tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62218222557876566492024-03-05T15:36:13.368-06:00My Cynical POV*IT MAY NOT ALWAYS BE LOVELY, BUT WHAT YOU READ HERE, WELL, THIS IS MY LIFE...
*POV = Point of Viewjamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-88716101244184249522008-12-10T13:19:00.001-06:002008-12-10T13:21:15.168-06:00Hello Lovers!!!!After lots of thought, and a little research, I've decided it is time for a change.<br /><br />I've MOVED!<br /><br />Please join me at wordpress! <a href="http://www.mycynicalpov.wordpress.com/">www.mycynicalpov.wordpress.com</a><br /><br />So, update your address links, and get your butts over to my new site! Looking forward to seeing you all.<br /><br />xxxojamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-21808943608042637342008-12-08T16:02:00.005-06:002008-12-09T09:06:20.145-06:00HunterJust FYI--today is my ONE YEAR anniversary at this blog! Yay!! Hope you all enjoy this one...<br /><br />People are <em>constantly</em> trying to set me up and marry me off. "I have a friend for you" "There's this really cute farmer I know" "My nephew is adorable" you get the picture. Here is a conversation that happened between a good friend of mine and me. She's older than me, has a family, and always hounds me about getting married and giving her some "grandbabies." <strong>Yeah, right.</strong> Anyway, she's got a guy in mind that she wants to set me up with. She's brought him up several times over the last month or two, but nothing has ever come to fruition--she brought him up again today. Here is our e-mail convo after her phone call to tell me that she was back on this lovely idea of hers. <strong>Enjoy</strong>:<br /><br /><br /><em>From: Jamie Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:03 PMTo: MJ Subject: RE:<br /><strong>He’s not like, churchy, is he?</strong></em><br /><em></em><br /><em>From: MJ Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:11 PMTo: Jamie Subject: RE:<br /><strong>Ok, no.</strong></em><br /><br /><em>From: Jamie Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:16 PMTo: MJ Subject: RE:<br /><strong>I don’t date really churchy guys</strong></em><br /><br /><em>From: MJ Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:22 PMTo: Jamie Subject: RE:<br /><strong>I have no indication he’s churchy. Chris is trying to find a photo of him to email me. She thinks she has one of him with a deer he shot??!?!?!?!!??!??!?**!! He could put food on the table. You’d never go hungry. </strong></em><br /><br /><em>From: Jamie Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:23 PMTo: MJ Subject: RE:<br /><strong>OMG! He's a hunter? Like how often does he hunt? Every season? Like, blood on his clothes all the time, hunts? For Pete’s sake, what do you think I am?</strong></em><br /><br /><em>From: MJ Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:25 PMTo: Jamie Subject: RE:<br /><strong>Well…..he could find you car keys and missing shoe for you. Don’t you date hunters now? Sheesh….what do you want, a pussy city boy?</strong></em><br /><br /><em>From: Jamie Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:27 PMTo: MJSubject: RE:<br /><strong>Lol! I’m just saying. Hunting is one thing…being a crazy hunter guy is totally different. I mean, if he’s a "deer heads in every room of the house" kinda guy…. :S</strong> </em><br /><em>From: MJ Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:30 PMTo: Jamie Subject: RE:<br /><strong>You can hang your panties from the antlers.<br /></strong></em><br /><em>From: Jamie Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:30 PMTo: MJ Subject: RE:<br /><strong>There is something very, very wrong with you.<br /></strong></em><br /><em>From: MJ Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 3:32 PM To: Jamie Subject RE: </em><br /><em><strong>Ditto, Cabbagehead.</strong> </em>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-78910803532833753782008-12-04T20:49:00.011-06:002008-12-05T10:00:02.646-06:00The Children Need Him More Than I Do.<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">THIS IS ECUADOR:</span><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMgecn4uMsdHFSDX2h3__qkyd6DZeQ5IhPVbAdlP6QW-qQ2fS91G_hWHmgQ8WusfWWQYcr7onoQENTUyRM3urAOJ9iSH6ADoxgRDAA48cq1F3wtN562H83rPIjF2SZC5pHEcLJFwSL2nQ/s1600-h/ecuador.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276132836825946226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMgecn4uMsdHFSDX2h3__qkyd6DZeQ5IhPVbAdlP6QW-qQ2fS91G_hWHmgQ8WusfWWQYcr7onoQENTUyRM3urAOJ9iSH6ADoxgRDAA48cq1F3wtN562H83rPIjF2SZC5pHEcLJFwSL2nQ/s320/ecuador.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"> THIS IS COLORADO:</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcBGvZ1PIJhzGJ9mqfsUEF-_Rho95uEOFYOAsciE0qJC-AE9f5dy1zsJZni2D0K5jq5YTu_wxRvUvhQIIgVQAx_MG0ICjYFglqOPSeFaAqgv8Ist4OAOhk9_XxfZrpEMijSf06wwli7s/s1600-h/colorado.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276132832800419730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 175px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcBGvZ1PIJhzGJ9mqfsUEF-_Rho95uEOFYOAsciE0qJC-AE9f5dy1zsJZni2D0K5jq5YTu_wxRvUvhQIIgVQAx_MG0ICjYFglqOPSeFaAqgv8Ist4OAOhk9_XxfZrpEMijSf06wwli7s/s320/colorado.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"> THIS IS MY LOVELY STATE OF IOWA:</span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276133208884580866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 172px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 123px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpIiPk0efrZzBaXQxWO7Hw55AEIUjQ3KlKT3NgHm_RA_3BaDTCExHjM-O0_bBZ5Tf5qnBMRZAmF1MIyM6AViz3N7s-KRYNDTWw4QcuV6sKxa1is3y_k0DzZ8XKLcFZjjQihgcz6E3cTYs/s320/IOWA.jpg" border="0" /> It is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">necessary</span> to have a visual of those three places before I tell you this story.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><div align="center"></div><div align="left">My friend Danielle and I decided it would be best for both of our souls to go on a man-fast for a while. As you all know, my luck with man-fasting is very bad. I don't have much will power--which is why I always fail at being anorexic, never get out of bed early to exercise, and always finish the bottle of wine. When it comes to men, I am usually the same way. I had lots of faith in my ability to pull this off this time, though.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">And I failed.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I went on a date tonight. With Zach. A cute 25 year old college graduate with what sounds like a decent job (and he travels a lot, like me), and a similar love for Thai food. We met at my favorite Thai restaurant tonight (even though it is in a shoddy part of town and my sister is convinced I am going to get shot every time I go there). Conversation was off to a good start, we perused the menu, he ordered the yellow curry duck and I had the pad <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">thai</span>--per my usual. We talked about our jobs, families, friends, goals, aspirations, his immunizations* etc. Great date? Right?</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Here's the catch: Zach leaves Saturday to go back to Denver for work for two weeks. He comes home on the 20<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> and then is done working. He quit his job. So that he can leave in the beginning of January to go to ECUADOR* to teach ENGLISH to the CHILDREN for somewhere between SIX MONTHS AND A YEAR. Blast! Damn noble people, anyway. "Thanks for dinner and a great date, maybe I'll run into you in South America sometime???"</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I'm not very good with geography, but I do know that Denver, Ecuador and my lovely spot in Iowa are not, well, very close at all.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">My sister's first question: <em>Why are you going on dates with men who are based in Denver and are moving to Ecuador next month?</em></div><div align="left"><em></em> </div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">She's brilliant.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Maybe the man-fast won't be so difficult <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">after all</span>--especially if all the men I am interested in are jet setting to South America for the rest of their lives. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Have I ever told you all how much I <strong>hate</strong> dating? Sometimes I think it might have been easier if I had been born into one of those families who believe in arranged marriage--set me up and send me off to get knocked up with my new husband and a flock of sheep as my dowry.</div></div>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-30077581794449256762008-12-03T13:03:00.002-06:002008-12-03T13:10:13.331-06:00You gotta have friends....<strong> If you ever have a day that leaves you feeling like this:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKF9J2FJj-J9ImIXj6FqhrTB5NT4aD2oQjjrBGhNrKSEo1rP9r33-10ZbtDR_OgF18Py-0XengmJlqS2ERL1HuUIj6zPWAchMfV935AQjsFsTQUvJqasVQZiMMcDNINJcYbvxyPJaPqE/s1600-h/winter+005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275641742142463826" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKF9J2FJj-J9ImIXj6FqhrTB5NT4aD2oQjjrBGhNrKSEo1rP9r33-10ZbtDR_OgF18Py-0XengmJlqS2ERL1HuUIj6zPWAchMfV935AQjsFsTQUvJqasVQZiMMcDNINJcYbvxyPJaPqE/s320/winter+005.JPG" border="0" /></a></strong><br /><p><strong></strong> </p><p><strong></strong> </p><p><strong></strong> </p><p><strong></strong> </p><p><strong></strong> </p><p><strong></strong> </p><p><strong></strong> </p><p><strong></strong> </p>I have decided the best solution is to call up your best friends. Although we live only 28 minutes from each other, we don't see each other as often as we should, so I was especially excited when these lovely ladies met me last night for dinner, and we had a <strong>blast</strong>--we laughed, caught up, shared disgust over the nasty sauce the waitress brought Danielle (seriously, sick), harassed Lucy about her newest boy, it was lovely. The photos below pretty much sum up my dear friends' personalities to a T--Lucy's changes depending on the topic of choice ( the closed mouth smirk was from when I started razzing her about the Iraqi war veteran who will *hopefully* become her husband soon; the excited one with her hands in the air came from our conversation about mud wrestling a cute boy in the rain--Lucy, not me; and the final one where she looks disgruntled came on as we decided that we had to get going. Danielle, true to form, is typically pretty excited, so that picture works, too!).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3W9NMRqPZu0Bg5Rnwtw-OPAql1cVMdTIFpKWrfV4yoqbkX_o2RgBSHwQY-RDi65n8nWxl0be4S7MJJLZoLOc3qix2sT5SNKezaBFBQwAwitm7qTGJ7a1eObN4Sv1UwO2Kd72rq0-WI10/s1600-h/winter+003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275641734780525586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3W9NMRqPZu0Bg5Rnwtw-OPAql1cVMdTIFpKWrfV4yoqbkX_o2RgBSHwQY-RDi65n8nWxl0be4S7MJJLZoLOc3qix2sT5SNKezaBFBQwAwitm7qTGJ7a1eObN4Sv1UwO2Kd72rq0-WI10/s320/winter+003.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJ7E-LnEr2QAflWwGjTxCogn_aUE99ltwKzrKRRxWVHlpcUj1geKfXuouBTl7f52xTWszo67hLgEwbmk-euqRwgT9JXbhRhMzbQGfkC5AK6MqHZlbShiHByPjqSK6BvcQn0M-AxrCtC0/s1600-h/winter+002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275641726123627746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJ7E-LnEr2QAflWwGjTxCogn_aUE99ltwKzrKRRxWVHlpcUj1geKfXuouBTl7f52xTWszo67hLgEwbmk-euqRwgT9JXbhRhMzbQGfkC5AK6MqHZlbShiHByPjqSK6BvcQn0M-AxrCtC0/s320/winter+002.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBkf-73KFtdMAxi49NcTXgHqdOaz2ic3Dm3vcUFfhh4OEvpjqprETwMh20Tesgm3hWhVEBETcQrVEcDZROaynFNllgmCuo-IrSWu25JyqygJ_ErQxKZcXp1ec86sjfN_Gfl1RtBpDS4XY/s1600-h/winter+001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275641709410062482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBkf-73KFtdMAxi49NcTXgHqdOaz2ic3Dm3vcUFfhh4OEvpjqprETwMh20Tesgm3hWhVEBETcQrVEcDZROaynFNllgmCuo-IrSWu25JyqygJ_ErQxKZcXp1ec86sjfN_Gfl1RtBpDS4XY/s320/winter+001.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGvezMyQJGQF2SB_NyU24-3imfelqxbs9HD3wrnGTqN-wJy2DIj4bhyphenhyphenRu0oLXw2cBvROO0JeYkD2Vqqk-ABWT9arQs2yBeT-h8rBQoPGYuGVG1tKehB0-c1An1WIYoTHePTg06vaMCek/s1600-h/winter+004.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275641738619004642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGvezMyQJGQF2SB_NyU24-3imfelqxbs9HD3wrnGTqN-wJy2DIj4bhyphenhyphenRu0oLXw2cBvROO0JeYkD2Vqqk-ABWT9arQs2yBeT-h8rBQoPGYuGVG1tKehB0-c1An1WIYoTHePTg06vaMCek/s320/winter+004.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Seriously, I have great friends. And I love them. They know that. A girl finds only a few good girlfriends in her life, and I happen to be blessed with some of the best of them! XXXOjamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-67530827141588720082008-11-30T14:56:00.004-06:002008-12-01T09:11:37.189-06:00Dysfunctional Thanksgiving<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcUFM6esBCV4Pl9y4Oy1awup-GlCh0Ln8Of47-ZZ53Ig2gbMIkvaSZQOJmAlr93M80o9MZlxUXrsiBZCEOw7qxx-qYjcD9ZNrSASlI4-MPD8lPBZUpAN5-H_QKhjVAqKZs7ZNW7wp_Wo/s1600-h/dysfunct.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcUFM6esBCV4Pl9y4Oy1awup-GlCh0Ln8Of47-ZZ53Ig2gbMIkvaSZQOJmAlr93M80o9MZlxUXrsiBZCEOw7qxx-qYjcD9ZNrSASlI4-MPD8lPBZUpAN5-H_QKhjVAqKZs7ZNW7wp_Wo/s400/dysfunct.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274558382201335826" /></a><br />I won. I am the winner of <strong>Dysfunctional Thanksgiving</strong>—an offshoot of Dysfunctional Christmas—an event invented by my <a href="http://theadventuresofminnie.blogspot.com">dear friend </a>and some of her friends many years ago. This is the first year for Dysfunctional Thanksgiving, and I am the winner. What do you have to do to win? Have the most dysfunctional holiday possible with a lot of cookoo craziness with the family. <br /><br />Here are the highlights of mine, and the reason I won:<br /><br />-Lots and lots of wine. Like, <strong>lots </strong>of wine.<br />-One parent who is in the same house as me for 24 hours and doesn’t speak more than three sentences to me. <strong>Literally</strong>. I am not exaggerating.<br />-Going to the store with the other parent and breaking down sobbing due to other parent’s ridiculous behavior.<br />-Being scheduled to stay at sister’s until Sunday, and having to leave on Thursday evening after you slept off your afternoon buzz because you are so miserable.<br />-Letting cruel parent get the best of you to the point that you throw in the towel and go home—you win! You ruined my holiday, <strong>YOU WIN</strong>!!<br />-Answering your friend Kara’s phone call as soon as you get in the car and are pulling away from sister’s and continue to sob/choke/cry into the phone for the next 30 minutes.<br /><br />When it comes down to it, I actually won. I won dysfunctional Thanksgiving, and I managed to salvage a great weekend and spent some quality time with some of my closest friends (love you guys), cleaned my house, put up Christmas decorations, and finished most of my Christmas shopping—I guess, all in all, it was a pretty decent weekend!jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-12954265456961923452008-11-24T20:26:00.004-06:002008-11-26T09:48:50.417-06:00I'm a writing amateur...<span style="font-family:arial;">So occasionally, I dabble in a little bit of writing. Sometimes it's hopeful, sometimes it's even on the verge of happy, there is a little bit of comedy, and a nice chunk of Plath-esque writing in there. I don't often share much of it, but for lack of anything better to blog about today, I have decided to share the following piece with all of you. I wrote it about 8 months ago, then let it sit on my laptop for about six months, and have been tinkering around with it every so often now. I'm not sure I'm done with it, but I think it's ready enough to share...my only disclaimer--this one falls into the Plath-esque category! Enjoy...</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em></em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><strong>Eleven Days.</strong><br />The cool breeze of a fall evening danced through the champagne colored curtains lightly hanging across the open window--the glass, rippled with age, projected brilliant shapes across the Van Gogh print hanging on the white wall as the street light poured the only illumination in to the room. She looked at the shapes, twice distorted due to the tears nestled comfortably in her bright green eyes. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><br />She continued to think about the events of the past eleven days. She sighed. And then she cracked a bottle of her favorite merlot; as the glass shook in her hand, she lifted it to her lips to take a drink. The warmth of the liquid soothed her throat, scratchy from the efforts of long nights of crying. She felt that sip line her soul, and once again, she was comforted…She sat there, wrapped beneath her shall, and tapped what was left of her bitten fingernails against the rim of glass.<br /><br />She wondered how it had come to this. She's young--barely 23, a college graduate who works a mind-numbing job, and in the process pays her bills. She spends much of her time in the company of great friends, and occasionally a nice man comes into her life, only before slipping right back out, too soon. On paper, it didn't appear as though she really had anything to be depressed about--so why was she so blue? Hereditary--that’s what the doctors said--a disease that has plagued the women in her family for generations--obviously, it was more severe in her case.<br /><br />She lightly ran her index finger along the uneven ridges of the eleven day old red-brown flaking scab which was evolving into a pink fleshy scar that would be forever tattooed along her fragile wrist… something like those Chinese symbols or stars that the other girls tattooed on themselves. Hers wasn’t nearly as trendy, but it was just as permanent.<br /><br />After “they” agreed that she was stable, they handed her the bottle of pills --“take three pills once daily for depression.” She now twirled the bottle in her hand and listened to the melodic fall of each of the pills as they made their way around the inside surface of that plastic orange bottle.<br /><br />She opened the child resistant cap and spilled them into the palm of her hand, one by one until the entire contents sat there in a small pile. Blue pills. Little blue pills. They were all she needed to accomplish what she had originally intended... At least she had a good drink to wash them down with…</em></span><br /><br />I'll post something happier for you all to read at a later date. In response to my sister's question--no, no need to worry, this is FICTION! :)jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-50299344804925333522008-11-23T11:00:00.002-06:002008-11-24T09:19:41.249-06:00DBA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4pCYvNn2223lJhbciFhNH31Qk3UV-EqqQWeTZLI4Eyy4jJzkK1tgCjSWsMDSB5qOxLZ0kCSoF0RGeVg_g4mrFhchKgxG8192Gs-ySAX5W2Vm_V-kiBYmwbQOPlkFZF2HFVQGecytQyvs/s1600-h/bobo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272235005383043858" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 359px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4pCYvNn2223lJhbciFhNH31Qk3UV-EqqQWeTZLI4Eyy4jJzkK1tgCjSWsMDSB5qOxLZ0kCSoF0RGeVg_g4mrFhchKgxG8192Gs-ySAX5W2Vm_V-kiBYmwbQOPlkFZF2HFVQGecytQyvs/s400/bobo.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div>There is a little boy that I have gotten to know over the last year or so. He's a pretty cool little kid with a personality unrivaled by any other child...or adult...I have ever met. He has the biggest green-blue eyes that jump out from beneath his shaggy blonde hair and the sweetest little grin. This little guy, he's also quite the snuggler--a loving, sweet little boy. He loves superheros--Spiderman and Batman seem to be the two favorites. At times he can be rambunctious and loud, and he loves wrestling with his siblings. His name is Bowen, he is three and a half, and he inspires me every single day.<br /><br />Bowen is the nephew of a dear friend of mine, and before I knew Bowen, I knew nothing of the disease he has been battling. Bowen has, since birth, been dealing with a rare blood disorder called <a href="http://www.dbafoundation.org/">Diamond Blackfan Anemia </a>(DBA). I am no expert on the disease, in fact, my knowledge of it is quite cryptic, but I do know the basics--Bowen's body can't produce red blood cells. Like I said, this disease is extremely rare, it affects less than a thousand people in the entire world--little Bowen is one of them. He has been recieving blood transfusions since he was an infant, and now, his family hopes their next step will cure this little guy's disease.<br /><br />The next step is a bone marrow transplant. His original transplant was supposed to happen last spring. There were complications with his blood which halted the procedure and led to this little guy being bound to a small backpack for four months that was feeding medicine into his body 24/7. It worked perfectly, and now he and his family are back in action--taking this next big step. His transplant is Tuesday--a gift from his big brother Ryder, who just turned 5. The whole family was at our house on Halloween night--I gave Bowen a big hug. As he climbed up on my lap, I rubbed his back and said "BoBo--your backpack is gone!!", and he said, "I know, now you can rub my back." Talk about something that'll make your heart melt.<br /><br /><p>I am asking all of you to keep Bowen and his family in your thoughts. If you pray, please pray for Bowen, if you know people who pray, ask them to do the same. Spread awareness on this disease that so many know so little about. Bowen has a long road ahead of him--one that I am sure he will face daily with those bright eyes and with the amazing resolve he has mustered in his short three and a half years. This child is truly a super hero--as is his big brother--who has been asked to do such an important thing, and to give such a great gift. These two young boys have been asked to perform big tasks, huge tasks, and they (and the rest of their family) continue on with steadfast determination, bravery and more courage than one would assume two little boys could have. They are remarkable little people, truly. May this week go as smoothly as is possible for Bowen, Ryder and their family. We're all cheering for you guys!!!! XXO</p><p>Check out these links for more info:</p><p><a class="linkNormal12" href="http://www.diamondblackfananemia.com/" target="_blank">http://www.diamondblackfananemia.com/</a><br /><br /><a class="linkNormal12" href="http://www.dbafoundation.org/" target="_blank">http://www.dbafoundation.org/</a><br /><br /><a class="linkNormal12" href="http://www.dbaftravel.com/" target="_blank">http://www.dbaftravel.com/</a></p></div>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-12904477821551780112008-11-21T16:22:00.007-06:002008-11-22T09:30:05.552-06:00I love blogging....So, Murphy decided to stay overnight. He slept on the couch, of course. And I thought the day was shot, again. Then, <a href="http://ladolcevita10.blogspot.com/">Dolce </a>left me a sweet little gift which turned my day right around! I got a blog award--and that, my friends, makes me feel pretty stinkin' special! XXXO to you Dolce.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271240211563359842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 185px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZR_sUIwtkYcUc9KODWjdBuPARe9Qt0B9Umy-5vKRjDyCSfhJGRAQGcldJgprOzVoeNeWUfgoNkt92izhu-gShFCTbIDRW13VgnwTK2DI3e-QDuAJWJ-eB7RxyGvGCrmJ3UX2kUiq7UY/s400/blogaward.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p></p><p>This blog award is given to sites that:</p><p>~ inspire you</p><p>~ make you smile and laugh</p><p>~ give amazing information</p><p>~ is a great read</p><p>~ have an amazing designand/or any other reasons you can think of that makes them uber amazing!</p><p>The rules of this award are: Put the logo on your blog or post. Nominate at least 5 blogs that for you are Uber Amazing! Let them know that they have received this Uber Amazing award by commenting on their blog. Share the love and link to this post and to the person you received your award from.</p><span style="font-size:78%;">***I have to add one disclaimer--I am going to be sharing this award with my bloggy friends--to my real life friends, you already know how much I love you and love your blogs! There's no secret there! So, L, K, B, A, C, D--just know I love you, but this time, I'm spreading the wealth to the bloggy friends. :)<br /></span><p>I love blogging. I love the blogging community of gals I have established--I have read so many stories of heartbreak, success, sadness, hopefulness--I just think the world of all my bloggy friends. I refer to you all as "My friend Sara, or my friend Amanda..." And, then, when I explain to my real life people that we are blog friends, they look at me a little bit like I'm crazy. But it's true, you all have become a lovely addition to my life. It's hard to choose just 5 of you to award, but I think I've narrowed it down. So, the 5 fabulously lovely bloggers I have chosen are:</p><p><span style="color:#cc0000;">Sara Jane</span>: for the sake of her newly sought anonymity, I am not going to link this big sexy. She is my number one blog of the day--she writes it all--whether it's about her job, her latest boys, the friends, happiness, sadness, Sara's posts are always thoughtful, and always well written. xxxo. SJ and I would be friends in real life, we've already established that. <span style="font-size:78%;">*SJ, if you want me to link you, let me know, otherwise I'll respect your privacy! Ha! :)</span></p><p><a href="http://icouldbeordinary.blogspot.com/"><span style="color:#993399;">Amanda</span></a><span style="color:#993399;">:</span> I love Amanda's blog. And she leaves the best comments. She can always make me smile, no matter the day. Her blogs are often humorous, and I love to hear of her every day adventures. Plus, I totally like her posting style--check it out--it's a unique change to your typical paragraph by paragraph blog. She's optomistic, and she always makes me smile.</p><p><a href="http://everydayadventuresinthecity.blogspot.com/"><span style="color:#009900;">Bayjb:</span></a> I spent a lot of time in Chicago this fall, and every time I was there, she would comment about making sure I wore a jacket or told me about the expected forcast. Although we never met, unfortunately, I always feel like we're on the same page, especially when I am in Chicago! Plus, her stories are great. Awesome writer.</p><p><a href="http://auburnkat.blogspot.com/"><span style="color:#993300;">Auburn Cat</span></a><span style="color:#993300;">:</span> I love Auburn Cat's blog. She makes me laugh--mostly because the things that she gets "cranky" about are the same things I get cranky about. I think we get along that way. I think she and I would definitely get along--she's one who writes in a variety of styles--happy, sad, cynical, dorky, and can even make light of having a nasty case of kidney stones. </p><p><u><span style="color:#33ccff;"><a href="http://www.kylabea.com/">Kyla Bea:</a></span></u>I always enjoy Kyla's tales of her pups and her married life. Kyla is always astounding me with her chic-domestic-ness. This married gal can make her own preserves and knit a scarf like no one's business--but she's still cool as all get out.</p><p>So, lovelies, I hope you all know that I love love love your blogs. XXXXXOOO</p><p>Anyone thinking that we should plan a weekend and fly somewhere centrally located and just hang out and tell stories and drink wine and hang out??? I kinda do...</p>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-13691095141851092442008-11-20T10:11:00.003-06:002008-11-20T11:52:01.516-06:00MurphyI have a friend Murphy. Murphy Law. Occasionally Murphy decides to come and hang out. I don't know why, because I hate Murphy. He's not really a friend at all. Murphy decided to come and hang out this morning. Murphy Sucks.<br /><br />Can anything else go wrong?<br /><br />Is anyone else having a day like this?<br /><br />Yes, please note, it's not even noon.<br /><br />Sometimes, you just have to sit back and laugh about it!jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-80529080447797349112008-11-18T20:47:00.002-06:002008-11-19T08:19:38.614-06:00goneI thought about him today. For the first time. In a long time. In fact, I can't remember the last time. And I don't know why he suddenly entered my mind. Someone might have mentioned his name--its a common name, that's possible.<br /><br />I might have been thinking about the younger sibling and the fucked up path she is tying up her shoes to trek down again, even though last time she was bruised and broken at the end. I can't convince her to throw those laces away and I know she is getting in the same situation she was in before. I know the type of boy she is setting out for. He is the same boy that is going to leave her in the same situation that I was in with him...before. I want to push her down--break her legs so she can't make this jaunt again, but I can't.<br /><br />It might be because tonight for dinner I decided to make something that he and I used to make...and maybe, with every bite he was slowly creeping his way back into my brain--my thoughts, my being.<br /><br />I googled him. I looked him up on Facebook. I don't know where he lives now. I don't know his phone number or his current job or if his hairline has receded any farther than it was when I last saw him a couple of years ago--he was always self conscious of that.<br /><br />I didn't find anything. There is a person out there with his same name who is a little more popular than him on google. He doesn't have the Facebook. And, thankfully, I can't remember his number--the one that I thought would never stop ringing in my head or in my heart.<br /><br />I am surprised I thought of him and more surprised I decided to look him up. I am surprised because he was such a negative force in my life--in my everything. I'm surprised because it took me so long to get back to being me after I got rid of him.<br /><br />I'm so glad I couldn't find him. I don't want to know where he is or what he is doing or how his life is going. I thought about him, and I am certain that is as far as that's going to go. He's gone for a reason, a really good reason.jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-12891973386745615132008-11-18T14:14:00.002-06:002008-11-18T16:02:44.334-06:00Blog-BlockI'm currently experiencing blog-block. I have nothing to blog about. <br /><br />The one thing that I do have to blog about is currently a secret, so I can't blog about that yet.<br /><br />I could blog about work--but you'd all be bored literally to tears, so we will skip that, too.<br /><br />I could blog about my adorable niece, but you're all bored with that.<br /><br />I could blog about the latest boy in my life...oh, wait?<br /><br />I could blog about the really fast trip I am taking to Chicago this weekend for an event, but all the driving leaves me exhausted.<br /><br />I could blog about the dark quote by Plath on finallyseeing.tumbler.com that I really really liked, but then you would all get the impression that I was dark and demented, so I'll leave that one out.<br /><br />I could blog about how I wouldnt have to be blogging today because if I had participated in BlogSecret, my blog would have been automatic. And I wouldn't be sitting here with blog-block.<br /><br />So, today, blog-block wins. Here's to hoping something exciting happens before tomorrow.<br /><br />xxxxxojamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-81007740893483466202008-11-16T15:12:00.003-06:002008-11-16T15:27:15.665-06:00Just Looking for a Good TimeI'm a loser. I posted a post about everyone doing Blog Secret and then I failed to get my submission in on time. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ooops</span>. It's been busy around here. One of my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">besties</span>, Beth, had her sweet little baby girl Amelia, and on top of that I had a crazy weekend.<br /><br />Friday I was convinced I was going to do nothing--I was convinced I was going to stay in and do some work while watching <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">tv</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">cozying</span> up to a bottle of red. As I stopped at the office to pick up my projects, I got a call from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">roomie</span>/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">bestie</span>. She and her BF decided that we were going to go back to his place (a small town about an hour from here) and go out--we were going to pick up his friend in Des <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Moines</span> along the way. Okay, why not.<br /><br />Well, we end up at a bar called the Rusty Duck in this tiny tiny Iowa town of less than a thousand people (689 people according to the 2000 census--yes, I googled that shit). Anyway, this bar is great--within the first five minutes I had been introduced to like 10 people and hugged twice by two old ladies whom I had never met before who continued to tell me that I was "just a baby."<br /><br />Sara and I started out drinking beer, but as the yawning came in to play, it was determined that vodka <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">redbulls</span> would bring on our second winds--and they did. And they kept flowing. For about 5 or 6 hours they kept flowing. And we weren't drinking slowly.<br /><br />So, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Roomie's</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">BF's</span> friend is hot. This I established earlier in the evening--it wasn't one of those beer goggle attractions.<br /><br />We leave the bar at about 2 AM after 200 dollars worth of drinks/appetizers, and lots of karaoke including but not limited to: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">NKOTB</span> The Right Stuff, Touch Myself, and Man I Feel Like a Woman--heavens no, I did not sing--we allowed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Roomie's</span> BF to do all the serenading. We make it back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Roomie's</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">BF's</span> house. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Roomie</span> falls off a stool at one point. We eat toast and ham sandwiches. We continue drinking. We decide it's time for bed. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Roomie's</span> BF has his bedroom and his extra bedroom. I crawl in to extra bedroom bed. Am followed by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">hottie</span> friend. Have great mash session. Pass out.<br /><br />Regale my sister with this story the next day--she says, "Do you think you'll ever see him again?" I say, "I doubt it, but have you heard that Lady Antebellum song--Just Looking for a Good Time?" She says, "Yes," I say, "I'm thinking that's how I'm going to live for a little while." She's silent. I say, "Do you think that's wrong?" She says, "A little disturbing, but no, not wrong."<br /><br />I must have still been drunk when I told her this, because the truth is, that is so NOT how I plan on conducting myself. I need to stay away from the vodka. That little bastard steals my inhibitions every time I hang out with him.<br /><br />But, I mean really I'm 23--I deserve a random mash session every once in a while, right??<br />:)jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-26097972889168915742008-11-13T10:02:00.002-06:002008-11-13T10:04:41.594-06:00Blog SecretI know that some of us refrain from saying the things we want to say because we are afraid of what our readers will think. Well, a genius decided to organize <a href="http://newsomi.blogspot.com/2008/11/blogsecret.html">Blog Secret</a>--check out the website. You write whatever you want, and it gets posted on someone else's blog--completely anonymously. <br /><br />Sounds like a grand idea to me! :) But hurry, you have to have your submission in by Saturday!jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-76028436181827803352008-11-12T08:34:00.003-06:002008-11-12T08:49:55.346-06:00You've Got MailAnd it went a little something like this....<br /><br />At 9:19 PM yesterday Mr. Converse* wrote:<br /><br /><em>"Hi Jamie. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em> I hope your week is going well so far. I had a great time last Saturday. The drive home was less than pleasant but it was still good to see you. </em><br /><br /><em>That being said I need to mention something. My Ex from last summer called me on Sunday and asked for us to get together this week. From the sounds of it she'd like to try to get back together. I'm not sure if I want to right now but there may be that possibility. We're going to talk about it after the trial. </em><br /><br /><em>I think it would be disingenuous for me to say that I still don't harbor some feelings there. I don't know what's going to happen but if we decide to get back together I don't want to lead you on. I hope you understand but it's probably best that we curb the dating for now. </em><br /><br /><em>That being said I think you're amazing: beautiful eyes, a wonderful laugh and, frankly, a great kisser. I hope you don't resent me and I hope you've had a good couple dates. Who knows, maybe we'll see each other again. </em><br /><br /><em>Take care,</em><br /><em>Mr. Converse*"</em><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*Names have been changed to protect identity</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br />Thank goodness for my lovely friends who talked me through the disappointment. Especially one of my besties who was/is in a hospital bed trying to have a baby (that there is friendship, my dears!)! Bleh. I am disappointed. It's a fact. As much as I tried to find the cons--as you all saw, I actually enjoyed his company and very much liked what I knew of him--converse shoes and all. <br /><br />I suppose we should add one more con to the list: <em>Still loves ex girlfriend</em>.<br /><br />But on the bright side, there will be a new little baby in my life at some point today!jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-28509785006584237522008-11-11T18:59:00.001-06:002008-11-11T19:07:15.482-06:00<div align="left"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">I am:</span></strong></div><p><br />23.<br /><br />single.<br /><br />a thinker.<br /><br />passionate. </p><p>afraid of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">commitment</span>.<br /><br />blessed with a great group of friends--you all are awesome.<br /><br />fortunate to have some lovely family members.<br /><br />stubborn.<br /><br />suffering from wanderlust.<br /><br />missing my best friends from college--real life sucks.<br /><br />always up for a *large* glass of red.<br /><br />currently obsessed with Pink, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Sugarland</span></span>, and Sara <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Barielles's</span></span> new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">CDs</span></span>.<br /><br />confused.<br /><br />usually reading a really sappy or depressing book. Paint it Black has been the latest read.<br /><br />grateful.<br /><br />a feminist.<br /><br />so thrilled to watch Emerson grow into her own person--attitude and all.<br /><br />liberal.<br /><br />looking <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">forward</span> to the future and wishing it was easier for me to forget about the past.<br /><br />excited for my next date with *him.* I think he's seriously cool.<br /><br />an ice cream lover.<br /><br />an absolute hater of the following: sour cream, cottage cheese, ranch dressing, mustard, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">bleu</span></span> cheese, hangnails.<br /><br />finicky about cheese--there are some things I enjoy it on (i.e. pizza, pasta) and other instances in which I hate it (i.e. on burgers, cheese soups, cheese and crackers, cheese dip).<br /><br />always complaining that my feet are too hot.<br /><br />addicted to Diet Coke--which leads to my dehydration and vitamin deficiency.<br /><br />a hopeful cynic.<br /><br />constantly searching. </p><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">Who are you?</span></div>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-64751764010691597702008-11-10T07:45:00.002-06:002008-11-10T11:08:23.083-06:00Mr. Converse<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbW4TGgS0MM1x4RhL8JjvH6fWVkNkxzQXW6xT0yB0lUFnZ0pY2VoWgiYRVcrz0tQ0lNjYg-FR5eSr9LF-4qS2aLUvimhDJy-NEMSjUDejzu8teTYQnD7MuS5myXMldbQcjyvemQavIc5w/s1600-h/converse.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267074794770558306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbW4TGgS0MM1x4RhL8JjvH6fWVkNkxzQXW6xT0yB0lUFnZ0pY2VoWgiYRVcrz0tQ0lNjYg-FR5eSr9LF-4qS2aLUvimhDJy-NEMSjUDejzu8teTYQnD7MuS5myXMldbQcjyvemQavIc5w/s320/converse.jpg" border="0" /></a>I have, to date, been on two dates with <strong>Mr. Converse</strong> (thanks E for coming up with the nickname!). Both dates have gone well. The first--sushi, the second--dinner and a movie (Role Models--hillarious, seriously, very funny) followed by hanging out with a couple friends at my place. Yes, I let him in my house. This is a big step--a big personal step. I don't know, there is just something about letting someone in to your space--to see more of you than the jeans, sweater, and red wool coat...it's intimidating. Anyway, he's fun, funny, handsome, sarcastic and the two of my friends that met him on Saturday approve.<br /><br /><strong>My qualms about this situation:</strong><br />* I hate dating in general. It's kind of a hassle.<br />* One day I am relationship ready, the next day, I think I changed my mind. The cycle continues. I'm a walking contradiction.<br />* He lives an hour from here--which is no big deal, but it's still something to consider. However, since gas here in the good ole IA is down to $1.79, I suppose I can afford to make the drive.<br />* He is 8 years older than me. Not a huge deal, but again, something to consider.<br /><br /><strong>Positives:</strong><br />*He is just as busy if not more busy with his job as I am with mine. Thus, no clingy must see you every night or talk to you on the phone four hours a day stuff.<br />*He makes me laugh.<br />*He's smart.<br />*He socialized with my friends, and it was a very enjoyable time.<br />*He wears converse tennis shoes.<br />*He is a democrat.<br /><br />Oh, the trials of dating. I don't know. I suppose at this point I take it one date at a time and reevaluate. Have any of you been on dates lately? Do you have any helpful advice for this gal?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">AM, to answer your question...yes *blushing*</span>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-62520407185669538372008-11-07T21:03:00.000-06:002008-11-07T21:08:35.615-06:00would you?I am sitting here watching City of Angels--a movie I have not seen in years. Anyway it is now that I am reminded of why I fell in love with this movie in the first place--it is romantic and sweet and girly. I love meg too, and I think this is one of the first movies I cried at...oh nostalgia!!<br /> Anyway, right now, as Nicholas Cage falls from grace I can't help but wonder--would you do it? Give up your heavenly existence for someone you believed you clicked with instantly? Someone you believed you loved? Without question?<br /><br />I like to hope I would...jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-51201903351470554082008-11-06T19:47:00.003-06:002008-11-06T20:04:45.520-06:00I have the day off tomorrow! Whooohooo!! Let's get drunk and celebrate, right?? Yeah, no.<br /><br />I took the day off to babysit the niece. No daycare. And I am totally stoked about it.<br /><br />Even if she did throw a temper tantrum at the grocery store tonight which required my taking her out to the car while my sister finished up.<br /><br />I, then, tried to get her out of her car seat when we got back to their house and she threw a fit. Whatevs dude--stay in that seat all night for all I care. Psh.<br /><br />On the other hand, whenever she says, "Thank you Mamie, or here you go Mamie," She's totally forgiven. Little shit. It's amazing how they can be such punks one second and totally sweet the next second. I was cutting up potatoes and she handed me the new potato every time the last one was cut up. She's freaking adorable.<br /><br />She's not feeling well, and the weather tomorrow is supposed to be extremely crappy, so I am thinking it's a good day for lounging around with the grey skies, movies, ice cream, jammies, and soda (don't tell her mom!).<br /><br />On another note--there is possibly going to be another date this weekend. I think you guys would like him....he wears converse tennis shoes. I'm thinking he might be my 'type' though I am not sure I actually have one. I seriously think you all would approve. We'll see how the weekend goes! :) I'll certainly let you know what, if anything, happens!! xojamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-416780952868334912008-11-04T22:28:00.004-06:002008-11-04T22:34:58.916-06:00Wow.<div align="center">I am amazed by the showing tonight. People voted in record numbers.</div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center">I am so excited to see the change that is going to come with this new 44th president.</div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center">I am thrilled to see that, at this point, he is 333 to 155--that is quite the victory. This country craves change--this simply shows the urgency for change.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Let's be excited--and celebrate! It's a new beginning, to say the least! Obama 08!!!!!!!</div><div align="center"> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265026751942547266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd69EbB_uG18d_QO0YR1B3YFvINRUyZt5tkNv3xGvuN91ONwLSqPNvwy73VccrJmgEuy8LtfLhwjHx4pgq9w-ax5SV5MLa88VMivirNWNi7pR_dq7VUfy0d-LCCJrVxkbiJ0sF-f2Z58I/s400/obamachanges1.gif" border="0" />jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-8895284766969898872008-11-03T21:17:00.003-06:002008-11-03T21:33:46.181-06:00:)So, the sushi was amazing. And so was the conversation. He's handsome. Salt and pepper hair (he's not that old), converse tennis shoes, great glasses. Pretty darned close to the best first date I have ever been on. Hopefully I will be seeing him again next weekend!<br /><br />He ordered a bunch of random sushi, which, frankly, scared the hell out of me--as up until last night, I was pretty reserved about my choices in sushi. I have no idea what I ate last night, but I know it was amazing.<br /><br />Anyway, we had dinner and talked until they were closing the place down at which time we decided we should probably should head out. I'll spare the boring details and let it be enough to say that the conversation was wonderful and I'm actually excited to see him again--and this doesn't happen all that often in my world! Lets be honest! :)<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">On another note, get your butts out tomorrow and VOTE!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264640099063714130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 135px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrMw7VFoQMPZbQcAmDmNs_-UC5LSmYsjylkN3wuC1MbMh13U7ecpjzIj0fWT4s3d5JamSXxMyIwdGW2joYSg37aDf7Ql5wqRW26St8mDODtw7KXwrAR2x85qwDuije6hQG_x2KQsIk2Q/s400/obama.jpg" border="0" /></div>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-76758012803403373572008-11-02T12:45:00.004-06:002008-11-02T12:54:17.828-06:00It wasn't.It wasn't just coffee. It wasn't coffee at all. Because due to some communication errors, I accidentally stood him up. I know, right?? I basically fell over myself apologizing. It's a long, complicated story full of miscommunication. On the bright side, there are no hard feelings, and tonight, it is going to be sushi. And saki. And, fingers crossed, wondeful conversation. I will have a full report for all of you lovelies tomorrow morning! :) Lets just hope he's remembered daylight savings time and we don't end up missing each other again due to a stupid extra hour (that I so appreciated this morning) in our day.<br /><br /><br /><br />On another note, I have to share with you the sweetest pictures I have ever seen--hijacked from my sister.<br /><br /><br />Little miss Emerson was the most adorable little witch you have ever seen this year for Halloween. Here are the pics to prove it!<br /><br /><div align="center">She's blowing on the flowers</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoI5TsZioLYZBwrtt8vcJzc0gcni_9NIC2-ogGIxB3Ih-M07yZjXmWfq2rbFmwLLKSdUiUBNJyMbXe74gsovMRv0slM_BxDqB2XkJ5tNiq2UeIaGPQNDgRUZGrNHA_9nb-LGCc6pcQiSI/s1600-h/ewitch8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264134491349088402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoI5TsZioLYZBwrtt8vcJzc0gcni_9NIC2-ogGIxB3Ih-M07yZjXmWfq2rbFmwLLKSdUiUBNJyMbXe74gsovMRv0slM_BxDqB2XkJ5tNiq2UeIaGPQNDgRUZGrNHA_9nb-LGCc6pcQiSI/s400/ewitch8.jpg" border="0" /></a> Walking through the park in the square<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_37iTkxDuCYg3iz_KQqPEW2YdHXHi1H-JvV2srWVeE3Mnfc44mL2Pz0fRVB5QIul4_1WQMo9ScS9alMIDojfffT6icL9keRVSz14zaNq7fR1D3pajCa-WZJszwLBZmLf_1TEw8IgPHh4/s1600-h/ewitch5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264134485031672994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_37iTkxDuCYg3iz_KQqPEW2YdHXHi1H-JvV2srWVeE3Mnfc44mL2Pz0fRVB5QIul4_1WQMo9ScS9alMIDojfffT6icL9keRVSz14zaNq7fR1D3pajCa-WZJszwLBZmLf_1TEw8IgPHh4/s400/ewitch5.jpg" border="0" /></a> Holding her Emerson-sized pumpkin<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilTETY8XWjCIZ1TWxf4Y9C30An1T8_zNQxVf8KMFfrstFyTDVRXI4_kAcl4DOjLhLIu_zdLoNUfK7UajKww7GhaDvCx_hmA9jSrcapQcSeKeET38eAYfx6wGbG9iAVaxNtH8ZSyqX76A/s1600-h/ewitch6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264134480176516450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilTETY8XWjCIZ1TWxf4Y9C30An1T8_zNQxVf8KMFfrstFyTDVRXI4_kAcl4DOjLhLIu_zdLoNUfK7UajKww7GhaDvCx_hmA9jSrcapQcSeKeET38eAYfx6wGbG9iAVaxNtH8ZSyqX76A/s400/ewitch6.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Hanging with her candy<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97aTAwGtZd_JPxCx_zEpBeIa2EuuCobD7RQ3YR_KMhXlSCdZnd9pqh_qJal_EAoBpWNjo2qBVHjk4i3HEJnrHJ4KPGSdaPTSjKVOSSo_Gxmz-u-1pAXC2CxEjq35k0wVpBGkqDPSinfo/s1600-h/ewitch3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264134479685546226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97aTAwGtZd_JPxCx_zEpBeIa2EuuCobD7RQ3YR_KMhXlSCdZnd9pqh_qJal_EAoBpWNjo2qBVHjk4i3HEJnrHJ4KPGSdaPTSjKVOSSo_Gxmz-u-1pAXC2CxEjq35k0wVpBGkqDPSinfo/s400/ewitch3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I love this one!<br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypBdOwYabbb5luTf7sFULcm-LD23zbsAegv3FOrAna-4wTwXIaN2NTW9KjWyKQ6qY-WLxuTb7c9XkTG8dUcEFGg7sZFlxdA4RXVqnZU3Gaulnec3DHzdDI-_4Fxf7YrBMGkzwmWCrFVc/s1600-h/ewitch1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264134475440678466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypBdOwYabbb5luTf7sFULcm-LD23zbsAegv3FOrAna-4wTwXIaN2NTW9KjWyKQ6qY-WLxuTb7c9XkTG8dUcEFGg7sZFlxdA4RXVqnZU3Gaulnec3DHzdDI-_4Fxf7YrBMGkzwmWCrFVc/s400/ewitch1.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="left">I know, adorable! I'll leave you with these and be back with a *hopefully* interesting, positive and uplifting post in the morning. And hopefully, it won't be one of those pitiful "this date sucked, and I can't believe I put myself through it" type of dates. Fingers crossed! </div></div></div>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-58934310391883207132008-10-30T11:39:00.003-05:002008-10-30T11:51:32.377-05:00Is it?It's just coffee. Right?<br /><br />I mean, I had three options to get to know the guy. It's a semi-blind occasion. I know what he looks like--we've never met. He has salt and pepper hair (which I think is hot--especially on a young guy), and wears glasses. So maybe this meeting isn't blind, just blurry.<br /><br />Options: 1) coffee at a lovely establishment downtown; 2) casual stroll through one of the parks in the city (supposed to be good weather on Saturday--he'll bring the coffee); 3) Sunday night at a sushi bar.<br /><br />Saturday is no good. Dear friend is getting married. Trucking over to the ceremony with some of the gals. Besides, parks=stalkers=death=body parts scattered throughout the underbrush.<br /><br />Sunday...this could work. I like sushi. And I really like saki.<br /><br />Coffee sounds most appealing, however. And this is the plan. To chat over endless amounts of late night coffee. Unless one of my besties goes in to labor at some point today, in which case I will spend tonight dressed as a tin-man wandering the streets with sweet little Dorothy in her red shoes filling our plastic pumpkins with cavity inducing substances.<br /><br />I was freaking out to my sister on the phone. I don't like first dates. Especially first blurry dates. They make me nervous. She probably cursed at me and told me to chill out, and then tried to smooth my insanity by adding--it's not a date--it's just coffee.....right??<br /><br />In any case, I'll keep you lovelies filled in ;)<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*Sorry for the inconsistency with the blogging lately. I've been bad. But I've been so insanely busy around here that I truthfully just haven't had neither the brain energy, nor the creativity to do so. But, it feels good to be back!</span>jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-60517342779614252652008-10-25T21:51:00.003-05:002008-10-25T22:07:00.700-05:00Unreal.This is not my normal kind of post...<br /><br />Last night on my way back into the city in the midst of a downpour, I was struck by something--this flashing board above the interstate--orange lights forming words that made my heart sink into my lap. They said something like "Amber Alert...White 94 Suburban..." etc. etc. The entire time I have been in this great city of Chicago I have felt safe--like nothing could phase me. I forgot about the fact that sometimes people become dangerous--that you have to be cautious--that a simple act could change your life. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to go home--to my own house, to my own bed.<br /><br />Seeing that board really made me think. About how fragile life is. About how easily it could be turned upside down. About how quickly someone could come in to your life, stick your loved one in a white suburban and terrorize the hell out of you and your family. Where is this child, and who the hell took him? Is he scared? Where are they? How could they have gotten away?<br /><br />This morning, I was talking to my little niece on the phone--which is hardly your normal conversation--she says hello, and I ask her to tell me what a handful of animals say. She's only 18 months, I mean, the conversation is better than one would expect from an 18 month old. She's absolutely adorable and can make my day--I love when my sister hands her the phone.<br /><br />I thought about that. And then I thought about the child--the boards above the interstates are still flashing with that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">liscense </span>plate number...I thought about how that little child is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">someone's</span> niece or nephew--someone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">else's</span> child--someone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">else's</span> "light" in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">their</span> day.<br /><br />Lets hope that that little child makes it's way home soon.<br /><br />**turns out that the little boy that was abducted is actually Jennifer Hudson's nephew. Her mother and brother were shot and killed on Friday, and after that her nephew was taken. Let's hope that the young boy is returned home safely. The news is saying they have nothing--that the little boy, Julian, is still missing.jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-37755989742288841542008-10-22T23:22:00.002-05:002008-10-22T23:29:24.290-05:00*yawn*I'm alive! I'm alive! I swear, I am still alive. (Only by good luck, however--driving in this city is a freaking adventure and I have been --><-- that close to being killed/killing about eleventy-billion times).<br /><br />Sorry I have been MIA this week. My Chicago schedule is totally kicking my ass. I will be getting back to being a faithful blogger/commenter very soon--promise.<br /><br />For now, I am going to have to lie down and watch a few seconds of SATC as the eyes, well, they are finding it quite difficult to remain open.jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221822255787656649.post-33997856569128868622008-10-18T15:01:00.003-05:002008-10-18T15:15:52.944-05:00My life is crazy.I remember once, as a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">youngin</span>', walking through the airport with my older sister and looking at a man in a business suit with his briefcase waiting for his plane. I remember saying to her, I want that guys job when I grow up. Because I thought the travel seemed terribly exciting, and interesting--something fun, and new.<br /><br />Well, friends, I got the travel part. And typically, I do love it, but as I enter what is like the 7<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> straight week of travel, I am feeling tired. I've been ill, and the pace is hitting me hard! Last weekend, I was in Minneapolis, I was home for a few days, and then out to Chicago. Got home yesterday. Today, I blog to you all as an office drone from the confines of this windowless office as I pack and re-pack to fly out to Chi-town yet again tomorrow. I spend about 8 days out between Chicago and Milwaukee, and then, next Monday, come home again. I think I am home most of that week, back in IL the week after that, and then the week after that it sounds like I am heading back to Phoenix for several days. Phew. Overall, though, it's really fun to get to explore all of these new places--to find new stores, restaurants, and figure out what highways connect to which <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">interstate</span> and where. I do, I must say, have a pretty sweet job.<br /><br />And I know that tomorrow, as soon as I land in that windy city, all of my negative energy will disappear as I will be back at it again and cruising through the city in a *hopefully* sweet rental.<br />I really hope I have enough change for the tolls this time. I'm serious--they are going to arrest me sometime soon. And, E, I will definitely be trying out the restaurant you recommended this week.<br /><br />To prepare for a long week, I am going to be heading home after I get finished up here and snuggling up on my couch with lots of blankets (we have yet to turn on the heat), a bottle of wine, lots of food, and a couple good movies. Ahhh, the perfect afternoon on a brisk fall day. I am hoping that while I am gone my lovely colleagues will finish off this pumpkin full of chocolate that I have sitting on my desk. I certainly don't need it. And yes, this means you, too, oh pregnant one with high blood sugar--how much can that baby gain in his last two weeks in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">utero</span>? :)<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ok</span>, don't let me forget to blog about the other gender sometime soon--I have a situation I need to confront and I'm too <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">freakin</span>' chicken to do it! Enjoy the Saturday lovelies! xojamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02087199266453673461noreply@blogger.com9