Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Sunday was John's birthday. I won't say how old he is. He wouldn't appreciate it. However, he's 20 years older than me. Sometimes people freak out when they discover this tidbit of info. But really, I never even think about it. John spent the first 30 years of his life effin' it all up. Not small time stuff. BIIIIG time stuff. Somehow it all evens out age wise between us. That, and if you have as much counseling and therapy as John's had, you become really in touch with your softer emotional sides. It makes him easier to be around. Point of all this? Happy Birthday John! You're my lovely, lovin' best friend man!

Awesome things I love about John:

1) Again with the funny. This morning I said: "John, one of the cats left us a squirrel on the step. It's a gift." To which John immediately replied, "What the hell? Your sister gave me a label maker for Christmas one year. I don't need any more gifts."
2) He understands the importance of coffee.
3) He understands the importance of animals.
4) He understands the importance of family.
5) He's hatched from the same pod as my Mama.
6) On Winter mornings, he always goes outside in his pajamas to heat my car for me. And if it's particularly icy/snowy, he offers to drive me to work. Even though I rarely let him. He still offers.
7) He loves me like my daddy loves my mama.

Happy Birthday, John.

Sunday, September 27, 2009



Take that all you professional photographers. Nothing beats a cute girl with new side bangs taking a cell phone pic in her tee-niney bathroom.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

I've been spending an inordinate amount of time on Facebook lately. Usually I only drop by if someone sends me a message or a friend request, but the past couple of days I've found myself Facebooking it every couple of hours. I think it's because my 15 year high school reunion is coming up in November and I'm not sure if I'm going so I'm trying to make up for it. It's not like this is the first reunion I'll be missing. I haven't gone to one yet. But this one seems important to me. We've all reached an age where we've truly been bitten by the serpent of life and I think it's made most of us more human and vulnerable. We've lost parents and gained children and married and divorced and moved and moved back home. Been arrested and ordained and gone through rehab and probation and grad school. These are people, some of them anyway, whom I've known literally since birth. People who share memories as sweet and evil and silly as the ones I struggle so hard to give justice to in the re-telling. Folks I haven't thought about in years, but still, folks that understand my roots.

Friday, September 25, 2009



The National Anthem sung by five little girls all under the age of ten.

A friend of mine (Tina) over on the Facebook posted this on her wall and I just had to repost it here. It's crazy good.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I called John at lunch today and he said the trailer was a madhouse. That he thought he'd heard something on the roof and when he opened the door, Ernie ran inside carrying a chipmunk in his mouth. A live chipmunk. Ernie dropped the chipmunk in the middle of the living room floor and John said that's right about the time all hell broke loose. I said, "John, where's the chipmunk now?". And he said, "Oh, it lives behind the treadmill." Not really though. It managed to find it's way back outside with three tail-switching cats in hot pursuit. Used to be I felt sorry for the critters and would try my damnedest to save them, but I've freed one too many of their sorry asses only to watch them scurry straight into the waiting jaws of my boys. It's like they can't help themselves.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

sundrop in a mason jar

I eat oatmeal because I know it's good for me. But really, I'm a grits with butter and salt kinda girl. And if you've got some country ham and red eye gravy I'll be more than happy to take that off your hands as well.

Last night I spent 3.5 hours on the phone with my BFF Sherry. Sherry and I have been BFF's since before Taylor Swift was even born. So Sherry and I have been BFF's FFE. That's "For Fucking Ever" in JanandShnerry lingo. In high school we were connected at the hip. Our names spoken as one. If you wanted one you had to take both. Sherry's beauty and witticisms combined with my sharp tongue and big words, we were foul-mouthed, redneck tyrants. A force to be reckoned with. Crusading for the underdog and feeling sorry for the perfectly coiffed superficial petty girls. Boyfriends? Who needed them. She was in the midst of a tragic, forbidden affair and I was having my first nervous breakdown. In the past few years we've not kept in touch like we once did. But we always pick up where we left off. And I'm blessed to have her. To know that if I need her, she'll drop all of it for me. That no one can love me the way my Shnerry does. Girl, there'll always be a kidney on ice, just for you.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009



Sometimes I think the reason I don't want children is because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't love them as much as I love my cats and I'd be terrible at hiding it. Or I would love the child more than the cats and how fair is that really? Are these things I should be posting? No? Well it's my blog. Go get your own.

Monday, September 14, 2009

What I'm reading: "Still Waters" by Nigel McCrery. I'm one of those annoying people who romanticize all things stereotypically British. The accent, the villages, the tea and crumpets and scones and Miss Marple and the BBC and sheep and stones and vicars and all that stuff. It's ridiculous, I know. It probably all started when I was 11 and my mama encouraged me to read Jane Eyre and Fanny Hill. I know. Fanny Hill for an 11 year old. At any rate, it was the beginning of an otherwise healthy obsession. Since then I seem to gravitate towards novels and movies set in the United Kingdom. It's calming and comforting for me.

Know what else is calming and comforting, yet exciting? Knowing that my sisterly units and I will be vacating in Savannah in 4 weeks. 4 weeks, honey-bunnies! 4 weeks until cemeteries and soul food and ghostly excursions.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

What I'm reading: "Evans Above" by Rhys Bowen. I can remember years ago, how I used to curl up my nose at the cozy mysteries. Now I just like to disappear inside of them.

It's been a good weekend so far. Much better than the previous week which was fraught with excessive amounts of work and foot pain. I should probably go back to my doctor about the toe seeing as how it's been operated on already and it still aches like a bastard. But I'd really rather it just didn't hurt anymore without me having to actually do anything about it. I'm thinking about getting a peg leg. Maybe a parrot, too.

Like I was saying- this weekend has been nice. Humid but not too warm. Yesterday we visited the family commune. Which is what I'm gonna start calling John's sister's house because there are so many freakin' people over there now and I love everything about it. Plus, they've got a baby.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Ernie's feeling sickly. I went out searching for him last night and found him curled up on the lawn mower seat in the barn. What self respecting cat in the prime of his life sleeps at night? Certainly not our Ernie Pantusso. I brought him in and he ate a little but he was just so lethargic. So this morning John and I forewent our Trader Joes and Whole Foods excursion and took Ernie to the vet instead. We're glad we did. Because our boy has himself a temp. of 105. She sent us home with Amoxil and told us to come back Tuesday if he's not any better. So really it could be anything. My personal and unprofessional opinion is either allergies or a sinus infection as his nose started oozing a little bloody mucus while he was with the vet. Tasty, I know. But this is what I'm dealing with here people. He's sleeping under the bed right now. I know this because I'm in there on my stomach every 15 minutes shining a flashlight into his squinting little eyeballs, making sure he's breathing and not paws up.

In an aside, our vet is a fruitloop. Not certifiable or anything but still... she's a wackadoo. She's terrific with animals. I mean, like freakishly good with animals. But her people skills are unique to say the least. Also, her waiting room is always filled with an awesome array of folks and their familiars. Today we saw a husband and wife who together couldn't have tipped the scales at 225, being dragged by their enormous Rhodesian Ridgeback. There was also a chocolate Lab whose fur looked exactly like a velour blanket and a wonderful older lady who had her very shy cat in a large white box with the lid being held in place by two antique cast irons. She said she uses the box for her 'felt squares'. It even had a post-it note on it that said 'felt squares'. John and I are kicking ourselves for not getting a picture.

Keep Ernie in your thoughts, ya'll.
We have a compost site. We don't actually use it for gardening or anything. We just throw our old food and grass clippings and all that mess out there and then later watch the wild critters prowl around. So obviously it's more for entertainment purposes rather than an ecologically correct sort of thing. Yesterday I cleaned out the refrigerator and then trekked my ass out to the compost with some stinking old bread and beans and celery and I get out there and I'm like, "Wait. Who the hell threw a pumpkin on my compost heap?". Cause I was almost certain that I hadn't. It took me a couple of minutes to realize that there was more than one pumpkin and that that huge plant growing in the middle of the egg shells and rotten lettuce is, you dumb ass (meaning me, of course), a pumpkin plant.

Yes. I'm a master of deduction. At any rate, we're terribly excited about our pumpkin patch.