just jill...

oh hello, 2013...

I suck. I know. I don't even think I can call myself a blogger anymore. Hello, is anyone still out there? oh well. I almost made it 10 years.

Wait, what am I saying? I'm here NOW aren't I? Yes, yes I am. Even if I'm talking to myself. Because that would not be strange at all. In fact it would be the norm. I can do this. I love challenges, so here goes. I'll get to 10 years if it kills me. Or you.

Here is my life as seen on Instagram the last year or so... And here are a few of my favorites...








I blame my absence from my blog on all things social media. Well, Facebook and Instagram mostly. Oh and Downton Abbey. I'm going to attempt to rebirth this whole thing. Or as my mom used to say, there is no "attempt" you either do or you don't. So I do. I do this damn thing. Things to come... Vegas trip, more camping, The ELLEN show, a 10k Race, and Team Livingston goes cross-country for a real live vacation.

I'm back people.

july...

The first week of July is always my favorite time of the year... Duh, it's my Birthday week!! But, besides that it just holds the bestest of all my memories from the past.

One of my all time favorite memories is of just me and my mom driving to the beach and blasting this song over and over on the radio... (homemade cassette tapes were the bomb in 1983!!) This song in particular was one of her all time favorites... This is MY favorite version, but she used to listen to the Johnny Nash Version. Regardless, the song is just the happiest of songs and if it doesn't SCREAM summer, I don't know what does!!

203.5...

Well, most of you who even stop by here already know... I did it!! We finished all 203.5 miles of the Running Relay. It's been about 3 weeks since, but I'm still feeling fondly of the whole experience. Actually to be honest with you, I was MISERABLE the entire time, I complained, I cried, I whimpered, and I even snapped a few times. Hey, you go 40+ hours with only 3 hours of sleep (and not in a row, we're talking 10 minutes here, 20 minutes there...) But, after a good 13 hours of sleep the following evening, and a scarfing of a Chili's Chicken Sandwich with a ginormous bowl of chips and salsa, and a salted margarita the size of Texas, I was fine. Well, as fine as one can be in a sleep-deprived/food coma.

Let me just say it was the worst fun I ever had, and I can't wait for next year!
Ragnar Rules..!

Let me introduce The Hot Messes: Van #1:


Dani... Super hot, and our lone wolf.
Traci... Our fearless leader, don't let the smile fool ya, she'll kick your ass and then book it for all to see.


Alexis... Who I like to call Sleeping Beauty. How did she manage to get 6 hours of sleep during the race?
Kate... My Bff, touchstone, and attitude checker..! Oh and you should ask her about how she met Jesus himself during leg 2.


Christine... Our wild card, who can kick any hill's ass.
And me, who now goes by the name of poopy pants. Yep. Literally. Don't ask.

Van #2 (minus two members... see, I'm truly a hot mess!)


Kristine... she loves yogurt. Not.
Sandy... a sweetheart who falls down. Not what you want to do when running 203.5 miles.


Chris... our resident model.
Cheryl... our resident bartender. Both good to have as teammates.

We also had Amy and Lyndsey, both who helped us get to the finish line, but for some reason escaped my camera lens.

It was a long 40+ hours of no sleep, little eats, lots of pain, a few tears, and a while lotta cracking up and almost peeing my pants, but we pulled through. All 12 of us Hot Messes had our ups and downs, but in the end we crossed the finish line, got our medals, free beer and called an end to our experience. For me, it was quite a journey. I went from being a 5 year couch potato to running 14 miles between the 3 legs. (wait... that didn't come out right) I joined a gym, and got my butt moving again after 5 glorious long years of non butt moving. I did it. My life has been changed. You could even say transformed. I also met some fabulous ladies, all whom I admire, and respect for their efforts as well. It was completely worth all the training.

And now I don't ever have to fear that I "can't" do it. Because, I CAN.

Here are all the pics from our Ragnar adventure..!!

goodbye to oprah...

I could go on and on about how much I loved Oprah over the last 25 years, or I could go on and on about how much she has annoyed me for the last 4 years. But, I won't. I will mostly just say that no matter how I feel about her, she is a very special lady. She's a friend, a teacher, and inspires me to be a better jill.

Two of my favorite memories of the past 25 years of Oprah actually tie in together... Back in 1995 or 1996, Oprah had Cher on her show and they got to talking about how they both collected Black Angels. Long story short, my mom at that time had been making fabric-wallhanging-type-angels. And she had gone funky and made a few African styled angels, and we both looked at each other and said, "lets send her one." So, that is just what we did. Long story short a few months later (or longer) Oprah dedicated an entire show about allllll the black angels people had sent to her as gifts after seeing that show. And then displayed on her stage were hundreds of black angels in all different art forms. She was shocked, and amazed. Long story short, I searched and searched (no dvr pausing back then) for my mom's angel, but couldn't find it. But right at the end of the show, Oprah went to the edge of the stage and took a seat on the ground, and there was a perfect view of my mom's angel resting on a shelf behind her. The best part was as it was caught on camera, it looked as if my mom's angel was placed right on Oprah's shoulder. I screamed, then cried and then screamed again. I called my mom who was living in the central time zone and got her to race home to begin taping the show. I still have the VHS tape. When I'm missing my mom, I plop that tape in and cry all over again. A few months after seeing that show, my mom received a letter signed by Oprah (in purple pen) thanking her for sending her the gift of an angel. Fast forward to 2004, I was sitting in an interview for a job, and don't ask me how, but this story came up. Somehow I just started talking about Oprah with this girl who was interviewing me, and the story started flowing and then the......... tears. Yep, there I was in AN INTERVIEW, talking about Oprah, my mom, black angels and then I started tearing up. What must she thought of me. I mean who does that? I left there thinking to myself, "well, I blew that one!" BUT, I did get the job and it was one of the best jobs I've ever had. Later LaRonza told me that when that happened, she knew right then and there, that I was the one. yeah...
Sort of full circle whouldn't you think?

See? Lot's of lessons to be learned from Miss Oprah. Below are a few that I will hold near and dear... Goodbye Oprah. You did good. Annoying at times, but deep down, nobody can deny that you did good.





and thanks to Maggie for the great idea of the #thanksoprah photos...

accidents do happen...

Time. Time on my hands. Yep, that's what I got. It truly seems like my "life" is on hold. Sure, I get up each and every day determined to have a "positive attitude," a "smile on my face," and even a "pep in my step," and for the most part I'm making it work, but a big part of me is just.... HARUMPH! I'm on hold for another few days to hear the outcome of all my recent medical issues. In the last 3 months I've seen the inside of a Dr.'s office and or hospital more times than I've ever seen the inside of these places in my entire life. Actually, for most of my life I've been very lucky healthy. cough cough...

Well, I did have that minor accident when my chin met that broken window. In my defense, me and my other little 5 year old friends were just playing around the houses that were being built in our neighborhood. We rode our bikes over there and were "inspecting"all the new construction when one of my other 5 year old friends went inside the house, and it was the only logical thing for me to do; stick my head through that broken window to get a looksi of her inside. It was only then when I pulled my head back out, that the razor-sharp-broken-glass nicked my chin and the blood began to gush. In perfect Pat Spear style my mom whisked me off to the base hospital to get me stitched right up. My only memory of anything after that was the nurses "making" her leave the room and them having to put me into a straight jacket (literally) to "calm me down." In retrospect, I'm pretty sure it was HER choice to leave the room, not wanting to be witness to the sewing up of her baby's chin skin, but in my 5 year old mind I thought I was now involved in a hostage situation and most likely never to see her again and was going to have to start responding only to the name Fern or Tania. I did survive but I still have a small scar, both emotionally and on my chin. (5 stitches)

Oh, and then there was that one time when I was 7 years old and I was out roller-skating with my friends and my forehead met that fire hydrant.  I didn't have the fancy white leather roller-skates, no, I had the ratty old metal kind with the (worn out) leather straps.  I had to wear shoes with them, and it's a wonder I didn't kill myself wearing those things.  There we were all out skating, trying to do tricks and be all tricky.  The latest trick we had come up with was, picture this:  a corner sidewalk that curved and declined at the same time.  A swoop of a corner that headed downhill if you may...  We decided that we could skate along the flat sidewalk, approach the corner and begin the curve and the downhill decline (in other words, pick'ng up speed as we went along) and just as we sped up and got past the actual turn we would reach out to our left and grab onto the street sign and swing 'round and 'round all tricky/fancy like.  Get it?  Well, lets just say that when I stepped up for "my turn," me and my METAL skates didn't do it so gracefully.  Somehow my metal skates failed me.  I skated down the sidewalk just fine.  I approached the curve with no fear.  I picked up speed just like I was supposed to... and this, this is where it all went to hell and a hand basket.  Somehow I missed the street sign, rolled over a rock, busted the worn out leather strap, and flew out of my skates and hmmm, fell down.  And this is when my forehead met that fire hydrant and the blood began to gush.  But what you don't know is that the back story is what really makes this a great tale.  2 hours earlier in perfect Pat Spear style, my mom allowed me, AT 7 YEARS OLD to stay at home BY MYSELF so that I could keep skating with my friends.  I'm sure I begged and begged not to have to go with her and my annoying brother to the BX (base store; think Big Lots) so he could get new basketball shoes.  I'm also pretty sure that her first instinct was to insist that I go with them, but I could be pretty convincing and I was playing with my very best friend, Teresa who lived right next door and her mom and Uncle were right there and could for sure keep an eye on me!!  To this day I remember the moment her Uncle was carrying me in his arms, blood dripping everywhere, running around panicked asking me, "Where is your mother..?" "Gone to buy shoes..."  "Where is your father..?" "Gone to fly airplanes..."  Right then is when the car came around that corner very slowly and we all realized that my 12 year old brother was driving the car. (blink blink)   Apparantly, my mom had a premonition that something terrible had happened, and she was so freaked out, she made my brother drive them home.  Did I mention he was 12?  Yes, I did and yes he was.  She also made him drive us back to the BX so I could get some medical attention.  There was no straight jacket this time, but there were stitches.  I did survive but I still have a rather large scar, both emotionally and on my forehead. (19 stitches)

After that it was pretty smooth sailing, I maybe had a few colds, bouts with the flu or repritory infections, etc.  And, then there was that one time when I was 23 and I fell down some stairs (drunk as a skunk) and broke my right leg.  But after a cast for 6 weeks, I was right back at it, good as new.  These were the only illness' I experienced until the crash of '08 was heard around the world... That to date was probably the worst thing I've experienced.  Surgery ain't no joke.

This little jaunt down memory lane has reminded me that everything will be okay and I just have to keep the faith that I'll survive and if a few little scars are the worst of it, so be it.   I'll keep you all posted...

in mourning...

... for the loss of my iPhone. Don't laugh, it hurts. Deeply. I've had my beloved for just over a year now, and it's been my constant companion for the 365+ days. I take it everywhere with me, some days even to the loo. TMI? Perhaps, but it's just the facts people. I eat breakfast with it, take it with me to work and place it lovingly on my desk so that each and every time I get the urge I can pick it up and fondle it. I even sleep with it and it even has it's own plush pillow. I'm not ashamed to admit it one bit. I have the deepest love for my iPhone.

It's been one of the most dependable items in my life to date. At a moments notice it can tell me what the weather is going to be for the next 7 days in; San Juan Capistrano, Boston, and even Beijing. It can help me determine what that song is playing over the loud speakers at the grocery store that I know I know, but can't seem to remember the name or artist. (genius app by the way) It has also helped me increase my scrabble skillz, cocktail making skillz, to see in the dark so I don't stub my toe, to keep updated on the news in El Paso, make plane reservations, find a local restaurant when we just can't seem to decide where to go to eat at night, tell what the water temp is at all our local beaches as well as Kiawah Island, South Carolina AND Newport, Rhode Island, just because I like to know, Oh and for a little giggle I can even hold it up to my face and make it look like I'm drinking a beer or a glass of chocolate milk... Not to mention, all the photography fun I've had... I'm telling you this thing is and will always be my most favorite possession.

Or should I say was. Basically what happened was...(and I'll try and keep this brief due to the pain it's causing me to even talk about it all) You see, I've only got 2 hands and I had 4 things to carry out to the backyard, so (and I thought I was SO genius for even coming up with this plan) I stuck my phone between my boob and bathing suit top as a way to free up my 2 hands to carry out my (stupid) cup of iced tea and my (stupid) towel and my (stupid) library book. Once I got all settled in my chair and all ready to begin my day out in the sun I decided to take a dunk in the pool first so I could be all nice and cooled off... are getting a mental picture yet? Yep, I took that dunk not remembering that the phone was so strategically stuck between my cheek and gum boob and suit. I even sat in the pool for about 10 min (boobs above water line, but still) and did not discover the phone until I got out and began to "unstrap" myself (to avoid tan lines, of course). The scream, I'm sure was heard all the way in Kansas. The horror of it all. I can't go on.

Long story (not really) short, it's a goner. I've tried various drying methods; rice bag trick, blowing on it, talking dirty to it, hugging it, promising it vacation time and an even more luxurious pillow to lay on at night while we both sleep, all to no avail. It's just done.

Bye bye little buddy. I will be getting a new phone, but you'll always be my first and only true love.

about town...

It's already been over a month since we moved... My oh my, how time flies when you're so happy. And, we're talking over the moon happy! I can't even describe the joy that fills my heart as of late. Just imagine not being happy about where you live for a long time and then something changes; you move, and then you are happy. Very happy. Yeah, that's it. But times ten.

There are just so many things to share with you all that I love about our move. Up first, is our new little town; San Juan Capistrano. In one word; Charm! It's got tons of history, in fact it's one of the oldest towns in California. It's got lots of Native American history and one of the main attractions is right in the middle of the town and is the Mission San Juan Capistrano. And the best part is it's only .9 miles from our little abode. We can walk 15 minutes and we're right smack dab in the middle of all the charm. I plan to dive in real soon. As soon as we get "all moved in." Yep, still working on it. I've had tons of projects to complete and my energy is quickly draining. So. Exhausted. But. Still. So. Happy.

Here is a quick "vintage" look about town...with more to come!!










all pics taken with my iphone with the hipstamatic app.

day 15 ~ my most favorite christmas gift... ever.

Does anyone remember their most favorite gift they ever got as a kid..? I do. It was a doll by the name of Velvet. I remember wanting that doll so much. I'm positive that I whined, cried and even begged for that doll when I was about 6 years old. (And, don't even ask if that was the Christmas when my parents got so drunk at the Christmas Eve party that they passed out before putting out the gifts, and then the next morning I was heard by everyone within the state of Oklahoma to yell, "Hey Mama, guess what... Santa left all the presents in the Suitcase..!" Yeah, don't ask, because yes, it was that particular Christmas. It was also the same year my parent's won the Parent's of the Year Award.)

Um,Not.

But back to Velvet... She was magical, or so I believed. Her silky white gold hair literally sprouted out of the top of her head. But, the magic trick was that you had to push in her belly button to make it do so. (No, it wasn't some freaky sex doll, this was for real!!) She had a belly button that you could push in all the while pulling her hair out of the top of her head. Just like the commercial says, "It grows and it goes from here to there.." This provided hours and hours of fun for me. All the combing, putting it in ponytails or braiding it into pigtails. Then when I got tired of it long, I could just crank the dial located on her back to make it "shrink" back into her head. Velvet was much more than a doll. She was a friend. Of course the attraction to this doll was the hair, and the fact that you could play with it, change it, make it however you wanted it on any particular day, was beyond a a 6 year old girl's dream. But, I think the second thing I loved most about Velvet was her Purple Velvet dress. I loved that dress, and secretly wanted one for my very own. (no longer a secret)

Here is a picture of me the day after I got my very own Velvet doll... Look how happy I look! I don't think there is anything in my entire life that has made me smile like that since.
Simply Velvet.



"I'm the luckiest girl in the whole wide world."

Even if Santa did forget to put her in my stocking.

day 13 ~ don't mock the christmas sweater...

About a week ago or so, my cousin Amy made some remark on Facebook about all the ladies she spotted out in public wearing their Christmas sweaters and how it was all she could do to refrain from shouting to the world, "Are you kidding me, oh please, you're not really going to wear that with pride are you..?"

I immediately phoned her and we then had a giggle or two about it all, making fun of pink snowmen, bulky jingle bells and big fluffy pom pom's protruding from these womens chest's. After the giggles I mentioned to her that TL's boss had even been guilty of actually wearing the famous "Bill Cosby" sweater to the Christmas party the week before, the phone went dead silent for a moment or two. But, soon after the dead silence came the flying snarky comments, one after the other like rapid fire... We both said things like, "Ohhh, how 1987 of him," and "Did he actually think he looked good..? and lastly there was the, "Where oh where is the mobile upload..?"

Well, after having some innocent fun poking at other Christmas sweater wearing fools nice people, I recalled my own mother used to make these "decorated sweatshirts" back in her crafting days. And then I felt bad. You know, for all the mocking. How rude. You all know how much I love my mom and everything that she made was actually pretty ahead of it's time. However corny these sweatshirts seem, at the time they were pretty nice. I mean look at us, all matchy poo poo... Come on, these are practically couture! In this photo you'll see my 4 Aunts, my mom (of course), my cousin Beth and myself all looking pretty spiffy if you ask me.

Wait... now with a closer look, it appears that some of their faces have frozen smiles, as if they're fearful that someone will see them out in public and mock their Christmas sweater... It's almost as if they're saying to themselves, "Please just take the damn picture already so I can get this damn day over with."

No... surely not.

I swear I will never mock the Christmas sweater again, because you just never know about the love and care that goes into making one of these suckers treasures!



And yes Amy, we actually wore them OUT IN PUBLIC!

And don't even laugh at us, because we look goooood...

Oh, and I have an extra one for you in white!! It's SO you!!

a milestone of sorts...

I missed (by a couple of days...) the anniversary of this blog! 6 years. Wow, I don't think I've done anything consistent for 6 years. Well, except for being married, biting my nails and failing to make my bed every day.

I remember when I first started writing here, I had no clue what I was doing. At least that hasn't changed, I still don't. But over the years, it sure has been fun sharing some of my memories, some of my life's happenings that I think are funny and just all around getting to know others out there in this world we call the wide web. Or something like that.

In the last 6 years I've...

had 5 jobs... (ouch, that sounds worse out loud)
moved 2 times...
cooked a Christmas Turkey (first and last apparently...)
reconnected with some great old friends...
met lots of new ones...
almost pee'd my poodle skirt...
had surgery on my broken my ankle...
fell even more in love with TL...
tried to high five a one armed man...
missed my mom more and more every day...
grown closer to my niece and nephews whom all, I simply adore...
had some success with the whole purse making business...
watched a LOT of reality tv...
lost both of my in-laws...
learned html...
found Flickr...
made a snowman with TL...
the list goes on and on! But mostly, I've just had a lot of fun with this little site of mine. I know I don't always take the best care of it, but I can't ever imagine not having it. It's my little space in the world where I get to have a voice, even if it's mostly just "jibber jabber."

If you're a new reader or a long-time reader, I sincerely want to thank you for stopping by. Here's to another 6 years OR MORE!!

yes, my parents were (are) awesome...

I stumbled onto this cool site... My Parents were Awesome..." And, then found myself clicking, clicking and clicking, and looking into all the faces of these "Awesome Parents." Some of my favorites; Edward and Ethel, David and Bonny, Pat, and Chantel and Phillipe. Cool Cats!! There are some great shots indeed. Of course I had to send some that I have in my archives. Because, yes, my parents were awesome too! But you already knew that.

Tom and Pat Spear... Circa: 1960
Mallorca, Spain

our timing is just off...

When I was 6 years old we moved from Arizona to California. During our time in Arizona we lived in a Townhouse. My dad was in the Air Force, but was taking a break while getting his Masters Degree at Arizona State, while my mom's job was to lay out at the pool every day and entertain all the neighbors. She formed a close knit group of friends during our 1 year there. These people really knew how to Par'tay. Well anyway, there was this girl named Patti who was a daughter of one of my mom's closest friends in the complex and she was drop dead gorgeous. Patti was about 18 or 19 years old, she was long legged and model thin. She had long thick brown hair, a golden tan for days and beautiful white teeth. And, she could sing. Boy, could she sing. My mom would have parties what seemed like every week and invite all her friends over and every time the night would end in having Patti get up and sing for all to enjoy. We had the Carol King Tapestry album at the time and over and over I would beg her to sing my personal favorite; "I Feel the Earth Move Under my Feet." And, she would always sing it (for me,) sometimes even more than once. I would just sit there looking up to her (from the floor and in awe...) wishing I could grow up to be just like her. Then we moved. That's just what you do when you're in a military family.

Once we got to California, and moved into our new house as I began to meet all the little neighborhood kids, and they would ask me my name I, without hesitation introduced myself as Patti. I had idolized her so much and took that opportunity to change my name since nobody knew me. Why not, right? It made perfect sense to me, I didn't like the name Jill, it wasn't hip, it wasn't cool, it wasn't who I wanted to be. I figured that by changing my name to Patti, I could be grown up, glamorous, tan and model thin all in one shot. Patti. Well, as the story goes, it didn't last long. The very first time one of those neighborhood kids came to the door and my mom answered, and they asked, "Can Patty come out and play..?" My mom's response went something a little like this, "Blink, blink, blink..?" (See,my mom's name was Patricia but she went by Pat, so you can see why she might be a little confused)

I remember running down the stairs yelling, "I'm here, I'm here..."and the look on all of their faces was that of confusion. The kids didn't know what to think, and my mom gave me that disapproving eyebrow as I ran past her and out the door to try and smooth it all over with my new Bff's. Later that night I can remember to this day, the lecture I got. "Blah, blah, blah... you're name is Jill, not Patti. You need to set the record straight, the kids are going to be confused, Jill is such a pretty name,("yeah, easy for you to say, you're not the one getting teased; "Jack and Jill went up the hill...") blah, blah, blah."  Whatever, after that, I had to give up the dream, I kept the name Jill and lived on to be the weird girl of the block. (Not really, but it helps with my plight don-cha think?)

All of this brings me to my post for today...

I've been feeling like I want to adopt a dog for weeks now... I just know our household would benefit so much with that kind of love around. Plus, we have so much love to give as well, and what more does a rescued doggie need, but lots of love from two over sized adults?

The only kink to this idea of mine is, we don't really live in a place where a dog can thrive. Our little condo is not very big, and doesn't really have any "running around" room. Plus, with both of our work schedules, we're just not home enough for a rescued dog.

So for now, I wait. I wait for our upcoming move, and I wait for the perfect little dog to speak to me find me. And, boy have I felt like crying ever since Friday when I saw this girl. Meet Patty.She is SOOO my dog. I need her in my life. I need that big ole lump of love, gosh darn it. I mean, just look at her! She may not be glamorous, tan or thin, but I just feel like we were meant to be.

"Hi, I'm Patty and I like to snuggle..."   

Now, go and check her out in video... Click here, then scroll on the side bar till you see Patty'sname, then click to view her segment.  Just look at those big ole' limp paws.

I guess it just wasn't meant to be... Once again, me and Patty's timing is just off!!