Room

15 May 2011 6 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Home Improvement, Pets Tags: , ,

Have you guys read the book “Room” by Emma Donoghue?  I heard it was awesome.  This has nothing to do with that book, though.  Just thought I would share.

Following are some snippets of conversations heard from Jimmie’s bedroom, last Thursday night.

 “Ooh, I love it!”

“Hoor!”

 “I will cut you, bitch.”

“No, not that way!”

 “Dammit Murphy!”

“Jimmie! Let me do it!”

“Oh, God, did we squish Seamus?”

“Freddie, did you really drive over here in a sports bra and a blanket?”

“Jimmie, thank you for letting me fulfill my dream.  “

“No problem, Felix, thanks for fulfilling your dream in my bedroom.”

And then I went to work puffy-eyed and lethargic on Friday.

You guys do know that my Daddy-O has the link to this here blog, right? Get your minds out of the gutters, pervs.

Remember when I was painting my bedroom over a weekend?  That was merely the first step of a huge process called Operation: Jimmie’s Bedroom.  Again, minds out of the gutter. 

I decided a few months ago that I liked my bedroom but it wasn’t really mine.  I saw a movie in which the bedroom had a certain feel and I wanted that feel.  So I yapped about it to everyone and Felix perked right up.  “A feel?” he says.  And I says, “Yes, soft.”  And he says, “Give me ten minutes.”

And then the plans poured forth.  We talked about color and texture and paint and fabric and chandeliers.  We used words like “fresh” and “glam” and “treatments” and “oh holy crap, I can’t believe we are going to do this.” 

It has taken me months to decide on the comforters and sheets and assorted furniture items.  Several things have arrived in boxes since January and those boxes have yet to be opened.  Murphy and Seamus have set up their guest house on those boxes and it will be a sad day when they come home from work and find them gone.  Let this be a warning to you pets, that day is coming soon.  Prepare now. 

 I also had to choose paint colors.  By now, it should be clear to all of you that I’m a chick.  And while I think Lowe’s and Home Depot are marvelous places, I cannot amuse myself looking at every screw and nail and set of pliers in there.  Apparently every ex-boyfriend I ever had can, though, and all of my whining about “let’s spend time togetherrrrrrrr” should include the caveat “but not in a hardware store”.  Ahem.  I went into both Lowe’s and Home Depot with the idea of finding the perfect paint color and came out with every hue of blue, green, gray and purple they had.  Clearly, I like variety and can amuse myself for hours looking at every single paint sample in the store. 

I proudly showed my 52,000 paint chips to Felix who in a sudden lurch understood that maybe I needed more help narrowing than we originally thought.  I have a feeling that this was the beginnings of a slow panic for him.  I’m so distracted by shiny pretty things and I’m whipped about like a rag doll with every new thought I have.  Ooh, feathers!  Sparkly chandelier! Wow, modern stuff is awesome. . . . Fortunately for him I’m his favorite plus I’m nice plus I cook well so he’s been very patient.  Bribery works wonders.

After Felix narrowed my choices to about 50, I went back to Lowe’s and got more paint chips. Like I said, shiny!  And I taped every single one of those paint chips to my wall and invited Felix to come over and help me choose.  I wish I had a picture of that.  You would laugh hysterically at the picture of horror on his poor face.  We finally chose three of them, one for an accent wall, one for regular walls, and one for small designs.  Oh, it was agony.  (The funniest part about this is Martie and Coach were there also.  Martie took one look at the 68 paint samples on my wall and within about 30 seconds picked one that matched her bedroom décor perfectly.  Decision made. Done and done.  Were it that easy for me . . .)

Now I had big plans for taking pictures all the way through this process so that Felix could use it as a design book of sorts, in case he gets the chance to do this for someone else.  And I wanted to see the progress. But once I bought the paint, I went nuts. Best laid plans of mice and men, and all that . . . . so no before photos. 

I painted like mad for a solid day and then did touch ups for a couple of evenings. Meanwhile, Felix spent HOURS with some poster board and an Exact-o knife making a stencil for me. 

Progress

So the process on Thursday night went like this – feel free to interject the conversations from above wherever you see fit:

Felix and Jimmie leave work at the same time.  Felix arrives at Jimmie’s house before Jimmie does despite their leaving at the same time from the exact same location.  He runs to the house with giant stencil in a wad so that it wouldn’t get wet in the monsoon (again) and then waits miserably on the porch for Jimmie to arrive.

Jimmie arrives.

Jimmie and Felix lay the stencil out and ooh and ahh over it.

Jimmie opens a bottle of wine.

Jimmie and Felix sample cake that Jimmie made (divine).

Jimmie and Felix sample cake again.

Jimmie and Felix drink wine.

Jimmie and Felix have dinner.

Jimmie and Felix drink wine.

Felix mixes the paint while Jimmie hovers.

Felix demonstrates the proper paint application treatment. 

Jimmie tries to recreate it and fails miserably.

"Jimmie! Let me do it!"

Jimmie hovers for a while then parks herself on the bed, watching and looking pretty.  And drinking wine.

Freddie arrives wearing a sports bra and blanket.

All ignore odd attire and Jimmie and Felix and Freddie drink wine and feed Freddie.

Murphy discovers stencil and tries to play with it.

Felix has apoplexy.

Murphy settles in for a nap on the stencil.

Why is everyone freaking out?

Felix and Freddie apply the stencil.

Felix demonstrates the proper paint application treatment.

Jimmie and Freddie try to recreate it and fail miserably.

Jimmie and Freddie give up all pretenses of hovering and park themselves on the bed, watching and looking pretty. And drinking wine.

Felix works his ass off.

How come I'm all alone over here?

Jimmie and Freddie ooh and ahh a lot.

Freddie goes home with cake at reasonable hour.

Stencil bows up in odd places, prompting much cursing and yelling.

Jimmie and Felix wrestle with stencil. A lot.

Jimmie and Felix win and apply paint twice more.

Felix and Jimmie hop around like morons in excitement over paint treatment and lack of sleep.

Felix and Jimmie put bedroom back together and hop around like morons some more.

Felix leaves with cake in the wee hours of the morning.

Jimmie sighs in happiness a lot and stares at her newly painted walls.

Murphy, indifferent to the happy sighs, purrs loudly on Jimmie’s stomach.

The end. 

And here mes amigos, is the finished product, at least for this week.  The bedding is not included yet. I wish I were a better photographer.  More progress will be made but I will spare you the write up and just show a picture of the absolute finished room.  Don’t expect it anytime soon.

Squee!

What do y’all think I should do for Felix as a thank you gift?  In your suggestion thought process, please note that he also offered to come help me pick up a bed for my third bedroom and in the drive over to my house, he hit a curb and blew out his tire.  His man-truck had to sit on the side of the road for a while as Madre and I came to his rescue.  Here he was trying to do a good deed and the man-truck has a minor heart attack.  It only took him an hour of swearing and cursing and sweating to bring it back to life.  What’s the phrase?  No good deed goes unturned.  How do I repay him?  I mean besides purchasing more wine and making more cake and looking pretty, of course?

 

Commitment

10 May 2011 2 Comments

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

I’m ready to make a commitment to you guys.  I’m stating it here so that you know you can hold me accountable and nag me about it as you see fit.  I’m fairly certain you know I would nag you if the shoe were on the other foot.

 I’m going to run the ½ marathon in September, the Women’s one.

Now I’ve said it and posted it.  I have to do it.  Lynnette wrangled a promise out of me (think along the lines of Major Payne with a pinch more sweetness) and while I will most likely curse her every time I set foot on the Greenway and die a thousand slow deaths as I’m running to some Cee Lo Green, I’m pretty excited about it. Thank you, Lynnette.  You do know that I really do want to do this.

The last weekend in April was the Music City Marathon and a bunch of my friends ran it.  I trained for it for a little while but I ran out of steam before I ever got there.  Besides, the one I had originally planned to run was the Women’s one and I believe I only have one in me.  If I’m going to run all that way and train all that much, I’m going for the prettiest t-shirt; clearly the pink one with the girlie logo on it is far better than the blue one they gave away at the Music City Race.

Freddie and I, both of whom had toyed around with the idea of running the Music City Half, decided we would bike down to the Titan’s stadium which is where the half marathoners would finish their races.  I wanted to see my friends run in and hopefully snap pictures of them so they didn’t have to pay $39.95 for their photos.  Highway robbery . . .

I got up early and drove over to Freddie’s house to borrow one of her bikes.  Now with the exception of our trip to Jacksonville, I had not been on a bike in YEARS, probably ten of them.  And the bikes we rode in Jacksonville were lovely with no gears and nice cushy sheep fur-lined seats.  We pedaled around, about six miles or so.  It was a leisurely ride, fueled by pomegranate and pineapple mojitos, and it was on the beach.  You can’t get much better than that.  It practically wasn’t even a bike ride. 

The bike ride to the Titan’s stadium was not at all like that. Firstly, it was far too early for mojitos of any kind but we rallied. We had oatmeal instead.  Secondly, the bike seats were not sheep fur-lined but the real deal pieces of granite the bike seat manufactures are so fond of.  What’s so wrong with a tractor seat, really? These seats were tiny and wedged themselves perfectly between the bones of our butts so as to cause maximum discomfort.  And thirdly, the ride was twice as long, twelve miles total.  Oh, and there were gears, lots of them.  What am I supposed to do with gears?

I grumble but honestly, the ride was really nice.  The Greenway, which has a trail that leads directly to the stadium, is beautiful in the spring.  Honeysuckle and English Rose line the walkways and the smells wafting around are amazing.  The pathways are shaded in places and sunny in others.  And as bikers, we are the fastest things allowed on the Greenway and the breeze from the speed was just lovely. 

We pedaled down our chosen path and I do believe we passed the eventual winner of the full marathon.  We also passed the men who would place 2nd, 3rd and 4th.  We yelled encouragement to all of them and were ignored but didn’t take it personally.  When you are in that kind of zone, I doubt even a naked Lady GaGa will break your trance.  It was pretty exciting for us to whizz past them, knowing that they were working so hard and really accomplishing something very nice for themselves. 

Anyway, we arrived in the crowds and made our way towards the finish line, no easy feat.  I read somewhere that approximately 33,000 people ran that race so you can imagine how many supporters and spectators were there.  And I saw lots of people run in, gobs of them, but not one of our friends.  Freddie and I stood in awe of all of those people and watched them stretch, cramp, eat goo and generally look healthy. We decided that if we ever ran one of these big races, we were going to do it in a tutu like some of these other ladies.  At least I am.  Might as well sweat in style.

I took this picture while we hung around.  I just love Nashville. 

After a while, we gave up on seeing anyone we might know so we hopped back on our bikes and took off for Freddie’s house again.  My butt was doing okay so I thought nothing of it.  I was really quite proud of the fact that I had already biked six miles and not made a complete fool of myself by face-planting on the asphalt at the stadium, although it was touch and go for a minute there.  We pedaled away and this time, had to ride on real streets with real cars.  And I did just fine although I’m pretty sure that Freddie tried to kill me on that one hill but since I lived, I forgive her. 

I did lie face first on Freddie’s floor for a little while before I drove home.  But I was fine.  I could still move anyway, and I counted that as a great accomplishment.

Before I complain a lot about my sore butt, I should throw in another little story. 

Martie and Coach and family came up that night to go to a Sound’s game. Also lovely.  I took this picture while we hung around. I just love Nashville. 

And the next morning, I sweet talked Coach into helping me move stuff around in my bedroom so that I could start painting it.  (Actually what I did was stand on a chair in front of him and try to unscrew my curtain rods. When he realized what I was doing he shoved me off the chair and took over.  Heh heh.  Not my first rodeo . . . .) I painted on my own after they left which generally involves a lot of arm and back work.  But I was fine.  I could still move anyway, and I counted that as a great accomplishment.  Plus the paint fumes helped.  Sorry if I drunk dialed any of you that night. 

Monday morning rolled around as did my 4:30 am alarm.  Let me tell you how much fun it is after biking 12 miles on Saturday and painting for 6 hours on Sunday and then lying prone for 7-ish hours to try to leap out of bed like a young, spry person.  I hear you over there laughing! I minced gingerly around my house for a while, prancing like some Arabian horse, and knew that there was no way I was going to plant my butt on a stationary bike for 45 minutes voluntarily.  No way.  I didn’t care how good the music was.  So I skipped the gym which is terrible, I know!

Skipping the gym then led to other instances of skipping the gym which led to the conversation that Lynnette and I had over the ½ marathon and here we are again.  Me, making a commitment to you.  And to Lynnette.  I’ve missed her and I’ve missed Jane and I’ve got to stop missing the gym.

Gah, I’m such a whiner.

So now that we are back to the whining, feel free to nag me about my training. Also feel free to give me advice.  I’m running this bitch.  I’m going to do it.  And when I’m done, I’m going to need you to listen to my whining (again) and tell me that I look pretty despite the huffing and puffing and that no, I didn’t look like a water buffalo at all while I sprinted down Broadway.  And also that no one saw me fall down and certainly no one got of a picture of that.  I know that all of you will borrow bikes from Freddie and will pedal down the Greenway to watch me run in and try snap my picture but will give up eventually because you can’t find me. And I will be okay with that.  Because your butt will hurt like mine did and I will laugh at you when you try to leap out of bed like a young, spry person.  You can come back here to whine about it if you like. 

I’m so nice.

  

Easter

23 Apr 2011 4 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends

Hey guys? Want to know what’s fun?  Roller Derby!  At least I think it is.  What could be more entertaining than a night out with friends watching a bunch of women kick each other’s asses  while wearing roller skates?  I’ll bet profanity is involved. 

 

You know what else is fun?  Meeting Freddie and Ian and Quan and dog-neighbor (who at this point should have a name – let’s call him Sanchez) at a bar and having some cocktails that look like a Frosty and taste like a Frosty but are actually chock full of alcohol, at least 5 different kinds.  I asked what was in it the last time I had one and lost track after Kahlua, chocolate liqueur and 151.  I know at least two more alcoholic ingredients were listed but since I had already ingested half of this tasty beverage, the ingredient list went in one ear and out the other.  As it is now, I am a complete lightweight and the full drink I had was more than enough for me, causing me to grin like a loon and weave my way down 2nd Avenue.  The official name for this concoction is called Bushwhacker.  Go have one and you’ll agree that it is indeed a tasty beverage and that for the average Joe, one is plenty.  So I’ll take two. (I kid! Probably that is a bad idea . . .)

 

Anyway, you know what’s not fun?  Realizing that you have 4 very bald, very dry rotted tires on your awesome blue granny car and spending all of your money to buy new ones.  And by all of your money, I mean all but $10.00 of your money.  I don’t think I’ve ever wiped out a paycheck so efficiently in all my life.

 

I had big plans for this weekend.  Cocktails?  Yes!  Roller Derby? Yes!  Profanity? Hopefully!  (I am a work in progress, after all.)  A night out with a few of my bestest friends?  Yes!  Unfortunately my plans somehow did not include being poor.

 

I texted Freddie:  Okay, I just looked at my money.  I don’t have any now because of car repairs so I’m going to skip tonight.  I’m such a grown up.

 

She texted back:  What? Boo!  I hate responsibility! It’s un-American.

 

That gave me pause.  Which countries are known for being good with their money?  Certainly not ours. We are trillions of dollars in debt.  I’d rather not add to that phenomenon on a personal level.

 

Jimmie: Actually, I propose the opposite is true.

 

Freddie:  Hmmm . . .  good point.  I’ll be sad if you are not there, but I understand. (Here I should mention that I luff her.  She gets it. Plus, she invited me over for Easter dinner which includes a bunny cake that she baked and decorated herself.  Need I say more?)

Jimmie:  I’m being a good Asian. Or European.  I’ll comfort myself with that.  (Surely one of them has a grip on their economy, right?)

 

Anyway, although I had a fun night out planned, I’ll choose being a grown up over getting myself into financial dire straits.  That is called being a “Good Steward”.  

 

It’s Easter weekend.  Good Friday has passed.  Easter is coming.  What a season of hopefulness, yet hopefulness tinged with sadness.  Our Lord is rising again.  You guys know what’s fun? That’s fun! 

 

Happy Easter, everyone!

 

People of Interest; A Handy Checklist, Volume II

13 Apr 2011 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends Tags:

I don’t want anyone on this particular list to get all weird on me because I threw around the “L” word about them.  Some might feel awkward about it and shun me.  I don’t want that.  So let’s call this list People of Interest. You guys didn’t think I was done, did you?  I have WAY more people to share with you on this here blog. 

 

Family is only a portion of those who are assigned blame for my idiosyncrasies.  Someone today asked me if I was nervous about this part, putting my friends on here.  The thought never occurred to me.  They all know I’m doing this and for the most part, I ask permission before sharing too much.  I’m thrilled that they trust me enough to let me share them with the world.  Let’s see how they feel afterwards . . .

 

Phranke:  Ah, Phranke.  She’s been around nearly most of my life although we didn’t really become aware of each other until high school.  She was with me when I got giant boobs and had big hair.  She knows me.  She’s practically my sister.  I’m not entirely sure that I’m all fun and games for her, but she sticks around.  That’s what good friends are like. 

 

I went to visit her this weekend and as usual, I dug through all of her cabinets, drawers and closets. I’m not sure why I do this but she lets me.  I would let her do the same thing at my house. Anyway, I just had to share this picture with you. This is a shelf in her closet:

 

 

I hee-hawed over this for a good five minutes as she explained how each one is in a precise order, from newest to oldest.  They rotate. 

 

Below is an email exchange I had with her one day.  It’s one of the many reasons why I luff her. 

 

Jimmie:           I’m sad and it’s been here since Sunday.  I can’t seem to shake it and I’ve been crying every day since then.  My eyes look like crap, sort of like sand bags except wrinkly sandbags.  Is it the holidays?  Maybe so.  I dunno. 

 

Phranke:          Don’t you hate it – I can’t cry for 5 seconds without looking like someone beat the shit out of me all the next day.  Don’t forget to tell anyone who asks that it’s a new style of eye makeup that’s all the rage in California: faux-misery.  It was originally created for people who are all botoxed up and can’t feign emotional responses, but then it just caught on and everyone’s doing it.

 

 

Dammit Todd:  Dammit Todd is the reason I have the name Jimmie.  We were on a boat on a lazy Sunday a couple of summers ago and he had had a few beers.  (Honestly, we had all had a few beers.)  I was on a float, out in the water, minding my own business, when out of the blue he said, “I’m going to call you Jimmie.”  And it stuck.  I have no idea where that came from and neither does he.  I won’t embarrass him by telling everyone that sometimes we go shopping and I make him turn around so I can check out how his butt looks in his jeans.  (Mostly it is for him, so that he knows if they fit right but I would be a liar if I told you there was nothing in it for me.)  But I’m just not that kind of friend, to embarrass someone like that.  One random Saturday morning I received the following texts from him. 

 

4:02 am

Dammit Todd:             And I must say . . .Viva de casa de waffle

 

4:08 am

Dammit Todd:             You’re a pansy cuz w8 –

 

4:09 am

Dammit Todd:             You’re a pansy cuz u won’t pub9 –

 

4:10 am

Dammit Todd:             You’re a pansy cuz u won’t stay up and text us all maggi –

 

4:13 am

Dammit Todd:             You’re a pansy cuz u won’t stay up and text us all night . . .  Finally.  Sorry.  I’m drunk as hell. Better see u tomorrow for supper.

 

See why he is interesting?

 

Lynnette:  Lynnette is the instructor at the YMCA.  Remember her?  She’s the one who tries to maim us during class.  She has the best muscle definition in her arms and if I maimed myself like she does, I’d probably have those arms.  For now, I’ll just settle for being jealous.  She’s the one I credit with keeping me on track with my gym attendance.  When I’ve been lazy or absent for too long (maybe a day or two), Lynnette sends me the sweetest messages like, “Are you okay?  Just tired?  I was worried about you.” I genuinely luff this about her.  Happy was the day that we met and I will have her forever. 

 

Pee-tah:  Pee-tah belongs in my heart.  I can’t imagine life without him.  I’ve almost seen him naked and we are still friends!  That is true friendship, right there.

 

Freddie:  She has the best laugh.  We are kindred spirits.  Don’t believe me?  Go ask her how many kids she wants.  I dare you.  We both ascribe to the philosophy that children are fantastic little creatures, but birthing them from our bodies is an idea akin to flaying open our skin and pouring alcohol on it just for kicks. 

 

Kindle:  A favorite of mine.  We went to a concert over the weekend and there was a moment when the audience was asked join hands with the person beside us.  So we did with some reticence.  It lasted for about a minute and both of us were slightly awkward about it.  So after a bit, Kindle said, “You know I have love for you, but I’m not going to hold your hand anymore.”  Agreed.

 

Felix:  Drink mixer master.  Drummer.  Arteest.  I am hopeful that if I surround myself with all of these talented people, eventually some of that talent will rub off on me.  He wrote this poem for me and Freddie before we took off for the beach:

 

Manis and Pedis for

Your fingers and toes,

Lipstick, eyeliner and

Powdering your nose,

Hair coloring, highlights

And a little bit of bleach,

Suntan lotion, martinis,

And heading to the beach!

 

That’s what big girls are made of. 

 

Bootsie:  If you could meet her, you would understand in an instant why I call her Bootsie.  She is the epitome of a Bootsie – she’s crafty and trendy and adorable. And short-ish. She would not hurt a bug.

 

We used to work together.  A while back, she was leaving that job in an unfortunate way.  She’d been with the company for 6 years or so when they downsized, leaving her in the lurch.  She was packing up a few things and had this old hammer that apparently had some kind of value, at least to the co-worker who was admiring it.  She stood there looking around her space and then said, “Can I see that hammer for a second?”  She grabbed it out of his hand and in one smooth move, whacked it against her five year plaque, shattering glass and paper in a lovely spray of glitter and shards.  And then she calmly handed the hammer back and said, “Thanks.  I feel better.”  See why I luff her?

 

Woney:  She’s one of the biggest surprises of my life. How do you meet someone who lives clear across the country and become such fast friends despite not meeting each other face to face for months?  Yet, it happened. We travel.  Lots.  And we are perfect roommates.  Any excuse to pack up and go somewhere, and we are on it!

 

Lorne:  This girl gets full credit for naming this here blog.  Extraordinary?  Yes, I wants it.  Ordinary?  Yes, I gots it.  Only she put it together for me.  I regularly get little pick me ups from her in the following format:

 

 

 

 

 

She gets me.

 

Rickkster:  He’s awesome. The end. 

 

Wait, I forgot this guy:

 

Boss:  This guy gets some credit.  Our relationship can best be described as odd. I mean, he’s the one who lets me trash talk him on a regular basis and call him names.  And he gives as good as he gets.  Not many people can put that on a resume.  This is a phone conversation we had recently:

 

<Ring> <Ring>

Jimmie:          Good morning, this is Jimmie.

Boss:                Okay, go to www-

Jimmie:          I’m not getting fired for this am I?

Boss:                <Pause>  Are you done yet?

Jimmie:          I don’t trust you.

Boss:                Yes you do.

Jimmie:          <Sigh> Yeah, I do.

 

These are just a few of the people I have had the good fortune to run across. I will keep them for my very own for as long as I am able.  And now you get them too!  Lucky, lucky, lucky.  Rather, blessed.  I realize that I’ve got the good stuff. 

 

 

 

 

 

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