Proposal

06 Jul 2011 4 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in I'm Going Somewhere, Imparting Wisdom Tags: ,

Before I propose to you, let’s get the pleasantries out of the way.  Happy Belated Fourth of July!  I hope you all had safe and fun holiday weekends.  I went on a road trip and have a post about my weekend in the lineup.  Since I’m having trouble getting it to come together you get this one today. 

I’ve noticed that a lot of you out there have a shortage of rain.  Here in Nashville we often have more than we know what to do with, especially in the parts of town that I frequent.  (See:  Nashville Flooding 2010).  I’ve been knocking this conundrum around in my head for some time now partly because every time I post (or whine) something about rain either here or on Facebook I get a reply from someone saying SEND. IT. HERE.  And I always respond with something unhelpful along the lines of “What I wouldn’t give . . . .”  But since I’m a genius, albeit a slow one, I’ve come up with the perfect solution.  This here is what I propose:   

I want you, the rain-needer, to invite me, the rain-bringer, to your city.  I can almost guarantee that this will work.  There are several scenarios in which we can do this.   

Scenario One:

  1. You determine that you need rain.
  2. We book my tickets to fly to where you live.  (I prefer interesting places if it’s all the same to you.  I mean, I’ve been to Hohenwald.  I don’t really want to go back.)
  3. I arrive, rest a bit, see the city, take in some sights, eat some good food and do some shopping (because it can’t be all work, you see).
  4. On the morning of the chosen monsoon day, I prepare for a half marathon-training long run.  I will put my hair up in pigtails, lace up my running shoes and head out the door.  Just so that God gets on the same page as us, I will holler down the driveway, “I’m heading out for five miles today!”  And then I will go for the run.  Guaranteed rain – The end. 
  5. Bonus rain points if we can time it just so I am at the furthest point away from the turning-around-to-go-home marker when the rain begins and I have to finish at least 2.5 miles running in it.

Scenario Two:

  1. You determine that you need rain. 
  2. We book my tickets to fly to where you live.  (I prefer interesting places if it’s all the same to you.  I mean, I’ve been to Hohenwald.  I don’t really want to go back.)
  3. I begin preparations to see the city, take in some sights, eat some good food and do some shopping (because it can’t be all work, you see). 
  4. Preparations will include applying expensive treatments to my hair, using the curling iron that will scorch me raw in a split second if I accidentally hover it near my skin (ask me how I know this and why it looks like I sometimes have hickies on my neck) and then shellacking my perfect coif into an unmovable helmet with the toughest hairspray on the market.  Just so that God gets on the same page as us, I will holler out your front door, “My hair looks marvelous.  I’m so happy about that!”  And then I will leave in a taxi.  With no umbrella.  Guaranteed rain – the end. 
  5. Bonus rain points if we can manage to make the man of my dreams appear at exactly the moment that my hair takes on the crunchy papier mache quality and plasters itself fetchingly to my skull.   

Scenario Three:

  1. You determine that you need rain.
  2. I go on a road trip to your city.  The crucial bit here is that it needs to be a trip in which I have to stay in a hotel room at least one night.  (Ha! Ha!  Hohenwald is too close for an overnight stay!)
  3. Along the way, I will see the cities, take in some sights, eat some good food and do some shopping (because it can’t be all work, you see).
  4. Timing and intent are critical for the next part.  You must book a room for me that is entirely inappropriate for the journey meaning you book a single bed for two females who are not dating nor are they related. It must be the last room in the entire hotel.  And there must be no roll-away beds available.  Once you discover your mistake, you must then have the clerk send me to the wrong hotel for the second attempt to get the appropriate sort of room.  Make sure that the second hotel only has a single bed with no roll-aways available for two females who are not dating nor are related.  Only then can you have that clerk send me to the correct hotel with the correct sort of room which includes two beds for two females who are not dating nor are related.  During all of this process I will make sure that God gets on the same page as us by hollering out the car window, “I’m so tired!  I cannot wait to sleep in a bed all my own tonight and not have to share.”  Guaranteed rain through every step of the outside process – the end.
  5. Bonus points if we can manage to have me scurrying from the car to the hotel THREE TIMES in the rain clutching all of my overnight possessions in my grubby little paws with no plastic or anything to cover them.  

I am certain that any and all of these situations will work to clear up your crusty grass issues.  They work for me EVERY TIME.  Call me.  We can work out some payment arrangements.  I look forward to hearing from you. 

 

Stuff I Learned: Beach 2011

07 Apr 2011 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in I'm Going Somewhere Tags: ,

So, I’m back from my beach trip.  It was awesome.  The end. 

 

Snort.  If you know me at all, you know that is nowhere near the end. 

 

Freddie and I had a fabulous time while on our trip to the wild blue yonder. The entire weekend was perfect.  We were lazy and girlie and covered in sunscreen which meant that we did not have to spend any days in misery lamenting over our lobster skin.  We taste-tested some adult beverages and tried new restaurants and rode bikes and read books.  We also planned a lovely evening of chick flicks, wine and pizza.  See? Perfect!

 

I think you should take something away from every experience you have in life, and I have given this concept a lot of thought since we returned.  I don’t want to bore you with the details of the trip, especially because they lose something when you weren’t there to share it. Also, I don’t want to feel like I am showing off because Freddie and I had such a nice time.  I did learn some fun things, though, and you guys are lucky in that I want to share them with you.  I call it “Imparting Wisdom”.  Without further ado, following please find my list of Stuff I Learned: Beach 2011.

 

  • Sticking my feet in the sand and the ocean grounds me.  When that happens, I am one of the happiest most peaceful persons on the planet.  I have always known this but it bears repeating.  So that you can also remain happy and peaceful, I will not include any photos of me in my swimsuit.  You can, however, see me naked in several locations on this trip.

 

  

  • When you want drink recipes, ask Felix.  We did that on our first day down there thinking that we would mix our own and gaily traipse down to the beach with them every day. Holy Moly, did we hit the mother lode.  That man is a genius when it comes to liquor. Somehow we never made our own drinks, though. 

 

  • Responding to your co-worker’s question “Which person is wilder, you or Freddie?” with “We are both perfect angels.” will make him shoot Coke out his nose.

 

  •  There is a reason why the fruity drink in the Irish pub was named “Three Sheets”.

 

  • When you take a picture of your “Three Sheets” cocktail and text it to all your friends at 1:00 on a Friday afternoon while they are still working and are more than ready to go home and start their own fabulous weekends, don’t be surprised when you receive this text in reply:

 

 

 

  • Saying the two words “my husband” will make the stranger whose mental state can generously be described as “burnt” run like a scalded dog. This would have been handy to know before his two-day assault on our lying-in-the-sun-relax time.  Honestly, the guy was friendly enough but once a conversation has run its course, the next logical course of action is to go away.  Somehow he never made that connection and spent quite a lot of time offering us his phone number, suggestions for restaurants and invites to local activities.   Lucky for us, we discovered his Kryptonite after two short days.  That would be Freddie’s husband.  Let’s call him Ian.  I think Ian would be strangely proud to know that he is someone’s Kryptonite. 

 

  • There is a trade off for good stuff that happens.  We had perfect weather in Florida.  Absolutely gorgeous.  We had hideous weather when we returned to Nashville.  Dreadful.  We flew in during another freaking monsoon and had to circle the airport a few times to avoid landing during the storm. Normally I’m great on planes and the turbulence does not bother me, but this time?  Oof.  I wanted to varmint. 

 

  • As much as I love vacations, I love coming home more.  Well, mostly.  But coming home to a cat who expresses his displeasure at your absence by peeing on the carpet will put a damper on your enthusiasm rather quickly.  Murphy.  Sigh. I wondered if he had some lingering resentment over Seamus winning the battle of the suitcase snuggling, so I’ve left it in the middle of my bedroom floor for them to nap on in turns. 

 

  • When you ask Louis the Security Guard if he noticed that you were gone and if he missed you, he will say, “Yep, I knew you were gone.  Want to know how I knew?  Because it was quiet.  I didn’t hear a flea.  That’s how I knew.”

 

  • Freddie and I can take a trip together for three concentrated days and still like each other when we return.  At least I still like her.  Strangely, I have not seen her much since we’ve been back.  Huhn. 

 

BONUS WISDOM: Randomly – this has nothing to do with this weekend but my mother called after reading my post about the crab apples to tell me that those apples are the perfect base for pepper jelly.  I had no idea . . .

 

Also, I have yet to discover that I left something behind.  Maybe I have learned my lesson?

 

My Glorious Weekend – Past and Future

31 Mar 2011 1 Comment

by Love, Jimmie in I'm Going Somewhere



Next weekend one of my girlfriends and I will go to the beach.  The weather in Nashville has been gloomy at best over the last couple of months and we regularly lament that fact while we are working.  Our email exchanges look something like this:

 

Jimmie:       I want to be on a beach.  This weather is killing me.

 

Freddie:      Yep, me too.  I’m dying.

 

Jimmie:       The sun . . .

 

Freddie:      Why aren’t we there now?

 

Jimmie:       Because we are dumbasses.

 

It took us a couple of weeks before we had our light bulb moment and had the following exchange:

 

Jimmie:       I want to be on a beach.  This weather is killing me.

 

Freddie:      Yep, me too.  I’m dying.

 

Jimmie:       The sun . . .

 

Freddie:      Why aren’t we there now?

 

Jimmie:       Because we are dumbasses.

 

Freddie:      We could change that you know . . . (a ha!)

 

In a furious flurry of internet searching we found flights and a studio bedroom-type condo and had it all booked, before our minds or checkbooks caught up with us.  It was only then, when all of the non-refundable stuff had been booked, that I remembered to ask for the time off work.

 

This occurred about a month ago, and needless to say, every weekend leading up to the beach weekend has paled in comparison to the forthcoming glorious 3 days on the sandy beaches with girlie drinks and sun and bathing suits and shorts.  And sunscreen, because I am careful. I have roasted myself like a pig on a spit more times than I care to admit with the end result being a body literally covered in freckles and a hyper-sensitivity to some sort of skin cancer, I am sure.  Have you ever seen the cartoon of the pig lying on a beach towel next to a strip of crispy bacon, also on a beach towel?  The pig says, “I told you to use sunscreen . . . “ Yep, that’s me. 

 

I’ve wanted to pack my suitcase since the day we booked the trip. I’ve had an abnormal number of houseguests lately, though, and feared that they would make fun of me for packing for a trip a month in advance.  Plus, Murphy and Seamus fight over which one gets to actually wallow in the suitcase full of my stuff and the resulting scuffles usually end with me having to lint-roll my underwear, my shorts, the liner of my suitcase and finding a random cat claw in the padding of my push up bra. 

 

So this weekend was the final free time before we take off into the wild blue yonder, also known as “Jacksonville” via “Southwest Airlines”.  I was lazy this weekend for the most part which makes me feel bad but not bad enough to do anything about it.  And sometimes, my laziness can also lead to my sadness.  I hate that.  I try not to do that to myself but sometimes misery calls. I don’t pretend to understand it but I do sometimes succumb to it.

 

After rolling around in the misery for a while, I thought to myself, “Self, screw this.”  So I got up and started cleaning.  Always a tonic.  And then I took a shower, which was beneficial for everyone.  Even the cats had started to eyeball me with disdain. This from the animals who puke on my carpet and then come back later to inspect it and see if it is worthy of an afternoon snack.  I had plans to go out for a friend’s birthday but I couldn’t be arsed.  I didn’t want to get all gussied up and make nice and pretend like everything was grand when I really wanted to face-plant in my margarita and have myself a good cry.  Nothing kills a festive mood like someone crying into their drink with salt crumbs flaking off their cheeks at every wail.  So I cancelled and then headed out for some dinner where I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone or be festive.

 

As I was backing out of my driveway, I almost ran over one of my neighbors out walking his dog. He’s a nice guy, we’ve chatted a few times.  I don’t know him well but I do know that he is dedicated to his dog so he can’t be all bad.  I stopped to say hi and said, “Well, aren’t we a couple of losers staying in on a Saturday night . . . .”  We both wheezed at this and then to my complete surprise, I said, “Want to go to a movie, maybe?”

 

Maybe to the surprise of both of us, he agreed.  Still, I had taken a shower so I couldn’t have been terrible.

 

So I got out of my car and we chatted and made plans and I said, “I’m not changing clothes. I’m going like this.”  And this was: sweatpants, a hoodie (only the greatest invention of all time and I have far too many of them), giant pirate hoop earrings and pigtails.  He looked me over and said, “Okey.”  And I assured him I would come back to pick him up and then zoomed off to have dinner alone where I could regroup and ask myself what the hell I just did. 

 

Later, dog-neighbor came over and we piled up in my car and took off for the movies.  I told him, “When you tell your friends about this, feel free to make up whatever you like about me.  I don’t mind if you make me younger and hotter and more likely to feel you up in the movies.  It won’t happen, but just know that I will support whatever story you want to tell your friends.”  I believe at this point he started to rethink his decision to say yes to my invite.  But he gamely stayed in the car, even at the red lights.  We went to the movie and laughed.  We talked about all kinds of stuff, mostly fluff and nothing too deep, much to the enjoyment of the other movie-goers. Apparently the novelty of a night out with an almost stranger did not lend itself to Inside Voices for us. So now all 7 people in the theater can speak with authority about our lunch habits and our current living arrangements and the last movie we saw in a theater. 

 

And now an apology and an explanation:  Yes, I realize that I ditched very good friends for someone that I barely know.  I know how bad that sounds.  I traded dinner and drinks in a swanky place for dinner alone and a couple of hours in a dark movie theater with an almost stranger where, if I face-planted in my popcorn and cried, no one would know except an almost stranger. You can yell at me later.  It wasn’t my intention to do that but if you have ever been in a funk, you can relate.  And I promise to make it up to my friends. They know I’m good for it. Because they know I will wear my best push up bra to their band performance and throw granny panties onto the stage, Tom Jones style, and generally be charming because I care about these people.  I want to give them my best.  And hopefully that makes it all better.  Felix, I am sorry for missing your birthday party. Truly.

 

Plus, Freddie and I are going to the beach where I can buy presents and take pictures of hot people in their Speedos (as if) and bikinis and send awesome postcards to friends back home to rub their noses in it as gifts.

 

 

BTW, Seamus was the winner!

 

 

 

 

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