Pain, Suffering, and Uncooperative Appliances

PAIN:

Knee injured in fall at work is still sore. I can walk, but deep knee bends are out of the question, and even the slightest graze across my kneecap causes me to say really bad words and/or see stars. According to my orthopaedist (surely a sign of age, when one has specialists?), the kneecap sensitivity is likely due to nerve damage. It will get better, but nerves regenerate slowly. Come back in a month, try to avoid bumping it. One would think that was fairly straight-forward but I bumped it twice at work today. Clearly, the workplace has become my own personal Amityville house of horror -- GET OUT!

SUFFERING:

Mice poop. On the counter. On the stove. ON MY BANANA. I am an animal lover but mice are vermin and as such, are not welcome in my home and most certainly, are not welcome on my banana. I have purchased an electric zapping mouse trap and with 4 rechargeable double AAs gleefully inserted, I now reportedly have the wherewithal to dispatch 50 mice! I do have to dump the carcasses, but with a little practice, I should be able to do this without even seeing the corpse. Additionally, because it seemed prudent to hit the little bastards with full firepower, I also bought non-toxic sachets that purportedly deter mice from even stepping over the threshold. On the downside, 3 sachets for my mini kitchen has created a powerful spearmint aroma that is quickly permeating the entire downstairs. I hate mint, but I hate mice more. I'll keep you posted.

UNCOOPERATIVE APPLIANCES:

First the dvd player got finicky. It just wouldn't read most cds. So I bought a cleaning disc and used it several times. It read the first cd I inserted. Hooray! It refused to read the second, third, or fourth. I purchased a replacement today -- a dual dvd/vhs player. I hope my tv doesn't take the hint and crap out.

On Monday morning, there was no light in the refrigerator. After slamming the door shut and spending five minutes trying to figure out when I bought the damn thing, it occurred to me that it just might be the bulb. So I bought a two-pack of bulbs. Good thing, as the first one I tried didn't work. Gave up, went to bed. On Tuesday, I tried the next bulb. It didn't work either, so I called Neighbor John to find out if the fridge part was separate than the freezer part because the ice maker still worked. He didn't know, but offered up his fridge thermometer so I could confirm if the fridge was indeed dying. On Wednesday, Neighbor John called to tell me that the thermometer which has been in the back of his fridge for 13 years is missing. So I go buy my own (go straight to Pleasant's Hardware, people, don't waste your time at Home Depot like I did) and put it in the fridge. One hour later, I have confirmed that fridge is definitely cooling and decide to try the bulbs again. This time, one of the bulbs lights up. My happiness was short-lived as the bulb did not light up when I opened the door to get some water at bedtime. This morning, the fridge was both dark and warm inside, with the thermometer indicating the temperature was in the danger zone! (No real need for an exclamation point there, but it just seemed logical following the words danger zone!) Annoyed that my breakfast icepack (for knee) was soggy, I heaved the refrigerator out into the middle of the kitchen and discovered that the whole electrical outlet wasn't working. I checked the breakers and nothing was amiss. An extension cord across the room to an outlet on the other wall got the fridge back to humming normalcy so I could get to Amityville reasonably on time. I called electricians and finally get one to call me back. He patiently listened to my story and asked if I had pushed the reset button. But there wasn't one on the outlet. This is when he tells me that a reset button in the room should reset all the outlets in the room. This helpful bit of information never came up during my many years of formal education. It worked. Awesomely.

Tell all your single friends, I'm slower, lethal (to vermin), and clearly in need of that fix-it manual that everybody else got.



XO, JamieSmitten

I've Fallen....and I'm on Crutches!

Damn fate tempting. I ought to know better.

I have an astrology book that has profiles for each day of the year. It lists characteristics, tendencies, and recommendations, strengths, weaknesses. Sometimes the book is not even close -- like the November 27 description which captures neither my brother-in-law or my ex Ron. My day is scarily accurate and it lists my two weaknesses: Volatile and Accident-prone.

I took that damn book into work so we could look people up and consider the descriptions. Of course I bragged that most days have THREE weaknesses and I only have two. Clearly, the universe decided to remind me about hubris.

I fell at work and landed squarely on my right kneecap. Instantaneous swelling and some wicked nausea ensued. Nothing is broken according to the x-rays, but I was told to stay off it for a week and keep it wrapped in an ace bandage.

So, my long weekend is turning out to be pretty damn dull. On the plus side, I'm nearly caught up on back issues of Vanity Fair!

Tell all your single friends, rubber soles are not foolproof.


XO, JamieSmitten

Eight Is Enough!

The next president of the United States just said everything that needed to be said. America, I hope you were listening.



Tell all your single friends, vote for change.



XO, JamieSmitten

Random End of Week Thoughts

• My faith in personalized license plates was restored this morning when I saw an old 280Z painted orange sporting: GENRL Z

• Some recent gems from the profiles on that horrible dating site which is supposedly matching me on innumerable compatibility points:
• How do you spend your leisure time? On the golf coarse
• The Things Chris can't live without are:
• Swordplay
• Books
• Privacy
• Chocolate
• Physical Intimacy
• I don't know about you, but I have a hard time picturing my soul mate ENGAGING in swordplay, let along listing it as his top thrill.

• I watched Charlie Wilson's War this week and found it quite enjoyable. Nothing like getting your history lesson with Tom Hanks in the leading role. I'd watch him floss because he is that likable.

• I also rented The Three Lives of Thomasina -- an ancient Disney movie that I remember watching on tv as a kid. What I forgot was how sadistic Walt was. Holy crap, animals were dying left and right! It was kind of horrifying and not at all the happy cat movie that I remembered. Good thing I watched it before buying it for my niece.

• Bootcamp is going well. I lured a former neighbor to a free class this week, but I don't think she is ready to commit full time. Meanwhile, Bootcamp leader is contemplating adding a third day each week. Now that I have the THIRD alarm set on stun, I'm making it to class at 5:30 without issues. So BRING IT ON, KYA!

• I read My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands by Chelsea Handler in about 4 hours. The true tall tales of her dating life were very funny with a side of David Sedaris insight into dysfunctional family dynamics. It was a nice change after reading some chick lit novels that falsely promise true love around every corner. I'll stick with the messy, skid mark on the underwear version of life, thank you.

• The Olympics weren't as boring as I expected. I saw some great dives (somebody please tell me, who decided a mandatory dive starts with a handstand on a diving board a million miles above the pool? That is INSANE), some exciting volleyball (where are these volleyball men hanging out in the off season? Those are some seriously tall and cute young men on the Brazilian team), and lots of swimming (were the interviews with Mama Phelps longer than her son's races?). Done for two.

• I saw Pineapple Express at a half-full matinee on Saturday. I was a little disappointed at the low stoner percentage in the theatre, but perhaps the 1:50 show isn't the optimal time. In a word: Hysterical. Yes, all those reviews about the comedy turning into a violence fest were accurate, but killing somebody with a Daewoo doesn't exactly indicate you have left funnytown. Crude, rude, cringe-inducing at times, but total escapist entertainment.

Tell all your single friends, what if Smitten tells HER one-night stand stories?

XO, JamieSmitten

Mind in Gutter

Honestly, is it just me? They keep playing a commercial for Friendly's meal special -- buy a certain item, get a Happy Ending Sundae. I can't help it, I laugh every time.



Then, I see this license plate on the car next to me in work parking lot:

STROKN8

Is this a warning that the car may suddenly speed up and then drift slowly to a stop? Does he have a cat in his lap?



Tell all your single friends, stop leaving so much to my imagination.





XO, JamieSmitten

Sheer Genius

Read the winning entries of the 2008 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction contest here.

From the website:

An international literary parody contest, the competition honors the memory (if not the reputation) of Victorian novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton (1803-1873). The goal of the contest is childishly simple: entrants are challenged to submit bad opening sentences to imaginary novels. Although best known for "The Last Days of Pompeii" (1834), which has been made into a movie three times, originating the expression "the pen is mightier than the sword," and phrases like "the great unwashed" and "the almighty dollar," Bulwer-Lytton opened his novel Paul Clifford (1830) with the immortal words that the "Peanuts" beagle Snoopy plagiarized for years, "It was a dark and stormy night."

Some of the entries that had me laughing out loud:

• The mongrel dog began to lick her cheek voraciously with his sopping wet tongue, so wide and flat and soft, a miniature pink fleshy cape soaked through and oozing with liquid salivary gratitude; after all, she had rescued him from the clutches of Bernard, the curmudgeonly one-eyed dogcatcher, whose own tongue -- she remembered vividly the tongues of all her lovers -- was coarse and lethargic, like a slug in a sandpaper trenchcoat. Christopher Wey, Pittsburgh, PA

• Special agent Mark Park's strong chin and firm mouth showed that he was a man to be reckoned with, while his twinkling blue eyes revealed surprising depths of kindness and humor, the scar on his cheek a past filled with violence and danger, and his left ear a fondness for M and Ms, but only the red ones. John R. Cooper, Portland, Oregon

• There are certain people in the world who emanate an aura of well being -- they radiate sunshine, light up a room, bring out the best in others, and fill your half empty glass to overflowing - yes it was these very people thought Karl, as he sharpened his mirror-finished guthook knife, who were top of his list. Jason Garbett, London, U.K.

• Watching Felicia walk into the bar was like watching two fat Rottweilers in yellow spandex and spike heels that had treed a scrawny bleach blond cat at the top of a skinny flagpole that for some reason had decided to sprout casaba melons. Melissa Alliston, Coraopolis, PA

I'm TOTALLY entering next year.


Tell all your single friends, The evening started with a crashing bang that reminded Joe of that time in Vienna when he rear-ended the woodwind section in the taxi and they in turn, crumpled the fender of sidecar in which the tuba player was riding, but then again, there were no horns this time. (or something like that)


XO, JamieSmitten

Louche

MEANING: adjective: Of questionable character; dubious; disreputable.

ETYMOLOGY: From French louche (cross-eyed), from Latin lusca, feminine of luscus (one-eyed).

Oh. Dear. I think it is not coincidence that the A.Word.A.Day in the mailbox this morning pertains to disreputable. I was certainly cross-eyed from the heavenly Legend pale ale when I opened the laptop last night.

I stand behind my statements, forward as they may have been.

Now I'm off to puke my guts up running around a field whilst someone I pay tells me to run faster.

Tell all your single friends, louche, soooooooo louche.


XO, JamieSmitten

Just To Be Clear

I'm completely toasted.

Drunk.

Obliterated.

And madly in love with unobtainable men.

You know who you are.

Tell all your single friends, Smitten DOES do that thing with her tongue.

XO, JamieSmitten


p.s. Major props to DFF (Determined Friend Forever) Anne for facilitating this AWESOME buzz.

p.p.s. Fweng -- geography has screwed you out of some major lovin' tonight. But I'll be thinking about you.....

This Is What You Missed

• My toenails are PINK. This is pretty rare, as regular readers can attest. Blue is the preferred color. But heck, it is summer, and when you have a bottle of nail polish named The Lifeguard Makes Me Blush......
• During a 2 hour "Managing Your Career" class at work, I was informed that it was unsurprising that I haven't found a career. Being an ENFP and all. Great. I thought it was just poor choices on my part (cinema draft house waitress, optometric assistant, document processor, legal admin, blackjack dealer, corporate cog). Nope, I'm doomed to want to help people but get bored quickly once that is done.

• I have procured books by both my crushes: Craig Ferguson's Between the Bridge and the River and Hugh Laurie's The Gun Seller but have not had time to read either. All this working out and such.
  
  

• Speaking of working out, I slept through Monday's boot camp. Slept through 1 alarm that repeated every 5 minutes FIVE times. Yes, I was tired, but I had my workout clothes ready and everything. On the plus side, I did the workout at home Monday night. Not quite as intense, but better than nothing.

• Online dating continues to be as frustrating as before. On GreenSingles.com (for us environmentally friendly types), I sent a free "Smile" to someone. Standard verbiage saying I read their profile and was interested. Care to know what I got in reply?

Thanks for sending a smile. I am disgusted with the
corporate media and the corporate warmongering candidates. I voted for Rep
Kucinich in the Illinois Primary and will vote for Nader in the Fall election. I
am sick of CNN giving me another corporate fascist to vote for. I am not even a
Democrat anymore. They left me. I am a Green Party member now. If the Democrats cannot even mention poverty or the term "working class" anymore in their party platform, they may as well join the Republicans and make sure the rich do not starve!!Morons say I will be throwing my vote away. I say, I will not have blood on my hands when Obama or McCain attack Iran, Afghanistan, or Pakistan. I am sick of my country being a rogue nation. As far as I can see, this country is the only nation to use nuclear weapons and is still using them!! Depleted Uranium is still radioactive...hello! I have watched Bush terrorize the world and I am sick of it. I am ready to go to a civilized country if McCain is
elected or selected. Obama is no better really. He is wanting to subsidize
insurance companies and bomb Afghanistan and Pakistan. Screw the morons here. I will not waste my breath on idiots anymore. Americans are too lazy to read and 49% are too lazy to let the candidates know that they are watching by voting. If only every eligible voter would vote, the candidates would have to think that people are paying attention. I realize that the Constitution has made it very easy for working people to vote by making Tuesday Election Day. But, people need to get off their ass and vote before they find a national ID chip implanted in their bodies. The fence around this country will not be for keeping illegals out as much as for keeping the morons in!! Do you understand me? Are you as disgusted as me? Did you enjoy Obama voting to eliminate the 4th Ammendment as much as I did? He is a good little fascist for sure. I am glad that the government can open my mail and intercept my overseas mressages. Do you understand that the government will know if you ask another person overseas to help you escape this totalitarian police state? Naive morons think that they are looking for the terroristsss with this FISA law. Dream on... Why are Americans so lazy and pathetically stupid? Please enlighten me if you
can.Sincerely,B---- PS I am a good person and would like to correspond with you. I like your style "smitten" and think you pay attention. I do not Yahoo! since they give email info to the Chinese government and cause many Chinese people to be beaten, tortured, and jailed. I have a Windows Live Mesenger ID(XXXXXX) and I would like to chat with you sometime if you are interested.

Thank goodness he doesn't know where I live. Yikes!

• In pouring the watery stuff off my only-used-once sour cream, I accidentally dumped the contents of the container into the sink drain. Yes, I scooped the top part off and ate it. Shoot me.

• I went to the beach and swam and only stepped on one crab and he didn't pinch me.

• I learned that buying a fancy new vacuum cleaner will not make me vacuum more often. I must say that the new Dyson DC-25 looks way better in the corner of the dining room than the Dirt Devil did.

• Mr. Tivo failed me for the first time ever. He missed a channel change and neglected to tape Project Runway. We had words and a restart and the relationship is back on track. Thank goodness -- he's all I've got (read above re internet dating psychos).

• I have plans this weekend! Hair appointment with new hairdresser. Baby shower at Can Can. Sloth Loves Chunk within walking distance, although I shall drive to avoid a repeat of "the night which can't be remembered but ruined a pair of shoes." Legend on Sunday to catch another excellent band, Blue Line Highway. Not my usual fare, but I happen to know the guitar player and he is most excellent. Besides, he was DFF's prom date. Did I mention Richmond is a small, small, town?

• All vegetable plants are dead. No pattypan squash or eggplant fresh from the garden for me. For free anyway. And there was so much promise.....

• I didn't like Dark Knight. I thought it was booooorrrriiiinnnngggg, although amusing to count the number of people who didn't pace themselves with their jumbo drinks and had to run out to the bathroom midway through the movie. Yes, Heath was awesome, but one character does not a movie make. And don't get me started on the gratuitous violence against dogs. It was that crap movie Signs all over again. Hmmm. Those were both movies paid for by my employer as a "fun event." Starting to see a pattern.

• Speaking of work, my manager has just begun a two week vacation. As a green citizen, I feel it is incumbent upon me to limit my fuel consumption and work from home. Long lunch, anyone?
  

Tell all your single friends, paint it, read it, watch it, clean it, do it (whatever it is).



XO, JamieSmitten

Ha!

A bear walks into a bar and says, "I want a bourbon and............... coke"

The bartender asks "what's with the huge pause?"

The bear says, "I've had them all my life."



Tell all your single friends, laught it out, kid, laugh it out.



XO, JamieSmitten

What Have I Been Up To?

11 days and no posts. What's up with that?

I thought about posting. There is an amusing half-written post about songs I heard during the morning commute. There are notes on the nine dollar beer I absentmindedly bought and then consumed ceremonially. Heck, there was even an insight or two. All gone. Mind like a sieve.

I've determined that my creativity (substitute "brain" if you like) is completely transient. I think of the most clever thoughts ever (I digress, but that would be an awesome title for my posthumous publication) and then promptly forget them because I'm driving, showering, pretending to work, exercising like a middle-aged maniac, etc.

I suppose I could start keeping a pen and notebook handy, but that just leads to cryptic notes that make no sense whatsoever when I find them days after the inspiration.

I do know that the next time I visit my mum, I'll leave a few notes behind. Then, many years from now, she'll send them to me in an envelope with a post-it that says, "remember these?"

I won't remember at first. But then it will come back to me: I used to write.

Composed circa 1989:

/Muse-Less/ (w/apologies to those who are inspired)

When I am silly I try to be very silly.

When I am pretentious I try not to be.

When I am happy I try to sustain it.

When I am sad I try not to be.

When I am serious I try to be very serious.

When I am poetic I try not to be.

(I do have a reputation to save)

Me

I am older than I ever planned to be
I suspect it will only get worse.

Thanks, Mum, for cleaning out some boxes and reminding me that writing anything and everything is who I used to be. I'm going to try and be that girl again.

Tell all your single friends, catch it quick!



XO, JamieSmitten

Give Until You Bleed

Er, donate blood, I mean.

I did. I'm A- and CMV (cytomegalovirus) negative as well, which makes me kind of popular.

Unfortunately, I've got some crap veins. So blood donation is a crap shoot. For every successful pint donated, I've had another attempt that failed miserably:

• Throwing up at the blood donor site is always a treat. You get handed a plastic kidney shaped tray AS your feet are being whipped up over your head -- usually because several phlebotomists have converged on the scene. At first I thought they were concerned, but after the third time, I realized it was just to use their bodies to hide me from the other well-behaved donors.
• Ice packs on the back of the neck can head off nausea. However, these newfangled chemical packs have to be shaken to start the cold reaction. On one occasion, an overzealous phlebotomist shook the bag violently and it exploded, raining down globs of chemical gel on her, me, the needle in my arm. I had to laugh as the swarm of attendants picked it out of my hair. It did have a quite cooling effect.
• Double arm sticks are common. Miss the vein in the left (try a few times though, just to be sure!) and move to the right, only to have the vein run so slowly that clotting occurs at the half pint mark.

But today was something completely new and unexpected. The needle went in smoothly and with a minimum of rearranging, I was off to the races. Hurrah! A good donation day! Confident that all was well, ice pack applied to back of neck, I sent my phlebotomist off to obtain the golden nectar. [In the blood donor world, my golden nectar is not beer, but Blue Bird orange juice in the mini cans. Donald Duck is my preferred label, but I'll happily suck back the Blue Bird too. In case you wondered.]

And then I felt something dripping down my arm. So I did the sensible thing and looked up at the ceiling wondering where the leak was. No leak. No rain, in fact, a gorgeous sunny day. So I looked at my arm and a trail of blood is rolling down my arm. Not slowly dripping out from under the 'modesty' gauze, this blood was coursing firmly. That can't be good, eh?

So I flagged down my phlebotomist (delaying my Blue Bird fix for several minutes, much to my annoyance) and she came over and stared at my arm in disbelief. She pulled off the modesty gauze [not a technical term] and we both watched the blood flow into the tube and out the hole around the needle. "Maybe you better stop squeezing, " she said. I did and the blood flow didn't alter. So she kept mopping me up as the pint filled.

On the plus side, I got the pint out in 6 minutes flat -- a personal record. I also got called a special case by the phlebotomist. She refrained from air quotes, but I'm pretty certain she'll be on break when I show up for my next donation.

On the plus, plus, plus side and the whole reason I donate: Some person who needs blood will get it. Possibly a completely cool bald chick currently kicking leukemia's ass.

PLEASE DONATE. http://www.vablood.org/ if you live in Richmond. http://www.givelife.org/ for you non-southerners. While I have had a ton of interesting donations events, I can honestly say that the process is virtually pain free for me. So don't be a wussy about one lousy needle. You get quality OJ and Fig Newtons when you are done. And they let you eat and drink as much as you want.

Tell all your single friends, let it flow, let it flow, let it flow!

XO, JamieSmitten

Never Said I Was Sharp

Talking to a friend this weekend, I mentioned that I was attending a boot camp-style exercise class. She asked the name and I said, "I thought it was named after the trainer, Kya, but her name is Jennifer."

The friend looked at me and said, "Kya? As in K Y A? As in Kick Your Ass?"

Um. Yes. I guess so. Good thing I'm building muscles (so I can beat up all those people who call me stupid).

www.kyabootcamp.com

Hmph.

Tell all your single friends, I don't even know the names of all the muscles that are getting pumped.


XO, Jamiesmitten

Strange Things I Have Read Lately

On Craigslist, Casual Encounters section:

Into Rollplay [Mmmm. Me too -- if croissants count!]

On the back of a Fantastic World Foods Tabouli Salad Mix box:

6. Sprinkle bread crumbs and cheese mixture over tomatoes willingly. [Heaven help those who sprinkle begrudgingly or with reckless abandon]



In eHarmony profiles:

How Joe typically spends his leisure time:

"I do enjoy in door games." [And exactly how many games can be played in door? Or in door way, for that matter]


One thing that only Michael's best friends know is:

I like carrot cake.

Some additional information Michael wanted you to know is:

I avoid too much sun. [Damn! There goes my vision of a perfect dream man, eating carrot cake in the sun]


From my cell phone text inbox:

you mean the tall handicapped ones? [Yes. I meant those ones EXACTLY]


Tell all your single friends, RIF!*



XO, JamieSmitten

*Reading is Fundamental (for you younger readers)

How To Tell If You Have Been Reading Too Much About Ireland

In need of an exclamation this morning (and aren't we all occasionally?), what phrase sprung into my head and out my mouth?

SAINTS PRESERVE US!

Being neither catholic nor religious, I can only guess that my recent deep dive into all things Irish has awakened some ancestral beliefs.

Can FAITH AND BEGORRAH be far behind???

Tell all your single friends, Smitten is prone to exclamatory exposition!


XO, JamieSmitten

Synchronicity

No, not the Police album. (But while I digress, I prefer Outlandos D'Amour. Next to You is the definitive Police song in my book.)

While I was halfheartedly taking a "career initiative assessment" at work and listening to Operator's Manual, a best of Buzzcocks compilation, the following song came on:

I Don't Know What to Do with My Life

Should I give it up and make a new start

I don't know what to do with my life

'Cos the one I've got just tears me apart

I can't wake up in the morning

And I can't get to sleep at night

I'm not expecting things to be perfect

But a high success rate would be nice

I don't know what to do with my life

I don't know what's gone wrong with my life

But you know I never do seem to win

Whenever I think I've straightened it out

It becomes a vicious circle again

I can't love when anyone loves me

And I can't find the someone to love

But then I start to count my blessings

And I feel I'm getting more than enough of love

I don't know what to do with my life

Repeat as needed to remind yourself that you are not alone. And that you still have decisions to make.


Tell all your single friends, music is life.


XO, JamieSmitten

Two For Two!

Boom and I were taking our evening walk, proud of ourselves for overcoming a sore knee and a sore everything, respectively, when it happened.

With a tickle in my throat, I raised my non-leash hand to cover my mouth politely as I opened my mouth to cough. And darn if ANOTHER bug didn't fly around my hand to the promise of certain death under my uvula! Smaller than the first, I barely saw his zig zag approach. Nevertheless he gave it his all by wedging his corpse firmly in the back of my throat.

Five blocks from home. On a public thoroughfare. No water bottle.

The third bug is coming tomorrow. I know it. Likely at 5:40 a.m. under cover of darkness as I sprint stagger across the field in pursuit of good health.


Tell all your single friends (and the doctor when the malaria renders me delusional), Smitten swallowed bugs!


XO, JamieSmitten

Hurts So Good -- Not Yet

I started Boot Camp this morning. Not the Seal Training touted on stickers on every frigging Hummer/penis substitute in Richmond, but Boot Camp, nonetheless.

I was outside and exercising at 5:30 a.m. I know. ME. Take a moment and ponder that shit.

I also swallowed the majority of a winged insect that had the audacity to fly into my gasping-for-air mouth on my FIRST sprint of the workout. I got out one wing and part of a leg, but the rest went down. Fortunately, it was still dark at that point so I have no idea what type of bug it was.

48 hours to recover. Or stiffen up, if you want to be all pessimistic realistic about it.

Tell all your single friends, "walking lunges" are not pleasant.


XO, JamieSmitten

Random

• This weekend Mum and I drove past a pickup truck that was on fire and it made a hissing sound. Probably not my best travel route pick. In my defense, I was faint with hunger and the lunch quest continued another 1/2 hour as my punishment.
• The world's biggest bug was walking along my bedroom wall very late Saturday night. He nicely jumped onto a telescoping duster and allowed me to transport him out the window.
• Apparently the word was out because on Sunday night a lightning bug rode one of my curls from the backyard Boom bedtime pee straight up to my bedroom. He obligingly flew out the window without the aid of the telescoping duster.
• I pick some bizarre, some crappy, and some bizarrely crappy movies on Netflix: 9 Songs -- basically sex with band performances in between. And not very interesting sex. Definitely Maybe -- definitely lame. Mad Money -- Dawson would never have let Joey appear in that shit. Thank goodness for Friday Night Lights Season 2. Kyle Chandler makes football watchable.
• Extra Strength Midol has enough caffeine in it to keep you up until 3 a.m. on a work night. So, I was awake to enjoy my cramps instead of sleeping through them. What male scientist came up with that stellar plan?
• Agave nectar. Makes honey taste so 20th century. Try it.

Tell all your single friends, Random is the new black.

XO, JamieSmitten

Things I Adore, Things I Abhor

5 Things I Adore:

• Holidays! Happy 4th!
• What Not To Wear marathon on TLC. An "ex-exotic dancer" who wears a purple raccoon tail with a bell! A man wearing pleated tapered pants and declaring them to be 'aubergine' color!
• Finally getting the right combination of hair products to combat summer humidity.
• Having a half dozen unread books beckoning me from the bookshelf.
• My diamante star earrings. Dare I say, the iconic Smitten look?

5 Things I Abhor:

• Not being able to go swimming today. Actually, that goes for most days.
• Damn TLC marathons. Because of you, Freedom from Clutter 2008 (basement spring cleaning) was only partly successful.
• Achieving the right combination of hair products to combat summer humidity using DISCONTINUED hair products.
• Having a half dozen unread books beckoning me from the bookshelf, but not being able to read all day.
• LOSING one of my diamante star earrings. Both earrings were on the kitchen counter, but now there is only one. It isn't in the garbage and it isn't in the recycling and it isn't under the fridge. Either a dog ate it or it walked off. Either way, color me bereft.*

Tell all your single friends, fireworks are very alarming to dogs, so don't set off your own, especially on my street. Go see the professional display. You'll probably just burn yourself anyway.

XO, JamieSmitten

* Hurrah! Missing earring has been located -- attached to a dog leash. Because the dog leash was on the kitchen counter where I placed it after I washed Puck's head after our walk. Why did I wash Puck's head after our walk? Because Boom peed on it. Total golden shower on a public thoroughfare. Puck shook it off and soldiered on for the rest of the walk, something I'm sure his brother Buddy wouldn't have been able to manage. Now Puck smells like raspberries and all is well. Except Boom hasn't apologized. We aren't holding our breath.

Too Funny (in light of previous post)

So I've been all sentimental about my oldest friends lately and I click a Google suggested link to quotes by Rita Mae Brown, a fabulous writer from Virginia:

The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you. Rita Mae Brown

The good news? It isn't me. : )

Tell all your single friends, go read Six of One by Rita Mae Brown (or Rubyfruit Jungle, or Bingo, or Riding Shotgun, or Southern Comfort, etc.)


XO, JamieSmitten

What I Read Today

Favorite Food: Flowerless chocolate cake

Clearly, I've been baking chocolate cakes incorrectly for years! Will add flowers from now on.





Tell all your single friends, learn the difference between good and well so your co-workers won't think you are an idiot (because we do).








XO, JamieSmitten





p.s. Happy Canada Day!!!!!

83 Years of Friendship

I talked, texted, or visited with three dear friends this weekend. I am in regular contact with all three, but not usually within the same 24 hours. Added up, I have 83 years of friendship with these women. I think I need to send some thank you cards.

And yes, they could tell you an awful lot of stories about me. Which might prompt me to tell you about the time one of them refilled a champagne bottle, or about the time one of them couldn't stop a bloody nose despite a delicate situation, or about the time one of them organized a purchase of an ounce of oregano. So I think we will all keep quiet.

But know this: I am a better, more sane me for having these friends. I hope they feel the same.

Tell all your single friends, some women are irreplaceable.

XO, JamieSmitten

The Only Man That Could Steal Me Away From Dr. House

Tell all your single friends, he's what I want for Christmas (or a reasonable facsimile thereof).

XO, JamieSmitten

Funny*

*If you are a music geek




I saw this bumper sticker on a car today:

Tell all your single friends, piano theory never leaves you.

XO, JamieSmitten

Real Statements People Have Made To Me In The Past Four Days

I thought I was going to have to get you a pole

(about my dancing)

You'd probably run a man off, talking the way you do

(after I made a comment about a co-worker's shirt)

Tell all your single friends, I'm not feeling the love.


XO, JamieSmitten

I Can't Believe I Missed It!

Boom and I walk a lot. Even with his leg issues this year, Boom is all about seeing the sights and keeping an eye on the neighborhood.



Which I why I can't believe we missed the monkey.



Read about it here.


Tell all your single friends, monkey may NOT mock the Boom!


XO, JamieSmitten

Trip Day #2 -- Part Deux

Dinner on Day 2 was sushi at DragonFish Cafe in the Paramount Hotel with Mallory, Mamy, and Mallory's mum Micki. I started with a Pink Dragon cocktail -- basically a greyhound with some Chambord for color and a champagne float. I'll order most anything with a champagne float. The sushi rolls were fusion-tastic! My favorite was the Honey-Lime Crab Roll. It looked like a caterpillar roll (avocado on top) and the honey and lime added a tantalizing flavor. A piece of amazing chocolate cake with four forks finished us off but good.

Completely sated, we walked a few blocks to the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall. I happened to land in Portland on the night of Micki's birthday present from Mallory -- Lily Tomlin in concert. Lily was very funny, moving through many different character sketches during the two hour show. Thoroughly enjoyable.

After the show, Mallory, Micki, and I set off to see the Saturday night sights. Lots of people on the streets -- fleet week! (insert Sex and The City joke here) -- so the atmosphere was very festive. Mallory suggested a visit to Huber's for their signature drink and we set off at a good clip as we were thirsty and the night was a bit nippy.

Huber's is the oldest restaurant in Portland, est. 1879. On this night, the dark, wood-paneled room was full of happy drinkers. The signature drink at Huber's is the Spanish Coffee. Sure, you've had Spanish Coffee before, but you've never had Spanish Coffee performance art! A special waiter came to our table and with twirls, windmilling arms, and a match, he created three very strong coffees with flames and whip cream in one hand. It was a spectacular sight, made all the more impressive by the fact he was sidestepping staggering patrons throughout. Bellies and brains warmed by the kahlua/151/triple sec/coffee/nutmeg combination, we headed to our next quintessential Portland stop.

You may have seen Voodoo Doughnut on the Food Network as I had, but the actual place is really much smaller and eclectic. Standing in line with all manner of late night folks, we tried in vain to select a doughnut before we got to the counter. I was prepared to go with the iconic Voodoo Doughnut -- a chocolate glazed man with a raspberry (blood) filling and a pretzel stick stabbing him in the heart. Alas, they were sold out. So I went with the first doughnut on the menu -- Triple Chocolate Penetration. Yes, I ate cocoa puffs on vacation. Mallory went with Butter Fingering and Micki had something mango that I would swear had Tang on top. They have a maple doughnut with bacon on top. They also have a doughnut called the Cock-n-Balls. I'll let you figure out what that one looks like. I was tempted to buy some Voodoo Doughnut underwear, but the urge to show them off would have been too great.


Wandering down the street eating our odd treats was the perfect ending to a great day.

In fact, I probably didn't need that adult movie on pay per view......


Tell all your single friends, it just says "movie" on your bill.


XO, JamieSmitten

Real License Plate

BLEAUMI

on a Mercedes 320 with a Mr. Bungle bumper sticker. Too funny.

Tell all your single friends, I needed a laugh today.

XO, JamieSmitten

Trip Day #2: PDX (Beer in the Cheese, Spanish in the Coffee, and Voodoo in the Doughnut)

Day #2 dawned cool but not rainy. Actually, I should clarify at this point that it never really did rain during my stay in Portland. It misted, my shirt got some water spots, but there was never any full on downpour. It is kind of like being in a cool sauna. You feel hydrated and your hair starts to curl but really, it is just moisture.

Although should the rain ever decide to soak the place, I'm pretty certain that Portlanders would just pull up their hood and carry on. For the most part, everyone seemed sporty and for some reason handy. I had the definite sense that even if a big rain did materialize and the deluge turned Burnside into a roaring river, your average Portlander would reach into his pocket, pull out a pouch and with a few deep breaths, fashion a kayak to continue on their way. I bet that kayak would have a holder for their commuter cup of coffee too. I do love that about the Northwest -- coffee stores on every corner and the coffee is good.

But back to day #2. After enjoying all my NEW toiletries, I conceded to the weather and wore the one long sleeve shirt I had packed. I headed over to Mallory/Mamy's, stopping for -- you guessed it -- coffee on the way. Speaking of hydration, this was when I met a new friend:

Sigg #3 has joined the family, thanks to M & M! In addition to being the 1 litre size, #3 matches both my toenails and my car. Not something I ever aspired to, but serendipitous nonetheless.

Caffeine now coursing through our bodies, Mallory and I set out for the farmer's market, conveniently located in the park area near her house. It felt well attended to me, but Mallory said the "rain" was keeping the crowds down. Oh, and the parade happening a few blocks away. Beautiful flowers, fresh vegetables, preserves, pizza, wine, bread, and many of them unique. Peonies were just coming into season and the masses of them were beautiful.

I had a lavender infused caramel truffle with sea salt on top. Yum. No picture because it didn't last long enough for auto-focus. We tasted Lavender-Raspberry-Chipotle jam (quite a lingering kick) and Mango-Pepper jelly over goat cheese. But all paled in comparison to what we found around the corner -- a cheese stand.

But not just any old cheese. A row of boxes lined the table and little signs proclaimed the wonders inside: Lavender Cheddar, Garlic Cheddar, ROGUE STOUT Cheddar. Yes, beer infused cheddar. Well we definitely had to have some of that. "Squeeze the tip." Um, excuse me? "Squeeze the tip," intoned the vendor as he pulled a toothpick out of a little canister and stuck it into the beer cheese morsels. Sure enough, this was a man who believed in recycling -- one toothpick can serve hundreds, if we were just smart enough to squeeze the tip of cheese. We were that smart and I tried both the lavender cheddar (you wouldn't think it would work, but it did) and the rogue stout cheddar (a meal! Cheddar appetizer with a lingering stout finish. Super yum). Now we were ready for breakfast -- a homemade giant biscuit with shiitake mushroom gravy. A few samples of apple wine and we were quite full.

Thus fortified, we returned to home base to review the many options for the afternoon. Craft markets, boat races on the Willamette, and heaven knows what else. We opted for a short drive to the outskirts of town for a visit to Edgefield Manor.

Edgefield Manor is another property in the McMenamin chain and well worth a visit. Originally, the site was the Multnomah County Poor Farm. It eventually became a nursing home, closing down for good in 1982. The McMenamins purchased the site in 1990 and have turned it into a hotel with many attractions, including a winery, golf course, distillery, glass blowing studio, gardens, and live music concerts. (Sadly, I was a few weeks too early for Billy Idol. Story of my life.)

Mallory and I toured the gardens before grabbing a bite and a brew in the pub. The flowers were luscious and the birdhouses were no vacancy:

Even more interesting are the paintings inside the hotel. Every door, wall, pipe, and fixture is decorated with a one of a kind painting. Historic figures, scenes from the work farm and the nursing home, and all manner of images entertain you from floor to floor. I was way too busy enjoying the paintings, so I only took a few pictures:

Go, have the beer sampler platter, say hello to Billy for me.

We headed back into town to prepare for the next adventure and I managed to sneak in a 15 minute nap before heading out for the evening. [Yes. That's why I was late to dinner. I'm a catnapper.] Good thing too, as we still had comedy, flames, and magic ahead. But more on that in Day 2, Part 2.

Tell all your single friends, Beware! Smitten is showing her vacation slides.

XO, JamieSmitten

Mallory Tells It Like It Is

I can't believe I forgot to mention the funny story about my new boots. After wandering around downtown Portland, drinking Happy Hour Margaritas, and eating gnocchi with truffles(!), it suddenly came to my attention that there was something in my right boot. Besides my foot and sock, you cheeky people.

I took advantage of a "which way should we go now?" conversation (the first of many on this trip), to perform a sophisticated one-legged stork maneuver and unlace said slightly uncomfortable right boot. Still balancing ever so gracefully, if not steadily, I pulled the boot off and tipped it over to deposit in my hand A METAL DR. MARTENS TAG AND CHAIN.

*pictured next to a pen for size comparison. Yes, I clearly should have felt it before walking on it for 5 hours.

My high school boyfriend (who wore 20 eye Docs) would have said:

OI!

Mallory said:

"Guess you aren't a princess."

True dat.

Tell all your single friends, my Grammy said it before and I'll say it again, No Sense, No Feeling!!

XO, JamieSmitten

Trip Day #1: RIC to PDX (or The Very Badly Started Day Ends Up A-OK)

WARNING: Long. Take the phone off the hook. Remember to pace yourself. You still have four more days worth of adventures ahead of you.

3:30 a.m. is when the alarm went off. Truly, this is more of a go to bed time than a get up time. But adventures awaited so I struggled out of bed and into the shower.

In a complete departure from my usual travel persona, I am pre-packed and have only to add toiletries kit to my suitcase. I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself -- everything I need for 5 days in one carry-on bag. A Festivus miracle, if ever there was one. Of course, I have a minor tantrum downstairs as I realize that one pair of sunglasses has gone missing. Oh I may be going to Portland with only two pair of shoes (a tribute to Mallory), but I'll be damned if I go with only one pair of sunglasses. (I'll comment on the silliness of taking two pair of sunglasses to Portland later.) I give. It is 4:40 and the rules dictate that I am at the airport by 5 for my 6 a.m. flight. Oh, and Mum is now waiting in the car.

I arrive at the airport and navigate the self check-in with only minor difficulties. I marvel at all the people who appear to be awake. I stand in line at airport security. One of the weirdly awake people turns out to be a chatter. I'm startled by a sudden invasion of my personal space and a voice says from behind my right ear, "What perfume are you wearing? You smell GREAT." I turn, he straightens up with nary a hint of shame and smiles expectantly. "Metal," I say, "Sadly, it has been discontinued." We commiserate on how good things don't last forever as we shuffle forward barefoot, pushing our bins of possessions. And my carry-on.

I cruise through the metal detector and skip happily over to collect my belongings. This is where things go all pear-shaped as the English would say. A young, serious man is standing by my carry-on. "Is this yours, ma'am?" And I'm escorted to a side area. Where the young man says, "you have gels in here." To which I reply, "Yes. Is that a problem?" [Note: Yes, I do know about airport security issues in the past few years, but as stated, I'm not a carry on gal. I usually pack a pair of shoes (give or take) for every day of vacation. I plan to bring home books, rocks, and possibly cereal if I'm going to Canada, so the bag has to be big. In any case, I was not up on the 3-1-1 rule.]

Officious young man now says, "You can't carry those on. You can only have them in your checked baggage." To which I replied, "well then give me the bag and I'll go check it," and reached for my bag. To which smarmy evil man replied, "STEP AWAY FROM THE BAG, MA'AM. YOU MAY NOT TOUCH THE BAG ONCE I HAVE BEGUN MY INSPECTION." And the little prick waved me off and THEN opened my bag. I begged him to stop, he went slower. I tried to point out where offending items were so he would just stick them back in quickly and let me check the bag. Nope. He had begun to enjoy his small moment of power. By the time he had inspected everything and laid it all item by item on the table, it was too late to check the bag.

So, this is what I left at security in Richmond:

• 1/2 full bottle of Paco Rabanne Metal perfume. $70 original price


• 1/2 tube of Burt's Bees Blemish Stick --maybe .15 oz?? $7 original price


• 1/4 tube of Tom's of Maine apricot toothpaste $5 original price


• new travel size tube of Colgate 1 oz? $.99


• 1/2 bottle of OPI nail polish -- Blue My Mind -- $7 original price


• new APPROVED AIRPLANE SIZE Nexxus shampoo $3


• new APPROVED AIRPLANE SIZE Nexxus conditioner $3


• new APPROVED AIRPLANE SIZE Artec texturizing serum $3


• 1/2 bottle Neutrogena Sensitive Skin sun block. $8 original price


• new full size (my bad) Nexxus Headdress. $9


• new full size (bite me) Bada-Bing! Hair Gel. $5


• assorted sample La Roche-Posay Toleriane moisturizers. O.K. these were free, but they aren't available in the U.S.


• Total: Even with depreciation on the used items, at least $100

The kicker? My bag never even made it into the cabin! We were directed to leave bags on the gangway and they were loaded under plane. Let the fuming commence.

Then a miracle happened. I was in business class and a little bottle of water, a pillow, and a blanket were waiting for me in my single seat. Now this is the way it was supposed to be. A few deep breaths and some free coffee and o.j. and my mood improved. Then they couldn't uncouple the plane from the airport and the whole uncoupling thing made me think they should just turn a a big hose on the plane and that seemed funny at 6 a.m. But uncouple they did and we flew quickly and uneventfully to Atlanta.

I had a short layover in Atlanta -- time to charge the phone at a "traveler station" and determine the Starbucks line was too long -- and then I'm on the next plane and there is room for my now less than full luggage in the overhead and again, thanks to Mallory and her amazing rewards points, I am in business class. There was my bottle of water! Hello, old friend! There will be a 6 pack of you in my belly before we touch down! I settle in.

Business class is sweet. You hear the same announcements as the people in the back and then our personal flight attendant turns the knob and whispers seductively into our business class ears that we won't have to pay for anything -- movies, headphones, drinks, food. We even have our own bathroom. THIS is traveling.

So on my personal viewing screen, I watched Jumper (not Liman's best, but entertaining to watch on a plane. Seriously? That jumping shit would be AWESOME!), tried Cloverfield (sorry, J.J. Abrams, didn't hook me), listened to some cds (Arctic Monkeys, Madonna, new Prince, New Order), and watched a Chris Rock HBO special. Time flew by and soon the rain was on the window pane and we were descending.

Mount Hood was nowhere to be seen -- an unexpected twist for me. My seat mate finally made conversation, but too late, bud. I've read enough 'chick lit' to know that if you were going to be a globetrotting devilish financier who would annoy me but then sweep me off my feet after a few chapters, it would have happened as soon as we got on the plane. But HOORAY -- I was finally ON VACATION. And thanks to the time change, I still had nearly a whole day ahead of me.

Mamy was waiting for me past the security check point (a rather well appointed check point with quart bags and clear 3-1-1 instructions, but more on that later) with a fetching new short hairdo and a welcome present of fuzzy pink socks. I assume the giving of socks is traditional when picking up guests from Virginia who wear shorts to Oregon in June. In any case, they are lovely.

We hopped on the MAX and started wending our way into downtown Portland. As on any public transportation, we saw and heard many unusual things. Women should really think twice about eating bananas in public. I'm just saying. Of course they were probably trying to figure out why I was wearing shorts when they were wearing scarves. I kid you not. There went my mental image of hardy northerners.

We checked into my hotel -- the Portland City Center Marriott -- and agreed that my view would be very nice when the sun came out. I changed into jeans and we set out to accomplish our first mission: purchase my new Docs.

As fate would have it, my hotel was 2 short blocks from the only official Dr. Martens company store in North America. (Do your vacation pre-work on the internet -- and this is the pay off!) Again as fate would have it, there was one pair of made in England 8 eye navy blue boots in my size, and I wore them out of the store. In fact, I'm wearing them right now so they'll be all broken in and perfect by fall. Of course I have a picture, although it doesn't do them justice by half.

And did you know there is no sales tax in Portland? Perfect place to buy new boots and replace your toiletries and clearly-a-weapon toothpaste.

So freshly shod with a veritable bounce in my stride, Mamy and set off for home. Now Mallory and Mamy have moved on up, as the Jeffersons would say, to a de-luxe condo in the skies. No lie, there is always someone there to magically push a button and open the doors for you. You even need a code to get the elevator to move, so don't even think about trying to drop in on my mostest hostesses. We chatted, we hydrated, we watched the kitties play with their new toys. And then Mallory showed up fresh from her MAX ride home from the airport. Hooray, the gang was all there! So food and drinks were in order.

A nearby McMenamins outpost fit the bill. I was ready for some Oregon beer and fish and chips seemed a natural accompaniment. McMenamins is a Northwest chain with different types of hotels, pubs, and eateries serving the McMenamin beers and liquors. Mallory is a dark beer lover, so she opted for the Terminator Stout. Despite having read Pint-Sized Ireland: In Search of the Perfect Guinness by Evan McHugh on the plane, I opted for the Hammerhead Ale. Quite enjoyable. I thought the ladies had tired of me very quickly when their directions to the restroom began, "well go out the door and turn right," but that turned out to be the truth. The bathroom was VERY CSI. More on that later.

Refreshed, we took a stroll around the garden blocks of the Cultural district. Lovely tall trees and lush green grass -- a pleasant sight after the early scorching in Richmond. We caught up, we laughed, we wandered. There is nothing like new adventures with old friends. Eventually, we felt we should do something, so we decided upon a movie. Mamy opted out, so Mallory and I set off to locate the theater on our own. A few extra turns and several flights up and we were just in time for Iron Man. Robert Downey Jr. has always been one of my favorites and the movie was quite fun -- even for a gal who never read many comics that didn't involve Betty and Veronica. A few extra turns later, some helpful people showed us how to get out of the locked mall and we were on our way home.

I couldn't begin to tell you what time it was, but clearly, darkness and travel fatigue had set in. I toddled off to my luxurious king size bed and managed to sleep without the Boom.

Tell all your single friends, it just gets better.

XO, JamieSmitten

MMMMMMMM Portland (and OHHHHHHHH Seattle)

I'm back.

It was awesome.

Portland is rainy and cool as advertised.

Seattle is 2 for 2 in the hangover category.

So, so, SO much fun.

Yes, there are pictures.

Yes, I will share.

Once I've caught up on my sleep.

And sobered up.


Tell all your single friends, MALLORY* and MAMY* are the best hostesses in the Rose City.


XO, JamieSmitten

*Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

We Can Rebuild Her. We Have the Technology.

Today I engaged in one of my pre-vacation rituals -- the pedicure. Sure, some women manage to keep their feet in tiptop shape year round, but I'm a bit of a slacker. I polish, I pumice, I moisturize, but I only call in the professionals when my toes are heading for some fun.

My appointment was at 9 a.m. in order to fit into the day of errands. Tina was waiting and ready to go, blue water bubbling away in the basin. Before she dunked my unsightly soles, I had to show her the problem.

New Year's Eve Toe

[I do not know if this is an official syndrome, so please, if you know of any other cases, direct them to me. Maybe we can have a telethon.]

For those of you not in the metropolitan (tee hee) Richmond area, there was a big street celebration on New Year's Eve. Richmond's version of the legendary Times Square festivities, if you will. There were people, music, and a ball RISE, literally at the end of my street. So I went and enjoyed until the herds of people began to crush together at the central stage, ensuring they were perfectly positioned to not see the ball RISE.

When the revelers shifted and pressed against me hard enough to snap the underwire in my bra, I decided to cut my losses and start moving back towards home. I haven't been in a mosh pit recently, but I can still throw elbows with the best of them. I got moving, albeit slowly. Suddenly, my escape was halted by a large waist-level object. As the object gave slightly, I realized I had encountered a metal newspaper box. Then it rocked back down onto my foot. It did not tickle. Five minutes later I limped out of the masses with a sore foot and one boob lower than the other. Hooray for New Year's!

Being a tough chick, I moved on with my life and forgot about the large metal box landing on my foot. When I took off my blue nail polish two weeks later, I very quickly remembered. My big toe nail was purple.

Since January, two of the little toenails have fallen off and the big toenail has hung in there in all its purple glory. Until last week. That is when the nail started to lift off on one side. Oh happy day. Can't tell you how the prospect of going on vacation with one and one-half big toenails filled me with joy.

But Tina was up to the challenge. After a lengthy discussion and an admonition that I should have come to her immediately, she set to work with gusto and a Dremel drill. I'm not kidding. She laid into that nail with a callous disregard for the tiny strand of keratin holding the whole thing together. She dug under the flap and even worked a bit of cotton ball THROUGH my nail in order to dry it out. Then, she got her purple liquid and her bowl of acrylic powder and BUILT A WHOLE NEW NAIL. It was quite impressive, despite the horrendous fumes. The new nail got the Dremel treatment and then all 1o were painted a cheery blue.

So the good news is that I've been restored to my previous glory. The bad news is that I'm now part acrylic, but still not bionic.

Tell all your single friends, keep your toes in, your underwire protected, and mind the metal boxes!


XO, JamieSmitten

You Are What You Read

Packing. Ugh. I'm only at the list stage, but I do know where the suitcase is, so I'm on schedule.

However I've hit a bump in the list -- what book do I take with me?

Now I'd rather read than do most anything, so I'm not lacking for options. The stack next to the bed is at least 6 deep. And vacation reading is a family tradition. Many vacations found me, my sister, my mum and my dad at a resort, reading in companionable silence. (Possibly, we enjoyed the silence as much as the reading since the car ride to the resort had probably contained a few episodes of "this road isn't on the map," "we'll get there when we get there," and the old standby "she's on MY SIDE."

But selecting the right travel book involves a lot of factors:

• It should be long enough to last through both there and back flights. If you take a book that is too short or too good, you'll finish it and end up purchasing some crap novel at the airport or paying retail for a hardcover.
• It shouldn't be too big and bulky. I've traveled with a 500 page hardback novel because I'd made the mistake of starting it and couldn't leave it behind. My carry-on already weighs the equivalent of a well-nourished baby, so extra weight is a bad idea.
• It shouldn't be an untried author. Nothing worse than settling in for a 5 hour plane ride with a book that turns out to be dreadful. Although I have found that I can read dreadful if it wards off the spinster knitter on her way to see her niece sitting next to me. Or worse still, the drunken romeo. No, sir, I don't care if you have magic hands, I decline your offer of putting my head down on the seat back tray in front of me so you can give me a sample massage so I'll know what I'm missing. (That really happened to me on a flight to Florida. Fortunately, he nodded off into a drunken stupor 30 minutes into the flight, saving him from a mass clubbing administered by the flight attendants.)
• It shouldn't be the novel of the moment. I never did read the Da Vinci Code, but you couldn't have paid me to carry that conversation starter into close quarters. Ditto for anything by that Tollhouse cookie guy that Oprah keeps pushing down our throats.

Which leads me to the top contenders on my shelf:

• Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Sex and Science by Mary Roach. Oh my word, I love this woman. I borrowed Stiff: The Curious Life of Cadavers from my sister and loved it. I missed Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife, but plan to rectify that oversight immediately. Pros: know I will love it; long chapters work well for airport sitting. Cons: Already started, so might not last whole trip; hardcover; white dust jacket will look horrible when I get home.
• Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk. Purchased on impulse to get free shipping on my order. Pros: interesting subject matter; should keep the old ladies from monopolizing my time (after I summarize my reading material for them). Cons: haven't read CP in years, might not enjoy it; could attract the porn element.
• Porno by Irvine Welsh. Before you start to sense a theme in my reading material, I bought this ages ago along with Trainspotting. Pros: enjoyed Trainspotting and this is partly a continuation; again, title should keep the old ladies at bay. Cons: dense Scottish dialect writing can be slow going at times; story of drug addicts doesn't scream Vacation Fun!

If only I hadn't just read Round Ireland with a Fridge by Tony Hawks. Perfect travel book about a place I'd love to visit filled with real life. Hold on -- apparently Tony wrote a book about living in France -- A Piano in the Pyrenees! Off to the bookstore tomorrow!!

Tell all your single friends, book choice is key.

XO, JamieSmitten

5 Days or 120 Hours = Not Soon Enough!

Here is where I will be at this time on Friday:

Get ready to impress me, Portland. (I'm an easy sell.)

Tell all your single friends, I'll be rockin' east coast style on west coast time.

XO, JamieSmitten

Reason Enough to Stay Home on a Friday!

I probably would not have even known the 2008 Scripps National Spelling Bee was on television tonight if Mum hadn't arrived today. We had a nice dinner and sat down to watch television in a desultory fashion, catching up on a million things being the primary focus.



But then it got funny. I'm sure it will be on Youtube before the end of the week, but it was hysterical to watch live.



In case you aren't a spelling bee aficionado, here is how it works. As each speller comes to the front of the stage to hear their word, their name and statistics are shown on the screen. After the word has been pronounced, it eventually appears on the screen.



So the next contestant shuffled up to the microphone stand and was given the word -- wait for it -- numbnut.



My mother and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, "did he just say Numbnut?" From the confusion on the kid's face, it was clear that he had heard the same thing. He asked for it to be repeated and again, we all heard it -- NUMBNUT. So he started the endless round of allowed questions (part of speech? origin? use it in a sentence? am I pronouncing it right?) until finally, the moderator pronounced it really clearly and the screen revealed the word was actually NUMNAH.



This time we all heard it and the contestant said, "Oh, NUMNAH, I thought you said Numbnut!" The audience finally let loose with a big guffaw.



He spelled it right -- and later said he was glad the word wasn't numbnut as he wouldn't have known how to spell it.



Pure comedy, people -- you don't even want to know how they used huapango in a sentence.



Tell all your single friends, a numnah is a saddle blanket.




XO, JamieSmitten

UPDATE! Numbnut just won!!!!!

Today

muggy
Adjective
[-gier, -giest] (of weather or air) unpleasantly warm and humid

Good thing I'm going on vacation in 10 days!

Tell all your single friends, get out of town before muggy moves in.

XO, JamieSmitten

Tear It Down

When I bought my house in 1996, the neighborhood was called "transitional" by those with hope. Home to crack dealers, vagrants, and thugs, it was not even close to perfect. But it was in my budget and my 1919-built house felt like home the first time I walked in the door.

In fact, the houses of the neighborhood were the reminder of what used to be and what could be again. Not so grand as those to the North and to the East one block away, these houses still had good lines albeit obscured by peeling paint and sagging gutters. They had character.

Slowly, house by house, one new neighbor at a time, improvements began to outweigh neglect. In fact, my street is now charming. Cars slow down to eye the real estate for sale -- the same cars that would have driven quickly down the street with doors locked a decade ago. It feels good when a house sells for three times what I paid.

This week it feels even better. The one remaining eyesore is gone. No more boarded up, rodent infested, rotting building in our midst. The city finally followed through and tore the wreck down. My neighbors and I watched the building come apart without a fight, not quite believing it was really happening.

I kind of hope they leave the steps.


Tell all your single friends, my neighborhood is now officially awesome.


XO, JamieSmitten

I've Lost My Mind

Just as my cold with dry cough and ear pain started to recede, I got a headache. One of those little headaches that sits right in the front of your brain pan and niggles away. Hmmm, I thought. That feels like a caffeine headache. Impossible -- I made myself the usual cafe con leche this morning. In fact, when Boom and I came back from our walk, coffee aroma wafted out the door. Gee, I thought. That's odd. Wonder why I don't smell that every day.

So I get home from work with my trifling little headache and find my untouched cup of coffee sitting on the coffee table. Could have sworn I drank it.

On the plus side, Boom didn't drink the coffee or get a headache.

I can't help thinking that this is sign #2 of my deteriorating mental function. Sign #1 happened a month ago.

Tell all your single friends, the brain cells are the first to go.

XO, JamieSmitten

Half Price Sale This Weekend!

Because the internet is full of little time wasters....


Pow
Go on, you know you want to know.....

Tell all your single friends, charge what you are worth.


XO, JamieSmitten

Happy Mother's Day!

Tell ALL your friends, call your mum!

XO, JamieSmitten

Real TM's Received by Me

Oh! But thanks for the offer!

hottest guy I've ever seen here in front of me at post office, escaped.

Beware! $12 of gas might not get you home!

And my personal favorite of the week:

not getting laid here either. but I did see some big bull balls.

Tell all your single friends, text dirty to me!


XO, JamieSmitten

Spring Can Be Tough

Weather in Virginia can be brutal. Summers are long, hot, and entail sticky humidity. Oh sure, if you live in New Orleans, you can claim to understand, but at least you have To Go Cup privileges to take the edge off. Here in the puritan-like Capital of the Confederacy, we can carry sweet tea.


Winters are usually mild, but every 4 years or so (I'm no meteorologist, so don't look for statistics) we get a doozy of a snowstorm. Again, those of you in Toronto can just shake your heads and say, "call that a snowstorm, eh?" as you continue to travel safely around your city. Here in the South, everything grinds to a halt and you are advised to stay off the roads.


So spring is supposed to be the good season -- never long enough, but respite between high heating bills and high cooling bills. You throw open the windows and take in the lovely breeze scented with honeysuckle and jasmine. Camellias bloom like mad and the hydrangea bushes begin their trek from bedraggled to lush blue blossoms.

But along with that soft breeze come the sounds of the city. I live near a small retail area so the passing scene in front of my house is constant. College kids on bikes, skateboards, and scooters heading to and from class. Well-heeled moms push their massive strollers with their well-heeled (!) golden retrievers trotting beside. Suburbanites edge in and out and in again to ample parallel parking spots. And then there are the crazy people.



Now don't get me wrong -- I'm as crazy as the next gal. The only differentiation is that I keep my crazy inside my house (well, mostly). In my neighborhood there is a large adult residence. I'm not even sure what the criteria is to become a resident, but having slipped the bonds of conventional society is the common theme. Spring time means that the smokers are out in the yard when Boom and I walk before work. I don't begrudge anyone their small pleasure, but these people are some serious smokers, lighting one after the other until a small haze forms.



They are also some serious walkers. Wandering around, buying more cigarettes, oft times carrying on a lively conversation, they are a regular presence. Some are afraid of Boom and cross the street to avoid him. Others make a beeline for him and pat him happily on the head. Boom has always seemed to know when he should just hang around for a pet and not start barking obnoxiously to get back to the walk. It is just part of the daily rhythm of my neighborhood and Boom understands that when we are outside.



But from inside the house with open windows allowing all manner of odd noises to reach him, Boom gets downright perturbed. He leaps up from a full snoring nap at the sound of a car door opening and charges the door to bark fiercely at the startled couple on their way to a $1.99 movie. Then, he turns his head (imagine the sound effect when the Bionic Woman turned her head to listen) and races to the back door because somebody rode a bike over a bump in the back alley.



After all these maneuvers, he returns to me with an expression of faint disapproval clearly visible and breathes heavily on me as he awaits my reaction. He knows I'm going to say, "it's outside Boom. We won't let them in." I know he's going to continue his vigilance.



And we both know that after Neighbor John helps me carry in the window unit from the garage, we'll miss the sounds.

Tell all your single friends, that's spring you are feeling!



XO, JamieSmitten

Hey! That Tickles!

I just checked my bank account and found my Economic Stimulus direct deposit was made on 5/2.

I guess that means I got two types of stimulation on Friday night! (Ba-dum-bum!)

Tell all your single friends, in rugby, #6 is the blindside flanker.

XO, JamieSmitten

Oh No She Didn't!

Oh yes she did.*

Tell all your single friends, it IS like riding a bike.

XO, JamieSmitten

*And he looked a little bit like Jason Statham. Tasty.

Things I Adore, Things I Abhor

[I used to do this post regularly. If you don't believe me, read the evidence.]

5 Things I Adore:

• Hugh Laurie. Must. stop. renting. House. from. Netflix. Obsession. worsens. daily.
• Manda of Whoa Camel. That girl is the shizzle. Nothing but props to the mighty Zombie fighter.
• Toasted Raisin Bread with butter. Even if it is organic raisin bread that set me back $4.99 and has sunflower seeds in it. Most disconcerting.
• Sleeping in my bed. Boom and I slept in the bed for the first time in 2 months. It felt freaking awesome.
• Fwengebola. No, I don't know what it means, but he's my new blush (blog crush). Too, too funny and has the same amount of sex I do. (yes, that means none.)

5 Things I Abhor:

• Water stains on the ceiling. The unpleasant discovery made whilst writhing orgasmically on my bed. Good thing I clarified they were water stains, eh?
• Birthdays of deceased people. I should have had a lemon meringue pie in your honor, dad, but it was just a little too much to contemplate.
• People who don't make eye contact. Would it really kill you to say a pleasant Hello, co-worker? Frankly, I'd be fine if it did turn out to be toxic to you.
• Lack of available companionship in this damn town. The same profiles from 4 years ago are on match.com -- and they are still searching for dates. Yep, that plan is going to work.
• Hummers. The vehicle, not the activity.

So, not bad for a hump-less Hump Day. I'm sticking with the positive -- Adore wins!

Tell all your single friends, this girl needs a life.

XO, JamieSmitten

I'm in Love!

Meet my new man. He plans to accompany me everywhere for a long, long time.





He knows he's not my first. That honor goes to battle scarred google who will stick around because he's that kind of guy. He's also 0.6L size and sometimes, you need a little guy:





To go all Gray's on you, SERIOUSLY, people, SERIOUSLY. Buy a Sigg aluminum water bottle. You'll save a gazillion acres of landfill and you won't feel guilty when I take your plastic bottle out of the trash and put it in the recycling bin.


I recommend you go to BayingHound and buy your Sigg from Rachel. She has tons of variety and will email you when out of stock items are restocked. She even sent me a free one of these and I can't tell you how much fun that's been.


If you are one of those 'must purchase goods in actual stores rather than online' dinosaurs, Dick's Sporting Goods is carrying Sigg bottles too. What do you have to lose? If you hate it, you can RECYCLE IT.



Tell all your single friends, make love, not landfill.*





XO, JamieSmitten




*Also available on a Sigg bottle!!!!!