Tag Archives: Lisa

GIFT DAY 025: fridays are for television

25 Jan

Glorious day.

My gift today in my quest for abundance was coffee and a scone.

But, not just any coffee and scone.

I coffee’d with a friend today. And, you must meet her too — if you haven’t already.

Meet Lisa.

lisa and jamie, the promise 365, the promise daily

She’s fun, funny, smart, bright, a mom, a marketer… and awesome.


That’s her blog. Lisa writes a blog about TV. And it’s called TV IS AWESOME.

How awesome is that?

But it’s not just any TV blog, it’s like the smarty pants girl guru version of a TV blog. She dissects the stories and the characters and makes connections that I wouldn’t know to make — because she was a Lit major.

But it’s so easy to follow it’s kind of like sitting next to her on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a box of Kleenex watching the tube.

As we chatted and talked and sipped and shared today — which was SUCH A GIFT — I kept thinking about that Joseph Campbell quote.

“Follow your bliss.”

Bliss. Abundance. Have to be related right?

More tomorrow.

{Have a favorite TV SHOW? Dish on the comment section of the blog.}

GIFT DAY 011: who painted my house blue?

11 Jan

I walked through my old neighborhood today.

I happened to be in the Davis/Porter Square neighborhood for lunch today with my friend, the most amazing and awesome Paige.


On a whim I decided to find my old house. The first house I moved to in Boston. Back in the day. In my twenties. With my college friends, Laura and Lisa.

I found the house at 31 St. James.
But it wasn’t what I was looking for.

I thought I would find my old, yellow house.
Turns out 31 St. James is now blue.

31 st james, jamie eslinger, the promise 365

Like, electric BLUE.

I stood in the street for a few moments squinting, trying to remember what the house looked like when I lived there. When it was YELLOW. When it was my home.
After snapping a few photos I walked down the street to find our old friend WINSTON.
Winston was the best neighbor, friend, and confidant.
Winston was always there for us.
Winston never let us down.

Because Winston was a tree.
Still is.

Winston, the promise 365, jamie eslinger

Every time we passed Winston, the three of us would call out his name in unison.

“Hellooooooo Winston!

Mr. Winston is still there, looking as strong as ever.

And that reminded me of me of Laura and Lisa. They have always been here for me, through thick and thin.

When 31 St. James was a house of yellow, we three girls had each other.

At 31 St. James, we helped each other through the death and divorce of parents. We got engaged, started jobs and shut down internet companies. We cried our eyes out. We laughed over stupid movies. We gasped in disbelief after going to bed one night and waking up in the morning shocked to hear that George Bush was elected president.

And then we ate frozen chocolate chip cookie dough — right out of the container. We threw parties (and we threw up a few times too!).

We were the crew of 31 St. James.

st james group, jamie eslinger, the promise 365
So today, my gift of the day was to my girls. Just a simple photo of a house that was once yellow but is now BLUE. Electric blue.

Kind of fitting too.
Because our friendship has only become more electric as time has passed.

We may live in three different parts of the country, in three different colored houses, but in our hearts we will always have 31 St. James — no matter what color they paint it.

Because just like Mr. Winston, our friendship is still there, looking as strong as ever.

And that’s the gift of a lifetime.

More tomorrow.

{Have some life-long, rock-on friends? Feel free to share on the blog.}

Day 80: cottey friends we’ll always be until the end of time

20 Mar

I’ve gone back to school!
And, I’m all set up in my dorm room.

Except, this time it’s in the beautiful mansion on the edge of campus — that same mansion where I always wanted to peek inside the windows.

Much has changed in 18 years. For one thing, that mansion is now part of the campus and I am staying in one of the guest rooms. (A small dream come true.)

Now that mansion is called the Center for Women’s Leadership, a gift of Dr. Helen and George Washburn. And, right inside the door is their photo.

Dr. Helen Washburn is no longer the college President, as she was while I was a student, but just seeing their faces felt like coming home.

Being here also makes me think of my college pals, Laura and Lisa.  Here we are at Elvis’ Graceland on our way to Spring Break — “back in the day.”

Those girls seem so young now, and the proof is in my mirror.

I’m sure I’ll see many other changes on campus tomorrow morning, but until then, I can’t get this song out of my head.

Friends we are and friends will always be,
We’ll meet again, returning faithfully.

Cottey friends, we’ll always be,
Until the end of time.

Day 309: my favorite shirt :: holes and all

5 Nov

My favorite shirt is made of an ultra-thin cotton weave, is light and soft, and long sleeved.  Now it has more holes than I can count. Or mend. Believe me, I’ve tried.

I would buy a new one if I could, but of course I can’t— not yet anyway.

Someday I will replace my favorite shirt.
But right now, it still reigns.

This shirt was one of the first items I purchased after my divorce, after I lost over 30 pounds in the process, as well as losing most of everything I owned.  When it was all said and done, I didn’t fit into what was left of my life, including the clothing.

So I bought a few things for the new me, including two staples:
My favorite shirt.
My favorite pair of jeans.

Both are now tattered and torn.  But both are all mine, all me and alright just as they are.

They have been to Mexico with me, to the west coast, east coast, north, south and everything in between. They have been to the beach and to the mountains, through sand and through snow, on boats and buses.

Today my favorite shirt went bowling with two of my favorite friends:  Laura and Lisa.

Someday I will buy a new favorite shirt, I’m sure, but it’s hard to imagine getting rid of my wonderful old favorite shirt.

Because just like my favorite girlfriends, my favorite shirt has seen me through some of the hardest and most wonderful years of my life — and still fits just right. Tatters and all.

Day 296: a road trip for the body and soul

23 Oct

I slept next to this contraption once at Boston Logan Airport.
All night long it went Cling! Ping! Ding! Whoosh! Whack.

It was during a holiday with my trusted traveling buddies Laura and Lisa. We were road tripping between Boston and New York during Thanksgiving Break in order to do our patriotic duty of walking the Freedom Trail and witnessing the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade all in one week.

We were sophomores in college and back then it made total logical sense to sleep in the airport instead of pay for a hotel room (since we had early morning flights).

All night long I heard the inner workings of the art installation as I tried to wrap my six-foot frame into some sort of slumber between two arm rests of the pleather airport lounge seat.

All night long it went Cling! Ping! Ding! Whoosh! Whack.

Today as I sat next to this same contraption at Logan’s Terminal E, I thought to myself — I will never do that again.

I’m discovering there’s a lot of things I would never do again.  But, back then, it was exciting to spend a night in a foreign city — at the airport!

Actually, it was more than exciting, it was daring.

Everything about that trip was daring for three 19 year-old women from small agricultural towns.  We rode buses and subways and planes through the great North East. We booked a (seedy) hotel room in Times Square.  (I have no idea HOW we found a HOTEL ROOM back then without the INTERNET.  But we did.)

We froze in arctic wind tunnels in the shadows of New York City sky scrapers as the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade floated before our very eyes.  At least, that is, until we couldn’t take the bitter cold anymore and then huddled all together in the doorway of a luxury hotel under outdoor heaters.

We ran through the streets of New York laughing and giggling. With wide eyes and big hearts we tried our best to fit in.

We thought we were so sophisticated.
We laughed like school girls.

We made our way through by sensing and seeing and asking for directions.

At stop lights and intersections we instinctively followed the crowd.
“They go. We go!” We screamed to each other following native New Yorkers into the street without (GASP!) that familiar blinking walk signal.

Like I said, it was daring.

Other road trips took Laura, Lisa and I to Chicago, SeattleAlabama and the Gulf of Mexico.  With each new adventure we grew bigger as the world became smaller.

As I sat next to that same old contraption, chiming and clinking in the airport today, I was whooshed back in time to a younger, risk-taking version of myself.

It occurred to me that the journey I am on this year, during this promise, isn’t all that different from the adventures and risks I took back then.

This road trip is taking me in a different direction of course, one more inward than out.  But, in a way, it is allowing me to grow bigger while the world appears to be smaller with each and every step.

And, in much the same way, I am making my way through this head/heart/body & soul road trip by sensing and seeing and asking for directions.

In the process, I have cleaned up my food act, learned to meditate, traded cookies for green smoothies, and powered through yoga.

I have discovered I shop for emotional reasons far beyond my conscious awareness.

But, more than anything, I am learning how to touch the surface of my soul and hear the voice of my mother again.  Like the tip of an iceberg there is still so much more to discover.

Who would have thought not shopping could bring me so many riches?

And, that thought alone, makes the light bulb inside my head go Cling! Ping! Ding! Whoosh! Whack.

Day 141: and she awakes

21 May

On this one hundred and forty-second day I found a renewed appreciation
for a nap

on the couch

I come from a long line of hard workers who appreciate the art of the nap.
My grandfather and my father, they hold the napping honors in my family.
Both could go from awake to snore in 60 seconds flat.

I remember visiting my grandparents on the farm as a little girl.   Inevitably, we would find my grandfather face down on the floor of the living room.

To anyone else this would have looked potentially morbid, but we were used to it, as it was his favorite spot to catch a cat nap after being out in the fields all morning long.

My favorite spot is a couch.
To me, a good nap just isn’t the real thing on a bed.

A bed is for sleeping, silly!
But, a couch, well that is the ideal napping place for me.

Add a little sun poking in the windows, my body covered and snuggled in a light blanket, maybe even a pillow …well, that’s just nap-tastic.

My college friends Lisa and Laura had their own secret formula for afternoon naps.  They kept a special tape just for napping (yes, a TAPE, as in VCR or VHS — if any of these words are foreign to you please replace with DVD or TIVO, your choice).

The tape was a recording of a golf tournament on TV.
My friends would plop the tape into the VCR whenever one wanted a nap and needed the magic formula (AKA: boring golf commentators with low whispery drawls potent enough to induce sleep).  It was the napping tape.


Today, I may not have had the luxury of a pre-recorded golf game to send me into some z’s, but I did rediscover my own nap gene.

It’s not only good for my body, it’s good for my soul.

One little nap actually reminded me that the best part of falling asleep is waking up.  Everything has a way of looking brighter when I have rested eyes.

While my dad and grandfather passed down their love of napping, I think I could take a lesson from someone else who has perfected the nap and taken it to another level:

And, ironically, he prefers the bed.

%d bloggers like this: