lumbering, slow and dim--Maggie is sharp, fast and quick-thinking.

It's pretty interesting to see how being paired with him actually pains her psyche.

She seems mortified when he lifts his leg on things.

She rescues the odd sock that he drags into the back yard.

She comes and gets one of us when he needs to go outside.

She's protective over him when he's not feeling well.

She waits patiently as he drinks all the water in the water dish and drags water all over the kitchen.

However...if he EVER touches one of her toys--it's back to the vet for him...

And she's not kidding.

It's Summer!

Have you ever noticed how time slips by so fast when you're busy?
That Summer in the Pacific Northwest is fleeting?

And you want to grab every last balmy, sunny day and squeeze every blessed moment from it?

Yeah...me too!

Injustice, served cold.

I bought a pack of Crayola crayons.

I wanted to get the kind that had the built in sharpener.

I don't remember having a set all to myself when I was a kid, so I thought I'd fix the injustice.

That's me--fixing all the injustices of my life.

Whatever...

So I went to Target.

I couldn't find them--they weren't with the toys.

I painstakingly asked a sales clerk (a retailer?) where I could find some crayons.

She looked at me like I had just requested porn.

She had to call 3 other people to find out where the crayons were.

Apparently they are now kept in the stationery aisle.

Go figure.

Anyway, I lingered in there for a really long time. These things aren't instant--they must be decided upon.

I found the box with the built in sharpener--it looks exactly as I remembered it.

BUT--there next to it was a an even BIGGER box! I decided to go for the bigger box.

After all-- I AM an American. We go for quantity over quality every time.

I brought the trademarked bright orange-y yellowish and green box home..I opened it.

What did I see?

Instead of row upon row of pristine, sharp crayons in the box--there were 6 BOXES of smaller crayons. No built in sharpener. No special crayon colors called ebony or onyx.

Just box after box of ordinary crayons. Colors like brown. blue. green.

AARRGGHHH!

So I am off to Target tomorrow to fix this travesty.

You can find me in the stationery aisle.

I'll be the one oozing grim determination.

Watch it, Mister!

Wes has been really busy at work, lately.

He's in charge of the molestations and sex crimes for his jurisdiction.

It takes a toll on his spirit, this job.

But he's really thrilled when he can arrest some pervert, give the victim (s) some relief and get the weird-o off the streets--even if it's just for a little chunk of time.

While he says he's 'just doing his job'--I'm really proud he does what he does.

I sleep better at night knowing good guys like him are on our side.

It's all relative, I suppose

Have you ever wondered why you met someone?
Why you felt that instant connection?

Was it Appearance? Spirit? Drive?
Why did you instantly have a rapport?

It's one of those weird unexplainable things.
I've been looking at the people who are in my life and wondering why we have the relationship we do. It's like the moment we talked there was something there.
With each of them, including family members and pets.

Are the relationships in our lives pre-ordained? Accidental?
Why were they someplace at the exact moment I was ?
Why do friendships flourish beyond a simple 'hello' ?

I don't know either.

A SCAM...and us.

Here's the back story....

A week before Brodie moved to Seattle, his 12 month old VW engine blew up.

Since he couldn't leave the state without a car, we lent him Wes' SUV to drive. The new VW engine we ordered out of Colorado was supposed to take 4-6 weeks to arrive. We were really happy to find this guy's ad in a VW magazine. He had built the "Herbie the Love Bug" movie car--both the original and the new one. That told us he knew what he was doing, was trustworthy and had longevity.

So what about our engine??

So far....it's been 7 weeks. Haven't heard anything from the guy building the engine despite several e-mails and a few frantic phone calls.

Not. a.word.

Silence.

Then, Wes received a very disturbing phone call today.

It was a guy who had contracted with the same VW engine guy we had. He lives in Michigan.

He had receievd his VW engine, installed it and it died after about 30 seconds.

$3,500 down the drain.

He had been contacted by an ex-police officer out of Los Angeles who had listened to the engine builders voice mails (learned a neat trick on how to do that!) and was contacting the 15 or so disgruntled people who had been calling the builder.

Wes had a few messages on the guy's voice mail--so they called to let him know what was happening. The builder is a fraud, according to the Michigan guy.

Wes is calling our bank to see if we have any recourse to get Brodie's $2,000 back.

The money we paid out of our account on his behalf.

It's not looking good so far.

We're out $2,000. We're out a VW Bug engine. We don't have our SUV.

Looks like we're royally screwed.

Great.

Taking a teeny break

Taking a much needed rest since I am working a million hours the next two weeks.
Talk amongst yourselves--I'll be back soon.

Busy Morning

I'm off to the dentist this morning.

I have 2 cavities.

TWO!

How crazy is this?? Hygienists aren't supposed to get cavities.

We're not.

We're supposed to be above all that mortal stuff.

We're supposed to be daily flossers, have ultra-white teeth, and glide through life with the wind delicately blowing through our sparkling tresses.

Instead, in 1 hour --I will be laying in a dental chair being mocked by every employee at my office .

Did I mention there are 25 employees?

That's a lot of mockage.

A LOT.

A great PETA Ad

Worth watching....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZuT5mCvki0

Take 2 and call me in the morning...

America: Land of the Drugged.

Everywhere I turn, I have friends who are on all kinds of medications.

They have pills for anxiety

For menopause.

For sexual disfunction

For hyperactivity

For headaches

For depression

For dieting

For rapid heartbeat

For slow heartbeat

For water retention

For cholesterol

For what-have-you

Are all these pills really necessary? Really?

Most of these people feel the need to pop a pill anytime they feel 'funny'.

They are off to the doctor's office in search of an instant cure-all. They want it now.

What would happen if they started eating right, exercising regularly, getting enough rest, and had some balance in their oh-so-busy lives?

Is this idea so preposterous as to be laughable?

Am I ahead of the times? Behind?

Regardless, I think I am right.

I believe our medication usage would be cut in half.

People would learn to handle stress and they would be healthier and happier overall.

Maybe some of the turmoil they are experiencing is a learning curve.

Medicating someone as they are learning the lesson is never a good idea.

It's such a simple thing.

Why don't we start there before holding our hands out for a pill?

I suppose it's now become the American Way.

McDoctors giving McPills.

Whatever happened to "First do no harm"?

Doesn't that mean handing over an unnecessary prescription too?

Think about it.

Please don't squeeze the Charmin!

There is an epic battle of wills being waged at my house lately.

It's the battle of toilet paper rolls.

When the kids were here, Wes taught them to ALWAYS load the new toilet paper onto the spindle every time they replaced a roll. The were pretty good about it. Seeing the spindle with only the empty TP inner cardboard would take this normally calm man into another dimension.

He'd become irritated, irate.

Not...Wes-like at all.

Since Tia moved out over 3 years ago, and Brodie has been gone a few weeks, apparently I'm not performing this task to Wes' specifications. He knows who the culprit is (obviously ME) who isn't replacing the roll.

There are 3 bathrooms in my house. THREE.

In each of the bathrooms is an empty spindle and the new roll of toilet paper is sitting on the back of the toilet. I haven't replaced the roll. He hasn't replaced the roll. Not one.

We don't talk about it, but I can tell it's there.

What is there? A battle...a battle of wills.

Me vs Him

Who wins? Him? Me?

Neither?

Or will we each hold out from replacing the roll, therefore it NEVER gets done?

Will we have acres of empty, brown carboard tubes lined up on the back of the toilet?

Will we start making crafty items for our friends from them while we're just sitting there?

Maybe a Christmas angel for the tree.....or we can string them together, spray paint a lovely metallic gold and they can become a necklace for the Statue of Liberty.

Who knows what we can create--the sky is the limit here.

At least until someone decides to come visit and we're forced to deal with the toilet paper situation, I supect we'll each be holding out. Locking eyes over the toilet seat. Neither one of us moving a muscle, holding our breath. Standing firm.

You know, it's a simple thing to give in and gently place the toilet roll onto the spindle.

I could even go as far as putting the paper in the 'over' position, instead of the 'under' position, just like he likes it.

Yes, I could.

But that's not the crux of the matter, is it?

It's a test of our marriage, this challenge of toilet paper replacement

Our formerly happy 25+ year marriage is in shambles.

This may send us into counselling. Or a hypnotist. Or acupuncture. Or maybe our Chi is off and we need herbal therapy.

I'm off to go look into the yellow pages.

We may have to drive a little further, but I'm sure I can find someone who specializes in this sort of situation.

Wish us luck.

Wet Clean Up... IMMEDIATELY

Did you see this headline yesterday?

"Maine Woman Finds 8 Foot Python In Washing Machine"

Seems this lady was reaching into her washing machine to pull the denim jeans out and she grabbed hold of something that moved. The python apparently had slithered into her machine by way of the water pipes.

You know, I think I'd instantly have more laundry to do if that ever happened to me.

Up a Creek

There for about 6 hours today--I was without Internet capabilities.

Dead in the water.

Internetless.

I tried not to show my dismay, but both Wes and the Scotties picked up on my mood. It was grim here in our home. It was almost like someone we loved dearly had died. Or been sent to prison for a very, very long time.

My friends out in cyberspace were missing me, I am sure. They were out gallavanting in space and here I was stuck in Oregon. At my house. Alone.

Yes, it was sad all right.

On the flip side, I managed to do 4 loads of laundry, hang a picture, read and wipe down all the counter tops in my kitchen. All without Internet breaks interspersed between chores.

Do you think there is a correlation between my messy house and (possible) excessive Internet usage?

Nah, I didn't think so either.

Natural Woman

I used to be considered low maintenence. Natural, even.

That's how I thought of myself...as in "yep, I'm pretty low maintenence compared to other women. I like that I am so natural looking"

Until today.

By the time I stepped into the shower, did my hair, and got my face ready for make-up--I had used 11 products.

ELEVEN!

That doesn't even include makeup or the required brushes and applicators. YIKES!

I tried to figure out what I could eliminate, but couldn't bear to part with anything.

When did this happen? Who needs 4 kinds of 'product' for their hair alone?

Their SHORT hair?

Me apparently.

Reason #4261 why I don't go camping anymore.

Game Time

It didn't start out obsessive.

But then..it never does, does it?

I was simply there to support a friend who had wondered about my take on a possible online class situation. She asked me to go to http://www.secondlife.com/ and check it out as a student would.

I signed up. I created an Avatar (that's the little paper doll person you get to move around the simulated world). I created clothing for it. I went through the agonizing orientation portion and learned the rules.

I did it all. Second Life was kind of cool, but also sort of annoying. Why? I didn't have time to play with dolls anymore, dammit.

I'm a grown up, after all.

But, as a good friend--I played along. And played along. And played along.

What I didn't expect was to really enjoy being in Second Life. I didn't expect to meet nice people from all over the globe. People who have become...friend-like.

I didn't expect to hear good live music, laugh in a fantastic comedy club or to watch old movies in the back of a 1957 Chevy. I also didn't expect to tour the Titanic museum, windsurf, or to practice my Spanish or French on people who actually spoke the language.

That's just the tip of the iceberg to where I can go, or what I can do in this second world.

And so it has happened.

My name is Tammy.

I am a now a Gamer.

PS If you happen to see Bridget B in SL--give her a shout.

I hear she's pretty nice.

Listen Up

Have you ever thought about your listening style?

Just listening to someone speak, without interjecting a single word.

Without judgement. Without pre-conceived thought. Watching their body language, their tone, their eyes. Being still enough to hear every nuance of each word.

Quieting your own inner voice to fully hear what someone is saying to you, including what it is they aren't saying.

Really listening to my friends and family is something that I'm working on within myself.

It's a gift I can give them with each conversation we have.

And...it's harder to do than I thought it would be, which tells me I need to do more.

An unfortunate truth.

How to spot a millionaire.

A matter of taste

It's all about priorities in life, isn't it?

I've noticed some of my women patients have $600 Prada purses. They never floss and only brush their teeth once a day(maybe). They come in for a cleaning every year or so because "I can't afford it". These women are concerned about the color of their teeth, and usually are willing to shell out big bucks for me to bleach them in-office--yet aren't willing to fix a cavity.

These particular women act like it's a personal affront to them to have me doing anything more than a quick surface cleaning.

Heaven forbid I keep them from shopping!

Then, sometimes I get in a dusty old farmer dressed in overalls. He's brushing twice a day. He keeps a container of floss in the combine (tractor) because "I hate when food gets stuck in my teeth". His teeth are strong, his gums pink. He doesn't care what color his teeth are, as long as they are healthy. He usually falls asleep while I'm cleaning away. He's happy to be there, if just for the air conditioning and the break.

Soooo....which one do you think I'd rather have in my chair?

In the pantry ..

There is a dusty jar of pears sitting on the middle shelf of my pantry.

They've been home canned, the peelings discarded years ago. Their oblong sweetness has long turned mushy and dark. Here and there a stray flotsam breaks free and floats quietly in the heavy syrup.

Time suspended.

That forlorn jar of pears is the last thing my husband will ever eat that his mother, Katie, prepared with her two hands. It is her recipe, her essence.

It doesn't matter if he actually opens the container--it matters that she made them.

In this small vessel of decaying fruit, he pictures her standing in her roomy kitchen. She is chopping, measuring and pouring the hot sticky syrup that will never be tasted.

In his Mother's kitchen --Wes is home.

Katie passed away never knowing the significance these home-canned pears would have over a man that grieves as fully today as 9 years ago, on the day she died.

It is a grief without reprieve.
Still fresh...although quieter now.
Happiness is never the same for a man/boy who is an orphan in his heart.

His eyes tell me of his turmoil, even if his voice has stilled.

A simple jar of home canned pears.
Silent testament to a beloved Mother.

This is why they invented motors...

My yellow, yellow house

I don't think the house turned out too badly, all things considered.

Once we got the windows uncovered, the trim painted and the shutters up....well, I can live with this yellow house for awhile. It's pure Americana, our home.

Doesn't it look like 'Leave it to Beaver' lives here?

We'll he doesn't.

And the lady who actually lives in this house? She'll take all your toys that land on her porch. She won't give them back. And she hands out toothbrushes for Halloween. She bakes cookies. She wears ugly sundresses in the summertime. She loves too hard. She reads bawdy romance novels by candlelight on that front porch whilst drinking iced wine--barefoot.

And she talks like a sailor and laughs far too loudly for her own good.

She's something else, that lady in the buttery yellow house.

Something else, indeed.

Back to Center

I have a lot of irons in the fire again and I couldn't be happier.

I'm busy in my kitchen developing recipes, I play in my pottery. I go out with friends. I've been talking to the Food Network about a show (more to come on that--hopefully!)and I'm starting to eye my canoe again. I think it's time to dust it off and float down the river. My house is getting (slowly) reorganized. I'm reading some amazing books. I'm writing.

Things are good.

In the past, I used to be busy. I had a lot of interests and I enjoyed them.

Then, I went to school. The past 6 years, I haven't been able to indulge my passions due to a crazy schedule that sapped my energy and used up literally all of my free time.

Now that I am out of school and working 2-3 days a week, I have been playing.

The grey cloud over my soul has lifted. I'm starting to get my sparkle back.

The sparkle that makes me who I am.

It's kind of nice to know the light dimmed, but never went out.

Truer words were never spoken...

I shamelessly stole this from a friend who sent it over the internet.

I think it sends *quite* the message to the rest of us, don't you?

Inner Strength

*If you can start the day without caffeine,

*If you can always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains

*If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles

*If you can eat the same food every day and be grateful for it

*If you can understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time

*If you can take criticism and blame without resentment

*If you can ignore a friend's limited education and never correct her/him

*If you can resist treating a rich friend better than a poor friend

*If you can conquer tension without medical help

*If you can relax without liquor

*If you can sleep without the aid of drugs

..Then You Are Probably The Family Dog!

Let's Keep in Touch...

I really am not a big fan of the cell phone.

Don't get me wrong--I have one. My friends have them.

I think they are a neccesity anymore since pay phones are nearly obsolete.

However, there is also a time and a place for a cell phone.

Talking to your friends while I'm trying to clean your teeth? Not a good time.

Calling home to see if the kids made it off the bus? Yes

Texting while someone is trying to carry on a conversation with you? Not polite

Checking with your spouse or partner to see if you need bread and milk at the store? Good idea

Talking to your buddy when the movie is going? Beyond rude.

The challenge in cell phone etiquette is that so many people rely on their cell phones as a window to the outside world. They feel cut off and uncomfortable when that link is broken.

I think everything has a time and a place--including cell phones.

I believe cell phones should be banned in medical offices, movie theaters, classrooms and restaurants.

Everywhere else is fair game.

If a friend's cell phone is constantly going off when we're trying to have a conversation--I have the choice of discussing the interruptions with him or her.

Do understand--I love technology. Most of the advances during my lifetime (so far) have been amazing.

But to me--a ringing cell phone is one of life's little annoyances.

It's not just a job--it's a lifestyle

Behind this badge is a man. A regular guy.

A guy who enjoys time off just like the next person.

A guy who likes sleeping next to his wife at night and working during the day, which is rare.

A guy who misses having holidays at home, weekends spent with friends, and frequent vacations. A guy who would like to leave work sitting on a desk without it eating away at his heart and brain.

But that isn't a police officer's life.

He may have chosen this career, but he didn't know how each encounter would brand his soul. Nobody told him, and to be honest--he probably wouldn't have listened anyway.

Not then.

No, he didn't understand 30 years ago.

Happy 4th of July

Happy Birthday America.

May you stand tall and proud, yet still be humble enough to learn and grow from your many mistakes.

Women's Wear Daily

I'm thinking maybe American Woman should re-think their confusion and disdain for the Middle Eastern Burqua. (By the way, a burqua is pronounced "BER-ka" in case you're trying to sound it out in your head ). I'm talking about the Muslim head to toe covering shown in blue above.

Black fabric is also available, from what I hear.

You know, The burqua (as shown above) may not be the awful, horrible prison we Northern Americans seem to think they are.

I mean ..really...I've been thinking this over today and I've compiled a list of pros to wearing the aforementioned burqua...

1. This would cause an end to bad hair days forever

2. Make-up would be optional

3. Have a zit? NO PROBLEM!

4. Feeling frisky? Choose the blue over the black

5. No more wondering what to wear to the Johnson's BBQ.

Perhaps our Muslim sisters in Iran have it right. Perhaps it's not so bad to wear this garment.

Wonder if I can get one off the internet?

Hmmm...I'm thinking the black would be more slimming.

Do you think they come in sizes?

Like Big, Bigger, Huge, and you-could-use-this-as-a-tent-if-you-have-enough-poles-handy.

Stay tuned, I may just start a trend.

Be on the lookout...

Home Lessons

I got a call from Brodie last night. It was 10:00pm.

Kinda late for a phone call, but I figured he was homesick since it's been a week since he's moved.

My wayward son in Seattle sounds happy. Almost euphoric.

It's so so nice seeing his dreams come true.

But he's learning lesson after lesson already.

He's beginning to have an inkling of what effort it takes to run a home.

The cleaning. The cooking. The laundry. The shopping. The hauling and putting away.

Constant vigilance in a space he never needed to think about before.

As my daughter, Tia told him years ago when she moved out on her own:

"It's not like at home. You have to pay attention"

Well said.