My name is Jessica or Jess or JB or UPS or even booshy, depending on when you knew me and who you are. I live in Denver, Colorado and I’d really like to find some kind of major revenue stream to keep Tim and I here for ever and ever, Amen.
I should clarify: A legal revenue stream.
I’m married to my math-friendly and Duke basketball crazy husband, Tim. He’s a Yankee from Upstate New York who somehow ended up in Georgia just long enough to meet me (or so he says). There is good news, however. We met. We married. We moved away from the dreaded heat and humidity that engulfs Georgia for nine months out of the year.
We have three rescue cats – Alegre, Gracie and Chloe – better known as “the girls” and paid a hefty sum for Maddie, a purebred golden retriever who now believes she is a cat, thanks to her examples.
We tried to teach Maddie how to be a dog by getting another one, a chocolate lab, Alexis – “Lexi” – but I don’t think it’s working.
We now have five cats. Two of which also bark. Quite remarkable, really.
Tim is currently keeping the testosterone flowing in the house. It’s a losing battle that he’s accepted as “life.”
In my past life I played a lot of basketball. Varsity in high school, AAU in the summer and then college. It was all I knew.
Fresh out of high school, I ventured down to LaGrange College in the Southwestern part of Georgia. Granted, I was actually accepted and invited to attend…they said I could play basketball there, so I said why not? I walked in and was handed jersey #23 – because my high school number #22 was taken – earned my spot as a starter, figured out I liked to learn about people and walked out three years later an All-American with 1000+ points, 500+ rebounds, the nickname of UPS because “I delivered” on the basketball court, a degree in Psychology and no idea what I wanted to do.
I met Tim seven months later. I was jobless and living with my dad. I landed a position with a test preparation company soon after Tim and I started dating, which temporarily got me into an apartment. I quit that job a few months before Tim and I got engaged. I decided that driving two hours to and from work was too much.
My sanity was more important.
I moved in with Tim. I ran a marathon. I got a new job in education. We got married (Tim and I, not education and I).
I decided I wanted to write a book…and what a joke that was. I wasn’t ready, so I started this blog.
Still no book.
I ran another marathon. This time with Tim. In Hawaii. Long story short: it was hot. And long.
After we hit the “we’ve been married for one year!” mark, people started asking us when a tiny human would grace my womb. All we can say to that is: not yet. Yes. Still. Not yet. NOT. YET.
Basketball is now a distant memory. I run now. I mean, not all the time and not like, fast or anything, but I consider myself somewhat of a runner.
Tim and I run the Peachtree Road Race together every year. It’s our tradition because it was Tim’s first-ever-in-his-life 10k race. I suppose you can’t get much better than 55,000 people in Atlanta in July.
My blog is about me and Tim and our fur-kids. Our life is really just beginning and things will only become more interesting and more complicated…I mean, we just moved and everything is brand spankin’ new. I said more interesting. Done. And complicated? Definitely.
“Exploring” has a new definition in this home. It’s called Hopelessly Lost
I love it when my muscles are sore because it makes me feel accomplished.
I love Tim-made chocolate chip cookies, pretty scenery and travelling anywhere except to places that are exceedingly hot and flat – like the desert. I’ll do a drive by but no overnight for me.
I wrote a little story – a true story – about my introduction to computers. It will probably help you understand that sometimes I miss the most obvious clues – even if someone is holding up a big sign with flashing lights and whistles and a huge, red STOP painted on. Inevitably I’ll walk right past it and step in the poo on the other side. One day I’ll learn.(actually, my story really applies to anything electronic. Notably vacuum cleaners.)
In second or third grade, computers were just kicking in as the hot new thing. And because of that we got a project. On the computer. The assignment for my class was to write a story (mine was “How the Leopard got it’s Spots”) and print it. Seemed simple enough. However nobody bothered to introduce me to the “Save” button. So I ended up in the library every day for….well, forever… typing frantically, trying to finish my story in the time I was given. I must have re-typed the same words, same story (except the end – I only made it there once) twenty times. My teacher probably thought I was short a crayon, french fry, and whole bunch of other necessary, vital items when you’re seven. I will never forget the title of that damn story. I didn’t have a nice introduction to computers.
I’ve since recovered from my computer illiteracy and now I can’t live without one.
