I’m surprised but flattered to learn that Tammy already read Renting Ginny. She read the copy I sent Dad. As much of an enabler as he was, I’m still glad that he got to read one of my books right before he died.

She’s also been reading my MD blog. I’m not surprised. I figured she’d prefer to go to my trackless blog, but maybe not. Some people really do like it for its simplicity. Still, I’m not surprised she’s going somewhere because I know she likes to read my journal, probably not just to see what’s up with me, but what I may say about her as well. Well, when I failed to see her show up on TIP, I figured she was going to MD.

The attorney did try to call me back but we missed each other, and as usual, there were phone issues. The MagicJack won’t work right cuz of the shitty connection and I wasn’t sure how to retrieve messages from the cell. I only use it to call out so I never got to learn much about how it functions. I’ll try calling him back on Monday, though I don’t see what he can tell me that Tammy hasn’t already told me. My folks, who always had to put on a show, were in debt. I know that. I’m not getting anything. I know that, too. But at least others particularly Jennifer, won’t be getting anything either.

The store just sold, but between the two mortgages the bitch took out, they’re still in the negative.

Tammy totally regrets promising Dad, as he lay dying in his hospital bed, to take care of Mom. Even her kids can’t figure out why she’d bother to take care of someone who never gave a shit about her. Giving birth doesn’t make one a mother. BEING a mother is what makes them a mother. Yet she was hardly a mother to Larry and Tammy and even less of one to me since she cut out of motherhood a few years early with me by sending me away when I was 15. Except for a few months after my 16th birthday, I never returned home till I was 18. By 19 I was gone for good. Tammy’s lost thousands of dollars and countless hours with her husband just to pamper this abusive bitch till it croaked in the end, much more peacefully than it ever should have. As I said in my last entry, God will see to it that my husband and I, who never harmed a child in our lives, go out alone and in pain. Then again, unless we die together in an accident or something, one of us won’t be alone. Just in pain.

While Tammy and I may be two totally different people with different likes, abilities, interests, lifestyles, etc., we’re both big on keeping promises so she kept hers to Dad. I don’t know why, but that’s just how I’ve always been. If you tell me not to tell anyone something you tell me, I never will. If I fail to keep my word to you it’s only because something came up to prevent me from keeping it and not because I chose to break my promise.

Despite being happy overall, there is so much anger toward my parents. Much more so than ever before, and sometimes when we’re angry it’s hard to focus on the good things we have in life. Damn them for leading me to believe they would leave me a substantial amount after they croaked! I didn’t expect millions, but I expected something and not just a grand or two either. And damn God for letting me be teased with money yet again! But next time I will know better. It isn’t that I didn’t know this time. I knew. But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t get frustrating as hell seeing the same old shit play itself out over and over. What if I did win serious money? Would God see to it that it was stolen? I bet he would.

Tammy totally understands how I feel and she feels the same way. Again I am grateful to her for letting me scream my frustrations in her ear and cry on her shoulder, though I didn’t literally cry. It’s just a figure of speech.

She also understands me when I say I’d be waiting with a shovel in hand if they could come back to life. Really I would. And while they were quick to remind me how they saved our asses in 2007 and beg for a break, I would be just as quick to remind them of the many times they didn’t help me when I needed it. They didn’t answer my cries to get me out of Valleyhead. They didn’t do shit about me roughing it in the slums on food stamps that couldn’t even feed a mouse for a whole month while they lived high off the hog in sunny Florida. And what about every slap, kick and punch they delivered, along with every hurtful word and the unnecessary things they made me do that they knew damn well I didn’t want to do like attending summer camp. That isn’t for everyone and it sure as hell wasn’t for me. I need freedom and privacy more than structure and routine. But camp was just like Valleyhead and jail. We all ate together, we all slept together, we all SHIT together.

So no, I’d say I don’t owe them fuckers shit.

On the flip side, the thought of them suddenly being alive and well again is rather amusing when you think of the fact that they’d have less than we had when my husband and I were forced to be little street bums for 36 hours and spend nearly a year in a motel. They’d have no home, no money, no clothes, no food, no nothing. Hell, them fuckers wouldn’t even own a pair of shoes! But knowing how fucked up God is, He’d see to it that some sucker felt sorry for them and gave them what they needed. Then I’d have to book the next flight out of here and fly to them in a murderous rage, and you know what? I would. I really would.

Later…

I’m sorry I bit you in preschool, whoever you are. I really am! LOL

During my talk with Tammy yesterday there was actually something funny she told me and that’s that I was thrown out of preschool. It doesn’t surprise me as I was one wild kid, all right. I don’t remember it, but she says I bit some little boy. Did my sexism start that young? LOL

I do remember the pea incident, though. There were these little hard green peas. I don’t know what they were for. Some art project, I guess. Well, for some stupid reason, I felt compelled to shove one up my nose. I vaguely remember one of the women there holding a Kleenex to my nose and firmly saying, “Blow.” I don’t remember the pea shooting out of my nose, but it must have at some point.

Tammy wasn’t sure if it was me or one of her own kids who shoved a Barbie shoe up their nose. Definitely wasn’t me.

Being 8 years older than me, though, I’m sure Tammy would remember a helluva lot more shit I caused than I ever could.

I wonder…if this boy suddenly spotted me walking down the street, would he finally want to bite me back?

Anyway, my weight is struggling to reset itself, but although my body is going to fight like hell to hang onto the extra weight, I’m determined to fight harder.

Later…

Did some digging into the past since Norma told me my paternal great-grandmother’s name was Sylvia Mary W. She was married to a guy named Joseph, her daughter eventually married a guy named Joseph, and my maternal grandfather’s dad was Joseph. So I guess Joseph was a popular name in my family. My maternal great-grandparents’ names were Joseph and Sarah G. So it was later shortened. My maternal grandmother’s maiden name was spelled with a K and not C, but I can’t figure out who her parents were. I can’t believe they listed one of my grandmother’s SS#, though. Aren’t criminals always looking for dead people’s socials?

So, Shirley Ida K and Jack (Herman?) G.

I’m once again wondering if our best bet would be to forget about getting the best of what we can get for 10K and just take what we can get right now with 5K. I not only don’t think we’ll have 10K by the end of the year (though Tom says it will be close) but looking back on our life together, a clear pattern emerges. It’s only the nicer places that we’ve lost. Clearly, something up there doesn’t want us to have a place we really like. Sure, we’ve struggled in dumps and we almost lost it all there, but when have we ever lost a dumpier place? Old places are what I’m used to, so as long as it’s ours, has enough space and a spot for a washer/dryer (I can do without a dishwasher), maybe we’d be safer in a place not as old and as dumpy as this place but close enough. A '70s place instead of a '60s place. But it would still have paneling and paper-thin walls and even single-paned windows. Jesse sheetrocked the kitchen and bedroom here and double-paned most of the windows. Nonetheless, I’ve been living in overall dumps since 2005. I can keep on doing that if that’s going to keep us safer. An expanded single-wide should be enough for us, and the lot would be cheaper than the lots the double-wides are on. Just trying to think of all the safety nets I can possibly think of in preparation for the next poor spell. All good things come to an end and so I don’t expect to always have this kind of money. As I’ve learned, the less you have (or the cheaper it is), the less you have to lose. Well, I don’t want an 80s or newer doublewide that we’ll only be fated to lose sooner or later. No matter how smart and prepared one may be, circumstances beyond our control still can and do arise. Like it or not, the cheap dumps are safer. That’s what I think we should aim for. So, no problem. :)

Tom came down with a cold. It’s that time of year when everyone is sick. Fortunately, though, I’m still able to do my influencing thing which has been deader than dead lately, and has been keeping it from getting that bad. He got a blood glucose monitoring kit to see if he’s diabetic and perhaps that’s why he’s rundown sometimes, but thinks he’s probably just overworked since it’s fine. Is he just now figuring that out? I could have told him this ages ago. First no one will let him work; now he’s being run ragged 6 days a week. The money is so NOT worth it if it’s going to mess up his health. If he has to give them an ultimatum and tell them to either cut his hours or expect to lose him, he will. We have more than enough money to live on while he found work elsewhere. We’d hate to give up such great medical and vacation benefits, but like I said, his health isn’t worth the risk.

He got one of those mouse-repellant things that you plug in but I don’t see how it’s going to kill or drive away mice that are UNDER the house, so we’ll see. It says it can take up to a week. Haven’t heard anything yet tonight, but sometimes they don’t start moving around and chewing up a storm till after midnight.

It’s almost time for my protein bar and then my workout. That’ll scare them silent for a while if they do come around.