Lynnette? I Might Be Mad At You.

06 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Health, Weight Loss Tags:

Yesterday morning I went to the gym.  That is a statement in and of itself as I haven’t been what you call regular with those gym visits lately.  But I got a gander of myself in one of the those dressing rooms where you can see the front of yourself and also the back of yourself and let me tell you, that right there will motivate you to get up off your pancake butt and go to the gym.  You’d think it would motivate you to lay off the chocolate also but it seems I need something far more drastic than a back and front mirror.    

Anyway, yesterday morning I went to the gym.  I did a leg workout.  It was a good idea overall, but when I got to the locker room to start my after workout ablutions, I realized I left my makeup bag in the car.  I’ve been doing that a lot lately, forgetting the small things.  It’s what happens when your life gets super busy.  Just last week I forgot my shoes.  I was leaving for work and grabbed my overnight clothes bag as I was spending the night with Martie, my purse, my lunch bag, my computer bag and my computer which for some reason was not in the bag.  I ran out to the car and slung all my stuff in it, not wanting to be late for work. I flung myself into the driver’s seat, backed out of the driveway and drove nearly all the way out of my neighborhood before I realized I was not wearing any shoes.  Nor did I pack any in my overnight bag.  So that was a good morning. 

Anyway, I left my makeup bag in the car.  I walked through the gym, a flat surface, and out the side door to the parking lot where I had to step down off the curb, a tiny lip of concrete, and there I nearly fell down.  That’s how weak my knees were after my hard core workout.  (I can call it hard core because none of you were there to dispute it.)  I got my makeup and then realized that I was going to have to walk through the front entrance of the gym to get back to the locker room.  The entrance is all stairs, first up and then down.  STAIRS!  Y’all, I could have cried. 

I did it.  It wasn’t without danger.  That staircase was fraught with peril.  My legs at best were shaky.  At five steps in they were jelly.  At the top of the staircase, my knees said no more and then I had to clutch the rail all the way on the downside of the staircase like a little old lady so as not to collapse in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and embarrass myself in front of the one hot guy at the gym. 

I’m fine now, thanks for asking.  But seriously, whose idea was it for me to do a leg workout every week?  Lynnette?  I might be mad at you.  I’ll let you know tomorrow when I assess my level of pain. 

Guest Post: Jonquil. Oh Y’all, This One Has Pictures.

23 Nov 2012 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Guest Post Tags:

Jimmie and I met in college, and we shared a pretty unusual work-study job.  We were managers for the men’s basketball team.  (Editor’s Note: BEST. JOB. EVER.)  You know how Jimmie was all clueless about football, picking teams with cute players as criteria?  Well, we knew every cute basketball player in our division, his stats, and how he treated his manager.   (Editor’s Note:  Rawr!)  And we loved our boys, even crushing on a few here and there.   We attended practices (swept the floor), shared pre-game meals (spaghetti and green beans), traveled with the team (curfews and hotel rooms make for funny stories), maintained the bench (we can make a mean water bottle), and helped keep things organized (Coach always needed help with his keys).   

Remember how I told you I have no rear end? This here is proof. Ridiculous. Jimmie in mustard (what was I thinking?) and Jonquil in blue.

There were four of us girls—Jimmie, the Bookkeeper, the Stat, and me.  Only recently did I remember a nickname Jimmie and Bookkeeper called me:  MIT.  It stood for Mom-In-Training.  Apparently, I may have gone a little overboard in my managing.  (Editor’s Note:  A little?  Nosiree.  She LIVED for it.)  Now that I’m a mom of two, I think they were onto something.

Then:  I would find inspiring quotes to hang up at practice and make posters and signs for our team, especially for big games.  Jimmie even got me to go in the DEKE house to decorate a door once.  (Editor’s Note:  The DEKE house was G-R-O-S-S.  Gross.  The level of Jonquil’s dedication knew no bounds.) 

Now:  I am definitely a cheerleader for my family.  I will stuff notes in their backpacks, write notes on bananas in their lunches, and cheer them on in all their endeavors.

Then:  I would practically pack every guy’s bag, including being prepared for anything with the two team bags. Then I had to comb the locker room one last time to make sure nothing was left behind.  (Editor’s Note:  It wasn’t unheard of for Jonquil to help the guys with their laundry.  No way no how was I up for that.) 

Now:  I have to practically pack Esteban, Cookie and Essie (Jonquil’s adorable children), including all the other stuff we’ll need for a trip; and, I definitely make a final sweep of the house or hotel room before leaving.

Then:  I would nag people to remember this or that.  (Editor’s Note:  Oh, yes she did.)

Now:  Oh, yeah, I nag.

Then:  I would set my alarm early and I would cheerfully make sure everyone else was awake, especially on the road. (Editor’s Note:  This “cheerfully making sure everyone was awake” business included a before dawn telephone call in which Jonquil would trill merrily into the phone “Gooooood morning, have a happy!”  No.)

Now:  My good morning humor did not survive pregnancy.  I hit snooze as many times as possible and don’t want to muster more than a grunt as a morning greeting.

Then:  l learned things I never thought I’d need to know.  For instance, jock strap size is based on waist size, people. (Editor’s Note: Boys, get over yourselves.)

Now:  If Essie tells you she doesn’t want anything else to eat, the extra food you made her finish will come back to haunt you in a stomach flu nightmare.

Then and now:  Jimmie was a hoot!  (Editor’s Note:  <preen>)

When I graduated, Jimmie gave me a scrapbook of my senior year, and a basketball signed by all our boys.  I can look at that ball and recall all the highs and lows of each season, and the enormous amount of fun we had.  MIT was not such a bad nickname after all, and I am grateful for the extra training I received as a mom. 

(Editor’s Note:  She was and still is fantastic at all of that.  Centre College Men’s Basketball will never be the same.  Her family can attest to that.) 

Jonquil and Jimmie, age 12. So, so young.

NaNoWriMo And Other Assorted Nonsense

21 Oct 2012 10 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Friends, Guest Post Tags: ,

I got a catalog in the mail yesterday from Heifer International.  I’m going to let you marinate on that for a minute before commenting further. 

. . . . . . . . elevator muzak . . . . . . . . . .

I choose to believe that someone sent that catalog to me because they admire all the good deeds I do and wanted to help me further my philanthropic spirit rather than believe that someone sent it to me as a subtle hint. 

Actually, its pretty cool. You should check it out:  Heifer International.  Family, do not be surprised if you get a “share of a goat” for Christmas.

Madre was here last weekend to walk a 5K with me.  It was the Oktoberfest Bier Run in which loads of people turned out to trot around Germantown for the privilege of drinking free beer at 9:00 a.m.  I don’t get it.  Neither did Madre.  We were pretty stoked about the t-shirt and the free bagels, though, so we took off on the three mile jaunt.  Madre’s been hitting the walking pretty hard lately and she looks marvelous but walking with Madre is a bit of a challenge. 

See, Madre is 6’2”, and I’d guess about 6’1” of her are legs.  She has a long stride which makes it difficult to keep up with her.  While I’m pretty tall in my own right, I find myself doing this half jogging/walking/deep step thing to keep her pace which really tugs at my hamstrings.  It is an excellent workout but I could really use some of that stretching afterwards, you know, and some oxygen.  Yesterday, Madre walked/slightly jogged her second ever 5K and won first place for her age division!  I’m super proud of her but you know all those other participants were like, “Who is Leggy McStriderson up there?  She stole my trophy!  Heifer.”   Congrats, Mom!  Well done!

Now that I have you guys all sentimental about my family and my philanthropic good deeds, I need to ask a favor of you.  See, there is an event that I’ve been planning to do all year and this event will take place during the entire month of November.  That means I will have very little time to visit with you here and entertain you with my big sexy hair and my mad skills as a handyperson.

Have you heard of NaNoWriMo?  It’s a one month writing frenzy in which you challenge yourself to write 50,000 words.  They don’t have to make sense or fit perfectly although it would be nice if they did.   They just have to be done.  And I’m going to do it.  Did you know that 50,000 words is approximately the length of a third of a novel?  Some of you know this already, but I write a lot here to practice for other writing things that I really want to do, like a novel for example.  (This is the point where all of you rush to comment section to offer support and promise to purchase anything of mine that ever gets published.)  I’ve started four novels/books so I very much want to see if I have it in me to do this, to actually finish one.

The thing is, I don’t want my blog to be silent for a whole month.  I want there to be some activity here.  I’m asking you, my faithful readers, to blog for me.  Can I get some of you to guest post?  I have a list of items I am willing to trade for your prose. 

In return for your post, I am willing to offer any or all of the following:  my share of Channing Tatum (his neck is too wide for me); my share of Ryan Gosling (his neck is too long for my tastes); my share of any and all sushi (ugh, gross); my share of all onions (we have covered this); my share of Adam Levine (he looks a bit like a weasel); an eyelash flutter (I have some great new mascara); and/or finally, a full grown cat named Murphy.   I will also generously throw in some Big Sexy Hair volumizer to sweeten the deal.

For the record, I already have a guest post from Boss and a promise of one from Prom Date Will.  That leaves 28 open spots for the rest of you.  So, Freddie, Lorne (Ty), Martie, The Squirt, Woney, Studio Bukowski – any of  you up for the challenge?  Anyone else?  I hear Channing Tatum has some pretty sweet abs. 

Then, because I know how much you guys will miss me, in the month of December I’m going to go for NaBloPoMo.  It was supposed to be the challenge in November for bloggers but since I like to march to the beat of my own drum, I felt like it could be your reward for letting me have a month off. 

I look forward to the influx of comments/volunteers.  Holding my breath actually.  Don’t make me pass out. 

Pass The Toilet Paper, My Toilet Is Fixed!

03 Oct 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Home Improvement, I'm Such A Girl Tags:

What an ordeal.  Have mercy.  The drama is really over.  I’ve waited a whole week before telling you, just to make sure. 

Before I tell you how that stupid ceramic bowl was finally repaired, I have some other stories.  About two years ago, Daddy-O and JiJi came for a visit.  While they were here, the handle on the potty broke so Daddy-O, being handy with the tools and the plumbing, trotted out to Lowe’s and purchased a new handle for me.  Upon taking the potty apart, he discovered that the old handle was merely loose, so he fixed that and gave the new handle to me for return to Lowe’s.  Being the good, obedient daughter that I am, I stuck that handle in the backseat of my car and drove it around for two solid years.  All my friends and my nieces, every time they got into my car, would ask, “Why do you have a toilet handle back here?”  Yet I never felt compelled to take it back.

Also, after I posted that last potty post in which I lost my mind with bad words, I received three phone calls from three very handsome men who tried to tell me how to fix it. 

Zorro called first.  He’s a friend from Alabama who would have come over the very first day to fix it had we lived close enough.  He instructed me to sit backwards on the potty, lid down of course, and take off the back so I could tell him what was going on.  Our conversation went something like this:

Zorro:  “Okay, look at the flusher and tell me what it does when you push the handle down.”

Jimmie:  “What’s the flusher?”

Zorro:  “It’s the mumblemumblemuble in the back.”

Jimmie:  “I go by color.  What color is it?”

Zorro: “Well it could be either white or black. It does mumblemumblemumble.”

Jimmie:  “Right.”

So we got a lot accomplished.

Then Javier called and the conversation went much the same way.  I’m so fun.

Then Daddy-O called, after consulting a real live plumber for help, but since our conversation tanked (haha, I did that on purpose!) due to my lack of knowledge of working toilet parts, we all decided that I probably just needed a new toilet.  Awesome. 

THEN! In one final hurrah, Freddie and her father (both engineers, btw) came to my house last week to fix that blasted thing.  Initially Freddie and I had conversations similar to the one above, and Freddie, who really gets me, said she would just bring her dad over to see what was going on.  It helped that I promised margaritas. 

I won’t drone on about how we fixed it but I will tell you that even the engineers were stumped, at least for a minute.  We did have to take it apart twice and there was much holding of tanks and much screwing in of bolts.  Mostly I stood around and looked pretty but I was there, offering support and reminding them of the single margaritas that I purchased for each of them.

Halfway through the evening, after we thought it was fixed only to be denied as we watched the water, once again, drain completely out of the tank in just a matter of minutes, Freddie’s dad said, “I really wish we had bought a new handle when we bought all the other parts. That would really help.”

I said, “I have one in my car.  I’ll go get it.”

I trotted out to my car and came back in brandishing my (nearly) brand new toilet handle.   Both Freddie and her dad looked at me, eyes huge, like anime characters.  “What? Why?  Jimmie?”

“Viola!” I said. 

Do you know how funny that is?  That I, Queen of all Things Sparkly, had a toilet handle in the back of my car?  I amuse myself.  Never underestimate me, people.  I will always pull through.  When will you learn?

In one final toilet comment, last week I had to purchase toilet paper for the first time in six months.  Between Phranke and my anonymous toilet paper donator (Jonquil!), I haven’t had to buy any in that long.  I have the best friends!

Also, who do you know that blogs about their potty as much as I do?  I should win an award.

P.S. So that no one gets mad at the handy man who fixed it last time, please know that he gave me some money back because it didn’t work.  Aces, man.  That was awesome. 

Coulda Been A Contender

27 Sep 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Friends, I'm Such A Girl, This Will Probably Get Me In Trouble Tags:

Let’s get ready to RRRUUUMMMBBBBLLLEEEE!  Am I allowed to say that? Is it trademarked?  Don’t any of the 43 of you who read me tell on me if so. 

I got a lot of nominees for my soon-to-be-football team.  I’ve also done a lot of research on my own.  Did you know, by the way, that Googling the term “Hot Shirtless Football Players” will take you to some sexual sights designed for gay men?  Me neither.  Then I learned that Googling plain old “Hot Football Players” would take you to a bunch of soccer websites, and I got all distracted for a while looking at those guys and nearly forgot my mission.  Wow, soccer players are nice looking. 

Anyway, first thing I did on my own was have a look at the NFL site just to get a feel for the teams available to me, and I must say, some of the logos are plumb awful.  Right away I discounted anyone with a stupid logo which meant that the NY Jets & Giants, the Cleveland Browns, and the Buffalo Bills were knocked out.  Then I eliminated poor color choices which removed the Saints, the Buccaneers (any team that willfully chooses to clothe their athletes in pants that are African American flesh colored so that major chunks of the team look naked as they run down the field deserves to be cut), the Packers and again, the Cleveland Browns (how are they even a team?).  THEN I did the Googling which nearly got me arrested/fired and found some cuties which almost put the NY Jets & Giants and the Greenbay Packers back on the list; however, I defined standards and I will adhere to them so those three teams remain disqualified. 

From there, I dutifully studied all the nominated teams which included the following:  Pittsburgh Steelers, St. Louis Rams, Carolina Panthers, Dallas Cowboys, Tennessee Titans, Cincinnati Bengals, Miami Dolphins and the Baltimore Ravens.    I’m giving them all a fair look before making a final decision.  Here’s where I stand with my quest thus far: 

STEELERS:  I have a new work friend, the one who gave me the Steelers jersey to wear, and she invited me to partake of a Steelers game with her and her family.  I’m naming her Katniss, primarily because she seems kind of scrappy, like she could do some damage to your guts if you ticked her off, but also because she’s pretty.  Katniss took me over to her brother’s house for the Steelers/Raiders game, and we settled into the Steelers man cave for the afternoon.  I peed next to Troy Polamalu a few times (life size sticker on the bathroom wall),had snacks out of a Steelers helmet and off of Steelers plates, wiped my mouth with a Steelers napkin (which I was afraid would get me hurt as I felt that they might view that as a desecration of Steeler property), and finally, I smacked hands with a giant inflatable football player wearing Steelers gear every time a touchdown was scored. 

I also watched a video of this nature and was pretty enamoured of it:

Steelers Renegade

The logo is fancy, the colors look good on me, and Polamalu has pretty hair.  Also, that coach of theirs, Mike Tomlin, is a lovely man.  Still contenders. 

TITANS:  I had a lengthy discussion with a man I’ve named Thor (because I like the name Thor) about why the Titans would be a good choice for me.  His best argument is that being a Titans fan teaches us patience and perseverance.  This man is a high school teacher so why he needs more things to teach him patience and perseverance is beyond me, yet he was quite passionate about his fandom. 

I will have more chances to see a Titans game live than any of the other teams, plus I like the logo and the colors.  Blue is my favorite color, you know.  Still contenders. 

COWBOYS:  This team was nominated by two men, both of whom I trust absolutely, and that is saying a lot.  Coach has been a longtime fan of the Cowboys and follows them faithfully.  But in traditional Coach fashion, he gives the soft sell so he hasn’t done much to push me.  Quan also nominated this team, noting the appeal of the monstrosity they call a stadium. 

I really dig that Texas star.  The colors are lovely and I have silver eyeliner to match.  Pretty boys play for this team.  Still contenders. 

PANTHERS:  Lynnette and Freddie volunteered this team, simply because the QB is Cam Newton.  I’ve stared at his picture a lot.  It’s quite distracting as it’s my desktop photo now.  He sure is pretty.

Photo credit: GQ, of course

The team colors are gorgeous!  Cam Newton is gorgeous! His teeth are gorgeous!  (You know how I feel about teeth.)  Still contenders. 

RAVENS:  My experience with the Baltimore Ravens consisted of watching the movie “Blindside”, which everyone knows is about Michael Orr, a Ravens player.  Great movie, but I have a policy on all movies I watch: no scary movies, no movies that make me cry and no movies that make me want things I cannot have.  Blindside, unfortunately, violated my movie policy, giving me chapped cheeks because I cried so much. 

The colors are nice, the logo is nice, but the crying did me in.  Sorry, Ravens.  No longer contenders. 

RAMS:  I need to do more research here.  I am quite moved by the horns on the helmets.  Still contenders. 

BENGALS:  This team was nominated by another man that I trust, except he moved away to Atlanta so now I’m mad at him.  He makes the best enchiladas ever.  I like the colors, I like the logo, some hotties play for the team, but I’m going to have to pass.  No longer contenders. 

DOLPHINS:  This team was nominated by an old friend because she thought I would look pretty in the colors.  She gets me!  She understands what I’m going for here!  I’m going to have to do more research on the Dolphins.  Still contenders. 

A final thought or two.  While watching the Steelers/Raiders game, I saw the Raider who got knocked out in the end zone.  You guys, I loved watching this game. I loved the excitement of the fans (Katniss’s family).  I loved their dedication.  Football in general appeals to me. But when that guy got hurt and just laid there, my stomach was all up in my throat and I felt sick.  I prayed and prayed and prayed for him and was a hot mess inside until he gave the thumbs up.  Do I have the fortitude to be a football fan?  Still contending on that one . . . . 

Also, I think someone needs to make me some brackets for all this mess here.  I’m getting confused by my own self.  Coach?

 

A Lesson For You On A Wednesday

26 Sep 2012 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends Tags:

You guys, I’m getting a little worried about Dammit Todd.  I haven’t seen him in a while (still never met the imaginary girlfriend either), and I just heard about the possible looming bacon shortage.  Dammit Todd once delivered a truly moving monologue on the versatility of bacon, how it’s smoky flavor contributes something to every single food group, how everything is simply better with bacon.  I challenged him on that, purchasing something called a Chocolate Bacon Bar, and offered it for a taste test.  His judgment?  Incredibly angry that I also invited others join in the taste test, thus forcing him to share the Chocolate Bacon Bar which he clearly did not want to do.  I guess bacon does make everything taste better. 

I hope he pulls through this devastation.  I imagine he will look gaunt and slightly emaciated once the ordeal is over but I have faith in his strength (and the support of his imaginary girlfriend).  Actually, I feel for all meatatarians during this time of famine.  Godspeed, men.  Push through.  I wish you well on this journey.

While I am on the subject of Dammit Todd and his absence from my life, I’m going to tell you calmly and sedately that my car broke again.  The most dramatic I will get about it is this:  THIS MAKES NUMBER FIVE!  IN FOUR MONTHS TIME! In this instance I could have really used myself some Dammit Todd as the fix required the jacking up of my car and the screwing in of some bolts onto some pan thingy or other.  But I found myself a replacement Dammit Todd who Ima call MacGyver (because something about that name implies being good at fixing stuff with baling wire and bubble gum, I don’t know why, do you?).  MacGyver manfully jacked up that car, whipped out an electric drill and drilled away on the pan thingy.  He hollered from underneath the car, “Gimme something plastic to screw this bolt into!” His (non-imaginary) girlfriend dug through her purse and handed him the first thing she found.

Use what you have, people.  That is today’s lesson.  Use what you have. 

Tomorrow we talk football.  Prepare yourselves.

 

The Pity Party Stops Here

23 Aug 2012 10 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Friends, Health Tags: ,

I’m back at status quo now.  Thank you to all of you who DID NOT check on me but let me know that you cared in some way.  You all are a crafty bunch and I give you major points for following my wishes while still sneakily making sure I was okay.  Also, I’d like to point out that a good chunk of you who checked on me without checking on me are people I grew up with, people from my hometown.  I’d like to point that out specifically because later on in this post, I’m going to throw a stranger from my hometown under the bus and I’d like to say something nice before I do that. 

I really wanted to write a counter post to the last one, but the minute I mentioned it to a friend, she immediately said no, to not negate my feelings.  She’s right.  Those feelings, while not pretty, were real and I really felt them.  But for now, I will say “The End” to the pity party.

Want to know how I’m celebrating my returned good mood?  By going to abs class.  The instructor has returned from his class reunion and while he didn’t show off any trophies he received for “Stomach Most Resembling a Plank”, he did bring some stories and residual guilt about all the cake he ate.  The class members could acutely feel his guilt by minute six of his first class back because we were panting and snorting and grunting and sweating like warthogs.  I finally asked in a high-pitched alarm “How much cake did you actually eat?!”  He told us it was only two pieces but I call him a liar.  No one inflects that much torture for two measly pieces of cake.

In other gym-related news, I’d like to tell you that Snooty Snothole Bianca with the Swishy Butt talked to me!  Two days in a row, even.  And of her own volition.  When she began speaking I didn’t even notice. I thought the music piped into the locker room was interrupted for an announcement of some sort so I ignored it. But after a minute or so, I realized that her mouth and words were directed at me, and honestly, I didn’t know what to do with that.  I stood there bundled up in my towel and matching undercrackers with my hair wadded around a curling iron and just looked at her. When my hair started to smoke I came back to my senses and responded; I’m not even sure what I said, I was so surprised.  Turns out she’s thinking of joining another gym and she wanted me to know that it isn’t good for your hair to wash it every day.  I could have lived my whole life without ever having those conversations, but whatever moved her was enough to break off that padlock she keeps over her lips, so I listened.   It was the least I could do.

In non-gym-related news, we welcomed a new CFO to the company for which I work.  I had no idea when he would make his initial visit but seeing as how I’m the face our visitors see first, I treat everyone nicely.  Besides being the first impression of our corporate office, I also perform other functions that require me to be away from my desk.  I have this handy little portable phone that I carry around and when my hands are full, it fits nicely in my cleavage, anchored in by my cute dresses with the elastic band around my chest.  Easy access to the phone, close to my ear so I can hear it, and hands-free!  You can probably see where this is going.  The other day when the CFO came to the office for his initial introduction, I had been running around the office delivering mail, and I warmly greeted him, not having a clue it was our new CFO nor remembering that I had a phone stuck between my boobs.  Welcome to new your office, Bossman! 

I’d like to share (nearly) one last story before concluding.  Martie works in a salon (glamorous!) in our hometown and as such, she hears and sees loads of things that make us blush or roll our eyes so far into the backs of our heads that we hurt ourselves.  A couple of years ago, a man came into her shop and was complaining about a dish he had ordered at the single decent sit-down restaurant in the town.  This is what he said:

“We went to Legend’s last night and they had salmon (pronounced SAL-mon) on the menu so I ordered it.  They brought me this plate with what looked like a big ole piece of fish on it! <said in horror and confusion>.  That didn’t look like no salmon (pronounced SAL-mon) I ever ate.  I sent it back.  Nasty.”

This, ladies and gentlemen, is where I grew up.

Also where I grew up is Poppa.  He had some surgery recently in which all of his toes were broken and straightened and some bone was shaved off the bunion part of his foot.  (Sorry about making your digestive tracts squeeze up in sympathy pain).  He’s got these cool blue metal pins sticking out of his toes which make him look like Freddie Krueger and a super cool camouflage cast.  But he’s had some complications from that surgery, he’s not doing well, and they are bringing him up to Vanderbilt as I type this.  I’m worried about him, a lot, so I’m asking if you would think of him, pray for him, and send him some good thoughts.  We love that man and we need for him to be okay. 

Highly Recommend, By Jimmie – Take Two.

19 Jul 2012 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Health, I'm Going Somewhere, Imparting Wisdom, Outings, Weight Loss Tags:

Dear Readers,

I’ve done some fun stuff lately.  Lest you think I don’t have a life anymore due to job hunting and crying and re-budgeting and talking about my sexy hair, I thought I should write it up for you.  Following is my new list of things for you to consider doing: 

Rock Island Playdate – When your friends ask you to drive 2 hours to the coolest place in the world for a day of relaxation and fun, you go.  Do not think twice about it.  Pack up a cooler full of lunch, get some water, throw a towel in the car and take off.  Probably you should spend some real money on proper water shoes and also probably you should dress for hiking as well as floating (can anyone say “upper body support, i.e. bra instead of swimsuit”?) but even if you don’t, you will have the time of your life.  Take lots of pictures so that you can show off to all your friends. Post them on your blog.  Isn’t that waterfall nice? It was gorgeous! 

Not pictured?  The poison ivy I sat in . . . .

Gavin DeGraw – I, too, wish I could explain it.

Kayaking – I’ve waited my whole life to do this but I guess I didn’t know it.  I’d been saying I was going to go for months and last Tuesday was the first time I got to keep my promise.  I put on the ill-fitting life jacket (can anyone say “Stay Puft Marshmallow Man”?) and perched my poison ivy covered butt in that kayak.  After I ran into a couple of docked boats and a couple of my friends, I got the hang of things.  Now while most of you probably prefer the straight line method of kayaking in which you go from point A to point B in a linear manner, you need to understand that I prefer the Charlie Brown sweater pattern method of kayaking.  I like to zig and then zag and take far longer than anyone else to reach the destination.  It’s a much better shoulder workout, see.  Lynnette will be proud.

Maxi Dresses – go to Old Navy and get yourself one and wear it to visit Poppa.  After he asks you why you wore your nightgown to visit him, you’ll throw it in the trash.  (Can anyone say, “You look pregnant in that dress?”)

Urban Hike – for a few months I’ve been participating in something called an Urban Hike.  It’s a long walk through downtown Nashville in which we visit historic sites and landmarks particular to Nashville.  We also climb 248 stairs, ring the Liberty Bell and sweat like warthogs but it’s really quite rewarding.  What I don’t recommend, though, is missing a couple of weeks of the walk, especially when some key elements of the walk are changed (i.e. changing the route from five miles to six) and then not bringing water to the new and improved six mile walk when the temperatures have just peaked at the all-time high of 109 degrees.  Also not recommended is yapping excessively about how fantastic this walk really is to two men who have unreciprocated interest in you.  When you make it sound like the most incredible of hikes, do not be surprised when both of those men show up (uninvited by you) on the SAME NIGHT to walk with you.  (“Can anyone say, “Awkward”?)

Cakes from Freddie – This here is the cake Freddie made for my birthday.  It was delicious!  Because she makes such delicious cakes, she has started a little side business called World Piece Cakes.  Isn’t that cute?  Check it out here.

Planning stuff with Woney – I always like to end these Highly Recommend posts with something about Woney.  Have you noticed that?  Anyway, Woney has been working out with Tony now for a year.  Lemme tell you, she looks FIERCE!  That guy knows his stuff. (Can anyone say “This is hard” and “I’m tired”?  Cause Woney can’t.  Tony won’t let her anymore.)  He got her started on some new cardio routines too, and she’s running a lot now, much like I used to.  (le Sigh, but I’m getting there!) We talked for months about doing the 5K Color Run in Nashville and then somehow missed the deadline to enter which, with both of us being blondes and having lives, I don’t understand.  Anyway, we talked about it, got excited about it, missed the deadline and then gave up on it altogether.  Instead, she is coming to visit me *just because* in November.  Also, we are going to Ireland in a year or so to celebrate her birthday and now will begin ramping up those conversations and planning discussions.  It’s just too exciting! 

So now, in conclusion,

The end. 

I Love My New Job

01 Jul 2012 1 Comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, In Which I Throw Myself Under The Bus Tags:

Let’s talk about my new job for a minute.  I’m pretty happy in my new digs.  I’m a pretty happy person overall, so it isn’t a surprise really, but it is very hard to leave your *people* and adjust to new surroundings.  If anyone can do it, I surely can mostly because I don’t meet strangers.  Also remember that I’ve done this before. 

When I came to Nashville lo those many years ago, it was for a job in an engineering firm.  I had been working in the insurance industry where you had to be “people-oriented” but was now ensconced in an engineering firm where “people-oriented” was more of a foreign language.  I learned quickly that I had made an excellent decision in choosing to work at this particular firm but I also learned quickly that engineers think differently than I do. 

I can hear some of you saying, “EVERYBODY thinks differently than you, Jimmie.  Not everyone wants all glitter, all the time, nor do we spend copious amounts of hours pondering the rigid, bulging muscles in Dwayne Johnson’s arms.”  I give you that although I really feel like my head is a nice place to be.  BUT here I’m talking about fundamental differences, the very core of our thought processes.  Let me explain.  Engineers think in waffles.  Their thought process is very structured and organized and everything has its place.  That’s how they think.  I, on the other hand, think in spaghetti.  On the surface it looks like a jumbled mass of goo but really it is very tasty and filling.  It gets the job done.  Often you have leftovers and those are even better the next day! That’s how I think.  

While working at my first engineering firm, I ran across a nice man, Chuck, who was a good engineer.   We chatted often, agreed that I was his favorite and eventually he moved away for a better opportunity.  Before he left, though, he gave me a parting gift.  Except I didn’t know it.  See, I came in to work one day, logged onto my computer and tried my very best to get down to business.  I kept having trouble with my mouse, though.  It wouldn’t track much and when it did it would fly wildly and jerkily all over the screen.  Because I am not technically inclined, I called our IT department to figure out what was going on.  (Let me say here that the first thing I do in any new job situation is to bake the IT department cookies.  I realize that I break an awful lot of stuff and ask an awful lot of stupid questions so to butter them up before I even get started, I feed them.  It works well.  You should try it.) 

Anyway, I was on the phone with my favorite IT guy and he kept saying, “Jimmie, it’s very hard to hear you.  Can you speak up?”  So I did, increasingly so as the conversation progressed because he was having great difficulty understanding me.  The louder I spoke the better it was but it was still a difficult conversation.  So now you have the picture: me, yelling into my phone for an inordinately long time about my stupid spastic mouse in a manner where everyone in the office could hear me, and trying to explain in Jimmie-terms what I thought was wrong with it.  Do you know how long it took for someone to kindly point out that my phone and mouse had been taped?  About ten minutes.  Do you know how long it would have taken me to figure that out on my own?  Forever.  Swift on the uptake, is what I am.  Anyway, Chuck fessed up to it and I was never more shocked in all my life.  Sweet little old waffle-thinking Chuck had played a practical joke on me.  Hahahahahahahahaaaa!

Then I moved over to the next engineering firm with Boss and that’s where someone played the Hall and Oates joke on me.  Sweet little old waffle-thinking Sean, I suspect, who is about the nerdiest/nicest person you will ever meet.  And sweet little old waffle-thinking Keith kept moving my pink sparkly dragon everywhere. Hahahahahahahahaaaaa!  Engineers.  A constant surprise.

Now I work with people in the corporate office of a home health agency.  A lot of my co-workers are of the accountant persuasion and I suspect that like engineers, they think in waffles.  Lovely people, really very nice, but I’m not so much of a numbers person as I am a words person and I can only imagine how they feel about the whirlwind that is me invading their very structured, very quiet space every day.

Last week the office manager sent out an email requesting people to clean out the fridge.  If you wanted to keep something you had to name it and date it as your own, otherwise it was going in the trash.  I launched myself to the kitchen to preserve my lone container of yogurt, and then later, she and I dumped everything else into the trash.  It was very liberating.  Kind of like throwing a planned hissy fit with food.  Afterwards, I lovingly placed my named and dated yogurt on the empty shelf in the empty fridge for a later time.

Monday afternoon was the perfect time for my yogurt, I decided, but when I went to retrieve it, it was gone.  I scoured the three items left in the fridge to no avail.  Someone took my yogurt.  I immediately emailed my friends about it with the question, “What is wrong with people?!”  I never suspected that any of my nice new co-workers would steal my yogurt and I was really quite offended.    Steal my chocolate cake?  Yes, I get that.  Steal my sugar-free, fat-free yogurt?  Not so much.

Do you know on Wednesday afternoon I rummaged around in the now fuller fridge and found my named and dated yogurt?  Y’all, I promise you it was not there Monday or Tuesday.  There is no way I could have missed it amongst the three items that were in there.  Yet there it sat.  So I immediately emailed all my friends about it.  Lynnette, smart cookie that she is, suggested sweetly that someone had played a trick on me?  And now that I’ve thought about it, I think she may be right.  Once again, I was blinded by waffles which should really just become the euphemism for my life.  I now have a strange and growing respect for these accountant-type people, much like I did for the engineer-type people.  Who knew that numbers and words could get along so well!

A final note about why I love my new job.  Two Thursdays ago I had a meltdown.  A bad one.  I’m thrilled beyond belief to have a job that I enjoy, a paycheck, and to find that things are getting back on track. But I’ve had a rough couple of months and I guess the relief combined with lingering worry and my squealing brakes (another story) just took over.  I threw the mother of all tantrums, then cleaned up my wonky eyes and went to work.  I guess that my 40-year-old face does not recover as quickly as my 20-year-old face used to and all day, co-workers kept checking on me, asking if I was alright.  I didn’t take my tantrum to work but the evidence was still there apparently.  So on Friday, two of the nicest co-workers evah played another trick on me.  One of them walked me down the hall to “talk” while the other put this on my desk: 

How nice is that?  I think that like me, they too think in spaghetti and I must say, it’s nice to find some kindred spirits. 

I’m kind of hongry now.  Italian, anyone?

 

Prescription For A Heartbreak

26 Jun 2012 5 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Friends, Imparting Wisdom Tags: ,

Is there anyone out there who has never had a heartbreak?  I doubt it.  I was the last one, I thought. The last man standing.  I never had any of that gut-wrenching pain happen to me.  Never in high school which is unusual as everyone knows that high schools are rife with mooney-eyed teenagers moping around over lost loves.  Never in college which is also unusual as everyone knows you are supposed to give your heart away to a poet wearing a beret and a very spindly goatee.  I escaped all that, even through a myriad of serious boyfriends and even through a five-year marriage. 

It wasn’t until I was 38 that I really got the full experience of having my heart ripped from my very chest and trampled into bits.  Doesn’t that sound dramatic?  It was.  I got shredded and it was awful and may I say I don’t recommend it.  Do that mess when you are 18 or 24 but don’t ever wait until your late 30s for your first (perhaps your only) heartbreak.  Having never built up any resistance for it, I was a raw open wound for far, far too long. 

I’m not writing this now to be morbid, though.  You know that, right?  That isn’t really my style.  No, I learned some lessons through all that, and I’m here to Impart Wisdom today.  I haven’t done that in a while.  I felt like it was time. 

The first thing you want to do when you get your heart squished is to call Martie.  You wail a lot into the phone.  I mean a lot.  And you listen to Martie when she tells you that you will feel better in two weeks.  When the two weeks are up and you don’t feel better, you call Martie back and wail a lot into the phone.  Listen to her when she tells you that you will feel better in two weeks.  When in two weeks you don’t feel better, you call Martie.  You get the picture.  Do this for a full year.  Eventually the space between those calls will get longer and longer and then perhaps in time you will only have one of those calls per year, possibly even less. 

After you get off the phone with Martie, you get on the phone with Woney. You wail a lot into the phone to Woney and say yes when she asks you if you want her to fly to Nashville. Pick her up at the airport and spend lots of time just being with someone who lets you cry and takes you to movies and to historic places you have never visited to help take your mind off things. 

You are only allowed one phone call to the ex during this time.  In that phone call, you tell him that he needs to come get his stuff out of your sight and out of your house.  Give him a timeframe, say 20 minutes or so, to arrive.  During that 20 minutes, you inform him, you will be dragging his stuff (including the boat he’s been working on in your garage) out into the street.  If he has not arrived by the time you have everything in the street, you inform him, you will soak it all in lighter fluid and set a match to it.  Mean it.  This will ensure a swift removal of all of your ex’s personal items from your home which is necessary for your healing. 

The next thing you want to do is listen to some Alicia Keyes.  You can do this for approximately one day, maybe two, but you need to do it.  This will enable you to really turn on the water works.  So much emotion packed into a four minute song.  You should lament the lost love through the entire song and then switch over to a different song to really get the anger in.  Alicia Keys is fantastic for both sides of the coin.  Then, after one day (perhaps two) realize that there is far too much emotion in a single Alicia Keys lyric and immediately put that CD into the glove box.  Leave it there for a year.  Do not touch it.

The logical next step is to order a Billy Idol CD from Amazon.  You really want the Greatest Hits album.  You listen to this CD on repeat at top volume for the next two to three months.  Be sure to sing along with it.  There’s not a lick of emotion whatsoever in those lyrics and eventually, you will find that you can’t help but dance to them.  He’s just that kind of guy.

This little tidbit is always helpful:  go to lunch with Bootsie, Lynnette and Kindle.  Go to a cheesy little Mexican place for chips and salsa and Diet Coke.  It will surprise you, given that you think happiness is such a foreign concept and a dream long past, but you will be gifted with a single hour of happy that you can cherish for the next few months. Those hours of peace and happy are few and far between in the beginning. Take them where you can get them.

Aside from the occasional Mexican joint with friends, do not drown your sorrows in food!  This is a time for absolute rigid control.  Your food intake and your exercise are the only things you can fully control during this time so take advantage of that.  When you feel pretty good about your body, go to Buckle and spend an exorbitant amount of money on a single pair of jeans that make your butt look awesome.  This step is crucial.  Everyone needs a pair of jeans like that. 

Do not even consider dating anyone for a very long time.  Makes lists of qualities that you want in the next dating partner but make them so strict that almost no one will meet the criteria.  That way you don’t have to make excuses for why it has been so long since you have dated. 

Finally, you wait.  Everyone likes to tell you that time is a great healer.  You will look at them in disbelief and scoff at them when you have the energy or take a break from the crying because you know that time will never heal this wound.  Spend a lot of time with yourself, though.  Try it.  You will learn amazing things about who you are, and you will know yourself better than you ever have.  Wait for a year.  And if that isn’t enough, wait some more. 

One last bit of advice, but probably the best one:  make new friends like Freddie, Kindle, Spike, Felix, Lorne (Ty), Roxanne, Jane and Quan. Cultivate existing friendships like Phranke, Lynnette, Woney, Billie, and Dammit Todd.  Use your Martie.  She’s your best friend.  Find other people to hang out with that encourage you to do things for yourself, to cry when you need to, and to put on your big-girl panties already and move on.  These people are incredibly important.  Your life, while empty of a romantic partner, will be full beyond measure and really, really nice.  The nicest of all. 

The anticipated end result is indifference.  Not love and not hate, but indifference.  One day, after enough time has passed and you have completed the full prescription dose, you will be on the Greenway running in the heat and panting like a bear when you will be hit with a realization that it’s over.  It’s really over and your heart beats just fine with all pieces intact.  You are indifferent and if you cared enough at all about it anymore, it would be the best feeling you’ve ever experienced.

But you don’t and so you just continue to run. 

Signed,

Dr. Jimmie

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries