who am i and why am i here?

Okay, in all my blogging attempts I have managed to focus on my family (1 dear husband, 1 dear son, 1 dear daughter, 3 dogs and countless porch critters). Cut and paste here for that sugary sweetness: www.thefabulousfreemanfour.blogspot.com

This blog is just for documentation of my fabulous, high-rollin', snooty-tooty, full-of-awesomeness, life. Yeah. Whatever.

I've been reading many, many other blogs (thanks to my new time killer Christmas gift, my iTouch - what a flippin' awesome gadget - thanks Dad!) and I must let you know that I am not thebloggess. If you haven't caught her blog, and you are not offended by major league potty mouthedness (okay, I know I just made up that word - I'm a teacher, so I can do that), you really should check her out, particularly her posts about Diet Dr. Pepper and the lies told by the Doc, and DEFINITELY the James Garfield posts. I actually snorted with laughter and almost (I said, ALMOST, meaning not quite) peed my pants when I read her posts. Hysterical gal. The sad part about it is I TOTALLY got why she had to have James Garfield. It's not something I can explain, but I get it.

The other blogger I've been following really closely is the snarky mom. She has only minor league potty mouthedness, but she's equally as funny as the bloggess, albeit more in line with the momness of things. (Yeah, I know, I made up another word. Go me.) She's the kind of gal that I could not sit through a decent hour of people watching with without screaming in laughter and giving other people even more reason to dislike themselves.

Speaking of which, don't you think we're all just a little too hard on ourselves these days? I mean, for crying out loud, particularly us gals - we're expected to do it all (work full time at a place of business and also full time at home), look good doin' it, dress uncomfortably, and smile and be sweet the whole time?? Whatever. If I can find a way to do it right AND cut corners, I'm there with bells on Missy! If it's comfortable, cozy, saves time and/or energy (meaning MY lacking-in-energy-hypothyroidistic-butt...thanks Mom AND Dad), I'm all about it with a pat of butter. As long as the job is getting done well (sorry, but I'm a bit of a perfectionist in a very weird sort of way), then cut all the corners you can. I'm just sayin'.

I've been blessed with a husband who loves to eat out. Granted, some of this is due to the fact that I can't cook. Yeah, okay, go ahead with the "did ya' hear about the girl from the South that couldn't cook?" jokes. ANYWAY, because of my lack of skills and his desire to eat everything battered and deep fried, we spend many a meal picking up lunch and supper from our local quick stop or truck stop. Seriously. I remember the days when I used to be amazed that people ate "real" food (read: perishable, must be refrigerated and cooked) that came from truck stops or quick stops. Shoot, that's about all we eat now-a-days. But really, the food is really very good, from huge and awesomely good-for-you Chef salads to made-to-order club sandwiches, they've just about got it all between our three choices. I'm not sure which is suffering more - our health or the planet (that's a lot of Styrofoam we're adding to the landfills each week). Maybe my lack of political correctedness in regards to the environment will get my blog more hits? One can always hope.

Well, that's about it for now. I know some of you are still mulling over the whole "three choices" of places to eat thing. Yeah, yeah - you know the drill - teeny town, everybody knows every body's business and what they don't know they make up, one stop-light, one...maybe two?? police cars, yada, yada, yada. Yep, it's small. And it's home.