Daily: April 2005 Archives

Susie over at Underpaid Kept Woman beat me to the punch with her post about blogs yesterday but I am going to go ahead and post my thoughts today. I have been thinking lately how much I dislike the word blog. When I see the word blog my mind reads weblog and breaks it into the syllables web - log. This is a word I dislike even more. It makes my skin crawl how everyone is bundled into a group and labled a blogger. Even my own URL contains the word blog. I carefully mulled over if I should use that term and gave in to it because it is short and easy to remember. If I were not so lazy I might even take a stand and change the folder name to journal. In the event I did so and lost everything, I would be angry with myself, might even cry, so for now the word stays. Without much thought I automatically catagorize as I read things online. It is multitasking. I read and subconsciously my mind begins filing like a roladex. I lable them blogs, weblogs, diaries and journals. Those who write them are bloggers, webloggers, diarists and journalists. How easy is that? The print media has been known to feature an article or two on our little pasttime, highlighting the most popular of our sect, using the word 'blogger' to define and put us in our place. Their tone is one that seems to always leave me feeling like they have reached out and wiped a huge nasty booger across the internet. I know I am not the only person who has felt the snobbery in those pieces from those getting paid to write. I find that most of those reporters/columnists have no real ideas of their own and when they write they can only write by following the methodology of "who, what, when, where, why and sometimes how." Monkeys can be trained to plug words into spaces, too. Ya know? When the term blog is used by the broadcast media it brings to mind all those sites that seem to have a theme along the lines of politics. Political bloggers seem to be a big thing on MSNBC and CNN. The media has given these folks a voice. They have become a noted political pundant with their opinions being read live on the air and discussed by others who deem themselves experts in some area or another. I do not read these online havens of satire and critisism. Actually I despise them. I steer clear of them as if they are some huge turd floating in the pool of the internet. The term "web-log" conjures the image of one of those reports a security guard fills out when making rounds. Clipboard and flashlight in hand logging entries at a set time noting anything that maybe out of the ordinary, suspicious, or indicating that things are just fine and dandy as the perimeter is walked hourly. Many of those Linker-Not-Thinker places exist on the internet posting links to this site or that site and nothing else with much thought behind the entry of the day. I do not visit these places much. When I do I may click a link or two while shielding my eyes at the same time because you never know for sure what might pop up and make you want to take your eyes out and wash them with bleach. Then there are those who post entries that literally log their day: where they went, who they saw, what they did and what they ate. I feel they are better suited to use the word diary though. Reading those entries I silently begin "Dear Diary, Today I ... " even if it is not actually there. These are not the places on the net that I visit very often either. I might check in once a month to see if there is something of interest and move on quickly. Finally there are journals. Ahhh the journals. This is where my weakness lies. I am addicted to internet journals. Much the same as Just Ask Judy posted yesterday, beating me to the draw with her post on her addiction. I love reading internet journals. I spend a couple hours each day clicking my favorite links. Some of the journals I love because I like the way the writer can turn a phrase, lead off with some insane thought and come full circle with a life changing revelation. Some journals I read because the humor gives me much laughs and I see myself or my kids in their entries. Some I have read for so long that I have an interest in their lives. I want to know what is going on in each life each and every day. I want to look into the window and see all the people who live real lives and think similar thoughts. This might lend some to place us readers into the catagory of voyuers but that is OK! I like reading that a mom on the other side of the world has the same kind of life as I do (and I hate the term "Mommy Blog" with a passion!). In reading events and thoughts of other people I find validation and justification of my own life and thoughts and quirks and out bursts of emotion. I laugh out loud and read snippets of posts to my husband in the evening. It opens avenues of conversation and we use our brains and think. We use our brains and mouths and communicate. Now I don't want to sound like my husband and I have nothing to talk about (because we do!) or that all we talk about is something I read in a post online (it is not!) What I am saying is it brings to light topics we may or may not have talked about before. It opens a door into a subject we not have walked through and is stimulus for deeper thoughts we have never shared before. We readers of internet journals are thinking and reading and writing because we ARE thinkers and readers and writers. We have beliefs and opinions that we express. We can step back and make a bad situation funny or view it from a different angle. We can get all the junk up and out and breath deeply with a sigh of relief that somewhere our thoughts have been heard and are felt by others. We know we are not alone in the journey called life. So with this entry I stand up in front of the crowd to say: My name is Angie. I am an internet journal addict and this is my journal. jour·ney n. A process or course likened to traveling; a passage: the journey of life. Etymology: journey c.1225, "a defined course of traveling," from O.Fr. journée "day's work or travel," from V.L. diurnum "day," noun use of neut. of L. diurnus "of one day" (see diurnal). As recently as Johnson (1755) the primary sense was still "the travel of a day." The verb is from c.1330. Journeyman (1424), "one who works by day," preserves the etymological sense. Its Amer.Eng. colloquial shortening jour (adj.) is attested from 1835. jour·nal n. A personal record of occurrences, experiences, and reflections kept on a regular basis. Etymology: jurnal "a day," from O.Fr. journal, originally "daily" (adj.), from L.L. diurnalis "daily" (see diurnal). Sense of "daily record of transactions" first recorded 1565; that of "personal diary" is 1610, from a sense found in French. Posted by Angie at 05:50 AM | Comments (4)

1. Kenju, check the epinions.com user reviews. The new Maytag and Whirlpool washer and driers, Neptune and Calypso, have horrid feedback from most of the people who have purchased them. It seems the part that is the equivalent to a motherboard often burns out leaving the folks with as much as 3 months with no washer/drier that they paid $1000+ for. I have done a lot of research and the next appliances I buy will be the german line Bosch. They are priced lower than their American counterparts as well. 2. Thank you, Irene. It was nice to have you visit. If anyone reads this visit Irene @ MOMster. I wish I could write with such eloquence. 3. Thank you, Millie. I check daily for updates on your journal. I am honored to have you here. I wish you updated more often. 4. Thank you, Kate. I like the photo of you and your husband. The progress of your gardens is one I am following. 5. My husband seems to have great delight in tormenting me. He even blogged it this morning. He is a BRAT! 6. I have budgeted carefully for the repairs and improvements we will be making to our house. When the townhouse sells we will kick into high gear with the larger projects so things will be in some simblance of order by late fall. The kitchen will be remodeled, the kids do not know it but they will be getting a swimming pool, steps will be rebuilt and a fireplace in the kitchen will be built with matching brick work, a quadra 4100i will be installed in the livingroom fireplace, etc., etc., etc. I do not often buy things just for me. The children come first and then my husband (read his expensive tractor that he broke) but I am dead set on a new laptop and a new camera just FOR ME. If you read my husbands blog you will know why. 7. I am in a pisser mood this morning. The dog kept going into the kitchen last night. We removed her shock collar and I think she is testing the garbage can in there and VERY soon she will be back to her habit of waiting for everyone to sleep then she will pull out the garbage and leave a paper trail everywhere since she seems to be a fucking pig and thinks sucking dirty napkins and papertowels is a form of feeding. Not to mention she managed to find a bag of chocolate kisses Steven had and she chewed and spat out the foil wrappers in tiny pile. I would wish she would get sick but the last thing I need is a puking fucking dog. It was after 2:30am before I went to sleep because of said damn dog who is worse than any child could ever be on their worst day. 8. The house is very quiet. Kids are gone to school. Steven and Colby will be back by 10am. Until then I am sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes in the blessed silence of this cool spring morning. I will be surfing, answering any incoming from messenger and pretty much doing nothing else for the next two hours. Maybe all day. Who knows. 9. In the aforemention time in #8 I will also be composing an email to be followed up by a phone call to my husband's brother and his wife. They are invited to come to our house this saturday. I do not want them to come. Their entire house has been sick with something like the flu. Our children are finally healthy, no coughing, no snotty noses and I do not want their germs brought into this house. I am not in the best of moods and being tactful is not easy for me. Plus it is predicted to storm all day saturday and I would rather not have 3 boys under the age of 5 trapped indoors, in my house, with all their shouting whining and crying. I CAN'T TAKE IT! 10. I hope to be importing more past posts today to get things up-to-date and bridge the gaps in my internet time line history of journaling and being creative with PSP. 11. Did I mention how very quiet it is here this morning? Heavenly.

Yesterday on messenger with my husband: Steve has just signed in. Wait.Wait.Wait. I type, erase, type again. Cold in Virginia says: I love you, my sexy geek (hearts and kisses) Steve says: I am in a meeting. You are now on the wall and everybody says "hi". Steve says: I will talk to you later. (kiss heart flower) He is sooooooooo lucky I did not type what first came to mind. But I am not the first this has happened to. One wife nibbled body parts. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ... an office filled with geeks ... is there anything better!?!

Announcer Voice Over: "This message is brought to you by Susie Sunshine of Underpaid Kept Woman." You did all that work AND managed to make a kick ass supper WITH dessert?! I bow to your greatness. Posted by: Susie Sunshine at April 18, 2005 08:43 AM When I was growing up my mother and grandmother cooked. Everyday. Breakfast, dinner* and supper**. For us cold cereal in the morning was a TREAT. We did not eat fast food. If we did it was once in a blue moon and was a TREAT. Being raised in the homes of old fashioned women who liked cooking, who liked serving their family a good meal, who kicked ass in the kitchen, who took pride in their skill, cooking rubbed off on me. I love to cook. It is a great pleasure. It is a creative expression. It is one form of my art. I take pride in serving my family a good meal. It is the one meal of the day where everyone is required to be present. No one eats before Dad comes home from work, not even if he is running late and only if I know he won't be home until after the kids bedtime. It is our social event of the day. It is the time we sit together and talk about the day. We bow our heads together and we eat together. I have been cooking for at least 25 years. At the age of 13 I was capable of putting a full meal on the table and did so every time I had the chance. It is a skill that took time to develop. My mother and grandmother nurtured my budding skills. My skills became more defined and took shape in my early teens. My grandmother's brother rented a place from my parents and each day I went down to his house and I cooked for him. I cleaned his house, did his laundry and cooked his supper. My matriarchs never saw themselves as a chef, head cook, or short order cook. They were moms. It is by their example that I raised my own children. My daughter is now 18. She has been cooking since she was 13 also. She can prepare a meal and properly set the table the same as I can. I nutured her skills and in return she has expressed her desire to attend Chef school. She is currently torn between her love of cooking and her love of history so I do not know which will win out in the long run. If she doesn't choose chef school it is no big deal because like her grandmother and great grandmother she kicks ass in the kitchen. A good meal doesn't have to take all day slaving away over a hot stove. I am blessed not to have to work so I have time to do little things through the day that culminates in a good meal every evening. I feel guilty if I haven't put a good meal on the table when my husband comes home. He works very hard every day to provide for us. He does his job exceptionally and he earns a great meal at the end of his day. He calls when he is leaving his office and in that time I get busy and finish up whatever I have going in the kitchen so that when he walks in the evening meal is on the table. Everyday. Our evening meal is usually little bits of lots of things. I much prefer a small portion of several items to large portions of one thing. Meat is not always the entree. Sometimes we have a kitchen sink type salad bowl and anything and everything in the frig is up for grabs. Sometimes I may take the time to fry chicken, cook a roast, make a homemade soup or chilli while other times we may eat leftovers or something I have in the freezer from a mega cooking explosion. If it is on sale at the grocery store and it is something my family likes, I buy quantity, spend time cooking and then freeze it for quick meals later. It doesn't take all day to cook a great meal. Experience creates efficiency. I do not understand women who do not cook. I do not understand serving a happy meal to a child for supper. I wasn't raised that way. It is foreign to me. I cook. I am a good cook. I like to cook. I feel pride in my skill. I do not find it to be "woman's work." I do not get tired of cooking. I do admit I hate cleaning the dishes. But that is what kids are for. I cook a good meal the least they can do is help with the dishes. Given the choice of cooking supper or dining out, I usually never choose dining out. I cook better than most restaurants anyway. Thank you Susie for the compliment. I am just doing what comes natural to me. I am a mom who cooks. *In the south dinner is the midday meal known by many as lunch. ** Supper is the evening meal. Posted by Angie at 07:18 AM | Comments (2)

Today's home owner project was pressure washing the back deck. You can see the before and after. I have been at it 4 hours now. I needed a break. ***Update 10:30am - 4:00pm with one break for a bite of lunch and a trip for gas for the pressure washer. I do not think that deck has been cleaned since it was built. OMG it was nasty where the previous owners dogs had lived on it. :-/

We bought this house for a couple reasons, one of which was because it was in such an undeveloped county with a tiny county seat and no real industry. Orange County, Virginia is pretty much an agricultural community. It is small town America, quiet, with a few towns and villages but nothing like a real city. There is no Wal-mart. There is ONE, yes, I said ONE, grocery store, various and sundry small town businesses owned by the locals, but no retail chain stores save for the CVS pharmacy and the ONE grocery store. After we bought the house, someone at Steven's job told him a story about a woman here who killed her husband for his millions of dollars. I took that pretty much as gossip and a very old story. Well, guess what?! It is true! We watched a tv program last night that documented the case. You can read about it here and here. I really wanted to see the house. The inside. I am sure it has to be decorated in such a way that my eye teeth would hurt and drool would slip from the corner of my mouth. Historical houses just make me .. umm, well, ask my husband! Grrrr! But that was before I knew this story and it was THAT house. If I had the chance now I would not go to see it. It is tainted. The woman was charged with killing her husband and although she was found not guilty due to circumstantial evidence SOMETHING happened there and a man is now dead. Only his widow knows the truth of what happened that evening. But this is what sticks in my craw. She was charged and found not guilty because there wasn't enough evidence. She can run up and down the street and proclaim to the world she did in fact do the deed and there is nothing that can be done about it. It is the double jeopardy loop hole. She was tried, found not guilty and can never be tried for the same crime again. Somehow that just isn't right. From what I have read I believe she is guilty. Some of the friends of the deceased stated he was planning to divorce her for her carryings on with other men. I guess she figured she wouldn't get much in a divorce settlement and wanted it all. Even if she didn't do it, the details just cut me to the core. They rip through everything I believe a marriage should be. The idea that a wife could kill her husband for any reason leaves me feeling disgusted and sick and sorrow filled. How can you profess love for a man and even think about killing him? How can a heart be so cruel? This man did not abuse her. She had it made. She was given the key to all that he had, was trusted with it and she betrayed him. I can't even begin to express the thoughts that swirl in my head. Let's say she is innocent. There is still that fact that she cheated on him. In fact had a string of men she caroused with. In a town this small those things do not go unnoticed. She had ability and money to go to any other city in Virginia and have her liasons and yet she did it right under his nose. I do not understand a spouse who cheats. How can you betray someone that way? Yes, I cast judgement on all who cheat. Every single one! To my way of thinking cheating is the same as killing me. I can't imagine how a man would even want to put his woohoo in the place that so many other men had put their woohoo. If you are going to cheat, divorce me! Do not pussyfoot around. Be blunt and tell me. Do not protect my feelings. Because if I find out I will divorce you and you will NOT touch me ever again. You have defiled the sanctity of the holy temple of marriage and there is no forgiveness in that. NONE!!! Not one shred! Before we met, before we married, Steven and I had this conversation. Cheating is the one thing neither of us can forgive. There is no going back. To cheat is to end it all. I look at Steven's sweet face. He is over on the couch, trying to wake up with his hair looking like Sonic The Hedgehog. I think about the total intimacy we share, the things he knows about me and I know about him. I could never betray him. I know him well enough to know he would never betray me. How can you betray someone who has given you the gift of all they are and will be? "This man loves me!", the voice in my head screams. "Me! And only ME!" And I love him. When he walks into a room I feel my heart swell and the butterflies flutter in my stomach. What have I done in my life to be loved this way? The only thing I can find that this man was guilty of was loving her and trusting her. Did she kill him? Only she knows. Did she cheat on him? Yes, the whole town knows it. The shame of it all. My condolences to the family. (Just incase those links no longer work you can read the story under this cut.) http://readthehook.com/stories/2004/02/26/coverBlackWidowANativeSons.html COVER- Black widow? A native son's death rattles Somerset Published February 26, 2004, in issue #0308 of The Hook BY DEBORAH HASTINGS AP NATIONAL WRITER In the mannered society governing flowing valleys and tree-covered hills of Orange County, phrases such as "blood tells'' and "pretty is as pretty does'' resonate. Gentility is paramount. Breeding is preferred. There are certain things just not done in this part of the South. One does not call attention to oneself with common behavior. If bourbon has been consumed, allowances are made. While seated at table with one's husband, one does not rub the thigh of another man at the table. And one most definitely does not fatally poison said husband and then order his body cremated on the same night. Donna J. Somerville, 51, widow of Hamilton A. Somerville Jr., who was born on this fertile land back-dropped by the Blue Ridge Mountains, is accused of doing all these unseemly things. Her murder trial is scheduled for June. Though Hamilton Somerville-- "Ham'' to his friends-- has been dead for more than two years, his life is well remembered. His widow is well disdained. And so the murder of Ham Somerville is doubly offensive. Not only was he killed, allegedly for his money, but his wife's behavior, beginning about a year before Somerville's death, has been deemed appalling, cheap, and just not right. Free on $300,000 bail, Donna lives at Mount Athos, a 450-acre hilltop farm once part of President James Madison's Montpelier estate, about 20 miles northeast of Charlottesville. Donna says little or nothing to her husband's family and his legion of friends. A "No Trespassing'' sign has been staked in the red Virginia soil at the entrance to Mount Athos, just behind stone pillars in front of a winding driveway. Her silence may be understandable. According to court documents, some of the evidence used by a special grand jury to indict Donna Somerville came out of her own mouth. A church divided A media beast feeds steadily on Ham Somerville's death. Donna has become, on glossy magazine pages, "the black widow," a brazen gold-digger who seduced a grieving widower into a quickie marriage and eventually grew tired of him. A much-published news photograph from last year shows her shackled and dressed in a prison suit of broad black and white stripes, standing outside the tiny circuit court in Orange. Hamilton Somerville, in the same shiny magazine, became a squire, a gentleman farmer, a millionaire, and a recovering alcoholic killed in his own bed at age 57 in his mansion on a hill. But the simple, human truth, as black-and-white as his widow's weeds, is that a gentle and vital man with grown daughters, who loved his church as much as he used to love liquor, is dead. And all because he ingested large amounts of the drugs morphine, codeine, and oxycodone, according to the coroner's report. In the community and at Christ Episcopal Church in Gordonsville, where the Somervilles worshipped, people who knew them continue to suffer. Neighbor has turned against neighbor; worshippers have stopped speaking to each other. "No one can talk about it,'' says parishioner Dorsey Comer. "It's broken our church up. Everyone is just silently grieving.'' Those chasms, some say, cannot be bridged until Donna Somerville is judged in court. Ham's new wife Part of the murder's intrigue is steeped in the land itself; Mount Athos has a certain kind of history revered by Virginians. It once belonged to Montpelier, the family plantation of the fourth president of the United States. Originally covering more than 4,000 acres, Montpelier changed hands several times before its last private owner, Marion duPont Scott, bequeathed it to the National Trust for Historic Preservation in 1983. She was briefly married to Ham Somerville's uncle Thomas. In the divorce settlement, he got Mount Athos, which later was given to Hamilton Somerville Sr., Ham's father, as a wedding present. The duPonts and the Somervilles remain entwined by blood and land, like many families here whose descendants pride themselves on roots spanning 400 years. Conduct here is noted and judged-- especially the conduct of outsiders. It was hard not to notice the arrival of registered nurse Donna Scott in the summer of 1990. She was a Yankee, for one thing, and no one seemed to know her in the tight-knit enclave of Somerset, where two-lane roads ramble past fenced horse farms with gorgeous homes set a mile back. Ham Somerville hired her from a local hospice to care for his first wife, Sidney, who was dying of breast cancer. Donna Scott, 39, tended Sidney Somerville at Mount Athos. Her duties included administering morphine to ease Sidney's pain. When Sidney died three months later, Ham hired Donna to care for his mother, Henrietta, who was also dying of cancer. Henrietta died four months later. Seven months after that, Ham married Donna in a civil ceremony-- her fourth trip down the aisle. There were, of course, whispers and gossip. Sidney had been dead for less than a year. But Donna, Ham's friends thought, seemed to be a good influence on her new husband. She persuaded him to quit drinking. They became pillars of Christ Church. Both were members of the vestry. He was church treasurer; she was the Sunday school superintendent and sometimes served communion. They were inseparable. "When you saw one, you saw the other,'' says Tony Garnett, a local farm worker. If they weren't in church or working the farm, they were lunching at the picnic table inside the Somerset Center Store at what passes for an intersection here. From the wooden porch, you can see Mount Athos on a snow-covered rise, flanked by leafless trees of winter. Every morning started the same for Ham. He woke early and sat on the porch drinking coffee and smoking, Garnett said. He fed and tended 50 head of Black Angus cattle, then got in his Suburban and headed to the Somerset store for a coffee refill. There, he'd hook up with Garnett, whose father had worked at Montpelier for nearly 60 years and knew Ham's father. Garnett was a boy when he first met Ham, who was nearly 20 years older. Over the years, they became close. "People said I was the son he never had,'' Garnett says. About a year before Ham's death, Tony Garnett grew increasingly appalled. He considered driving up there and just telling Ham to his face. But he couldn't. "He was my friend,'' Garnett said. Garnett had watched Donna caressing the leg of another man, under the picnic table, as she, Ham and others ate lunch, he said. So had Garnett's girlfriend, Sarah Rogers, who works at the store. "We didn't know what to do,'' she said. "We couldn't believe it.'' They also watched her park her car in the tiny lot outside, then get into the cars of other men, slouching down as they drove away, both said. If Donna was having affairs, why be so blatant? There are nearby cities such as Charlottesville, where cheating wives have a better chance of going unnoticed. "It was like she just didn't care,'' Rogers said. Soon, Somerset was buzzing. But Ham never said a word to his friend. "All of a sudden, they weren't together all the time,'' Garnett says. "You could tell something was bothering him, but he wouldn't say nothing.'' How Ham died On the last night of his life, Ham Somerville said he didn't feel well and went to bed early. Donna brought him soup, she later told deputies. He hadn't felt well for more than a month. He was unnaturally exhausted, he told friends; some days he could barely get out of bed. One day, on the farm with Garnett, Ham wondered if he'd had a stroke in his sleep. "He was really tired,'' Garnett says. "He said he felt like he'd been drugged.'' But he didn't see a doctor. "Donna said she checked his blood pressure and it was fine,'' Rogers says. At Sunday church, after a vestry meeting, Ham chatted with Dorsey Comer, who'd known him for 18 years. "I asked how he was,'' Comer recounts. "He said, `Dorsey, you know, I'm not feeling very well. I'm just so tired and I don't know why.'" Two days later, Donna called 911. Her husband had stopped breathing, she said. The procession of sheriff's cars and rescue squad trucks snaking up the Mount Athos driveway lit up the hill. Down at the Somerset store, people stared. Garnett and Rogers drove to the house and pulled around to the back. Jeff Carpenter, a farm hand temporarily living in the guest cottage, sat outside. Garnett asked what was going on. "The old man done croaked," Carpenter replied. Donna was in the house with authorities. So was Lance Clore, another local man who'd been working, and sometimes staying, at Mount Athos. Garnett pointed his car back down the hill. Except for the funeral, "I never did go back up there,'' he said. "I knew deep in my heart that she had killed him, and I didn't want to be around her.'' It took about 15 months for investigators to announce they'd reached the same conclusion. On Valentine's Day 2002, Donna Somerville was indicted on one count of first-degree murder. She was sole heir to Ham's $15 million estate. Modest trusts had already been established for his grown daughters. Phone messages left for Donna Somerville by the Associated Press were not returned. Prosecutors, investigators, and Donna Somerville's attorneys declined comment on the criminal case. So did lawyers representing the estate and his daughters, who have filed a wrongful death suit against Donna Somerville. Orange County sheriff's deputies, aided by a state police investigator, interviewed more than 80 people connected to Ham and Donna. According to court documents, much of the state's evidence comes from the sworn statements of deputies who responded to Donna's 911 call and from wiretaps placed on telephones belonging to Donna and Lance Clore. Sgt. James Fenwick says that when he arrived at Mount Athos, he followed Donna's voice to the second-floor bedroom. Ham was on the bed, still alive. Donna told Fenwick she tried to administer CPR but "was unable to do anything because of her husband's physical size.'' After serving Ham's dinner, Donna said, she'd gone downstairs. When she returned, he was "blue in the face.'' Paramedics worked for 45 minutes, administering CPR and inserting an intubation tube. Deputy Shane Nelson said Donna "pleaded several times for the rescue workers to stop,'' saying her father "had gone through this and they didn't save him.'' Nelson and Fenwick said Donna insisted she wanted her husband cremated that night, saying it was what Ham wanted. But Virginia law prohibits cremation until a death certificate is issued. At the urging of one Somerville daughter, the Commonwealth's Attorney ordered an autopsy. The results: death by drug poisoning. The investigation A piece of carpet was cut from the bedroom floor where Ham had vomited in front of deputies. It tested positive for morphine, codeine, and oxycodone, according to the state forensic lab. Also seized from the property, according to court documents, were cocaine; marijuana; prescription painkillers; Klonopin, a sedating drug usually prescribed for anxiety disorders; herpes suppression medication; and a snippet of plastic straw containing cocaine residue. The warrants do not specify whether all of the items came from the big house, or whether some came from the guest cottage. Months later, authorities charged Carpenter with felony possession of cocaine. He is now listed as a material witness in the murder case. As the days tick by leading to Donna Somerville's murder trial, a semblance of normality has returned here. Life in the Somerset store goes on, though Donna does not come in anymore. "For awhile, nobody trusted anybody,'' Rogers says. "It's disrupted everything. It's just a little country town.'' Donna no longer attends Christ Church, where some worshippers balked at taking communion wine from the hands of a woman suspected of killing her husband, Comer said. She still shops at Faulconer's hardware over in Orange, where people know her and what she is accused of doing, and don't say a word to her about it. "She's innocent until proven guilty,'' says Conway Faulconer, who helps run the family store. "These are people with lives we're talking about.'' There are certain things just not done here. Abandoning civility is one of them. http://news.findlaw.com/court_tv/s/20040618/18jun2004102125.html Trial opens for Virginia wife accused of poisoning millionaire husband By Emanuella Grinberg, Court TV (Court TV) — Black widow. Adulterous gold digger. Since Donna Somerville's 2003 indictment and arrest for her millionaire husband's death, these are just some of the ways the former hospice worker has been characterized in the extensive press leading up to her first-degree murder trial. Somerville will stand trial Thursday for Hamilton "Ham" Somerville's 2001 death in the tiny Virginia hamlet of Orange, where the Somerville family resided for three generations in an opulent home perched atop a hill. It was there on Mt. Athos, the 445-acre estate the Somervilles inherited from the duPont family, on land that once belonged to James Madison Sr., that police found Ham Somerville dead in his bed on Nov. 13, 2001, from a drug overdose. Prosecutors say Donna Somerville, 51, poisoned her 57-year-old husband with codeine and morphine and then sought an immediate cremation to destroy the evidence. Ham Somerville's daughters intervened and canceled the cremation just 30 minutes before Donna Somerville had scheduled it, the morning after his death. Because of the media frenzy surrounding the investigation, defense attorney Charles Bowman's initial request for an out-of-town jury was granted. Then Bowman sought, and was granted, a bench trial. "Even the cause of death, a central issue in this case, has been widely published as 'murder' as if there was no question of suicide or accidental overdose," Bowman wrote in a May 14 court filing. Prosecutors supported the defense requests. "We all felt that we wanted an impartial trier of fact to hear this case. Both sides are satisfied with the decision," said Mark Robinette, a Hanover County prosecutor. Robinette and co-prosecutor Randy Krantz came from neighboring Virginia counties to try the case in the place of an Orange County prosecutor who faced a conflict of interest for having taken part in a business deal with Ham Somerville. Robinette said nearly 100 witnesses have been subpoenad to testify against Donna Somerville, in a case he admits its "largely circumstantial." "People are conditioned to expect some smoking gun evidence that will conclusively prove someone's innocence or guilt," said Robinette. "But really what we're doing is putting together one case like pieces of a puzzle." Robinette plans to introduce recorded phone conversations to bolster the prosecution's contention that Donna Somerville was having numerous liaisons with local men before her husband's death. The prosecution believes a divorce was imminent for the couple, who married in 1991 after Ham Somerville's first wife, Sidney, died of breast cancer under Donna's care as a hospice worker. They contend Ham's younger wife stood to gain significantly less than the estimated $15 million he was worth had the relationship ended in divorce, amid rumors of infidelity. Donna Somerville says her husband, whose health was flagging in weeks before his death, administered the deadly dose himself. According to press reports, defense attorneys are expected to argue that Ham Somerville had used both drugs for months before he died. Tests performed on one of his hairs showed concentrations of three opiates, including the two on which he overdosed, according to a toxicology report ordered by the defense team. If convicted, Somerville faces life in prison. Ham Somerville's three daughters filed a separate civil suit against Donna Somerville for $15 million in compensatory damages and $350,000 in punitive damages for their father's death. Posted by Angie at 06:42 AM | Comments (1)

Grey Skies The light outside is grey. Just dim and grey. It reflects my mood. I have no will to do anything today. I have put on a happy face when I have to interact with a living breathing person then I go back to my sad sack face where I don't have to hide that I am having troubles today. I have tried to be fine for 3 days now and it's not working. I am not fine. I am angry, emotionally frazzled. I am weepy and morning for what could have been. I do not like being me today. I was late. I have spent 27 years never being late. The 14 days past the day I knew what was going on. I have birthed 3 children, my two girls and the surrogate baby. I know what being late means. I know what being sick in the late afternoon means. I know when the weird rash breaks out on my hands what it means. I do not need a doctor to confirm what it means. 3 days ago when my period started I was thrown into the deepest pit. When I told Steven I had started he was emotional, too. I tried to reason with myself and him. "All things happen for a reason." "Things like this happen when something is terribly wrong." "It is nature's way of dealing with a biological mishap." I am tired of putting on the face. I want to scream and openly cry. I want to weep and sob out loud. I can't. The children will hear and want to know what is wrong. Steven will hear and it will upset him. How do you get through things like this and stay in one piece? How? Why? I just want to crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head and hide. Hide from what? I don't know ... other people's eyes maybe. I want to openly morn for what was to be and is not to be any more. Maybe all I need is swift kick in ass to get moving again, but I don't want to move. Not today. Today I want what is not meant to be. Posted by Angie at 01:30 PM | Comments (5)

April 10, 2005 Spring has Sprung In the past week I have watched spring burst into life right before my eyes. I have been so ready for spring. I am still learning to adjust to the seasons here in Virginia. I have yet to acclimatize although I have been living in Virginia for the past year. The cold is a very different cold to that of Georgia. It is more of a wet cold not to mention all of the ice and snow. This year will be a true test of my gardening skills. I have to learn when and where to plant as well as what will grow well here. Being in the new house now I have to learn the soil and figure out what I need to feed it. The soil in most places has a lot of clay but it is rich and seems fertile. It is a far different clay than that of the rich red Georgia clay I know. We have added a mild fertilizer to the garden patches. Steven tilled it in when he plowed. We bought an organic fertilizer made of sterilized chicken poop. A vendor at Lowes convinced me to try it. Cockadoodle Doo is the brand name. Read about it here. Normally I only trust my tried and true methods but being in Virginia everything is new, nothing yet has been tried, well not by me. I have a learning curve that may take several years to develop a feel for the agriculture of this area. However I am willing to take a risk. I have been told the locals have an unwritten competition to see who can produce the first fully vine ripe tomato BEFORE July 4th. Back in Georgia I usally planted and had ripe tomatoes by the end of May or early June. Stay tuned for more of the play-by on the competition. This photo is one of my favorites. The japanese magnolias are in full bloom. I love the white with the hints of purpley pink. I didn't think this photo would turn out clear. The wind was blowing and the branch was shaking. I am surprised I captured a clear view. The trees make me happy when I look out and see them fully dressed in their best spring fashions. There are a couple more near the koi pond and they too are blooming to beat the band. The orchard has burst into life. At first I wasn't sure they were doing anything and then as if over night there are apple blossoms and damsons readying themselves for fruit production. I had never seen a damson tree until we bought this house. I am excited to see what developes. I have been told it is a prestigious thing to have a damson orchard in these parts. I can hardly wait until harvest time. I have read that damsons smell like roses when being prepared for jam. I do hope we have a nice crop. I want to try my hand at damson jam and slow gin. I am not sure what is in these containers on the front porch but they are blooming in great shades of purple. I love the contrast with the deep dark green of the leaves. I have never seen wild pansies until now. Back in Georgia we have lots of clover and wild sweet pea. These are a pleasant surprise. Steven cut the grass yesterday but some have managed to miss the blades of the mower. A few miles from our house the open fields are just gorgeous wearing a sheen of purple. I wish I had had the forethought to bring the camera with us yesterday. Fields and fields of purple lay on either side of the road. They appear to be filled with wild purple clover and the same little wild pansies. This is my tomato patch, just getting started, but soon I know in the heat of the sun it will take off. In the back is another patch we will plow under and plant more vegetables. In the area beside the gardening house we plan to clear this week I am planning an asparagus patch. I want to try the Mary Washington variety. I don't know where yet, but somewhere, I want to put in a patch of artichokes also. Both crops will need to grow for at least 2 years before we harvest. I know they will be worth the wait! Asparagus and artichokes are two of our most favorites. Asparagus is so expensive in the markets it will be almost sinful to have a patch of our own. I am sure you can't see the blossoms on this tomato plant. The sun was so bright I think it washed out the color. I assure you, I have tomato blossoms. I can't wait for that first red ripe tomato of summer. I have planted better bush, roma, cherry, better boy and beefstake tomatoes. We also have added a few sweet bell peppers, a red, green and a yellow. Gardening will produce a lot more work around here and weeding is not one of my favorite tasks. I don't know anyone who likes weeding. Some of the little projects around the house will have to be put off at times to work in the gardens, a sacrifice I am willing make in order to have fresh summer vegetables on the table. I think the tending and harvesting will be good lessons for the kids, too. Besides when it comes to weeding, it is a good chore for the kids! lol Posted by Angie at 05:16 AM | Comments (4)

April 06, 2005 Ga to Va 1 year and 3 months ago I moved from Georgia to Virginia. I lived in the same place in Georgia most of my life, which was a farm. I grew up with everything imaginable. I left the bliss of the Georgia countryside and moved to Va. to marry my sweetheart where I spent the past year crammed into a townhouse in the crawling/sprawling DC metro area. Now, I am back in the country, Va , not Georgia and today is the first warm day we have had. The last frost date is April 15th. I have it marked on my calendar. I dream of digging in the soil with my bare hands, feeding new chicks, milking goats, serving the family the fruits of my garden labors, but to pass the time I am planning the kitchen remodel, planning the bathroom remodel and dreaming of the swimming pool we are putting in "for the kids." Yes, it is "for the kids!" - I keep telling myself. I am trying every day to restore my site to its once bulgingly full and daily posted blog past. One day I know I will get there. Answers to Counting Sheep Blog Chocolate or Vanilla? Dark bittersweet choclate, I prefer Belgian. Vanilla icecream, yogurt, custard, creme, etc. Foreign or Domestic? Domestic, I buy American. However, American beer sucks - I buy foreign beer. Standard or Automatic? Both, my Explorer is Auto, the Mustang is Standard. I grew up on a farm with both. No preference. Laptop or Desktop? We have 9 machines in this house. I have 2 desktops, 1 windows OS, 1 Linux OS, when I am lazy on the couch, I have the laptop, like right now! Arthouse or Mainstream? Both Gin or Vodka? Gin, because I have a damson orchard. I want to make my own slow gin. Cotton or Silk? Cotton. I love the feel of combed cotton, comfy t-shirts and sheets ... silk sheets - your ass will slide right off at the most inopportune time! Comforter or Duvet? I have a luxurious down comforter and feather bed, both are in battenburg duvet covers to protect them. Down or Synthetic? Down! Medium weight, please! Film or Digital? Digital. We have an Olympus. I want a new camera. My husband asks, "Why?" I answer, "Because." Peanut Butter or Nutella? Peanutbutter, unless I have sinful choclate to have with the nutella. White or Wheat? I buy both weekly. Sometimes I mix the sandwiches I serve the family. White on 1 side, wheat on the other. Or black rye or pumpernickle or sourbdough or ... I love bread! Chinese or Thai? Chinese mostly, cantonese style. But I prefer Thai when I am in southern California. Sushi or Sashimi? Sushi. My husband made me sushi for Valentine's Day. He makes GREAT sushi. Salty or Sweet? Both. I love the saltiness of chips and crackers. I love the sweet of the filling for eclairs, barvarian style. Comfort or Fashion? Comfort. I am 38, fashion be damned. Ocean or Lake? Lake, I love to fish. I prefer freshwater fish. However the sea produces my favorite of all time, shrimp. Warm or Cold? Warm weather. Cold tea. Standard white headphones or alternative?Standard black. Coffee or Tea? Coffee in the morning. Iced Tea the rest of the day. Iced tea is the house wine of the south. Tap or bottled? Tap. Our well is the original on the farm, hand dug, stone lined. Pure water. No chemicals. Blonde or Brunette? I am brunette. I was born blonde but it only lasted a few months. I prefer dark haired men. Summer or Winter?S ummer. Spring or Fall? Spring. Money or Time? I need time to make money! Posted by Angie at 03:58 PM | Comments (1)