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!

Sugar High...

So... A few years ago I had the oh-so-bright idea to start a new Christmas tradition in our family. The family was almost all together in one place again, and the ex-school teacher in me thought it would be fun to get all of the cousins together and let them decorate Christmas cookies before the big day.

You see, I am the oldest of all of the cousins. We range in age from 31 down to 6, but as the oldest, I've always strived to be the cool one. I give awesome presents, plan cool parties, and take the kids on great outings (Sheena and Ariel can vouch for me on this :-). I thought my Christmas cookie decorating idea was one of my best ever, and I have to admit it is a huge hit. After four years, the question "When are we going to decorate Christmas cookies?" is still a prominent one in my aunt's house. But have you ever actually participated in a Christmas cookie decorating party with an already hyperactive almost 7-year-old?

The first year, she ate one cookie for every one she decorated and we didn't realize it until she was completely bouncing off the walls. Four years later, she didn't really eat the cookies (Thank God!). But she was already bouncing off the walls! After dropping several cookies on the floor during the frosting process, I told her that I had a great idea and asked her if she would be the "Sprinkle Master" and let me and her sister do the frosting.

My parents are now the proud owners of a lovely rug with many new and unusual colors (but I'm sure it would taste great!). And our family has divided up about 5 dozen Christmas cookies with about a half an inch of sprinkles on each one. We are now all fighting diabetic comas by trying to dilute the massive quantities of sugar sprinkles with tall glasses of milk. Needless to say, I won't be going to bed for a while. I am on somewhat of a massive sugar high. But it is worth it because once again, I have achieved "Cool Cousin" status.

Thanksgiving Dinner

So, I just read my cousin Sheena's latest blog. She's newly married, young and optimistic... and she is attempting to prepare her first Thanksgiving Dinner all by herself.

I have to admit, I'm rather in awe of her bravery. While I am the oldest of all of the cousins, I have never once attempted to cook a Thanksgiving meal by myself. The thought of sticking my hand up a dead, raw turkey's butt for the sole purpose of removing its' "bag o' innards" is rather repulsive to me. My idea of a gourmet meal is EZ Mac N' Cheese with cut-up hotdogs. So Sheena's determination and excitement about her latest endeavor is truly inspirational to me.

It's not that I can't cook, per se... I'm not completely culinarily-challenged. I am perfectly capable of boiling water if given proper instructions. My problem is that I am impatient. The thought of slaving in a kitchen for four or more hours to prepare a meal that takes 15 minutes to eat just doesn't make sense to me. Go to a restaurant. Or better yet, go to Mom's! You get to bring the leftovers home with you if you do that. :-)

So Sheen... Good for you, girlie! You go for it! And if everything works out well and you haven't gone completely insane by the end of it... Maybe I'll come to Ohio for Thanksgiving next year... :-)

Gotta Love My Job

Have you ever had one of those days where you are running around like a crazy person, working non-stop, but for some strange reason the work just doesn't go away? I swear, I must have paid 400 bills today! That is my job. I pay the bills, so I can come home and pay my own bills. Sadly, I think I have another 400 bills sitting on my desk just waiting for me. The pile never went down all day! People just kept throwing more bills at me!

I tell myself, "I love my job... I love my job... I love my job..." Unfortunately, my little self pep-talk doesn't seem to be working. "Myself" just bursts into hysterical laughter at the sound of my own voice. ...the kind of hysterical laughter that usually includes snorting and watering eyes, and lots of people asking, "Are you okay, honey?"

Someday, I will meet a man who will say, "Baby, why don't you stay home and take care of the family and let ME pay the bills?" I will LOVE that man! That man ROCKS! (And he'll rock even more if he'll cook and give me massages :-)

A Poem Before Weigh In

A Poem Before Weigh-In

As I step onto the scale,

I pray, Oh Lord, I'm not a whale.

I've gone to the restroom and blown my nose.

I've shaved my legs down to my toes.

I've plucked and tweezed and cleaned out my ears.

I hope this will help calm my fears.

I've flossed my teeth. I've trimmed my nails.

I've heard that last step rarely fails!

I've popped all zits and stripped off my clothes.

What else can I do? Lord only knows...

I chant, " Light as a feather...I'm lighter than air...

I'm a teeny, tiny model-type with nary a care."

So as I tiptoe onto the scale,

I pray, oh Lord, I'm not a whale.

And if I've not lost as much as I should,

I'll know that I did all I could.

(Just a little pre-weigh-in advice from the master!)