I love...ornaments.

Ta-da! My Christmas tree is officially decorated!
 

See:

 

It's actually been decorated for over a week now, which is pretty good for me. Normally there is the long process of bringing it in the box down from the attic and letting it adjust to the hallway for a few days; then taking it out of the box and letting it adjust to standing upright for a few days; then I start to put on the lights but get annoyed when one strand goes out so I leave it in the corner in shame for a few more days; then one Sunday I finally fix the lights, add the ornaments, and...BAM: it's Christmas all up in my apartment.

Nope, this year I made it all happen in one day. It's probably because I'm getting to be more mature and responsible with age...ahem...



Disco ball ornament

When it comes to decorating my tree, for the past few years I've used purple lights and a set of silver ornaments. They consist of round ones, skinny ones, big ones, little ones, and sparkly ones.

There's even a few small ones that look like this disco ball ornament (did someone say "tree par-tay"?!):










However, wanting to add a little extra "Jenny" to my tree each year, I have happily acquired new ornaments that I throw into the Christmas tree decorating mix. Here are a few of them:



Save the Date ornament

My friend Colleen and I handmade this ornament in 2007. The bug (on the left) is a tribute to a small bug that we saw the previous summer. We were sitting outside our friend's house in Little Italy during the Feast and it was hot...really hot. We saw an adorable little bug on the sidewalk (and for me to call a bug adorable takes a lot), it was one of those little wooly/fuzzy bugs and it was just inching along. Suddenly it started flipping around like it was dancing. Then...it stopped. It died right in front of us! Of course we'd both seen dead bugs before and seen others or ourselves squish bugs, but never seen one die all on its own. For weeks after that we told all of our friends about the story of Little Bug (as we dubbed him) and his story became a part of our group. We drew him on magnets that we made for our birthday party invites...then we drew him on this Save the Date ornament, which was an invite to a joint party we threw for our friends Rachel & Matt that year. A few of our friends tell us that they still hang their ornament up every year...and so do I!



Chicago ornament

This ornament was a favor from my friends' wedding in Chicago several years back. It was a great weekend - we sang karaoke at their rehearsal dinner (hosted at a delicious pizza restaurant), celebrated their beautiful wedding in the Sears Tower (I know..."Willis Tower"), and toured the city. I thought that this favor was a sweet idea and now every Christmas when I hang it up on my tree I think of them and that great weekend.














S'more ornament

I got this ornament at an ornament exchange party a couple years ago. A bunch of friends were back in town for the holidays, so we all got together to catch up, eat, drink, and exchange ornaments! The ornaments were all wrapped so we didn't know what we might be getting and we passed them back and forth until finally whatever ornament you were holding was the one that was yours for keeps. I unwrapped mine to find this adorable marshmallow guy! And up until the moment when I leaned in close to take this picture, I thought it was simply that - just a cute marshmallow guy sitting on a piece of wood. Upon closer inspection...I have now realized it's actually a s'more guy! Even cuter! I guess you learn something new about your Christmas tree ornaments every year. That's a saying, right...?








Youngest child ornament
 

Last year my mom got me and my sisters each our own ornament. This was mine and it says "youngest child", because, well, I'm the youngest child. My ornaments don't lie!

 



Pickle ornament

And then there's this one. It's a pickle. I think my mom also gave me this ornament one year and said it is a Christmas tradition for people to hang pickles on their Christmas tree and that it brings good fortune in the year ahead. I didn't question her, though have since Googled it and confirmed that it is indeed true. So now, every year, I have a pickle on my tree. Yay! Bring on the fortune.



And that is the tour of my Christmas tree ornaments. Now for the next few weeks I get to enjoy the lit up Christmas tree each night as the holiday spirit takes over my apartment. Until, of course, I need to start the process of UNdecorating the tree: removing the ornaments and getting annoyed when they all don't fit in the very same container I kept them in the year before; taking off the lights; waiting a few days then folding up the tree and getting annoyed when it doesn't fit in the same box that it also did NOT fit in the year before; then tying it up and putting it back up in the attic.

 

But who wants to think about that, so for now I'm just going to enjoy this wonderful Christmas tree night light filled with lots of happy memories and disco dance party possibilities. Tis the season...to disco!



I love...being thankful.

This Thanksgiving I had a lot to be thankful for:

My family

My friends

My new car, Tootsie

Pizza

Prince

Leopard print

Carly Rae Jepsen

Bubblewrap

The word "love"

Laughing

Jimmy Fallon

Blue Gatorade

The ability to j/k

Heart shapes

Empty gyms

Instagram

The #37

Pillows

The list goes on and on...so I'll just pick out a few to discuss here:

My family
My family alternates between three different relatives' homes that host Thanksgiving. It's the one time of year that we get together with aunts, uncles and cousins to catch up and laugh our faces off. This year it was at my aunt & uncle's house in Cincinnati. Unfortunately I wasn't able to go to Cincy to be with everyone this particular year, so my parents were nice enough to drive up to the CLE to have dinner on Thanksgiving-eve with me and my sister Lisa. We went to Light Bistro in Ohio City. The food was delish and we had a lot of laughs as we discussed everything from confit to the time my mom and I got in the wrong van in a store parking lot. Then Thanksgiving morning they all headed down to Cincy to see the rest of my fam for the weekend. Fortunately I'll be able to see them all in February at my cousin's wedding - thank goodness for love!

Empty gyms
After sleeping in a bit I woke up on Thanksgiving morning, watched some of the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, then got the urge to go to the gym (in anticipation of what I would be eating later in the day). My gym has 24-hour access and upon entering I found that I was the only person who had this "go to the gym on Thanksgiving" idea. I had the place to myself! I decided to use this opportunity to do all the things I don't normally do at the gym when other people are there.

As I started running on the treadmill a Beyonce song came on my iPod and I was inspired to see if I could run, dance and sing like Beyonce all at the same time while keeping my breath. I could! Well, for a few minutes at least.

Once my treadmill concert was done I decided to attempt playing with the big ropey things. They're those large ropes that are bolted to the ground and you're supposed to work out with them...somehow. I'd never tried them before, cause there are usually too many people around and I don't understand what I'm supposed to do with them. I picked them up and shook them up and down. I twisted them in circles. I crisscrossed them. I still didn't know what I was doing, but I was sure I was getting stronger-ish.

Then I went downstairs to the weight room. I'd used the room before, only a few of the machines that are close to the front - some arm ones, the leg ones. Today, since I had the whole room to myself, I did what I've never done before...I walked all the way to the back of the weight room! It was amazing- there was a different floor back there. Then I saw it, a large silver bowl full of chalk! This changed everything. I now know that I'm welcome in the weight area anytime. They have chalk there, I'm Chalk...get it? In fact, even though I'm sitting at a coffee shop typing this right now...it's good to know that I'm actually at the gym right now, too. I feel even stronger!

My friends
There is a lot to say about this topic. I often stop and think about how lucky I am because of the great friends I've met in my life. I've met so many people who are kind, thoughtful, hilarious, fun, helpful, caring, and did I mention hilarious? Instead of going through all of those people in this post, I'd like to touch on one instance of friendship over this Thanksgiving holiday.

As I mentioned earlier, I wasn't able to join my family in Cincinnati for the holiday dinner. Upon hearing this my friend Colleen immediately invited me to join her and her family for dinner. (And after that, several other friends also invited me if I still needed a place to go.) So I joined her, her boyfriend and her family that evening. We drank wine, sampled cheese, discussed fingernails and movies while researching topics on our phones, and then we ate...everything from turkey to rutabaga to pumpkin pie...to anything else that falls in between at a Thanksgiving feast. It was a wonderful dinner, accented perfectly by the tiny salt & pepper shakers that we each had at our own seat.


I hope you had and are having a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday with family, friends, and possibly your own personal gym for an hour or so. Go ahead, shake those ropes...and if you need me, I'll be in the weight room.

I love...mittens.

Recently I bought a pair of mittens. These mittens:

As cute and soft as they appear in this picture, our relationship almost ended as quickly as it began. Let me explain...

The thing that originally pulled my attention their way was the "sale" tag hanging off of them at H&M. But the thing that made me pick them up and buy them was their cute, little, mitteny appearance.

The past few winters I've gone with regular gloves or fingerless gloves, so upon seeing them I thought to myself: "Hmm, it's been awhile since I've had mittens." Then I bought those little mittens and excitedly put them on as soon as I got in the car to drive home. I felt great! Just me and my new mittens.

As I started driving I went to change the radio station. But I couldn't. My fingers were all too close together to hit the right button on the radio. They were trapped. I was having a case of finger-claustrophobia! But I couldn't take the gloves off at that moment. I was driving. I was getting on the highway. I was merging! 10 & 2. 10 & 2!

Luckily it only took a few seconds for me to chill out. A song I liked came on the radio. My fingers were fine. They weren't suffocating, they were just bonding. They were warm and cozy.

I was wearing mittens. And I liked it.

I suggest you go out and buy yourself your own pair of mittens, then the next time we cross paths we can have a mitten high five! But for safety reasons you should probably wait until you get home to put them on and break them in. Maybe wear them while watching this scene from an episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

"jfkfmkolkdjsmkl." -typed by my mitten-hands (translation: "The End.")

I love...legwarmers.

It's that time of year where the weather is getting cooler and you can start to bring back out all the items you packed away in the spring.

The sweaters. The scarves. The boots. The hats.

And for me, it's also time to bring back out the legwarmers!

You didn't suddenly rewind to the 80s. It's 2012 and I'll admit it: My name is Jenny and I love legwarmers.

Legwarmers aren't all that crazy to own right now. They've come back into fashion, as most items from the 80s have, and you can buy them just about anywhere. But the pairs I have are directly from the 80s. They're vintage (yes, I refer to anything that was created prior to the current day "vintage").

I have several pairs of them. I rediscovered them several years ago when I was visiting my parents and opened a drawer into past fashion choices of mine and my sisters. It was legwarmers galore: purple & white striped ones, orange/blue/white/brown speckled ones, white ones, and my favorite ones (in this pic) red with white hearts. They all looked up at me from the drawer just begging to keep my legs warm(er), and I decided it was time to bring them back out for another chance in the world.

Over the past few years when the weather has started to cool I've happily put them on. They're cozy. They're comfy. They're warm. They're fashionable. And sometimes they make me feel like I'm in the movie "Flashdance" (not so much in the "I'm a welder by day and exotic dancer by night" kind of way, but in the "I'm spinning and hopping and pointing at judges" kind of way).

So here I am, settling down on a cool October night. Just me and my legwarmers...what a feeling!

I love...birthday weeks.

I am typing this while curled up on my couch in a leopard print Snuggie, thinking of the birthday week that was last week. I know, a birthday is only supposed to be for a "day", but this year there was a lot that happened, so I used a week: I aged. I wore leopard print. I was on TV. I ate pizza...lots of pizza (I love pizza).
"How could all this activity have been packed into one week?" you ask.
Well, I'll tell you. Let's start with Monday...

*****

 

DAY 1: Scarf
 

MONDAY
With my birthday quickly approaching, my sister Lisa invited me to join her for pizza and beers at our favorite pizza spot, Edison's in Tremont. We ordered a pepperoni and banana pepper pizza plus several beers. As we were winding down the night I decided to use my newest addiction to record the night: Instagram! Then I realized I was wearing a leopard print scarf and since the week was leading up to my leopardy birthday party (see "Saturday" below) I decided to wear a dash of leopard print everyday for the rest of the week, Instagram it, and call it "7 Days of Leopard Print".

*****

 

DAY 2: Bracelet

TUESDAY
Tuesday, September 25th, was my actual birthday. I woke up feeling older, wiser, and ready to take on the day! My friends and family sent me birthday wishes. My office bought me a cake. My birthday was off to a great start. Not only was I aging on this day, but that evening was the premiere of a new season of one of my favorite shows...New Girl!!! I planned a watch party for the event at Rivergate in the Flats. This watch party was to serve several purposes: 1) so I could watch the show and hang out with friends at the same time; and 2) because there was a possibility that I would be shown during the show as the New Girl Fan of the Week (an honor I had applied for several weeks earlier)! So there we were, I was wearing a pink boa (cause why not), the show was playing on several TVs, I had my friends around me, we were eating calzones, and the sound for New Girl was on full blast. Then...BAM...during a commercial break: "Jenny is the Fan of the Week"!!! I nearly fell off my barstool. This was the icing on top of my birthday cake. (And aside from all that, the show is laugh-out-loud hilarious! I laugh every time I watch and re-watch it. If you don't already watch it, you should!) Then I went home and ate half of a leftover slice of pizza.

*****

DAY 3: Sweater

WEDNESDAY
Still high off my New Girl moment of fame, I woke up ready to celebrate my post-birthday day. That evening I finished the other half of my pizza slice for dinner, then headed to the Winking Lizard for bowling league. My team entered me on the scorecard as "bday" and my first game started out awesome, with spare/strike after spare/strike. Then that ended and the rest of my game was...eh. But the popcorn at the Lizard tasted great.

*****

DAY 4: Headband

THURSDAY
Some friends and I went downtown to watch the Cleveland Browns game. While the game didn't end as we might have liked, our night was a good time. We ended the game at Map Room, where a friend and I split...pizza! Surprise! Someone jokingly asked me if I'd had pizza every day that week. I laughed that I hadn't. Then I stopped and thought about it and realized I had indeed had pizza every single day of the week. Awesome...and oops.

*****

 

DAY 5: Shoes

FRIDAY
For lunch I had leftover Map Room pizza (I couldn't stop myself). Then that evening I went with a coworker to a candle party. We ate some yummy food, smelled some yummy candles, drank some yummy white sangria, and made it an early night. I was home and in bed by 11p.m., and I loved it.

*****

SATURDAY

DAY 6: Dress

I woke up early and decided to immediately go to the gym before I could change my mind. After a week of eating pizza and drinking birthday drinks, a gym visit was needed. That evening I had plans to gather with friends at the Speakeasy in Ohio City to celebrate my new age, and in doing so I asked that everyone wear a dash of leopard print (because, well, I love leopard print). My friends didn't disappoint. One by one they walked in with scarves, shirts, shoes, dresses...Ohio City was oh so fashionable that night. We spent the night drinking, dancing and just being leopardy! As the night ended, I did not eat any pizza - but I did get Taco Bell, which is an excellent second choice in my book.

*****

SUNDAY

DAY 7: Hat

After sleeping in, I met friends for brunch at Southside. Bloody marys and mimosas flowed and I pointed out every leopard print item that people we didn't know were wearing. After that my friend Niki and I started walking home, then got sidetracked by hot chocolate and a two hour walk around the pretty streets of Tremont. The weather was perfect, the trees were Fall-ish, and you couldn't NOT be outside. I didn't eat any pizza on this day, but I did pass by Edison's, so I was hugged by its delicious smell. Finally, I was ready to head home and spend quality time with my couch, and that's what I did.

*****

 

YAY: Snuggie

Now I'm nursing a leopard print hangover with my leopard print Snuggie and feeling very thankful for a great birthday week, great friends & family, great TV shows, great pizza, and a great year ahead in my new age.
"What is going to happen in the year ahead?" you ask.
I don't know for sure - that's what makes it exciting.
However, I'm sure it will be filled with dashes of leopard print - that's what makes it Jenny.

I love...my automobiles.

You know the ol' question: Which came first - ChaCha or Tootsie? Well the answer is simple: ChaCha did.

My first car was a silver Saturn named ChaCha. She was a lovely car, and yes - she was a "she". I bought her from the owner when she was only 1 year old, and on my first drive I had the windows down and was blasting the CD single "I Wanna Be Bad" by Willa Ford. Little did I know that ChaCha and I would be spending the next 11 years together.

ChaCha wasn't just any ordinary silver Saturn. She had a secret power...and that power was her magical third door! Yep, on the driver's side there was a half door that helped people to easily get in the back bucket seats. It was super fancy.

ChaCha and I got along very well for many years. She actually held herself together quite well until she was about 8 years old. That's when I think she couldn't hide it anymore. Aside from oil changes, tire rotations, and the occassional "fix whatever is making her service engine light come on", I hadn't done much else to her. That's why I think the garage I'd become a regular at was so stunned when they asked me the last time I'd had her tires changed and I answered 'Never'. Or the last time I got a new battery, 'Never.' They then took me outside to show me all the reasons I was in dire need of changing both of those,  plus a couple other things that were broken (this day would become known as the day I spent half a month's paycheck at the garage).

After that ChaCha was never quuuuiiiite right. Her engine light came on more regularly. Then it would go off for a couple days, then on for an hour, then off, then back on. I just started to ignore it. Then it would take a while for her to start when I turned the key. Then she stopped using her gas light to let me know when she was running low (because, much to my dad's dismay, I had started letting my gas get pretty low before filling up) - this resulted in a couple different "Can someone come get me and take me to a gas station" phone calls. She also stopped using her beeping alert to let me know if I opened the car door while the keys were still in the ignition - this resulted in the time I got locked out of my car.

But still I loved ChaCha. Even when the trunk started leaking - I took that as a challenge to see how little I could keep in there. Then when a hubcap fell off - I took that as the chance to test how I could park my car so that the missnig hubcap was never facing an office building or anywhere else I wouldn't want people to see that I had a missing hubcap. And when her CD player stopped working - I took that as a chance to break out some of my old casette tapes. Mainly, Michael Jackson's "Bad". Who's bad? ChaCha is bad.

It was a little under two months ago that I was driving into work and as I got on the I-90 bridge to pass over downtown ChaCha made a huge cracking noise and started puttering along. I willed her to make it to an exit, which she did. Then when I realized her powersteering had gone out, I willed her to let me turn her around the circular exit ramp. Then we pulled into a gas station. I called my dad. And I cried.

After a tow and a visit to my friendly gas station, they let me know her belt and a pulley had broken, and then ChaCha was fixed (kind of). Though it was scary, I knew that she wasn't trying to kill me that morning. No, I believe she was trying to tell me that she was tired. It was her way of saying "Jenny, please stop making the wheels on this car go round and round." And this time, I listened. A couple weeks later I stopped out at a car dealership and that same day I left ChaCha behind and drove off in my new little lady...Tootsie.

Tootsie is a silver Toyota Corolla. I thought of her name immediately: Tootsie coROLLa. Tootsie Roll! I have a stash of tootsie rolls in the car right now, which my mom supplied me with once I named her. So far we're getting along splendidly. Sure, there were some adjustments needed. I had to get used to the brakes immediately working when I barely tapped them. I'm sure my left arm will weaken as I won't have to manually roll my window up and down. And it's now officially time to get rid of my casette tapes as Tootsie can't play them. But all in all I think it was a good choice. I look forward to many years with her.

As for ChaCha, I imagine her out there in car heaven, rolling along with all the other cars, her service engine light blinking on and off, while she honks her horn and blares "I Wanna Be Bad" - just like when she was a carbaby.

I love...my dad.

When I see a spider, the first person I want to call is Denny Chalk. Denny Chalk is my dad and the reason I want to call him is not to say, "Oh my, I just saw a beautiful spider." It's to say: "Ahh! Creepy spider! Save me!"

However, if I see a spider today I will not bother my dad with it, because today is his birthday! So I'm letting him off spider duty.

The thing is, my dad is the first person I want to call in lots of situations. Car issues? I call my dad. Life advice? I call my dad.

This is probably a good time to point out that my dad now lives in North Carolina and I'm in Ohio. Sure we're miles apart, but I've always known that no matter how far away my dad is he'll always be there for me. And I hope he knows I'll always be there for him.

It's been that way since I was little. When he was outside doing yardwork he'd be there to take me for a quick trip around our house in the wheelbarrow. And in return, I'd be there to help smash the leaves and grass down in the garbage can with my feet.

My dad is a great golfer and he golfs any chance he gets. Unfortunately I have not (um, at least not yet) picked up on that skill from him. Though he did once take me to a driving range. He was there to give me tips on hitting the golf ball. I was there to make him laugh as I missed the ball on my first, second...and third swing.

When it came time for me to learn how to drive, my dad was there to take me to an empty, nearby parking lot and start teaching me the basics. I was there to keep him safe by hitting my head on the rolled-up window as I tried to double check that no other cars were around and then slam on the brakes when I saw a dog walking on the opposite side of the parking lot (yep, I brake for animals).

As the father of three girls, I have to admit we didn't make things easy for him. As we each went through our teenage phase, he couldn't win. The three of us, plus our mom and our female family dog - my dad was completely outnumbered. But he took it all in stride. He just zoned us out when necessary and sat in the car waiting, somewhat patiently, as we each changed our outfits and fixed our hair for the millionth time.

I learned a lot of lessons from my dad while growing up. He taught me that slowly repeating directions out loud as though you're asking a question makes them easier to remember.  Me: "Dad, can you get that box with the green lid out of the attic?" Dad: "The box? With the green lid? From the attic?" My sisters and I used to think it was hilarious. Now I find myself doing it all the time.

He also taught me to never let my gas tank get so low that the gas light comes on. I stuck to that, until about a year ago where I started pressing my luck, and ended up out of gas in a parking lot after work. And who did I call? Yep, my dad.

I like to think that I also taught him a thing or two over the years. Like when he joined Facebook and asked me how to clean all the comments off his wall, and how everyone knew it was his birthday.

Well now even more people know it's your birthday, Dad! Happy Birthday! Thanks for putting up with me all these years, and for always helping me realize that everything is going to be okay. And like I said, don't worry about getting any emergency spider phone calls tonight. If I see a spider I'll just be an adult about it. I'll relax, take a deep breath, put a cup over it, and call you tomorrow.

Love, Jennifer

My dad and their new dog, Tolya - the most recent female addition to his life.

I love...The Bachelor/Bachelorette.

Go ahead. Pick on me all you want. Get it out of your system: "It's a cheesy show", "It's fake", "It's all about the drama". I've heard it all and I'm not denying that it's not true. But maybe that's why I love it. After all I also enjoy Taco Bell, which is cheesy, possibly somewhat fake, and - depending on how your stomach agrees with it - may also cause drama for you later in the evening.

...but I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post...

I have watched The Bachelor and The Bachelorette since the beginning. I would gather with friends and a couple bottles of wine to watch each season unfold. During the first show we'd each pick our favorites, our MLTGE (Most Likely To Get Engaged) and the OYHGKOSYCHT (One You Hope Gets Kicked Off So You Can Have Them) and then watch as they were either quickly dumped in the first show or dragged out until the end where they proposed or were proposed to or were not proposed to. Then read as the tabloids ripped their love affairs apart.

Where to begin with the many reasons to love this show...

I'll start with the babysitter, er, I mean the host, Chris Harrison. He has to deal with the new contestants each season. He watches as each person gets out of the limo trying to introduce themselves in the most memorable way possible, whether it's a cute opening line or bringing a prop like a horse, or a mask, or a grandma. Then he sticks around for each rose ceremony to make sure everyone constantly knows how many roses are left to give out: "This is the final rose tonight" (Wait, what? This one remaining rose is the LAST rose? Thanks for clearing that up...).

Then the first night includes an unofficial drinking contest. Well, it's a "cocktail party" that goes on for a very long time and likely provides every liquor available on the planet. It's just a matter of who will pass out or cry or slur their words first.

For those who make it through the first night, there are then weeks of romantic, awkward, drama-filled dates. A majority of the dates are concocted from the daters' worst fears. "You're afraid of heights? Oh, you have to climb this tall mountain."; "You're afraid of water? Oh, then this scuba diving date is going to be tough for you." This is why I have decided if I was ever on the show I would fill out my questionnaire this way: "WORST FEAR: Petting puppies while eating pizza." Bring on the puppy/pizza date*.

(*Speaking of my puppy/pizza date, this seems like the perfect time to admit that I once applied to be on this show. It was several years back. I did the online application: submit a picture, write down some interesting facts about myself, include a statement as to why I wanted to be on the show. Alas, I received no phone call to be on the show...it's too bad, I could be reading about my new found relationship's demise in Us Weekly right now...)

Some other delicious Bachelor/ette ingredients are:

• commonly used lines, like "Here for all the right reasons";
• one girl/guy that all the other girls/guys hates, but that the Bachelor/Bachelorette doesn't send home until the very end;
• helicopters on demand; and,
• at least one date that ends while on a boat in the middle of the ocean, where the rejected contestant will have to exit said date on a small speedboat as their tears are mixed with the salt water flicking them in the face.

Over the past few seasons I have discovered that each episode holds not only drama, tears and romance, but also amazing life lessons to take away. Like these little tidbits:

• The Bachelor Lesson #32: If you can't find one of your dates, it's probably because they're crying in a luggage fort.
• The Bachelorette Lesson #121: If you continuously call the bachelorette a trophy wife, and she continuously tells you she doesn't like it...don't act surprised when she sends you home.
• The Bachelorette Lesson #66: If you don't want to date a woman who has a child, you probably shouldn't go on a dating show where the bachelorette is a woman who has a child.

Finally, there's the last show where you try desperately to tell from the previews leading up to it which person is the "winner" and which person is sent home in a limo as the "crier". Alas, it's often not what you expect. Sneaky previews... Then it's tears and XOXOs before the new happy couple is sent home to their new reality.

If you haven't watched The Bachelor or The Bachelorette, don't worry. You can catch up on all the recycled drama with Bachelor Pad, a show where past bachelors and bachelorettes come back to try to nurse their heartaches, their hangovers...and win a lot of money.

Basically, the shows are an entertaining way to spend a few hours every week while you sample the finest $5 wines you can find and learn valuable life lessons.

Until next time, readers and readettes...this is the final sentence of this blog post. #thingsChrisHarrisonmightsay

I love...coffee shops.

As I write this, I am on an accidental coffee shop tri-date.

But I'll get back to that in a moment.

I started frequenting coffee shops in high school. There was a local coffee shop within walking distance of my school and several of my friends and I quickly became regulars. We spent many crazy nights there, getting high on caffeine while talking and playing games. At that time I didn't even like coffee, so I'd only get hot chocolate, but I did like the atmosphere. The owner of this particular shop (I can't remember the name of the shop - it might have just been called "Coffee Shop"?) was named Ted, and we all loved him. After we started going back there enough he would tell us stories about his life and give us life advice. I remember one time when we walked in behind a woman who Ted was interested in. She bought her coffee, they chatted and she left. Ted told us he was interested in her and we cheered him on to go ask her out. He ran out and got her number, then came back in jumping with excitement. On several occassions a group of us went rock climbing with Ted, and one night he let us stay after hours to watch Saturday Night Live. (I should also note that this shop was in the same lot as a Taco Bell, which could explain that obsession.) We were coffee shop groupies.


Once I got to college I didn't find another "Ted", but I did find more coffee shops. I would go there to study, to write, to think. I still wasn't a fan of regular coffee, but if I remember correctly I did enjoy a good mocha. It's not one specific thing I love about coffee shops, it's lots of little things - the constant hum of activity, the new music I usually hear, the chatter of the other customers. You can be lost in your own world, while surrounded by tons of other people. It feels like there's constantly a story ready to unfold with every new person who walks in.

After college I found more coffee shops and finally developed a taste for coffee. And where I live now there are tons of options to choose from.

This morning I decided I wanted to go out to a coffee shop and write. My plan was to do this earlier in the day, but I got distracted by watching Season 3 of SATC while I went through old clothes and googled stuff online. As it got later in the afternoon I realized some coffee shops I regularly go to might close early on Sundays, so I then focused my googling on finding a new option with late hours, which brought me to where I am currently sitting - Gypsy, in Gordon Square. It's pretty fab. I ordered a vanilla latte, and it's delish. There's lots of space to sit, good music, nice atmosphere. The front of the shop is all windows and looks out onto Detroit Avenue and there's a long bar option that you can sit at to look out the window as you drink or eat. That's where I chose to sit. It's fun to watch the constant activity out on the street - people driving, bicycling, walking. There are some small tables outside the shop for people to sit at, there's currently a guy sitting at one table while he types away on a typewriter (vintage blogging). A little bit ago two people walked outside with their coffees and pulled their table down to get in the shade. This action put them directly infront of me. So now the only thing separating us is a thin sheet of glass.

And that is how I accidentally ended up on a coffee shop tri-date. Though I can't hear what they're saying, I think it's going well. But I should go now, it's rude of me to be on the computer during my first date with...whoever these people are.

I love...hugs.

Have you hugged today?

After a recent hug, I found myself pondering the "hug". Where did the term and action come from? Who were the first two people to say: "Let's wrap our arms around each other and squeeze - and then call it a hug"?

I began some serious research on this subject. And by "serious research" I mean I Googled it and found this link to Merriam-Webster's page, scanned the page briefly enough to see that the origin dated back to 1567, then got ditracted by listening to the audio pronunciation of "hug" - which made me want to listen to some other words like "chalk" - and my research was done.

Instead I decided to consider the hug based on personal experiences. So while I'm still not sure who the first people to hug were, I'm glad they did - and I'm glad they told other people about it - cause I've been enjoying hugs for as long as I can remember.

When I was little, my mom read an article about the positive effects of hugging. It suggested people should hug a certain amount of times a day. (This was an article I was happy that she read, as opposed to the article she read about the negative effects of eating raw cookie dough - ugh, making Christmas cookies was ruined after that.) Anywho, she read this hugging article and we decided to make sure we hugged that certain amount of times a day from then on.

With so many things to hug, and so many reasons to hug - there's no reason not to do it.

You can hug a person, an animal, a tree, a stuffed animal, or even (as I recently found myself doing) a bag of chips.

You can hug hello, goodbye, congrats, sympathy, welcome, or I love you. The simple act of hugging can make you feel better, it can make the other "hugger" feel better, it may even make a bag of chips feel better.

A hug is like saying: "It's so good to see you!", or "Welcome to my personal space.", or "Watch how bendy my arms are!", or "I think you're all that and a bag of chips!".

Whatever you want to say today, try saying it with a hug.

PS: Did I mention that hugs are free?

I love...my mom.

Today is June Chalk's birthday! And June Chalk just so happens to be my mom.

There are a lot of things that come to mind when I think about my mom, starting with one of my first memories of her putting me into my crib with a nightlight glowing in the room behind her.

When I was little she would lay in bed with me, telling me stories she made up until I fell asleep.

The first time I swore in front of my mom was after I had watched the movie "Clue". She was trimming my bangs and let me look in the mirror as she asked how I thought they looked. I, quoting the movie, replied: "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." She didn't like that.

The first time my mom swore in front of me was when we were driving home from the grocery store. Someone was quickly backing out of their driveway not paying attention, my mom tried to swerve out of the way, but they hit us. She said the "s" word and then started crying. She denies the swearing part ever happened.

My mom always keeps me laughing. In fact I started tracking her "Momisms", which are the funny random things that she says - whether she intends them to be funny or not. Like the time we were on a family vacay, my sisters and I were laying by the pool and my mom walked over to us carrying a bag of animal crackers. She went to ask us if we wanted one, and mixed up the words of crackers/cookies as she yelled: "Do you girls want a crack-cookie?!"

As a fan of the Usher, Lil Jon & Ludacris combo, my mom likes singing along to (the chorus of) this song. And (thanks to the Ellen Show) she once asked me "Do you know that song that goes 'Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur'?". To which I replied, "Yes...but why do you?"

Anytime I worry and my mom tells me to stop worrying, I remind her that I got it from her. In fact, I'm worried right now about writing this and that she will worry about me being worried about her worrying...

My mom has been through a lot in life, but she's still one of the most positive, loving, silly, caring and giving people that I know. And if I have even a little bit of that in me, I'd be as happy as a kid eating a crack-cookie.

Happy Birthday, Mom!
Love, Jennifer

(p.s.: also happy birthday to Paul McCartney, who my mom always reminds us that she shares a birthday with.)

I love...past homes.

They say: "Home is where the heart is". Sometimes I think it's nice to remember where your heart has been.

Yesterday I went to a friend's house for a late brunch. It was a lovely afternoon of wine, lasagna and cannoli, while myself and four girlfriends caught up on everything from backaches to boys to babies. My friend lives on the east side of town and while driving home I couldn't help but slow down as I passed my old apartment on Mayfield Road. I looked to see if anyone was out on the balcony or if the balcony was decorated or if there was an "I miss you, Jenny" sign hanging from the railing. It looked pretty quiet there though.

It got me to thinking about past living spaces - past homes - and how I can't help but be reminiscent when I'm near them.

Take this apartment on Mayfield, where I spent about four years of my life and met some of my best friends. It was there that I realized it was possible to miss central air as I spent several summers melting into my sofa. I cried in that apartment, I laughed in that apartment, I continued my non-cooking streak in that apartment. The back fire escape stairs are where I spent several weeks being terrorized by a mysterious raccoon who would climb up and down them while leaving trails of garbage behind him, until the day I actually saw him teetering on the tiny rung of a ladder to the roof and I nearly fell down the stairs as I tried to escape the situation. Sure, I've moved out of and moved on from that apartment, but my heart will always remember how it felt to live there.

Whenever I'm back at Bowling Green State University I of course feel a little reminiscent when I pass my old dorms and apartments. The memories of late nights, parties, new friends, walking back and forth to classes, and getting in trouble for being too loud while playing "would you rather" seem like both forever ago and just yesterday.

Then there is the first home that I lived in while growing up (well, officially it was my second home, but we moved in there before I was one year old, so I'll call it the first home I remember). It was in a development in Strongsville, Ohio, tucked back on a cul-de-sac. It was where I spent nearly 18 years of my life growing up with my two older sisters and my parents. I learned to walk in that house, I learned to ride my bike in front of that house. I decorated Christmas cookies and Easter eggs in that kitchen. I played Barbies and had countless sleepovers while staying up too late watching scary movies in that basement. We have family pictures standing in front of the fireplace in that living room and home movies on the back deck of everything from graduation days, to proms, to when my sisters and I just wanted to test out the new video camera after school. When we moved out of that house the summer after my first year in college I went into my bedroom closet and drew a small heart with a little note as high as I could in one of the corners, with the hope that the new owners would never find it and there'd forever be a mark of me in that house. Since we moved, I still have reasons to drive through Strongsville and when I do I try to allow some extra time to drive by that old house. It's now been painted blue (used to be tan) and the wooden tree fences that used to line the edge of the driveway have been ripped up (which our friends hated when they first got their licenses and had to carefully back out of the driveway) and I know that most of the neighbors I grew up with have since left as well. But even with those changes it still feels the same when I'm in front of it. It still feels like the place that my parents, sisters and I grew into our family and it's still the place where I started on the path to become who I am today. I imagine my little drawing still intact in the closet as if saying "Jenny's heart was here".

As I type this I am sitting on the balcony of my current apartment - my current home. Years from now I'm sure I'll pass by here and remember the stories of what happened in my life while I lived here. And now I'll remember this moment of sitting on my balcony remembering all my past homes - all the places my heart has been.

I love...balloons.

Over this past weekend I went to a fundraiser for The Karen Foundation for MS. It was held at the Barley House downtown and was complete with live music, auctions, food, and a Joe Haden sighting. An adorable Joe Haden sighting.

There's one more thing that this fundraiser had...balloon creations! I say "balloon creations" because there weren't just balloon animals, but there were hats and other objects. My friend Cami and I stood in line anxiously awaiting our turn to ask the balloon guy for our balloon wishes. Cami was planning to ask for a pony, as she loves ponies. I was planning to ask for Prince (the artist), as I love Prince. As we got closer a girl in front of us got a balloon pony, so Cami decided to instead go with her back up: a unicorn hat. Just in case, I also chose a back up: pizza (as I also love pizza).

Finally it was my turn. I asked for Prince. The balloon guy told me he couldn't do that, but he would sing Prince while he made me something else. I agreed and asked for pizza. He agreed and started singing "Kiss" while twisting and turning several balloons into a tomato, green pepper and onion slice of pizza.

And let me tell you, it looked good. Delicious, in fact.

Cami then got her unicorn hat, and my friend Alyson got a big crazy hat:

After a while, friends encouraged me to ask that my pizza slice be make it into a hat, which was a good idea since carrying a balloon slice of pizza around all night would not have been very easy. That was how Pizza Hat came to be.

Then I thought: How could Pizza Hat be even better?
The answer: Have Joe Haden sign it.
So I did.

Here is Joe looking extremely focused while signing Pizza Hat:




















Here is Joe looking adorable after signing Pizza Hat:



After that, Pizza (as it came to be called) and I had many more adventures. Including going to a friend's house for Feaster Easter (a belated Easter dinner with a competition for the best side dish); a crazy dance party around a suitcase; and a late night stop at Flying Monkey for a couple drinks and a quick song on the jukebox ('Call Me, Maybe' - which I should note that when I went to play this song, a couple guys standing nearby threatened to pop my pizza hat if I played it. I played it anyway and called their bluff).

The next day it was really nice out and I met some friends back at the Flying Monkey patio later in the afternoon. We decided to go to Edison's for some pizza and it was suggested that I should run home and grab Pizza.

So I did.

Pizza enjoyed a slice of pizza with us, before we went back to Flying Monkey for Sunday night karaoke.

Now Pizza is slowly deflating and getting smaller, as that's what normally happens to balloons. But I'm not sad, because we'll always have our balloon memories...and Joe Haden.

(*thanks for the photo memories, Cami!)

I love...peanuts.

Happy Peanut Week!

Wait - what?! You don't know what Peanut Week is? Well okay, it may not be an official holiday, but within the walls of Hoopples in the Flats - it's been Peanut Week, all week.

Now you're asking: what exactly is Peanut Week? Well, I'll tell you. It's a week where Hoopples provides tons and tons of free peanuts. You go in. You eat the peanuts. You throw the peanut shells on the floor. And tah-dah - you're celebrating Peanut Week!

I found out about this during a bar crawl in the Flats last weekend. We started at Hoopples and written in chalk all over their walls (ahem, "chalk") was: "Peanut Week!", as well as the phrase "Shells on the floor!" and this adorable peanut picture (which, as I told some friends when promoting peanut week, is so cute it almost makes you not want to eat peanuts...almost.):

I was intrigued. Upon speaking with the bartender I found out the details and was sold. I got some other friends in on the deal and we chose yesterday as the day to stop out and throw some shells on the floor.

And let me tell you, they weren't lying about shells on the floor. We walked in and *crunch, crunch* shells were cracking everywhere under your feet. Our group grabbed a couple tables, ordered some beers, cheersed to Peanut Week and quickly plowed through several baskets of peanuts. At first it felt a bit awkward to carelessly throw the shells on the ground, but all you had to do was look around to be reminded that they wanted you to do it. Soooo...we totally made it rain peanut shells in Hoopples! We were throwing them on the ground, throwing them over our shoulders, dropping and stepping on them. Anyway you can think of to throw shells on the floor - we were doing it.

Proof of Peanut Week

On top of all this peanut action, the draft also started last night and Hoopples had draft-related games going on...that's right, it was Peanut Week, with games! They provided us with football bingo cards and Browns trivia sheets. A couple friends and I answered only three of the trivia questions and turned in our sheet - fingers crossed. As for the bingo, it was on! The bartender let us know he had nine official bingo prizes. As the draft went on people were yelling "bingo" left and right. I was getting nervous. Eventually I knew all nine prizes had been claimed and I went to use the restroom, abandoning my bingo card and feeling defeated. But a bit later some friends yelled: "Jenny, you got bingo!" I thought the prizes were done? Wrong. Turned out there were a few more prizes up the bartender's sleeve: free beer! I claimed my prize and happily drank it.

At the end of the night my stomach was full of peanuts and I was ready to head home and have peanut dreams.

So now you know about Peanut Week. Don't worry, it's not over yet, so if you haven't been then there's still time to make a visit and throw some shells on the floor.

Happy Peanut Week!


such a cute lil' peanut - right?

I love...imagination.

I am writing this from a secret island, while Ryan Gosling gathers firewood for our sunset dinner.

J/K...I'm not really on a secret island and Ryan Gosling isn't gathering firewood for me (as far as I know), but I can imagine that it's true.

I am a big fan of the imagination. I guess it started when I was little.
There were the empty boxes that became cars or houses.
When my parents mopped the kitchen floor and put all the furniture in the living room I'd be ready with blankets to create my own fort.
My friends and I would cook amazing "dinners" from dirt, grass and water, while using frisbees as our plates.
Or we'd lay in the grass watching the clouds pass by, pointing out the shapes and animal forms we saw in them.
Now I write short stories about animal towns and crazy squirrels or adorable miniature ponies.
I have a box full of greeting cards that I thought of and created.
And I'm always up for using my hairbrush as a microphone while I dance around singing whatever song is on the radio.


Maybe my love for the imagination is the reason I love Shel Silverstein, or maybe my love for Shel Silverstein is the reason I love the imagination. He created wildly ridiculous, touching, never before thought of stories that didn't follow along with any norm I'd known. He put the stories down on paper and now his imagination lives on with every turn of his books' pages.

Luckily, people of all ages are still using their imagination on a daily basis. Do you know about Caine's Arcade? A little boy named Caine used old cardboard boxes to build a whole bunch of arcade games. He imagined it, created it, and then - well, watch the short film about it. Warning: my eyes got a bit watery during this one. As a person who rarely cries at movies, I had to ask myself what about this ten minute film got to me? The answer: watching this little boy talk about his arcade. The happiness that comes out of him when he talks about it, I couldn't help but be excited and root for him and his imagination from the start.

What about you? What do you imagine? The thing about your imagination is that it's all yours. No one else can imagine what you can imagine. I don't care how old you are, the imagination is always in style. Whether you're using it to create your future or you just want to daydream away a sunny afternoon, it's ready to go. Use it to be silly, creative, outrageous, hopeful - whatever you need. Shake up your head, clean out the corners of your brain, and throw it all together to see what you can come up with.

Before I head back to my secret island, let me leave you with this quote from Albert Einstein: “Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere."

So go forth to imagine the heck out of your imagination and find out where it can take you, you wonderful imaginator you!

I love...thunderstorms & donuts.

There was a thunderstorm early this morning, which made it one of those mornings that you just want to stay in bed, cuddled up under the covers, listening to the thunder and rain. That is probably why I slept through my alarm clock and woke up 20 minutes before I was supposed to be at work. The thunderstorm must have inspired me though, because I was fast as lightning in getting ready.

Coffee - brewing.
Hair - up.
Contacts - in.
Teeth - brushed.
Clothes - on.
Make-up - applied.

Breakfast - well, there was no time for breakfast. Upon a quick inventory of my cupboard and food items that could be easily transported, I decided to throw a rice cake in my bag. Then I grabbed my coffee, double checked that I was fully clothed, and ran out the door. On my quick drive into work I kept looking at my bag and that rice cake taunted me at every glance: "You're still going to be hungry after you eat me!"

I finally made it to my office and walked down the hall saying good morning to my co-workers. Then one of them stopped me and said the sweetest words I'd heard so far today: "Jason brought donuts." Boom. Breakfast was served.

Sure, donuts were one of the key factors in my freshman fif-idon'twanttotalkaboutit-teen after I found a little donut station in my dorm's cafeteria and started eating them on a regular basis. But since then I've learned a valuable donut lesson: Donuts in moderation...sweet, sweet moderation.

So I had one...and a half. Okay, one and two halves.

Now I'd like to thank the thunderstorm for making me so late that I couldn't eat breakfast at home and instead could have surprise donuts at work.

I'd also like to apologize to the rice cake, which will now be spending the rest of the day in my bag.

I love...mysteries.

Did you know that some of life's greatest mysteries have been solved over weekends of wine, art, and food? Don't research this statement, just trust me that it's true*. I spent this past weekend with my friends Rachel and Jackie, who I've known since college, and we enjoyed wine, art, and food while contemplating our own weekend mysteries. We didn't necessarily solve each mystery so much as I "Jenny-solved" them, which means I made up my own answers to the following:


The Mystery of the Missing Wrap
Saturday we went to lunch at Flannery's on East 4th and I announced I would be ordering the BBQ chicken wrap. However as Jackie looked over the menu she broke the bad news that there were no wraps. I double checked and then asked the server. She confirmed they did not sell wraps and she didn't think they ever had. Just as my friends were about to file me away under "crazy" I knew that I had one more chance to solve this missing wrap mystery, so I texted my friend Lindsay, who is a Flannery's pro. She responded immediately and confirmed that they had indeed sold wraps, four different kinds in fact. But still there were no wraps to be had that day, so my mind completely frazzled I reverted back to my high school self and got the chicken fingers...with BBQ sauce. It was discovered during our lunch that our server was somewhat new to Flannery's - ah ha! That's why she wasn't aware of their lack of wraps.
Mystery Jenny-solved.

The Mystery of the Collar

After lunch we moved on to the Art Museum to see the Rembrandt exhibit. The pieces were amazing. While looking them over we pondered the purpose of the large white collars worn in some of them. Rachel suggested the collar represented a high status. I suggested it was to keep food from falling on the person's clothes. Then I decided that we were both correct and perhaps the higher your status the more important it was to keep food off your clothes...hence, the large collars.
Mystery Jenny-solved.

The Mystery of the Red Feather
As we ventured around to other parts of the museum, we ended up behind an older gentleman on the escalator. He was wearing a baseball cap that had a large red feather stuck out of the back. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Why was it there? Did he know it was there? We crossed paths with him several times. He walked around slowly and would stand and look at some of the artwork for awhile. My mind started wandering about that random baseball cap feather! This is why you should stay tuned for my future short story "The Old Man & the Red Feather".
Mystery (soon to be) Jenny-solved.

The Mystery of the Mattress vs the Banana
After the museum we stopped in Little Italy for a glass of wine at La Dolce Vita and cannoli at Corbo's Bakery. Then we drove back to Rachel's house. Along the way Rachel pointed out a store where she'd bought her mattress. We started talking about how long a mattress is good for and whether that timing changes if you put the mattress in storage or sleep on it for the entire length of time. I said it probably only counted when you actually used the mattress and it wasn't like there was an expiration date on it. I used the opposite example of a banana, saying that a banana would go bad in a certain amount of time whether you used it or not. But by saying the phrase "use the banana" the whole topic of our conversation changed from whether you're able to use a banana vs. eat a banana, and it went down hill from there. So no mattress mystery was ever solved.

Mystery (almost) Jenny-solved.

The Mystery of the Woman Sprinting through the Aquarium
Sunday we had breakfast, got ourselves together and went to the Cleveland Aquarium. There were lots of cute fishies to see, the sharks were teethy (ah!), and I realized I might be slightly claustrophobic as I kept to a quick sprint when going through the enclosed tunnel tank thing.
Mystery (unfortunately) Jenny-solved.





Hope you were able to solve some weekend mysteries of your own! If you need any help let me know, perhaps I can Jenny-solve them for you.

*statement may not be true.

I love...Valentine's Day.

It's time I tell you all something.

You may not want to hear it.
You may think it's ridiculous.
But I have to be honest.
Here it goes...
I love Valentine's Day!
Yep. I do.

Some people love to hate the day, but I love to love it.



Most of my friends know this fact, all too well. The question is: where did my love for the holiday come from?

Perhaps it started in elementary school after years of decorating those brown paperbags in anticipation of the tiny valentines that classmates would (*hopefully*) fill them with.

Or it could have happened as a result of watching this episode of The Simpsons.

Maybe it began in high school when there was the excitement of whether or not I'd get a carnation from my crush of the year, or my crush of the week.

Then there was college, when I would drive my roomies a bit insane over the day. One year I had three outfit changes throughout the day - from the red outfit I wore to class, to the red outfit I wore around the apartment after class, and finally to the red outfit I wore out to dinner.

After college there was the year I had friends over to my apartment, we ate pizza (yum!), made prank phone calls (to single guys that we knew), and played pin the hose on the fireman. Last year I went out to dinner with friends, handed out heart-shaped slinkies and magnets with images of men wearing nothing but oven mitts.

I guess there's always been something about the day - to me, at least. It's not neccessarily the hearts, or the candy, or the flowers, or the men wearing nothing but oven mitts. But it's the possibility of all of that and more. I've always seen it as a day where anything can happen. You may get an unexpected flower, a cute card, a kind word, a sweet kiss, or...if you're out with me...a heart-shaped slinky.

So now it's Valentine's Day 2012 and who knows what the day will bring. So far my day includes my "love" necklace (like the one in this pic), oversleeping (i'll take that as a valentine from my ex, the snooze button) and a bit of February snow.

If you're still reading this and haven't gotten sick from my pro-Valentine's Day report, then let me wrap it up by wishing you a Happy Valentine's Day of your own!

Come on. It's a holiday, people! Show the day some love and who knows what it will show you back...