WBOD...February 25...

Write about a tattoo
I've gone back and forth for years about whether I wanted a tattoo or not. This is something that is permanatly inked onto your body for all eternity. I knew whatever I got I wanted something with meaning. I've tossed around the idea of getting the comedy/tragedy sign on me since theater is such a big part of my life. I've thought about getting the original Lewis Carroll Cheshire Cat since I've loved that story since I was a little girl. Then I read and researched the Pisces Dragon. I definatly have the Pisces characteristics, but there was always another part of me that was different, that was more fierce then just the Pisces girl. I studied Chinese Astrology and realized there was the other side of me - The Dragon. Thats what I wanted. I wanted a Dragon holding a Pisces symbol. Its me. The Pisces side - the dreamer, the romantic, the sensative girl as well as The Dragon - the firey, hot tempered, driven girl. Perfect.

Of course I tend to be a bit of a procrastinator (hello Pisces) and took a while to get around to it. My 30th birthday was coming up and my brother who is a walking coloring board - got bit by the tattoo bug years ago wanted to get my very 1st tattoo for my 30th birthday present. This was perfect. My brother whom I love so dearly, a birthday that is a somewhat of a stepping stone, a tattoo I've wanted for some time now...perfect.

Not long after turning 30, my brother made and appointment with his regular artist to ink up his sister, get some work done himself, and brought along another friend to have work done on a current piece he has. Me and the 2 boys headed down to Seal Beach one balmy July afternoon.

We roll into this hole in the wall tattoo parlor and I start flipping through the different drawings of dragons. I had decided on my lower back, just a small piece. The sound of the buzzing as some fellow was getting inked before me. I flipped through the book, butterflies starting to flutter around in my stomach at the unknown. Jason came over and asked what I thought - I showed him a few options and explained what I wanted. "Hmmmmm" he pondered. "Let me draw up another idea". I watched as he whipped out a thin piece of paper and in about 10 minutes drew up this beautiful circular Dragon holding the Pisces symbol in the middle. "See, the circular looks less like tramp stamp" (lovely I thought). "Its a little bigger then I was thinking" I mumbled. (Actually it was about 4 times the size I was thinking) "Come J! Go big or go home!" My brother shouted excitedly. "Your a McCoy!". "Alright!". My palms started to sweat.

We all sat outside for a while chatting and what not. "Ummm..How many beers is that Jason? Your inking me up here in a minute" I pointed out a bit wary. "Its all good!" he said. Jesus, I thought to myself. "Lets do this!" he said. We went back inside, and he had me straddle a chair backwards and lift up my shirt. He started. Shane and Ryan watched with anticipation the first jab I took from the ink gun. It actually wasnt bad. Somewhat uncomfortable but not painful. He continued on. "Thats right!" Shane shouted! "She takes it like a McCoy!". There were a few spots I jumped on...the spine, the very lower back that were a little painful, but still not so bad. This is nothing, I thought. An hour later he stopped. "Ok, lets take a break and we'll finish up". We all stepped outside for a cig and Shane warned me the shading will sting a bit more then the lining. Whatever I thought - this is nothing!! So we head back inside, and he starts in again. At this time now, there's another fellow getting his calf done, and I'm watching the blood trickle down his leg. Interesting. YOWWWWZEER!!!!! Jason has begun again and HOLY HELL!!!! this hurts! Slayer is playing in the background and I think Jason is shading to the beat. I'm not gonna cry. I grip the chair tighter and tighter. Explicitives start rolling out of my mouth, but no tears. Buzz, wipe, buzz, wipe, buzz, wipe. "What are you wiping?" I ask. "The blood" Jason responds. Wonderful. Buzz, wipe, buzz, wipe - this goes on for another hour. I'm watching the clock...tick...tick..tick. Throughout the process random people are walking in and marveling at the job Jason is doing carving into my back. Everytime Shane puffs up and says "This is my sister's 1st tattoo!!! I got it for her birthday!". Every f-ing person responds "Wow! Go big or go home!". I'm thinking this is the tattoo phrase for the day. WTF. Buzz, wipe, buzz, wipe. I'm dying. No tears. Shane and Ryan are throwing words of encouragement every now and again, but I'm just gripping the shit out of that chair and watching the blood drip down my other victims leg. Good GAWD. Jason stops, I start to get up. "No, no I'm just gonna do a little highlighting" he says. "I'm good! Fuck the highlights!". "3 minutes" he promises. I sit back down and watch every single second of those 3 minutes.
Finally
Done.
He puts some balm on and tells me to keep my shirt lifted. I step back as he starts to work on Ryan - WHO CRIES! (He was getting some crazy work done on his side) I'm so glad he went after me. A few days after it felt like a bad sunburn just as my bro had warned and I did have some knarly bruises on my thighs and arms from gripping the shit out of the chair. I healed perfectly, and no touch ups needed.
I have to admit - it wasnt nearly as bad as I thought, and was probably one of the best bonding moments I've had with my brother. Now I have a beautiful original piece on my lower back that still gets compliments and admiration and means so much to me.
I may still get my comedy/trajedy but dont worry folks...I have not been bitten. No more then 2 for Miss Jami.

WBOD...February 16..

Someone gave you flowers

Hm.
This doesnt happen very often in the life of a single girl. I do love flowers though. I actually usually buy them for myself. Gerber Daisies are my favorite. They are such happy flowers. Bright colors and fun. In fact I bought myself some darling little orange Gerber Daisies for Vday. Threw the pennies in the vase (Did you know the copper from pennies helps keep your flowers upright?) They are still smiling at me when I walk out my bedroom door.

I remember a time in Laguna Beach with some friends in college. It was me and 3 boys. We had a rowdy night of drinking the night before and the 4 of us who crashed in Laguna Beach got up early the next morning for some coffee to soften our hangovers. The smell of the ocean filled up our souls as we walked down the the main downtown hub bub area. God, how I love Laguna. We all got our coffees and perched on a bench watching the waves roll in under a gray sky silently. So lovely. As we started to wander back to the house I saw a flower stand across the street. I darted across the street and purchased 4 Gerber Daisies each a different color and gave one to each boy and kept one for myself. We all laughed. It was a good day.

One year, it may have been my 30th. I had 2 separate bouquets delivered to my work. All my co-workers oooo'd and aaahhh'd. Are they from a man?? Are they from a lover??? "They are from 2 of my favorite men" My dad and my brother.

Flowers make a person smile. It doesnt matter if your a romantic or not. They brighten you day. :)

WBOD February 8...

Write about a river...

Lazy summer heat beatin down; beads of sweat drip drip drip; raft bobbin up and down like a lazy sexual romp; cruisin down the river. Chilly water tickling at my legs danglin over the side tap dancing along the surface. I reach for my mini keg of Madres. Sweet nector laced with the faint hints of vodka and rum, so delicious trickling down my throat. Sigh. The crystal blue sky winks at me through the blazing heat as I float on down. Laughter fills the air, the sounds of splashing and shouting. I lazily wave to my compadres as I float float on down. The drooping trees reach over as far as they can grazing the very tip of the water as if they can just touch a little bit of cool refreshing taste to bring down the heat. Float float float. I light a cig, my friend dangling off my lips I watch the lazy circles swirl up over my head. Ahhhh another sip of Madres. My cowboy hat tilts forward shading the sun from my sunglassed eyes..sweat, sweat. Ahhhhh the sweet heat of the summer blaze, floatin floatin down the river.

Love...

So as I was writing my last blog I started in about love.
For a long time I thought I was incapable of love. I had realized I was never truly in love with my ex husband. I see these people fall in love all the time, and I started to wonder....can I love? I joke that I have no soul, and that I'm dead inside (its ok...its funny when used) but I was starting to worry that maybe that was true.
Well. Its not. I've just never been in love with a man I dated/married/was involved with..etc.
But I do know what love feels like.
Writing my last blog was proof of that as I fought through tears to write it. Love is when you love someone so much it hurts. At least this is my defanition. I do truly love my family and some of my closest friends. Love so very much. When they hurt, I hurt. When someone hurts them - watch the fuck out - I will make you regret the day you ever hurt someone I love. (Yes, there's a little of the feisty Irish in me). But its true.
You can love the furry companions as well. Whenever I talk about those awful days I lost my precious Panther and Gizmo I still tear up...and its years later. Now when my little fuzzballs look into my eyes - my heart pangs with love.
I wish sometimes love didnt hurt so much. But I think thats part of it. Its raw. Its a true feeling from deep down in your soul. Love. Its real. Its not hearts and music and fluffy and pink - its real. Truly so real. And I'll repeat - raw.
I love it. I really do hope that I can find that kind of love in a relationship someday. Maybe I wont. I dont know. But I certainly wont ever settle for less than that.
I'm a very lucky person to have so many people in my life that I love so much. My mom. My dad. My brother. My grandparents. My girlfriends - you know who you are - who love me for who I am no matter what, who are there for me and who I would do anything for.
That raw love. There's nothing like it.

Papa...

This past Thursday night we celebrated my Papa's 95th birthday.
I love my Papa so much. So much, that I'm writing a separate blog on love (I just deleted the love tangent I started on), because this one is for Papa.
My Papa is an amazing man. You may think I'm bias because he's my grandfather, but its true. The way people talk about my Papa, the things they say, the respect they have for him, the admiration, the love - you know he's touched so many people throughout his life.
He's 95. My heart breaks, and it tears me up inside to watch him battle these late years of life. Papa was always the strongest man I knew, and will always be. No one can touch him. He would paint his entire house, on his own. He did everything and would fight you off if you tried to help.
He changed alot in the Fire house when he served as a captain of the Santa Ana Fire Department. No one crossed "Woody's" path. NO one. When I took Papa to the 125th anniversary of the SAFD, you could see his eyes light up like a little kid. "I drove this across country" he said proudly, pointing to an old fire engine called a drill something. The people that knew my Papa or actually worked with him came up and said hello, and passed on thier admiration for him. They even had him stand up when they talked of one of the old skool boys and he waved modestly.
When I was a little girl, I was told I was Papa's girl. I'd jump in his lap, I'd follow him around, I always wanted to be with Papa. There's a photo my dad showed me once - Mom and dad are walking in the back - Mom holding Shane (he must have been 1), in the front is Papa walking his usual quick stride and right in the middle is me about 3 years old chasing after Papa. Dad told me once "Thats how it always was, you had to be with Papa. You'd run after him - 'Papa! Papa! Papa!'".
I've never met a man like my Papa, and I dont think anyone will ever be that way. He's so loyal, so stalwart, so strong and loves my grandma more then anything. I've never seen a love as strong as the two of them have.
Watching my Papa struggle these past few years have hurt me more then I ever want to admit. In fact, getting through this damn blog is hard. I think its because I'm scared. I'm scared to lose him. I dont know how I'm going to handle losing a man I love so dearly. His last stroke he had took its toll. His driving privlages have been taken away and that in itself almost killed him. He shuffles when he walks and argues with us he doesnt need a cane. I watch him get so frustrated when he's gets confused, or physcially has an issue with something. It tears me up, because I know I'll be the same way. Watching the man of steel struggle is probably the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with in my life.
But I will not end this on a sad note, but I wanted to just put it out there because as much as some people know how much I love my Papa, I'm not sure if people are aware HOW MUCH.
Papa has had an amazing life. Like I mentioned before, the amount of people he has touched is fascinating. He showed me an old picture the other day, of when he was young (maybe 20's?). He was so handsome! "This was a princess" he said of the little girl in the photo with him. Behind the photo was a newspaper clipping of this little girl. She was a princess. Some daughter of an King of India or something. I guess she stayed next door to my grandparents for a while and would visit. I looked up from the picture and saw that twinkle in Papa's eyes I love so much. The same twinkle you see in the picture.
He's a gentleman. Probably the most chivalris man I know. Always opens doors for the ladies, pulls your chair out, etc. He always tends to Grandma first. He doesnt understand sometimes men who arent like this. It cracks me up.
Papa also has a killer wit. I sometimes think he's using his age as an advantage...prentending he doesnt here or is paying attention when a bunch of people are talking, then will throw out a zinger of a one-liner usually bringing the room to silence then erupting into laughter.
He's fascinated by technology now. I show him pictures on my little sure shot digital camera and he cant get over how all the pictures fit in that little thing. He still cant grasp we can pretty much get anything he needs right off the internet. For his birthday this year, mom and I got him a digital picture frame. Both he and Grandma were thrilled and couldnt get over of course how it all worked.
I love my Papa. I love him so much. The man of steel.

WBOD February 2nd...

Write about a kiss

Wow.
A Kiss.
I am a big fan of kissing. Seriously - bad kisser is a deal breaker. Kissing is where my romantic side comes out. I looooooove a good kiss. I love to watch a good kiss. In fact after I write my entry I'm going to attempt to post some of my favorite kiss pictures.

My first real kiss.
He was the boy I crushed on who lived right around the corner. He and I and some of our friends were always causing trouble. He'd hop over the fence into my backyard and scare us. He was so dreamy. We were walking around the corner towards his house one late summer night. He stopped and turned me towards him and we french kissed. Oh my God!! My first french kiss! It was so strange and foreign. My body got warm and I felt a slight wave of dizziness rush over me. I french kissed a boy!!! He pulled back and smiled. "Your a great kisser". I felt my face burn. We kissed again and parted ways. As I walked home I felt so strange, so different, so grown up! I french kissed a boy.

I of course could right paragraph after paragraph of different kisses. Kissing is one of my favorite things if you havent gotten that already. I'll try to highlight some of my 1st kisses with some boys that stick in my memory because, yes, kissing...ahhhhhh kissing.

I was standing outside the bar smoking a cig. He had walked away to take a phone call from his mom, sheepishly laughing at my gentle teasing. I leaned against the window, as he walked back towards me with that huge sheepish grin that I adored so much, he walked straight up put his hands around my waist and pulled me close. Kiss. A wonderful kisser. We stopped due to friends walking out of the bar giggling in our direction.

He walked me to my car. We had just met and had flirted all evening. I opened my door and tossed my purse inside - I turned to give him a hug goodnight and he came in for a kiss. Another lovely kisser. We kissed for a bit, I smiled. He fell back against the car parked next to me and sighed dreamily. I blushed. "You know how to kiss" he said with a darling smile. As I drove away he put his hand on his heart and gave me a smile.

We stood in the structure awkwardly. "I hate this part" he said. I laughed. "Ok, so I'm just going to kiss you now is that ok?" I laughed again, "Of course"

I was standing in the kitchen, battling a brita. He came in, smiled that smile and leaned in. The brita in one hand, my other around his neck. I felt his hand on my lower back and wanted to melt. Ooooh another good kisser.

There is so much in a kiss. It can be so many different things. A kiss is romantic, sweet, anxious, needs, wants, its the start. The touch. The feeling that overcomes you when his lips touch yours. If its bad, its ruined. But oh if its good....if its good it can make you forget you are. You can get lost in the moment of that single kiss. The look in his eyes as he leans in, the way he moves, the way he tastes, that need behind it. The smile when you part and get lost in each others eyes. Ahhhh the kiss. I must be a good kisser because I love it so damn much.