Category Archives: ms Jay

Career Options


Jay – “I really wanted to practice some witch doctoring. I need to get back to my roots…string up some shrunken heads…speak in tongues.”

Valancy Jane – “Sweet, can I be a witch doctor too?”

Jay – “You can but you have to develop some kind of craziness.”

Valancy Jane – “Are you saying I’m not crazy enough to be a witch doctor? I’ve never been told I’m not crazy enough for something.”

Jay – “Uh no you’re not crazy at all lol sorry. You’re more normal and stable than you know. Completely adjusted.”

Valancy Jane – “But I WANT to be a witch doctor! Don’t smash my dreams.”

Jay – “lol I had no idea. Lets all just calm down…stop brushing your hair and you’re half way there.”

Valancy Jane – “Done. Ok. What next?”

Jay – “Hmm…I think you have to talk to things that are not human.”

Valancy Jane – “I already do that.”

Jay – “But…you do believe in ghost so I think that should sub for God or anything else.”

Valancy Jane – “I had a lovely chat last night with my glass of wine.”

Jay – “Who did you chat with?”

Valancy Jane – “The glass of wine.”

Jay – “Oh…lol do items count? Mmmm sure why not?”

Valancy Jane – “Well, they’re not human. You might say I was communing with the spirit of the grape vines.”

Jay – “Lol maybe…the cows that fertilized the grapes that was later made into wine…I see the connection. Now you have to get an old book and hand write a lot of stuff in it, preferably in a fake language.”

Valancy Jane – “I have a journal in my purse and my handwriting is pretty bad, does that count? Nobody ever knows what the hell I’m talking about most of the time anyway.

Jay – “Lol I think that should count. Can you read your own handwriting?”

Valancy Jane – “Yes.”

Jay – “Oh then you’re good.”

Valancy Jane – “Sweet! Anything else?”

Jay – “No I think you’re good.”

Valancy Jane – “I’m in!”


Honor amoung thieves.


I’m going to the Boo Ball tonight, you?

omg I think I’m the only one who’s not

You should come!

well its sold out we’d have to CL our tickets
or look for a scalper ha

Or kill someone with tickets.
Not me, of course.

well…just tell me where you keep them and there will be no killing

That’s sweet of you.

A gal only turns 29 once. Well, usually.



As some of you might know, my actual birthday falls on December 23rd, which is a ridiculous time of year to have a birthday.  (You heard me, Jesus.)  So I’ve done the sensible thing and rescheduled.  This year it fell on Sept 25th.  What day it falls on is subject entirely to my whim.

As you can see, I picked a good day.
















Assorted thoughts


I need window boxes.  Anybody know where I can pick up some decent ones?  Or wanna help me build them?  I’m thinking basil and peppers.  Is eggplant or squash too ambitious? Some tomatoes and chives and I’ll be virtually self sufficient, after the zombie holocaust.

I’ve recently discovered that eggplant sandwiches are wonderful and moist.  I just fry up the eggplant in some olive oil, balsamic vinaigrette and pesto, then put it in a sandwich with mozzarella.

august 18th

If you ever get a chance to be me for a little while, I suggest you pick lunchtime.

Or Monday nights, for the organ concerts at Balboa Park.

aurora hat wine

me and drew four

ms jay concert

organ pavilion tree

If I could bottle this gentle existence of mine, I’m pretty it would keep me in nacho money for a good long time, at least up until the zombie holocaust.

Write this down, Doc.


Yesterday, while speaking to my new general care doctor, we covered my medical history, and overall health.  How often I exercise, how much sleep I get a night, etc.  She noted that I’d repeated myself, twice mentioning my wonderful, supportive, wise and loving circle of friends.  I found myself bringing it up again to a specialist I saw later that day.

I wanted them to know that I know what I’m sure they already know.  That either as a reflection of, or because of, my overall health can at any point be gauged by how many close female friendships I have.


And later that night, a cocktail reception at the art museum, it occurred to me.  Why had I told my doctors this, and not my gal pals themselves?

I can never tell them too often what they mean they mean to me, and how rich and loved and alive they make me feel.  That no story of me, even something as mudane as a medical file, is complete without mention of them.  They are that powerful.