August 22nd started out as any other day for me. A certain excitement floated around me throughout the day because I had made plans to see the Bobs (an acapella group) with some friends at the Triple Door. I borrowed Melanie’s green dress, not knowing the significance that color would have for the month of September. Before the show started, we all ordered some food and I almost lost my appetite looking at some the prices. Nearly reaching what my mother has so lovingly called the “hungry grumpy Jess” phase I decided I would go for quantity rather than quality. The phad thai seemed to be the most bang for my buck and the difference between the chicken and vegetarian was an outrageous three whole dollars. Had I known what I know now, I would have swallowed the three bucks in exchange for swallowing some delicious chicken, but enough of the shoulda, woulda, coulda’s. The food came, and it was fine. My friend Sangwa asked me if I was a vegetarian and feeling a little cheeky, I responded yes, thinking, do I look stupid? (Vegetarians, please read on… my ignorance is temporary, I promise) I then quickly amended my statement saying I was just kidding, and then expressed my love for meat. He explained how he was a vegetarian for a couple of years and once again my tongue spoke before my mind had a chance to stop it. Smugly, I replied “that doesn’t seem that hard.” I guess you could say I had to eat my words. Well after I had regrettably dismissed Sangwa’s vegetarian lifestyle, he said he didn’t think I could do it. For those of you who know me (which I am assuming all of you do, if not, hi) the quickest way to get me to do something is to tell me that I can’t. So from that point it was game on. I was challenged to be a vegetarian for the month of September. The rules were simple and the game plan was green. So on September 1st, I embarked on my vegetarian endeavor, with the support of wonderful friends like Julie Fujita who created a support group on fb (to join, simply go to my profile under “my info” and look under my groups). I must say the first week was definitely the hardest. I would wake up with bacon withdrawal headaches and sleep dreaming of chicken enchiladas. My first vegetarian lunch were three mini Hershey chocolate bars and a bite of a cookie. As you can see, my knowledge of vegetarian meals was non-existent. I then did what I am sure most vegetarians in Seattle do. I went to Trader Joes. To my delight, I discovered it is a vegetarian’s paradise! Spicy spinach pizzas, hummus, stir fry, guacamole and the thing that has kept me living for the past 18 days…. Sour cream. I would have never thought that something so condiment’ish would become such a life saver. I really have no idea why I love it so much. When I eat meals and it’s not on the table, there is hole in my heart approximately the size 16 oz plastic container. Reaching the halfway point a few days back compelled me to write a blog about the experience. For the past two weeks with the exception of an accidental toquito mishap and crab cakes at the space needle (approved), my life has been meatless. I have become accustomed to this new lifestyle, but don’t think for a second I’m not counting down to October 1st. There is a big bowl of bulgolgi waiting out there somewhere with my name on it.
The ants go marching on… August 8, 2009
You know when you hate to admit something because it connotes somethings is wrong with you? Like when you were that kid with pink eye. Obviously, as a child, it’s almost out of your control and yet were treated as the village leper. Well, I don’t have pink eye. Oh no, for the past couple of months I have had something far worse. Ants. I feel like ants are kind of like the pink eye of adult life. You can’t tell anyone about it at the time. Why? Because you are viewed as dirty, sticky and as someone who obviously hasn’t invested in a quality chip clip. You seem to lose respect when you tell people. At least, that has been my experience. If it’s not disgust, then it’s pity. Anyways, so yes, I had ants, and it was bad. Don’t worry, I don’t have them anymore so you can unlock your doors and put away the wooden stakes. But let me tell you about it…
On an insignificant day, I was folding laundry while humming along to whatever was playing on my ipod. Probably Miles Davis. Something about Miles and laundry go really well together. Anyways, while I was folding I felt a phantom hair graze my arm. Since I shed like a persian cat, I thought nothing of it. When the phantom hair started to make it’s way up my arm, I knew something wasn’t right. I looked and there was an adorable teeny weeny ant making its way up my arm. I admired its perseverance and may have even smiled before taking it and placing it next to me on my carpet. I got up thinking, no big deal. It’s just one ant. Immediately, the quote from “A Bug’s Life” raced through my mind. “IF YOU LET ONE ANT STAND UP TO YOU, THEN THEY’LL ALL STAND UP TO YOU”… I have never heard such wiser words come out of a cricket’s mouth. I stopped and turned around to kill the ant and it was gone. It was at that moment I knew I was in trouble. From then on, it was a battle between me and the ants. I’m not going to lie, there were days where I thought I was going to lose. I would think they were gone, when in reality they just retreated for a couple days and came back stronger and grew exponentially. The spray bottle of windex became my strongest ally and I knew I was never fully safe. They hid in places my human eyes couldn’t see. The ants’ intelligence rivaled mine to an embarrassing point. I would sneak around my house hunting for gatherings that I terrorize. When I would find one, I would lift the spray bottle and the ants would freeze. This is not a joke. They would literally stop moving. My only thought is that they thought by their lack of movement, I wouldn’t see them. For something with a brain the size of a overgrown molecule, I must admit, that’s pretty cunning. Like any great war, I got to know my enemies well. I started to figure out when their peak hours for production were and also tried to anticipate where they would next set up camp. As I became stronger, I noticed they would work together more as a team. I am reminded of a little ant who somehow found a miniature chocolate chip and was dragging it across the kitchen counter. I became eye level with the counter and windex in hand. When I lifted the bottle to spray, a friend came to his rescue and helped him drag the chip. I was touched by the teamwork and almost didn’t spray. Almost.
It had been a while since I had seen any type of movement from my little friends, so I considered them defeated. Well, our Waterloo was last Tuesday. I was getting ready to leave for DC and as I was leaving I saw a dark shadow pass over my kitchen counter. When I looked closer, I noticed hundreds and hundreds of ants contaminating every spot of surface. As if being woken up in the middle of the night from an ambush, I panicked. I grabbed the windex, but knew it wasn’t going to be enough. The ants wanted one thing. Total domination. I don’t remember much from that point on. I just remember spraying. I sprayed until i only saw still, black dots. After DC, I knew I had to get stronger allies. By the end, the windex only seemed to make them stronger. I went to Safeway and purchased the two kinds of traps they had in multiples. But the real treasure was the can of ant spray that dominated my windex in size and most importantly, potency. As I was driving home, I thought to myself, you wanna dance ants? Jessica can dance. It ends tonight.
I got home and set up the traps every where they set foot. Then I sprayed in their normal places for retreat like under the sink and in the corner of our bathroom. I went to bed that night feeling safer and certain that I had finally finished it. I woke up Wednesday and there was not an ant in sight. I am happy to report there hasn’t been a sighting since Tuesday night.
I must admit ants, you were a worthy opponent, but at the end of the day I’m bigger and I’m stronger.
Take ‘Em All July 22, 2009
When Mark e-mailed me saying he wanted to have our next small group party at the Sounders game, I was a bit hesitant. I can still remember learning about soccer in my 6th grade PE class and not really feeling it. Since then, my apathy for the sport has remained stagnant though the years. To be frank, I was a bit shocked that the slight change of name from Sounders to Sounders F.C. would breed such a huge following to the sport and it was something I couldn’t really understand. At all.
Well, the second we sat down on the bleachers at the Starfire Sports Center last night, I finally got it. The outdoor stadium bleachers were packed with fanatics and where there was empty space you could bet on a Sounders scarf laying there to reserve their spot. All of the things I love about normal sporting events were missing but that was just fine. No “beerman,” no guy half asleep sitting in the nosebleed section by himself, and not a single foam finger. The announcer didn’t have a big booming voice and only spoke when necessary. It was all about the soccer. No frills or fireworks. The players came out and waved to the fans clapping for us as we were clapping for them. From the moment the clock started I couldn’t take my eyes off the game. As previously stated, before last night, my knowledge of soccer extended to what I learned in 6th grade in Mr. Lakin’s class. But I understood the basic principle. Get ball into goal. When any type of foul call was made against a Sounder, the resounding sound of “booo” was everywhere with the occasional “hey stripes! Are we watching the same game!?” I loved every second though. The passion these people had inspired me. I also found the game itself exhilarating. You really can’t take your eyes off the game for a second. The Dynamo’s scored early in the first half and things were looking a bit grim with less than two minutes left in the game. The little mother in me thought, it’s okay, at least they tried their hardest and look how far they came, while the competitor in me was on the verge of tears from frustration. Multiple attempts were made at the goal, but none of them ever went in. As the game seemed to be finishing up, you could feel the desperation in the stands. At this point, everyone was on their feet and leaning forward in anticipation for a miracle. And then it happened. Goal. A sweet sweet goal was made by Nate Jaqua who spent nearly the entire game with a bandage wrapped around his head from a gash he received in the first ten minutes. Once the goal was made the only thing you could hear was screaming. No words, no pauses, just screaming. Puffs of blue and green smoke filled the air and the smell of gunpowder smelled like a comeback. Since it was the semi-final game, this meant overtime. The outdoor stadium lights exploded on the field and it was time to play. The game hadn’t been going on for that long when out of nowhere, miracle #2 and this time from Stephen King. The screaming commenced again, but not for too long. The acuity was felt from both sides. For the rest of overtime Houston couldn’t muster up enough power to score. Victory. Sweet, sweet victory was ours. It was the kind of game movies try and capture.
I can’t imagine a better soccer game in the history of soccer games, which leads me to believe I was witness to one of the greatest games in sports history.
When it’s us versus them, you can always count on me
When it’s us versus them, it’s a Sounders unity
I’m a Mac. July 16, 2009
On Friday night I had dinner and a movie with my dear friend Krysta. When I got home, I was pooped in general from a long week and I had just softly wept for a solid 90 minutes while watching My Sister’s Keeper. After getting into my jammies, I made my way over to the couch and turned Gatsby on. Gatsby is my Mac whom I’ve had since my senior year of college. I was doing my usual facebook thang, when all of a sudden, he froze. This is not unusual for him, so I did my typical swirl finger on the touch pad, spacebar twice and wait… Nothing. No worries, step two. Swirl, swirl, spacebar twice, adjust the screen back and forth and click randomly on the screen… Nothing. Still, no worries. Step three. Ctrl, apple, delete… nothing. Step four. Force shut down. So I turned him off. I turned Gatsby back on, and after waiting a few minutes the blue start-up screen was still “thinking”… I could feel the pit of panic in my stomach start to expand. Then, what all Mac users dread started blinking on my screen. A gray folder with a question mark aka the blue screen of death. I then noticed Gatsby started making this unusual ticking noise… Being the cool and collected person I am, I automatically jumped to the conclusion that someone broke into my house, hacked into Gatsby and planted a bomb inside. You think I’m just being funny, but I honestly thought my life was in danger. Well, after reasoning with the voices in my head I knew that it probably wasn’t a bomb, but most likely had something to do with my hard drive. I called Heather and told her what had happened and we both knew Gatsby was toast. Surprisingly, I wasn’t that sad once I knew he was unsalvageable. I mean, of course it saddened me to know that I lost all of my photos, music, college papers, etc. But I’ll live. Now, it was figuring out what to do with him since he was hanging onto life by a single megabyte. We made our way to the Genius Bar at the U-Village last night and I was prepared to replace him for a $700 PC. I poked around the Mac store while waiting for my turn at the bar and knew there was no way I could afford to get a new Mac, no matter how pretty and shiny they were. Barry called us up and I told him what was going on. With an empathetic look, he said “yeah… it sounds like he’s shot. You’ll need to get a new hard drive.” I started talking with God saying, okay… if it’s less than $500, then I’ll do it, but if it’s more, then I’ll just buy a new computer. I asked Barry how much it was going to cost and he said $99. I was floored. Before he could change his mind, I told him to ring me up. Then Barry said, “Oh. wait a minute… let me look something up.,,” The catch. I knew it. “Actually, the hard drive isn’t $99… it’s FREE.” Free?! Could it get any better? “Oh, and you know what… I can upgrade your hard drive to a 20 gig since your other one was smaller. I know your warranty is expired, but this was a bad hard drive, so it’s free.” I guess it can get better! Can you even believe it!? I was so happy, I could have floated out of the store. Definitely one of the highlights of my year. From this experience, my allegiance will now forever be to Macs. Moral of the story: God is faithful. Lately I have been stressed about money and when Gatsby died, I was like “really God?… really?” But of course, God was faithful… like always.
The verdict. July 2, 2009
I woke up one day a couple months back and felt like something was missing. This wasn’t a did I forget to eat last night (we’ve all had that feeling), it was more like this thing I’ve always had inside of me was missing. For a while, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I don’t usually get these feelings. I am usually very aware of how I’m feeling and identifying what’s wrong… sometimes to a fault. Anyways, I shrugged it off and went about the day.
This feeling of emptiness became more ubiquitous as the days went on and then one day someone asked me if I was excited about grad school. Problem located. I realized the thing that was missing was my desire to go to grad school and become a teacher. (I have wanted to be a teacher since fifth grade) Naturally, I assumed it was a phase, ignored the feelings and responded that I was very excited about grad school and couldn’t wait to teach. These feelings started surfacing in everything I would do. I would eat a sandwich and think, I like sandwiches. Speaking of sandwiches, do I really want to go to grad school? Well, I started praying about it and the mild feelings of emptiness started to grow into something a bit more serious. I started to slowly tell people close to me and after the initial shock, not going to grad school seemed to make more and more sense. I then decided to tell my mom which terrified me. The approval of my parents has driven many of the decisions I have made in my life. They have always been huge advocates for higher education, and have pushed my siblings and I academically. However, to my complete shock, the madre was also extremely supportive which made me even more confused. I also made a mental pros and cons list of becoming a teacher. Once I realized the cons far outweighed the pros, I felt very stuck. I started to diligently pray about it and wasn’t really receiving a red or green light from God. Well then my dear friend Christina prayed for me while I was at a church conference in Carbondale, IL and as she prayed for clarity I thought this was an opportune time to ask God His thoughts on grad school again. This time I could clearly hear God say “don’t go.” I knew there was just one last thing to do. I had to run it by my small group leader Mark and his wife Heather. Mark is an amazing guy and happens to be married to my best friend Heather. The chat was great and they were both very supportive of my decision. So, no grad school for Jess.
Well, that’s that. For the first time since fifth grade, I don’t know what I want to do with my life. Isn’t it exciting?
Chicken for One June 5, 2009
This week I was reminded of my singleness from an unexpected source. It was a roasted chicken from Costco that was graciously given to me on Sunday after the Blue Sky Anniversary Party. I was so excited to have this FREE, bountiful and plump bird that the possible ramifications never crossed my mind. Here is the breakdown:
Sunday lunch: Chicken and fried rice
Sunday dinner: Chicken, fried rice, and baked beans
Monday lunch: Chicken sandwich and Scrabble Cheez-its.
Monday dinner: Chicken and fried rice
Tuesday lunch: Chicken sandwich and Scrabble Cheez-its
Tuesday dinner: Ice cream
Wednesday lunch: Chicken sandwich and Scrabble Cheez-its
Wednesday dinner: Chicken pesto with pasta… and Scrabble Cheez-its
Thursday lunch: Chicken pesto with pasta
Thursday dinner: Chicken Quesadilla
Friday Lunch: Chicken Quesadilla
Friday Dinner: Most likely Chicken Quesadilla
Do you see a theme? If you’ve ever wondered how many meals you can make out of one roasted chicken I have the answer. Twelve. I know you think I counted wrong, but even after tonight’s dinner, I will still have a left over quesadilla. That’s right. TWELVE meals involving roasted chicken. I am very much a creature of habit, but once Thursday hit, I thought if I have to eat one more chicken sandwich with scrabble cheez-its I might cry. The worst part was I couldn’t take a break. Chicken doesn’t last forever, so it’s been a marathon of chicken all week to make sure none of it goes to waste.
As far as the Scrabble Cheez-its, I take full responsibility for this. They too have gotten to the point that when I eat them, I no longer taste the salty goodness they once provided me, but it now has no taste and now solely provides additional substance to my meal. Unfortunately, my love for Scrabble keeps me coming back. I mean, what other snack can you form words and total the points system at the end of your meal? It’s also rather extra-ordinary since the Cheez-its tile distribution is completely skewed, so it’s fun to have a surplus amount of letters I wouldn’t normally have. Anyways, sorry, random tangent. Back to the chicken! I write merely to warn other singles who like free food. The next time someone offers you a free roasted chicken, make sure you completely think it through before saying yes to the deliciously deceiving bird.
Field Trip March 23, 2009
**Okay, so I wrote this blog back in December maybe and just never got around to publishing it. I was 90% finished and then my dad had a stroke the following day, so things were put on hold. So, sorry if it sounds a bit incomplete. I just needed to get this out of my drafts so I can start with something fresh and new!**
Hello all. You may think that my tone sounds different. Ah yes, that’s because I am not writing to you from my usual location wedged in between my couch cushions with the TV softly chattering in the background. Where I sit, the clicking of my computer keys are muted by the loud Jazz music and screaming coffee grinder. That’s right, I am at Starbucks. I know what you’re thinking. Hypocrite. For those of you who are new, in my last blog, I said when you visit Seattle, Starbucks is a place you should avoid. Well, I am not a visitor, now am I? I said you should avoid Tully’s and Starbucks because, well frankly, there’s better coffee in Seattle. And truly, there is much better coffee out there. However, the second reason I forgot to mention. The other reason is because Starbucks is usually where I hang out and I don’t want tourists hanging around taking pictures in front of the Top Pot Donuts and taking over 5 minutes to order their drink when you know their just going to get a caramel frappacino because it comes with whip cream that you can slurp with your straw. Am I right? There’s something about Starbucks I really enjoy. I think we have a lot in common actually. If Starbucks were personified, I think it would be a lot like me- extroverted, a bit loud, friendly and sometimes a little over the top. Or am I like Starbucks? Similar to Starbucks, I can be quiet, meditative and sometimes a bit boring. I close at around 10:30 for bed and mornings seem to be my most productive hours. I accept all sorts of people and some people may not like me at first, but like Starbucks, I’m everywhere so they get used to it. And there’s something comforting about Starbucks. You know wherever you go, it’s always there. I hope people see me like that. Anywho, moving on. Ok, confession… So, I should be studying for the GRE that is rapidly nipping at my heals, but here I am. Blogging. I have a legitamate excuse though. I brought my GRE prep cd, but apparently, the GRE doesn’t think people with Macs need to study for the GRE. So here I am people watching. Speaking of which, the last few times I have been at Starbucks, I have been witness to random blind dates. In all instances the guy was always the first to arrive. This may sound strange, but you can actually spot them. You know, that one guy with the loafers, ironed jeans, button up shirt, waiting anxiously with his cup off coffee that he sips slowly so he won’t be finished by the time she gets there. He keeps his jacket on, just in case she no shows and schizophrenically glances at every person that walks through the door. Just as he thinks he has been Punk’ed, like a warm breeze she arrives. She quickly glances around Starbucks for her date… brown hair, 6’2’’ and will have Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment on the table. Finally, she spots him, they shake hands and she apologizes for being late, and he says oh, it’s fine he also just got there. Liar. As I type, there is a man and women sitting in front of me shamelessly flirting with each other. It’s definitely a first date, all the classic signs are there. Man there first- check. Can smell his cologne from here- check. She arrives 20 minutes later- check. They shake hands- check. She playfully pushes his shoulder, I am sure saying something to the effect of “oh stop, you big strong brute” while her eyes are saying please never leave my side. Now he is looking pretty serious. Umm… they just kissed. Wow. Oh wait! And now they are leaving! Wait, is it creepy that I am typing their every move? I think pathetic would be the more appropriate word in this case. Okay, I know this is a bit of a tangent, but this is precisely why the world needs English majors… Someone has to tell your story.
The Seattle Freeze? December 27, 2008
Have you ever heard of the Seattle Freeze? Hmm… how to explain. I know, I will use a hypothetical situation. Let’s meet Larry. Hi Larry! Larry came to the Emerald City on vacation to make the pilgrimage to the Folk Life Festival and who knows, maybe even find a little hippie love. While on the plane he met this all too good to be true female named Beatrice and they hit it off instantly. Beatrice is a Seattle native and she told him about all of the local spots he needed to hit and the spots to miss. Spots to hit: the Troll, any coffee shop besides Tully’s and Starbucks, the flower shops at Pike Place Market and the water, any body of water really, they’re all great. Spots to miss: the space needle, the Seattle Duck, any Starbucks or Tully’s and the Super Mall. Anyways, Larry had found it a bit saddening that Beatrice hadn’t offered her services as a tour guide since she appeared to be such a pundit of Seattle. In any case, Larry was just excited to know that when his plane would touch the Sea-Tac tarmac he already had a friend. When the plane landed, Larry and Beatrice parted with a very hopeful goodbye. Larry didn’t want to seem too forward in getting her information so he casually looked at her luggage tag and committed it to memory so he could stalk her on facebook. Before the festivities of the festival, Larry decided he would try out a coffee shop at Beatrice’s suggestion. He found himself at Cafe Ladro on Queen Ann and was just about to order a super cool and hip “mocha” (Larry is from Milwaukee) when be still his heart, he saw Beatrice walk in with a group of friends. Before Larry knew it, both of his arms shot up in the air and he ran over towards her. This is when it starts to get a little cold boys and girls. When Larry had finally made his way over to Beatrice, his arms were up in the air from his excitement, but hers were crossed. He was beaming and the best she could do was slightly raise the corner of her lip. Larry tried to recreate moments on the plane by saying the exact same things in the exact same tone with the exact same expressions, but Beatrice just looked at him with a cordial smile. Before Larry could even ask what their plans were for the day and if he could possibly maybe join in, Beatrice looked at her wrist where her watch should have been and said she and her friends had to go. The conversation ended with a not so hopeful goodbye, and like sheep in a herd, Beatrice and her friends shoved their way through the door. Larry didn’t know it at the time, but he, like so many before him had just fallen victim to the Seattle Freeze.
Given the recent change in weather, I feel it very appropriate to talk about the Seattle Freeze. It saddens me to think this sort of thing actually happens, but I have met a few Beatrice’s and even more Larry’s, and I hate to even think that I, Jessica Jee Spencer might even have been Beatrice a time or two. What is it about us Seattle-ites that make us behave in such a manner? Why hot, then cold? I know it wasn’t my upbringing and I am sure it wasn’t yours either. My parents are the antifreeze of Seattle. Once you make contact with them, you are friends for life. My dad cracks the jokes and my mom remembers tiny details that you sometimes forget about yourself. I like to think through osmosis I have inherited some of these traits, but it’s the longevity that concerns me. Could the Freeze be something innate in certain types of people? Or could it actually be attributed to the cold weather which makes us closed off? I think for me it’s a combination of things. Let me break it down for you. My life is like a cell and I am the nucleus. There are things in the cell that have different functions. The primary part in my cell is God, because without that Part, all other functions would undoubtedly fail. Other functions include family, friends, food, work, praying, sleeping, studying, scrapbooking, etc. All of these have found a way to co-exist quite harmoniously so you can imagine that my cell becomes fearful when foreign objects try and break the membrane of my cell and infect it. It could be a good infection like the flu vaccination (ie new places, friends, jobs), but why risk it when everything is such a well oiled machine, right? This is how I contribute to the Seattle Freeze. I think we all have our own cells, it’s just that some of our membranes happen to be a little bit thicker than others. Fortunately, I have inadvertently surrounded myself with people who have thinner membranes than me which has pushed me to slowly (I emphasize slowly) peel off some of the outer layers to my cell. Like everything in life though, I am a working progress.
Food for thought: Perhaps if we all shed off a few layers of our cells, then maybe Seattle would be a warmer place to live.
Hello world! August 28, 2008
I have started a blog. I have weebled and wobbled about starting a blog(but haven’t fallen down). I read in a magazine somewhere that Blogs are the new sexy and diaries have been dropped like the VHS. So, here I am with my Mac in hand wanting to be a part of this seductive trend. I just wish someone had told me I had to actually write something.
I always seem to get writers block the second I sit down to write. Does that ever happen to you? All day long the only thing you can think of doing is journaling (or now blogging) and you prepare your day so you can. Your day is filled with ah-ha moments and you think of amazing things to write about. Your friends say something funny and you think “gah, must remember that for my blog tonight.” You clear your evening of plans and put in a movie that you have seen a 108 times for background noise. Sit down with laptop on lap and a libation to the right, take a deep breath and then…. nothing. How can this be? You missed scrabble night with the girls to blog. You pain stakingly type, letter by letter, a few sentences here and there, but instantly delete them because you know your own mother wouldn’t even want to read it. So you end up taking “a break” put the laptop to the side and watch Dodgeball for the 109th time. Wake up just in time to see the credits end, close you laptop and go to bed. This has never happened to me, I am just speaking hypothetically.
Moving on, let me tell you a little about myself. My name is Jessica Spencer. Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you. I was born April 18th, 1984. I work at Seattle Children’s Hopsital during the day and then as a part time dj at Seattle night clubs. Ok, so maybe that last part isn’t true, but wouldn’t that be fun? Anyways, I love to spend most of my time with my family or friends. I stress most of the time. Sometimes I need a morning like this to just breath and listen to nothing except the sound of my fingers lightly pressing on the keys.
I usually go home every weekend to see my parents Ted and Dawn. I know what you’re thinking. Every weekend? Wow Jessica, that’s pretty intense. Well, I started doing this a couple of years ago when my mom got sick and have been doing it ever since. I know I won’t be able to do it forever, so for now I will do it as much as I can. When I am with my parents we usually go out to eat, I help pick up some things around the house and then we watch a movie. My mom and I will usually go for a drive and just talk about the goings on in our lives. These are my favorite. My mom is lovely, but I will save details on her for another blog. We usually come back from our drive to find my dad in the kitchen making pasta. It’s always pasta. He went through a salsa phase for a while, but now it’s back to pasta. I usually try to take a few moments outside and smell the Sumner air. I am big on smells. I try to take a mental picture of how my parents look, the look of my house and Corky, the dog, my parents fifth child. I know it sounds a bit morbid, but you never know when it will be your last time seeing something or someone, so you might as well have the most recent photo of them in your head, right?
When Saturday evening or Sunday morning rolls around, I say goodbye to Ted, Dawn and Corky and head back up to Seattle. Oh, I live in Seattle, I don’t know if I have mentioned that. When I am in Seattle, I am with friends. I cherish my friends. On Tuesday nights I have small group and usually try to hang out with Jackie and Alana at some point during the week. I go to church on Sunday and volunteer at the Blue Sky Bookstore. Don’t look, if you aren’t going to buy anything. I usually heckle customers and try to get them to buy bookmarks for five dollars, even though they are usually free. Surprisingly, I haven’t made that many sales.
I try and spend time with God, but not as much as I should. But then again, if I spent every waking moment with God, it still wouldn’t be enough. I am sure God will make His way in every blog just like He does in my life. As much as I joke, God is my foundation. Each day He and I talk, and I continue to try and listen to what He has to tell me. 99% of the time I fail, and there is a disconnect on my part, but that 1% where I actually follow through and listen is pretty phenomenal.
I hope you found this blog sexy and to your liking. Well now you know everything about me. Or do you? No, there is more I promise, so stay tuned. I think I will start a segmant on my family. Yes, I think that’s exactly what I’ll do.
To be continued…
