Love, Jimmie

When I began this blog, lo those many years ago (two), my Auntie Anne told me that eventually my friends would gently nudge me to write something had it been too long since my last post. She was right. Roxanne is pretty good about it, sending me notes that read: “I don’t mean to alarm you but I think a link is broken on your sight. Nothing has been posted for weeks!” Lynnette is also on top of things, saying, “Jimmie, seriously. What are you doing over there?” Katniss has been known to remind me and most recently, Dammit Todd has jumped into the fray.

Messages of that nature make me realize that I am a lazy creature sometimes. Or a thoughtless one. My reaction is either, “I know! But I was reading this really great book, see . . .” or one of complete surprise. “What do you mean? I have so much to say! How have I not written that down?” Both scenarios prompt me to go to Panera right away and scribble down some words.

Unfortunately, lately I have had no words. Nothing’s wrong, but no one has fallen down in front of me and no one of a questionable nature has asked me for a date. Actually, that isn’t true but lately I’m only interested in throwing myself under the bus, not earnest men wanting my number even though they are miles shorter than me and live 3 states away.

I asked Katniss if she could manage a strategically placed fall-down-face plant right in front of me. She screeched, “Do you not remember the time I fell face first out of the elevator?! With a full Coke in my hand?! That stain in the hallway? That was me! Do not ever ask me to fall down! I will do it, spectacularly!” And then I asked Dammit Todd to fall down, hahahahaha, no. Dammit Todd is the most athletic, agile, coordinated person I have ever met. So, no, he did not comply either.

Essentially what I am saying is my life is a bit dull now. I’m going to Ireland soon (23 days!) and everything seems to pale in comparison. I did buy a new vacuum cleaner. That was exciting. It was a birthday present from my sister and to myself, and yes, I know that last year I was all upset about Miguel buying me old people stuff and this year I went and did it to myself. But you should see how this thing works! My gosh, my old one must have died months ago because I could have stuffed a king size quilt with all the cat hair I vacuumed up. It was horrifying. Let me take a moment here to apologize to all my houseguests of late. I’m sorry you were drenched in fur. While I know that Murphy is a shedder, I had no idea that he left his entire pelt all over the house.

Also, I went to Florida with Freddie. That wasn’t dull but it did rain a whole lot. I managed to burn my backside, every area that I cannot possibly reach with the aloe vera gel, so not only did I cook my skin into bacon, I’m now peeling and I have thousands of new freckles.

Speaking of Freddie, I realize I have not updated you on my friends lately. I asked for prayers for some of them when Poppa was so sick and I now have happy news to report.

Quan is moving to Nashville. Hallelujah, it’s about time!

Freddie is a free woman, meaning Ian is no longer in the picture and hot men can apply here for dates with her.

Lynnette is a mommy now. This was the most unexpected but for at least a little while, Lynnette gets to mother the cutest little boy in the whole world.

And finally, Pee-tah (remember Pee-tah, of the I Almost Saw Him Naked story?) is going to be my roommate. Yes, I know I already have a roommate who buys me paper towels and garbage cans (I know! I got a new garbage can, too!) but, Pee-tah! I already vacuumed all the cat hair out of his room and tried to make it less girlie in there but quite frankly, that is a hopeless task. I am the girliest person I know.

Okay, that’s it, folks. Oh wait, I did have a birthday. I didn’t even bother typing up a list of everything you guys were supposed to get me. I’m 41. Who cares about 41? 41 is officially middle aged, and since I had all the big parties and shirtless men and cake last year, this one slid right on by without so much as a whimper. I think everyone was mightily relieved about that, even me.

I will leave you with one final bit of very exciting news. I’m getting a new roof! Isn’t that exciting?! Apparently some storm ripped through my neighborhood and shredded a bunch of roofs and mine was one of them. If a whole passel of roofers hadn’t repeatedly knocked on my door and offered to fix it once I signed on the dotted line and turned over a retainer (and no, I was not that naïve), I never would have known. I don’t know what I thought those shingles were doing in my yard, but roof damage? No way. So anyway, new roof!

I’m really 41, aren’t I? Crap.