Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Reaching New Heights

It has happened... I have reached new heights... I have broken boundaries and have achieved levels I never thought I would reach in my lifetime. No, I haven't met some as yet unattainable goal. I just got fat.

Yes indeed, the Fat Lady Gym is calling my name! (Unfortunately, so are the oh-so-yummy donuts that I'm eating as I write this Fat Lady blog. :-)

So Christy... Katie... Sasha... As of Wednesday, January 2nd, we are hitting the gym full-force. There are FOUR OF US!!! Our logic of at least ONE of us being motivated enough to FORCE the other three of us to get to the gym hasn't exactly worked out. Maybe our Girl Trip that is quickly approaching will. Remember... We HAVE to wear swimsuits in public whether we've lost the weight or not. I, for one, don't want to frighten small children, so Fat Lady Gym it is!

Monday, November 5, 2007

Recipes for the Cooking-Impaired

It's November now, and the holiday season will be here before we know it. It's a time of family gatherings, evenings out with friends, and endless potluck dinners. Yes, potlucks… For many of us, that one word can induce panic attacks complete with heart palpitations, shortness of breath, and cold sweats. We're the people whose first response to the potluck invitation is usually something along the lines of, "I'll bring the plates!"

It's not necessarily that we're cooking-impaired… Surely most of us could master boiling water provided we have careful instructions. I like to think that I am merely cooking-impatient. My personal philosophy is that anything that calls for more than five ingredients or that takes more than five minutes to prepare is just not worth the hassle (aka. the 5/5 Rule). Give me cold Pop Tarts or EZ Mac-N-Cheese any day.

Whatever the case, some of us just need a little help finding the perfect potluck dish. Luckily, I've collected a few recipes over the years that adhere to the 5/5 Rule, and you'd never be able to tell. People will rave about your tasty dishes. They'll beg you to tell them your secrets. I say, let them marvel at your newfound talents in the kitchen. They need never know you followed the 5/5 Rule.

Creamy Fruit Dip

1 bar cream cheese
1 jar marshmallow cream

Beat cream cheese. Add marshmallow cream; beat until smooth. Chill before serving.

(If you'd like to get really adventuresome, add a few tablespoons of crushed pineapple or orange juice to the mixture.)

--- NOTE: It might be a good idea to make sure someone is bringing a fruit tray before making Creamy Fruit Dip.

Dump Cake

(You can call this Cherry-Pineapple Upside-Down Cake for added flare)

1 box yellow cake mix
1 stick margarine
1 large can crushed pineapple (not drained)
1 can cherry pie filling

Mix pie filling and pineapple in a 9x11 glass dish. Cover with cake mix. Dot with margarine. Bake for 55 minutes in a 350 degree oven.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

I Have a Dream...

As young girls, we dream of white knights on horseback, charging to our rescue with swords drawn. Nearing "spinsterhood" at the ripe old age of 32, many might suspect that I have given up on that girlhood dream of finding my Prince Charming. I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth.

I still have the dream… but having grown wiser and more practical in my old age, my dream of a white knight on horseback has morphed into something more along the lines of "Sweaty Lawnmower Man" riding in to save me in his double extended cab, giant-ass pickup truck (preferably with an attached trailer filled with various pieces of lawn maintenance equipment).

Lawnmower Man, with his trusty weed eater at his side, will single-handedly make his way through the scary-bad forest that was once my front yard. He will squash the enemy scorpions, spiders, and other vile creatures lingering in the dark all the while taking great care not to harm any of the gentle woodland creatures who have made the forest their home. Lawnmower Man will gingerly climb atop his riding lawnmower and proceed to destroy every waist-high weed that dares encroach on Castille d'Tammy. "You think my tractor's sexy?" he asks… "Oh, yeaahhh!!! (especially when it's mowing my lawn!)"

Yes… I still have the dream… and I believe that one day, my Sweaty Lawnmower Man will come… and we will live happily ever after.

~ The End ~

Hmmm...  Perhaps I should be a little more specific.  ;-)

Saturday, August 4, 2007

Tattoo 2 (Man, These Things are Addicting!)

So, Mom and I went and got our tattoos last night! Mom's first one and my second... And who almost passed out??? MY SISTER!!!

Yep... One mention of the word, "needle" from Mom's tattoo artist, and we almost lost Christy. And that was BEFORE we even sat in the chairs!!! We were having to tell HER to take, "deep, cleansing breaths..." She had ALMOST recovered, and then I guess they got started on Mom's tattoo.

Apparently Mom did the whole, "clutch the chair arms and grimace in pain" thing that she did when she had her stitches taken out in the doctor's office after her foot surgery. I wouldn't know... I was facing the other direction getting my totally pain-free tattoo (more on that in a sec). But Christy nearly lost it again.

In her defense, I have to say that if Mom did THAT, I can't blame her. I was there when she had those stitches taken out, and that was the closest I had ever come to passing out without actually passing out. I remember thinking, "Man! It's hot in here!" Fanning myself and desperately wondering where the bathroom was so I could go splash cold water on my face. So if Christy had to watch THAT grimace, I know where she's coming from.

She should have just watched ME the whole time because my guy was AWESOME! I seriously barely felt it at all! I even told him as much, "You're GREAT! I can barely feel a thing!" He said, "Why thank you!" ...And Christy lost it again... THIS TIME in hysterical laughter. "Just what every guy wants to hear!" she laughed.

So that was our Friday night, Mommy-Daughter Outing. Ahhh... the things we do to bond with our moms... How times have changed...

(I put up a pic so you can see it. I changed it up a bit from my original plan.  Buddy and Ka-Diva are both really excited about Aunt Tammy's special tattoo just for them. They both even know what part is theirs. They haven't had a chance to see it yet though. They were asleep by the time we got home.)

Friday, July 27, 2007

New Tattoo

So, I'm getting another one, and I'm not going to wait to lose more weight. Too impatient... I've always wanted a treble clef with a flower intertwined, but I decided to change it up just a little and incorporate a couple of things for the twins with the treble clef. I had a great conversation with the twins at lunch today telling them all about it, and getting their input. (They are very opinionated these days.)

Aunt Tammy - "Guess what?!? Aunt Tammy's gonna get another tattoo, and this one is going to be special just for Buddy and Ka-Diva!"

Twins - (smiles) "Yeah!"

Aunt Tammy - "I'm going to get a yellow flower just for Buddy." (because he LOVES picking yellow flowers)

Buddy - (HUGE smile) "Oh! Yeah!!!"

Aunt Tammy - "And I'm getting a pink and purple butterfly just for Ka-Diva."

Yeah...  Not QUITE what I had in mind...
Ka-Diva - (considering that, replies) "No. BIG BUG!" (she's all about the big bugs right now)

Aunt Tammy - (laughing) "Well, I don't know about a big bug. How about a DRAGONFLY?" (making that sound really cool)

Ka-Diva - "Ohhhh... Yeah... OKAY!!! DRAGONFLY!!! YEAH!!!" (I must have succeeded in making a dragonfly sound exceptionally cool )

Ka-Diva then proceeded to tell Christy that "Mommy needs to get a tattoo too!" Christy (the big chicken) refused. "Mommy's not getting a tatoo. That's Aunt Tammy's thing." So, Cool Aunt Tammy strikes again!

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Thursday's Move Drama

So I got to the house today, and they STILL hadn't been there (ooohhh... SHOCKER!)... I called the realtor again, and once again, she avoided my call (another shocker, I'm sure)... "No big deal... I'll do it all myself!" I thought. "I'm a big girl. How hard can it be?"

I took the key to the adjoining unit out of the lockbox, climbed up on a stepladder, and switched my broken light fixture with their non-broken one all by my little lonesome self. Problem #1 solved. I used the always-certain, country-bumpkin method of duct-taping the gaping hole under my back door so the critters can't get in. Problem #2 temporarily solved. My mom vacuumed the place, and it was clean and livable, and I scheduled the carpet cleaners for Tuesday afternoon at 3:00pm. Problem #3 solved. Exterminator came and sprayed for everything to take care of Problem #4, and the telephone and water guys got me all hooked up. I was on a roll!!!

Then I went into the hall bathroom to find a beautiful WATERFALL trickling out of my LIGHT FIXTURE, down the wall, and puddling onto the floor! The crack in the back door... Livable... Niagara Falls in my guest bath... NOT livable!

So I call the realtor, only to be ignored yet again, and then I got mad. (You'd think I would have been mad before that, but Zoloft really does work wonders) I didn't want to do it, but she forced me. I had to call her office. I feel very sorry for the man who answered the phone because he got an earful. But he promised to track her down and call me right back. And five minutes later, he called and assured me that THIS TIME, she would answer her phone. :-)

THEN the fun started. About two hours after I finally spoke to my realtor, three trucks pull up to my house. My realtor and her husband went and pulled the builder off of a job site and dragged him and a couple of his workers back to our duplexes. Apparently, they had already fired him from other jobs, and are about to sue him for what he's done with this job (Gee... That would have been great to know BEFORE I signed the lease). My realtor's husband is also a builder and the two guys nearly broke into several fistfights over the course of two hours. I began to wonder, "At what point does one call the cops?"

So we have Incompetent, RUDE, Abrasive Builder who blamed everyone EXCEPT himself for his crappy work. (Did you know that it was MY fault things didn't get done because I wasn't at the house when he came by? Well, DUH, you freakin' idiot! I DON'T LIVE THERE!!! That went over really well with me. Moron.) We have Obnoxious, Know-It-All Builder (Realtor's husband) who was sure to point out numerous times how HE would have done things correctly because he "builds half-million dollar homes". We have Blonde Chick (My realtor) who is just that… Blonde. All three going at each other... Blonde Chick stuck in the middle because Incompetent Builder refused to speak to Obnoxious Builder directly. Incompetent Builder telling me and Blonde Chick that he'll give us the numbers of all of the subcontractors that he used to do the work and we can call them ourselves because he "just forgot about some of it." (Another thing that didn't go over well with me. I told him that is HIS job and I'M not doing it.) But mostly, Mom and I just sitting there cracking up because it was so funny…

They never did completely fix the water leak, but Obnoxious Builder figured out what the problem was. There was a broken pipe where the A/C is supposed to drain. But he temporarily fixed it… With duct tape, of course…

Stay tuned for more in the continuing saga… Friday is Christy and Sasha's turn to join in the fun! (Sash – Call me if you still want to come by. But you enter at your own risk! There's no telling what fun adventures lie ahead!

Friday, April 13, 2007

Impulsive Tammy Strikes Again!!!

Yes… I've gone and pulled one of my "let's make a life-altering decision in the blink of an eye" moves this week.

We all know how I get fidgety when I've been in one place too long. I need big changes to keep things interesting. I've been feeling that way since Christmas, and the Zoloft hasn't made it go away, so this week I decided to do something about it. My lease at my apartment is up at the end of the month, and the rent was going up AGAIN. I'm sick of paying what amounts to a mortgage on a crappy apartment. I'm sick of the noise and the sirens in the city, and I just want some stinking peace and quiet.

So brilliant me, decided that I can get more for my money in the country where the only noise I'll hear is the birds and the crickets (and the backfire of big cowboy trucks, and the occasional rifle shot, of course. That's okay... Cowboys are sexy. ). I went to my apartment office this morning, put in my 60 day notice, met with a realtor, and signed a lease for a GORGEOUS 3 bedroom, 2 bath BRAND SPANKING NEW (so new that it's not totally finished yet) duplex in Springtown of all places. And the rent is only $135 more than I pay for my dinky little 1/1 apartment! (Grammy did manage to convince me to try renting first. My original plan was to buy a house! Impulsive Tammy can be reasoned with a little bit anyway )

Before you all make fun of me for moving back to the place I couldn't wait to leave, bear in mind there is a Kohl's, Hobby Lobby, Lowe's, Home Depot, Kirkland's Home, Target, etc. not 15-20 minutes away now. No more having to drive 45 minutes to get to something good. I can have all of my stores nearby, but I can have some stinking peace and quiet while I'm at home. It will probably take some getting used to though. I already panicked a little because there was only one deadbolt on the door, and it can be opened from the outside. What happened to needing three locks??? I have the "safety" deadbolt that locks everybody out at the apartment! I have a feeling I'll be calling Jake and Sam for a while because I'm freaked out by the silence at night. They'll have to come sleep on my couch like the old days. Only this time, THEY can protect ME.

So, as of Friday, May 25th, I will once again be a resident of my hometown.

I think this life-altering, impulsive decision will turn out better than my $40,000 brain-fart when I up and moved to Portland. But then again... I never think my impulsive life-altering decisions are a bad idea at the time. Check back with me in a few months after I've been driving an hour each way to and from work every day and have spent $40,000 in gasoline alone. I might have changed my mind. But for now... I'm thrilled silly about living in a "nearly" house!

Wish me luck! (And if you are an able-bodied male-type person, give me a call! I can put you to work! )

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

The Brutal Honesty of a Two-Year-Old

Buddy and me playing... Me on the couch, Buddy holding my hands jumping and jumping trying to see how high he can go... Buddy jumps over my head and says, "Uh-oh..." I say, "What?" Buddy pats the top of my head and once again says, "Uh-oh..." I become indignent... "Are you pointing at Aunt Tammy's white hairs?!?" Buddy snickers and says, "Yessss..."

Ahhh, yes... Nothing like the brutal honesty of a two-year-old...

I'll be coloring my hair this weekend.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Random's Ramblings #1

I hate to sweat. Sweating is yucky. It feels gross, and it makes you smell bad. I came to this brilliant realization yesterday as Christy and I were leaving the gym, and non-suspecting members of the public ran away from us. I would like to believe they were merely intimidated by our newfound bodybuilder physiques, but seeing as how we've only been working out for three weeks, I think I'm leaning more towards the "Please don't poison us with your toxic sweat fumes" excuse. Why people choose the gym as their ideal location to pick up a mate is totally beyond me. Maybe I'll understand it better when I have my "tenderloin" body and men will fall at my feet whether I reek or not.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

The Continuing Saga

Skinny Bitch wasn't our Work-out Nazi after all yesterday. Apparently her job is to scare the living crap out of you during your first work-out and make you think she's going to be your drill sergeant forever just to see how dedicated you are. Luckily for Christy and me, we're dedicated.

We went back for what we were certain was going to be another session of scary demands, and instead got the sweetest girl to do our upper body training. We've both decided that this sweet girl is going to be our role model. She's thin, but curvy. She had a little meat on her, but she wasn't fat by any means. Not like a slab of roast beef or anything. More like lean meat. Christy and I now call her "Tenderloin."

Not only did Tenderloin help us with all of the upper body equipment and give us both workout programs, but she also helped us with the leg stuff too (so we wouldn't have to have Skinny Bitch again). Have you ever attempted to use some of that equipment? THANK GOD we go to an all-women's gym, because I found myself in some positions that contorted my body in ways that only porn stars use! There's this one machine used to work on inner and outer thighs. Thank goodness I'm still fairly flexible! And the machine for your butt… It is indescribable! I wouldn't even know where to begin. You know it's bad when you look at a piece of equipment and can't even tell what part of your body goes where.

But, we've been having a great time, and although we're still a little sore, I know I am well on my way to becoming beef tenderloin myself!

Friday, March 9, 2007

My Latest Endeavor

Now that I'm about a third of the way to my ultimate weight loss goal, I decided to add a new step to my weight loss ladder. I joined a gym this week. Joining the gym was a major hurdle… Actually GOING to the gym was another matter entirely.

You see, I haven't done any exercise AT ALL to speak of since I lived in Oregon and Melissa and I went to our apartment gym every night to watch Friends and walk on the treadmills. That was 6 years ago… I haven't done any REAL exercise since I was coaching gymnastics 40 hours a week in college… 12 years ago! So when I stepped into the gym for what I THOUGHT was an orientation on how to use the equipment, you can imagine my shock when that scrawny white girl (herein referred to as "Skinny Bitch") made me get on a bike and told me I was going to ride it for 20 minutes! After picking my jaw up from the floor and silently cursing her for about 10 of the 20 minutes, I started remembering that I actually LIKE working out. I finished the bike just fine. I even went an extra minute just to stick it to her. Although I don't think she was impressed.

Skinny Bitch then led me to the treadmill and set me up for another 20 minutes. "NO PROBLEM! I LOVE THE TREADMILL!" Unfortunately, after my 20 minutes were up, I TOLD Skinny Bitch that I loved the treadmill. She told me that I obviously wasn't doing it right if I loved it so much. Then, she made me RUN! "WHAT THE F#*%?!? ARE YOU FRICKIN' KIDDING ME!?! MY BODY HASN'T RAN IN 20 YEARS!!! NO WAY IN HECK AM I GOING TO RUN" I said.

I ran for 30 seconds. Skinny Bitch is scary.

So, I did 45 minutes of cardio on Tuesday and Wednesday, as well as 20 minutes of abs both days. I did my 20 minutes of abs today as well as 30 minutes of stretching exercises. I am determined to get my flexibility back (I was very bend-y when I was in college.) I hurt in places that I didn't even know I had. But I must admit, I really do like working out. Maybe not DURING the workout, but definitely AFTER…

Wish me luck tomorrow! Skinny Bitch is scheduled to torture me at 3:30pm SHARP (She even called to remind me! I think she gets enjoyment out of making me suffer). Something about an hour of cardio and work on my arms… I don't even want to know…

Thursday, January 4, 2007

Chicken No More...

I'm doing it. I'm getting a tattoo!!!

Actually, two tattoos... Getting a tattoo has been on my list of "Things I Want To Do, But Am Too Chicken To Actually Go Through With..." since I was about 16 years old. It's not the needle thing that freaks me out like most people assume. It's the permanency thing. I have panic attacks if I sign a 12-month lease. So the idea of putting something on my body that I will be stuck with until I decay makes me a little apprehensive. But in the back of my mind, I've always thought that having a tattoo that is an extension of who I am would be awesome. And so... the scary permanent tattoo thing stayed on the list of "scary things..." Until today!

What I Ended Up Getting!
My aunt and my cousin both got tattoos recently, and I am so jealous, I just can't stand it. I'm gonna do it. No more "Chicken Tammy!" So, when you see my weight loss scale hit the 20 pounds lost mark, I'm getting my first tattoo! Just something small and not too "out there" probably on my ankle. Not anything stupid like having my ex's name tattooed on my chest... (I won't mention any names here... )

I have an idea of what I want, but I need to get someone to draw it for me. It doesn't exist anywhere that I can find. Ariel inspired me. She got an anchor. Anyone who knows me, knows that my entire house is nautical... That I wanted to be a marine biologist... That I want to get married on a deserted beach... That I want to learn to sail... So after seeing Ariel's tattoo I started designing my own in my head. Too bad I can't draw. Maybe I should get Levi (Ariel's 7-year-old brother) to do it for me. He's actually really good!

So 4.2 more pounds, and I'm getting it! And then... After I finish losing the rest of the "hormone therapy/post-hysterectomy/depression" weight... I'm getting my really cool tattoo on my lower back! Because those are just too damn sexy! I'll be skinny again, and have a seriously sexy lower-back tattoo right before our SHS Band Reunion. Watch out, boys!
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