Jami Takes the Stage

It's VBS week at our church and for the non-churchies among us, that is "Vacation Bible School" or basically a week-long half-day day camp sponsored by the church. Basically, most VBS's have a theme, with daily craft, snack games and bible lesson all conforming to the overall theme.

Our themes this year is Viking Bible School, with two confused Vikings (Erika the Read - as in well-read, basically a nerdy Viking, and Og the Not As Smart) who came thinking they would learn important Viking-y things but instead are learning about God. I'm Og. Besides playing Og, I am also the roaming adult who is available to help out where needed and stamp out various fires (literal and figurative). Lucky me, I get to wear my Viking gear all morning long.

As usual, the week we've chosen has turned out to be the hottest, humid-est week of the summer. I am sure that by the end of the day, I smell like an authentic Viking.

Here's a picture of me and Erika (played by Erica, who is actually a descendant of Erik the Red).


In case you are wondering, our helmets do not have horns because our costumer researched online and discovered that it pretty unusual for Vikings to have the helmets with horns we generally think of. The shiny thing on my forehead is actually my nose guard which I have to put up most of the time if I don't want to be permenantly cross-eyed. I'm shiny because I'm sweating like Lindsay Lohan when she sees flashing lights.

I'd planned on being the assistant song leader. This position entails dressing in normal people clothes, saying a few lines here and there and singing songs. But no, the original Og dropped out, and me, nice girl that I am, took on the role of Og. It also means I have to interact with the kiddies a lot, which serves to remind me again of why I didn't go into teaching. It's because I don't like groups of children. I always seem to forget that between VBS experiences.

But at least I get to have snack.

Friday Feast

Feast 153 Appetizer Describe a toy you remember from your childhood. I had a life-sized doll named Cindy that I loved. At one point I had her marry my little brother so that she'd be my sister. I wonder if my brother's current wife knows about Cindy . . . Soup On a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 being highest) how observant are you? Depends on what I'm doing; if I'm lost in a book, I probably wouldn't notice a tornado removing part of my house. Generally, though I'd say about a 7. Salad Where would you rather be at this very moment? On a cruise in the Caribbean. Or just getting a massage. Main Course When was the last time you learned something new? Like a new fact? Or a new skill? Let's see - I learned that the largest of some kind of fish ever caught was 125 pounds. Guess I didn't totally learn that one. I'm learning my lines for Vacation Bible School next week (I play Og, a Viking). I don't know about skills - I learned to make homemade lip balm, sort of, a few months ago. Dessert Fill in the blank: I have ____________ but I haven’t ____________. I have a son, but I haven't given birth.

Jami in Training

I'm back online, thanks to my Mom for generously lending me her spare laptop while mine is being fixed by Tim the Magnificent. But that's not what this post is about. Long story short, Eddie's had a little training potty out for about 4-5 months or so. The lazy and optimistic part of me hoped he's somehow spontaneously potty-train himself - you know, just one day drop trou, whip off the diapers and go. Of course, that hasn't happened. In fact, for most of that time he either actively ignored it or, on very rare occasions, sat on it - but only when fully dressed. If I even took his shoes off, he'd refuse to sit there. Two days ago, I'm in the bathroom and he points at it and says "Potty?" Trying to contain my joy, I ask if he wants to sit on the potty, and miraculously, he lets me strip him down and plop him on it. This being the first time he's used the potty sans pants, we hadn't discovered the HUGE design flaw in this one. It's called a "splash guard" and it's supposed to prevent boys from, uh, spraying outside the confines of the potty, but whoever designed this one didn't test it out with boys, I'd have to guess. When I put him down - all the way to the very back of the seat, where he could never get himself - his, um, equipment was pressed up against it. This did not look comfortable, and I had a feeling it would lead to no good if pee were to emerge. The other option - oh so much worse - when Eddie applied himself to the potty, his - er - parts rested on top of the guard, basically pointing at an Up and Out angle that would make it extremely unpleasant to be within several feet of the front of the potty. We got a new potty today, with a nice soft cushy seat, and with a splash guard that can be removed, which I've already done. It's so comfy, in fact, that Eddie wanted to sit on it for a good long while. This is promising. Now's where you need to: 1. Use your imagination and 2. Realize that I am not right in the head. He's been sitting on this thing for 15 minutes, why won't he pee? He'll never get it if he doesn't manage to actually DO something while on the darn thing. There should be a way to make him go . . . hmmmmm ....like a place on his belly I could push and the pee would just shoot out? No, that won't work. Oh - running the sink - the sound of the water. (the water runs for a few minutes). This isn't working. Maybe I should put his hand in warm water - isn't that what we used to do at slumber parties? Did that ever work? I think everytime we ever tried it, putting the girl's hand in water woke her up, not made her pee. Let's see - ooooh - maybe if I could scare him, he'd pee! Like, I could get right up close to his face and just SCREEAAAAMMM at the top of my lungs, or make a really scary face and a weird noise or . . .what the heck is wrong with me? Scare the pee out of him, it would probably make him refuse to ever go to the potty and permanently scar him. I've laughed so hard I've peed. Well, not since junior high, but laughing really hard makes me feel like I have to pee. What would make him laugh that hard? This train of thought went on like that until the poor child actually managed to pee. That's right - he peed on the potty! No big deal for all you non-parents, but you other mommies will know what I mean. Whoooo hoooo - and now the ordeal has begun.

Jami Shall Return

Argh! My beloved lappie has died and gone to Computer Heaven. I write this on my mother's laptop, as I fervently hope that my good friend the All Knowing Tim will be able to help resusitate lappie, or at least get the good stuff out of its brain and into a new working brain. I'll be back once I am again among the Haves . . .

Jami's Success

Thanks to all you loyal readers who sent your Good Block Party Vibes our way, they worked pretty well.

The day started off on a bit of a bad note - an unpleasant woman in the apartments at the end of our street came out and yelled at me and the neighbor who was helping me set up the blockades. "You can't just go blocking off the whole street!" I explained to her that we had a permit from the borough and I'd left a flyer in her door about it with the time we'd be closing the street. She screamed "I'll run right over those (expletive) barriers!" My neighbor said "That's fine, you can explain that to the borough police - those are their barriers!" I suggested that if she hadn't yet moved her car off of our street, she was welcome to move them, drive out and put them back. In probably the worst retort ever, she yelled "Then that's what I'll do then!" and slammed her door. Sigh.

It picked up after that, with more people showing up than had RSVP'd, but since everyone brought food we had more than enough. The children brought out toys and bikes, someone put out a sprinkler for them and they were in kiddie-heaven. One neighbor produced a Margarita mix, but realized she didn't have tequila - two other neighbors ran to their houses and brought back full bottles of the stuff: the Party had started!

There were "urban horses" for the menfolk (picture below). The water balloon toss managed to include every adult present, and ended in a tie, even after tie breakers. I'd have to say the highlight was the arrival of Fireman B. and his truck. The kids had a ball riding in the truck (he took us on a ride around several blocks) with lights and sirens. Then the kids got to try on his turnout gear even though the gear itself out-weighed most of them. One artistic neighbor brought paints and "tattooed" the kids. We did the chicken dance, macerena, electric slide and hokey pokey; don't ask me why - might have something to do with the Jello-shots. Good times.

It ended after dark, with a street-full of tired, full, buzzed adults and exhausted little ones (one of whom asked me "Eddie's Mom" (this is what she calls me) "Can we do this again?" I think so, Maddy. I think we can.

Tiffany's Water Balloon's Untimely Demise


Face Painting


Kids on the Truck (that's not where they rode).


Eddie Drives the Truck


Future Firefighter


The Party


The Jello Shots


Urban Horseshoes

Friday Feast

Feast 151 Appetizer What is your favorite fruit? Probably blueberries. I also love strawberries. Soup Who is someone you consider as a great role model? Hmm, in real life? My parents, Dr. Laura, and I've always liked Rose Kennedy. For my fictional role models, see the posts here and here. Also I forgot to add Zoe Washburn to that list, but I'll write about her some other time. Salad If you were to spend one night anywhere within an hour of your home, where would you choose? Probably one of the nicer hotels that has the hot tub suites. Main Course Name something you do too often. Swear Dessert Fill in the blank: I really like ___________ because ____________. I really like to take long hot bubble baths with a book and something to drink because nothing mellows me out nearly as well.

Jami Sort-Of Plans a Party

This Saturday is our first ever block party. I initiated the planning after talking to neighbors who all seemed to think it was a great idea. Today, my next door neighbor and I went out to get the supplies. I really wanted to have a block party because I want to get to know more of my neighbors. I want to build community - not only is it just nicer, but also because it's safer. SIDE STORY: a few years ago when my former boss was picking me up at home to leave for a business trip, he arrived 15 minutes early. Not wanting to rush me, he didn't call to say he was out front, just sat in his car and went over our trip route, etc. The husband of the woman I went shopping with today noticed a stranger parked in front of my house, typing on a laptop and staring at my house and went out and questioned him. Even after my boss explained himself and knew my full name and everything, the neighbor stood out front on his porch until I came out and waved and got into the car. Sure made me feel better about being home alone when Chas works the night shift. END OF SIDE STORY Several people volunteered to help, but about half of them weren't able to for one reason or another. The few that did help really got into it, so that's good. Anyway, I'm a little worried that not enough people are going to show (only about 28 said they'd come) and also a little annoyed that I handed out 55 flyers and only got about 20 RSVP's. What's wrong with people?? How hard is it to pick up the phone, and say "Hey, sorry, we can't make it"?? I gave my phone number, street number and even email address - you don't even have to talk to me! Even two of the people that were outside that I personally handed the flyers to still haven't RSVP'd. Grrr. Anyway, send your positive Block Party Vibes our way this weekend. I'll let you know how it goes.

Jami Suggests Repentence

Hey, I'm generally not one to judge, but apparently a church here in Western PA burnt down after being struck by lightning, brief story here. Honestly, the news report on TV went "A local church burns down after a lightning strike ignites the building - members are trying to decide what to do next." Whoo - that's just embarrassing - really. Imagine being the one to call the church's insurance company; "Hi, we had a fire - no, not vandalism - more of, uh, smitten by the Almighty - ha ha ha, yeah. Well, no more Oreos for communion for us!" Just sayin'.

Jami and Paris

Gosh, I wonder what all the news channels are doing now that Paris Goes to Prison is over? So sad. I have to admit to ignoring a good portion of it, but my basic feeling is that her serving the time she did seems fair and right - about what anyone else would serve and a nice reminder that sometimes rich people can't buy their way out. Sometimes. I mean really - if anyone can afford to take a cab after a night of drinking, it's Paris. But mostly, I don't have feelings in any direction for Ms. Hilton. I don't understand hating her - what's the point of that? She's not evil, just sort of pointless. And it isn't entirely her fault, I can't imagine her parents set the bar too high for her, in the acheiving for herself department. Of course, I haven't met her in person, so maybe we'd be buds. But I sort of doubt it. Mostly, I think we'd not have much in common. I think it would go something like: Paris: So, uh, hi. Jami: Hi. (long awkward pause) Read any good books lately? Paris: No. I meant to, but I've been like sooo busy you know? I should get some of those books on CD. Jami: But weren't you just in prison? Paris: Totally. It was awful. I hope you'll buy my book . . . I'm going to read it on CD. Jami: Ooooo-kay. Paris: Umm, don't you hate it when your personal shopper buys the wrong brand of gourmet muffins so you have to eat the other ones while you get your daily massage? Jami: I, uh, yeah, that sounds awful. Paris: So, do you like, uh, stuff? Jami: Sure. Paris: Me too. Totally! Jami: Well it's been great talking to you . . . I hope Paris really does pull it together and make something of herself. If she doesn't, well, I won't be suprised. I don't think I could even work up disappointed. I just can't feel much either way. She isn't bad, she isn't great, she just, well is.

Jami Loves Love

Joining approximately half of the US yesterday, I attended a wedding. Many congratulations to Rachel and Jon who tied the knot on 7-7-07, probably the most sought-out wedding date in a decade. We enjoyed a lovely tradition-filled ceremony a fantastic reception and time with family and friends.



I love weddings - cliche? Sure, but I don't care. I love dressing up. I love sitting next to the Husband, holding his hand and remembering our vows as a couple says theirs. I love dancing, and drinking and all the silly, hokey things you do at the reception. Good times. OH - except that stupid "clink your glass to make them kiss thing". For the love of Pete, folks, let the poor newlyweds eat. They've probably been too nervous to eat all day and they've been busy. They'll kiss plenty, I promise. Just let them eat their dinners.

Adding to the joy of the evening is more good news - one of my good friends and her husband announced their new pregnancy (well, to be honest, they announced it the next day, but I managed to weasel the info out early, because I'm like that.) Yay for them; they are one of the people I believe should have lots of kids because they are nice, intelligent, moral people who will raise their kids right.

I danced until the music stopped, I consumed a fair amount of the alky-hol, I made new friends and ate cake and cookies. Yes, I ate dinner, which was delicious, but I get dinner every day. I don't get cake and cookies every day.

Me and my new friend Tiffany

This was at a wedding last month, but here's Eddie in his tux, and getting down on the dance floor with his cousin, Adam.

Jami Blogs From the Heart

I have a bazillion ideas, it seems, all bumping around in my head. None are really cohesive, at the moment, if I tried to blog them, you'd probably catch ADD from reading it . . . However, I just saw this video and thought I'd share. It's one of thousands of adoption story videos posted online - go to YouTube or Google video and just put in "Adoption Story" or "adoption video" or something similar. I am posting this because I know that someone reading this feels like maybe their family isn't quite complete yet. You've thought about adoption, but maybe you think it's just for people who can't conceive or it's too expensive, too hard, too complicated. It's not. I am telling you that there is a child who is waiting for you, who will fit into your family where he or she is supposed to be. An infant, a toddler, an 8-year-old, a teen. That child needs you and whether you know it or not, you need him or her. Be bold, talk to your spouse, look into it. Ask me any questions you want. Your heart is big enough. Don't wait.

Jami Says, "Happy Birthday, USA"

I love this country - no question. Are there things that could be improved - sure. But overall I think this is the best country in the world to be living in, and at the risk of sounding like Lee Greenwood, I am proud to be an American. I've done the whole USA is A-OK post before, so I'm not going to repeat myself. Let me just say, if you think America isn't home of the free, move to Rwanda, North Korea or Iran for awhile. In the meantime, take a moment to (legally) thank whatever diety you believe in for this country and the people who worked so hard and sometimes gave their lives so you could live here. And, say a special prayer for our soldiers over-seas.

Jami Is Back Home

Ah, the end of vacation, with a mountain of laundry, pile of mail and full TiVo. I am always grateful to get back to my beloved bed, though I'm one of those folks who can pretty much sleep on any surface. One evening, sitting in the cabin with my family, I had a funny deja vu moment. We heard a noise outside and I looked hopefully toward the front door. It took me a few seconds to figure out what I had been hoping to see, and I hearkened (if that is indeed the right word) back to the days of family vacations of my teen years, and a persistent daydream I had way back then . . . Nothing is less cool, when you're a teen and even if you're not a cool teen, than being on vacation with your family. I have a postcard, written by M when we were in high school that says something like "I miss all my friends and I am so lonely and I can't wait to come home and see you all. It's beautiful here and we're having fun. See you soon." At the time, we probably both missed the dichotomy; I bet most teenage girls can tell you that it's possible to be having a good time and be totally miserable at the same time. Anyway, while on these vacations, I would imagine the object of my current crush somehow suddenly arriving where we were, to "rescue" me from the horrors of family time. He'd knock on our door, or just show up, finding me on the beach, or appear at the restaurant to declare his love and usually say something along the lines of "I didn't realize how much I loved you until you were so far away . . ." He'd spend the rest of the week with us and it would be the best vacation ever. Of course, most of the male leads in these fantasies hadn't seen me in the weeks (or months) since school had let out, and several probably would have been hard pressed to come up with my correct last name, let alone figure out how to track me down on vacation, but that never seemed to dampen my hope that the dream would one day come true. And would you believe, this time, it did? In fact, moments after I had looked at the door, remembered and chuckled at the silliness of a teenager's imagination - the Husband walked in, returning from an errand! He didn't rush over and sweep me up in his arms, declaring his undying love and begging me to never leave his side again, but I'll take it over the fantasy any day.