Jamie is a lady with lots of nicknames and an endless supply of beautiful words. She write a sweet blog that I can’t get enough called Souled, and one of the only regrets I have about leaving California when I did is that she and I did not get to meet in person. I have a feeling I’ll be back there soon though; our meeting is written somewhere in stars.

I get asked this question all the time, don’t you? And it’s funny, isn’t it, how we define ourselves by what we’re paid to do.
But if you ever want to know who you truly are? What you really do? Ask a child. One of my friends, according to her son, cries on telly. She is a soap opera actress. Another friend gets rid of bad words. She’s an editor. My mechanic friend has been called a gorilla by his niece. I think she means grease monkey. Yet another friend kicks in her underwear. She is a burlesque dancer.
The other day, an ice cream truck merrily made its way through my neighborhood’s streets. My big bad wolf, Max, began barking furiously, tail wagging happily and his giant paws resting on the Dutch door. Ice cream trucks deliver such joy.

So I joined a gang of cuties who live next to me and across from me and even a few who walk two streets over just to visit me and Max. These little ones are gems, and they make me feel both hopeful for our world and just a little worried, too. I wrote out my goal for my life some time ago, and by that schedule…I should have three of my own by now. I tell myself not to worry. That they will come to me when they’re supposed to come to me. And I know they will be so worth the wait.
In between politely shouting out our treat orders to the ever-patient ice cream man {How’s THAT for an occupation!}, I noticed a sweet new face in the crowd and introduced myself. She’s new to our area, fresh from New York, and upon telling me her name asked right away, “What do you do?”
I blinked twice. Three times, maybe. I honestly wasn’t sure how to answer. Luckily, my little posse knew exactly what I did.
“She’s a dancer!” said one.
“She’s a singer!” said another.
“She grows the best tomatoes!” exclaimed another. “They don’t even taste like tomatoes!”
“She’s a fairy farmer…” one of my favorites said softly.
The answers kept coming and kept me smiling for days afterward. In truth, I’m a realtor in Los Angeles. It’s hard work – hard work – but I love it to my soul.
But I do dance when I’m watering my blooms or when the little neighbor girls hold an impromptu recital. I do sing to my carrots as I bring them to light or when I see a gorgeous tree that deserves a song. My tomatoes don’t taste like tomatoes. They taste like heaven. And, oh yes. I do grow the most wonderful fairies in my back garden. They come out with the stars and deliver just as many wishes.
So let me introduce myself to all of my sweet Brandi’s delightfully kind readers…
Hi there. I’m Jamie Flannigan. I’m a dancer, a singer, and a fairy farmer. In my spare time, I find homes for wonderful people to fill with all their hopes and dreams. Would you like a tomato?
Tell me…what do you do?
{first image from Welcome to the Dollhouse, second image by Lubs Mary}