As I’ve mentioned in e-mails to a couple of you lately, how can you be sure who Jannie Funster really is? Or if I even exist at all?
Am I actually an 89-year-old man living in a drafty hut with 17 cats in Eastern Mongolia? Or a former champion mig welder putting myself through the University of Nevada law school by working part-time as a Cirque de Soleil contortionist? Could I be a spy with a penchant for munching raw carrots while flinging my bra in the moonlight, who couldn’t sing a note (let alone write a song,) if my double agent life depended on it? (Darn, I swore I wouldn’t mention the word “bra” in a post again for at least a week. Whoops.)
But … here’s your chance to know The Real Jannie. Ask me anything you’d like about me. Anything! Serious or silly, I will answer all queries to the best of my knowledge and my somewhat limited intellectual abilitites.
Fire away!
— Jannie. (Or am I?)
Blogging, Kelp Knitting | Posted by Jannie on 13 November 2008 @ 4:02 PM
Before I get into Thursdays… these “Carpool Kids” photos I took last Wednesday really, in my very humble opinion, seem to pop when enlarged. And I think the top of a post is a great spot to slide in a photo for maxium impact and blog promotion, don’t you?
And Bloggers, if you have any articles or posts about photos in posts, please feel free to leave said links in my comments, thanks.
THURSDAYS! I already love Thursdays because Kelly stays for afterschool, which she loves, and allows me another 2 1/2 hours to knit those kelp ball gowns and dance with my dog.
But, brace yourself (with an underwire bra, sideways,) ’cause it gets even better! Starting next week Sarah’s mom will drive Kelly to school on Thursday mornings! (She used to do Friday pick-up.)
Thursdays! 8:00 a.m to until 4:50 p.m entirely for ME !!!
But, please don’t hate me for being spoiled – remember, this is my hair in the morning.
Plus, I deserve a whole day for me, right? And I will be working of course, on songs and stuff.
And taking a 45-min bath.
I am curious… What is YOUR favorite day(s,) of the week and why?
When I think of Madlibs I think of Karen R. whom I met in 7th grade. And when I think of Karen R. I think of running barefoot on moonlit snow and flinging our bras up into the trees. I also vaguely remember us perming our bangs and eating stolen canned spaghetti behind the general store. [Edit: I should metion that Karen R. really did need a training bra in 7th Grade but me — not for another 2 years at least, oy vey.]
Ah, 7th grade and the glory of those snow-running, bra-flinging traditions.
Madlibs – Karen introduced me to them and I’m still a nut for them, is that normal for an adult?
Below is one I did not too long ago.
Hamlet’s 3rd Soliloquy, part one
(And I hate the double-spacing but it and this still-bolded font will have to do until I learn how to whoop some more Wordpress buttock. So here goes.)
To flounce or not to flounce, – that is the alcohol:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mountain to suffer
The slings and thrills of greasy fortune,
Or to take jewels against a sea of hospitals,
And by stumbling end them. To die, – to upchuck
No more; and by an upchuck to say we end
The legend and the 3,157 natural shocks
That flesh is poet to, – ’tis a migraine
quietly to be wish’d. To die, – to upchuck, –
To upchuck! perchance to haunt! ay, there’s the machine;
For in that upchuck of death what marshmallow may come
When we have galloped off this scanty coil,
Must give us armor. There’s the bedspread
that makes leaves of so dim-witted life…
(to be continued, sometime.)
Friends | Posted by Jannie on 10 November 2008 @ 9:43 AM
My sister and cousin never knew that the cold and windy fall day nine years ago I went out alone “for fresh air” in the fields behind the barn (if they remember at all,) it wasn’t really allergies making my eyes so red when I returned. It was from bawling them out while I was gone because there they were with their beautiful babies and their talk of whose angel was starting to hold her head up and whose was starting to take steps alone and hold a spoon by himself. And there was I after my 3rd miscarriage and various procedures to correct my uterus and try to repair the damage to my pelvis done by endometriosis, damage I didn’t even know I had until my infertility heartbreak began.
Endometriosis sucks. It’s painful often to the point of curled-up-in-bed-fetally debilitation. It can mess with fertility. Mess with life. And all too often is marginalized or dismissed by doctors. And mostly misunderstood and incorrectly covered in the media.
BUT… my pal Jeanne at her Endo Blog is spearheading a petition you can sign (takes 2 MINS OR LESS TO FILL OUT) to spread awareness and FACTS about endometriosis. She’s submitting it with a letter to Oprah and The View. So please help if you can. Every signature counts!
Friends | Posted by Jannie on 9 November 2008 @ 9:10 AM
Sure, we could go ’round and ’round forever on whether I was really the axe wielding nut and she in need of the restraining order, or vice versa but that’s all water under the bridge now, right? All mended bones, patched eyeballs and such. What really matters is you’re probably gonna fall in love too with the art and spirit of Miss Renee “Stinky Swanson” Ragtree of Funky and Folky Sculpture !
Her carolers above are one-offs conceived, designed and hand-crafted by this gal who not only continually leaves me in awe of her creative art but keeps me laughing with her blog’s kooky commentary.
Plus, anyone with bangs as freakish as mine has to be a new BFF, right?
