Jami's Car is Smart Enough

I have an adorable little Cavalier named Calvin. He's a nice car, bings if I forget to take the keys along, runs great, hasn't come to life and killed me and my family, you know, all the standards. Calvin doesn't have automatic doors, windows, locks, alarms or pretty much anything except the transmission. He has a CD player and radio, no XM radio. But you know what he has? An actual metal body in the shape of a car. I've ragged on the Smart Cars before, suggesting on FB that they look like a Little Tykes Cozy Coupe on steroids (but, you know, not a lot of steroids.) or a pregnant rollerskate. I have suggested that they are more suited to circus rings (you know, for juggling) than roads. I will admit that they probably get fantastic gas mileage and let's face it, you can park that thing pretty much anywhere, including sideways in the driveway. But then this past week I saw one on the highway for the first time. I mean, it was the first time I'd personally seen one on the highway, not the first time for that particular Smart Car, as far as I know. I stared in fascination at the driver as we passed this moving bump, and was shocked that he seemed totally calm and appeared to be singing along to the radio. I could only think that had that been me, hurtling down the highway at 70mph in an overgrown toy, I'd been going "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (deep breath) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! (repeat until arriving at destination or blown off road by draft from 18 wheeler). Because my car might be less earth-friendly, but if I am in an accident, I have some crumple-zone going for me. If you're in that thing and get hit at those speeds, you're going to be perma-wrapped in your new metal suit. It's practically the equivalent of being hit by a car wearing while you're wearing only aluminum foil. So maybe Calvin isn't a genius. Maybe he's the dumb-but-sweet jock from high school. He's not going to do my math homework, but if someone's picking on me, I want him on my side, not the co-captain of the chess team (which at one point, I was.)

Jami Will Eat as She Pleases.

Maybe this doesn't happen to anyone else, but I swear I get these odd times when something happens to me several times in a relatively short period, as though the universe or PTB or whatever is trying to draw my attention to it. And so it has happened again... This is a society of people with widely varied eating habits, beliefs, needs and diets. And this is fine. Really. It's okay. You can eat all meat or no meat or nothing but mangoes picked by albino monkeys on Tuesdays for all I care. I mean, if you're eating something particularly gross, I'd prefer you not do it in front of me while I am also eating, but in general, knock yourself out. And please, let me do the same. If you have some good facts, I don't mind if you share - in a polite way, please. Like, "If you're a vegan, you should probably know that Jello contains animal products." Helpful. "That cheeseburger you're eating is the result of an innocent animal being tortured and murdered, and it's full of transglumerides, which is why you are fat." Not helpful. Here's the thing: in general, if it tastes good and isn't squirming with bacteria, I probably don't care. If you want to abstain from the Murder Burger, enjoy your organic, lactose-free, taste-free, energy-efficiently roasted soybean seeds and let me get my burger on. I have dined with vegans, vegetarians, people on Atkins, Weight Watchers, people with allergies of all kids, folks with religious restrictions, and the finickiest of all finicky eaters, my own self included and I just think we should all get along. The only time someone's food choice made me ill is when it's served with a side of Food Nazi Arrogance. It might work for you, but here's a news flash: I'm not you. I am a totally independent and intelligent woman and I want the heated brownie with ice cream, I'm going to get it. I know I'm fat, I'm sorry the cow feels disrespected because we take her milk and I am aware that cold and hot foods taken together is hard on the qi, but I have made my decision and you're not going to change it. Thanks so much.

Jami and the Search for Suit that Suits

So I haven't been posting here much, lots of things going on and FaceBook allows quick thoughts to be posted much faster, but since I have a few moments, thought I'd share a recent adventure. Finn is still nursing, meaning I'm still sporting the milk-filled tatas that make me look like I may tip over at any moment. I'm not going to post my cup size, but I was recently measured (publicly!!) by a professional and let's just say she told me I Have some Huge Hooters, get the Hint? Anyway, we're headed to the beach soon and my pre-pregnancy bathing suits could not contain the ladies. Off to Kohl's I went, thanks to the 30% off coupon from the mail. My normal swimsuit stradegy is: Buy the cheapest suit that fits. This time I decided I would actually pry the wallet open a little and find a suit I really feel good about, within reasonable limits. Upon reflection, I realized it had been SEVEN years since I last purchased a new bathing suit, so I don't feel too selfish in spending more than my usual $12.99. Theorizing that the enormous upstairs would be best suited by a tankini (since I could get a size WOW! for the top and a normal bottom), I gathered up a load of mix'n'match parts and tried them all on. This did not work. The tankini tops seem to fall into two categories: held up by super-skinny spaghetti straps or squish everything flat. No thanks on both. Then I hit the one-pieces. I found a section of "Figure Fixing" suits, with tags like "hip hiding", "long torso", "tummy flattener" and the one that sounded most promising "flatters full figure". Hmmm. Full does seem to be the proper word. I'd have to say , however, that "flatters" must mean "exposes" because this suit made me a walking advertisement for mammory glands. No lie, I think if I wore that suit in public, every person who looked directly at me would involuntarily yell "BOOBS!!" regardless of gender or sexual orientation. I skipped the "enhances bust" suits, even though I had some curiousity what my bust would look like enhanced; it's possible it would be visible from space. Finally, after a parade of suits that either failed to support, supported to the point of painful squished-ness, or looked like they belonged to the Senior Olympic synchronized swim team, I found ONE suit that looked good. It's black with gold and white trim and even a little tassle. I can get the baby-feeders out when needed but my super-white cleavage isn't exposed enough to blind passing aircraft. It was already on sale, and so with the coupon, it still is the most expensive suit I've ever purchased, BUT it was also well under the $50 absolute limit I'd set for myself. So, you aspiring designers out there, here's a great niche market for you!