A Confession

You know how when you go to the self pay check out at Kroger or Wal Mart and the voice says “Please insert change BEFORE inserting your bills?”

I always put the bills in first just to be rebellious.  It still works.  Why do they say do that?  Is it easier on the voice? 

A Small World Afterall

All week long at Bible Skoo, I kept seeing this girl and I knew she looked familiar to me.  Because I have a freakish memory, everybody looks familiar to me.  Every night I’d see her and try to recollect where I would know her from.  I felt like I might’ve gone to school with her, but, I didn’t know.

So, the last night, I watched for her to come in and I said “Where did you go to school?”  She said “Brentwood High School.”  I knew it! We had some classes together but neither of us could remember what.  Amy (or is it Kim?)  said she had not been sure if she wanted to go to the upcomoing BHS reunion or not, but, after running into me, thought she might.  I think that kinda decided for me which reunion I need to go to, too. 

A note about the hair…people seem suprised when I say I have curly hair.  This here proves what happens to your Sista’s hair when it’s extremely humid.

Now That Was Random

Since I’m behind on blogging, I’m going to go completely random on you and present a thought I had this morning.  It’s such a bloggy thought, I thought.

When newspeople say things like “Do Rag” in relation to a story they’re telling, it absolutely makes me laugh like I have no sense.  Julie Kroenig said it this morning.  She’s just not the kinda gal that probably says “Do Rag” very often.

Also, when newspeople say things like “Feces” I become a 12 year old all over again.  That gets my inner Beavis and Butthead’s mojo working.

A Community Service?

I stopped by the post office in East Nashville today to send Vol State my stuff that proves I am cootie free and my GED transcript. (I find it funny that they call it a “transcript.”)  The Jere Baxter Station Post Office is like a throwback to about 1958.  It’s a cute little post office, as far as post offices go.  Most of the people I saw in there were older folks who have probably lived over there since God was a boy. (Ok, there was a Mexican sister in there with a dress on who has hairier legs than the Manchild.  Trust me…that’s hairy)

There was one thing that took away from the quaintness and Bedford Falls-ness of this cute, neighborhood post office.  The building is right next to the former home of Rick’s (Or is it Nick’s) Flicks.  Rick (or Nick) did not deal in the business of Disney movies.  No, Nick’s thing was more along the lines of “Snow White and the Seven Sailors.”

Nick/Rick may be gone from the neighborhood, however, this lovely reminder remains of what used to be…It blessed my heart.

Now, maybe I’m a little naive, but, is this perhaps an informative sign directing the girls where to do their thing on Gallatin Rd?  Is it a dance move?  Kinda like the Electric Slide?  The Two-Step?  Remember that song Tanya Tucker did about the “San Antonio Stroll?”  Something like that, maybe?  Anybody?

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!

A little reminder that Mr. Smiff and Them will be at the Station Inn Saturday night.  The show starts at 9 ish, but, you want to get there earlier than that to get something to sit on and before they lock the door to obey fire laws.  I don’t know what the cover charge is, but, I bet the Station Inn’s website will say. 

I know a few of the bloggers are coming so come hang out with us if you don’t have nothing to do.  You’ll get to see Mr. Smiff’s new rather chic, rather mod hairdo, too.

Bible Skoo

I think this is the longest I’ve gone in between blog posts since I started blogging. 

I’ve been totally immersed in our church’s version of Vacation Bible School (from here on out, I shall refer to it by its proper term, “Bible SKOO.”)  We have had the best time every night.  As fun as it’s been, I’m quite glad we finished up tonight.  I think everybody was a little wrung out and over it.  Even so, I think I enjoyed it as much or more than the kids. 

I once again served as Photographer and I think I took in upwards of about 600 pictures.  I took them everyday and had some printed and made posters of each day and that went over really well.  It’s funny though how in doing something like that, I think I was blessed by it more than my photo subjects.  And praise Jehovah, I didn’t delete the pictures.  Maranatha!

I’ll post some of the fun pictures later, but, I have to tell you something funny #2 said at Bible Skoo yesterday. At Crosstraining, they have different sports and the kids pick the one they like and do that all week.  For the non-sporting type kids they have stuff like Arts and Crafts and Chess & Checkers.  #2 did the latter.  He had a fabulous time doing the games and stuff. 

Bible Skoo of 2007 is nothing like Bible Skoo that I went to as a kid.  Remember how you’d march in every morning and somebody would carry the American Flag, the Christian Flag and the Bible…then you’d pledge allegiance to all three (Attention…Salute…Pledge) then sing “Onward Christian Soldiers” and stuff like that?  Oh, oh, oh…and then when it was time to stand, the pianist would do a little stand up chime and then there was a sit down chime?   Then you’d make cool stuff and have cookies and juice in Dixie cups. 

 We didn’t do none of that.  They had pizza, hot dogs and there wasn’t no “Onward Christian Soldiers” nowhere around.  Instead, they sang a song about “Would Jesus Be A Soccer Star” and the Smiff favorite…”God’s Not Dead” (watch for video of this in the not so distant future.)

#2 asked Coach Mike last night if he could bring some cards and poker chips tomorrow.  When he told me that, I liked to have wet my pants.  He really could not understand what the big deal was and why could they not play poker at Bible Skoo?  I tried to explain to him that at a Baptist Bible Skoo, Holy Poker would probably not fly, although, I’d bet there would be quite a few people that would be willing to “Coach” Baptist Poker.  Maybe they should consider adding that as a Crosstraining activity next year.

I have other stuff to blog about that hopefully, I can catch up on this weekend.  Nobody lets me on the computer at night anymore!

Just Call Me Sophia…A Golden Girls Moment

I have been reminded more than once today just how tragically unhip I am.  I STILL don’t really know what Flugtag is, but, good grief, people have been talking like it was going to be the Second Coming of Elvis.  I thought “Surely this must be grand.  How sad that I’m so elderly and dull that I’m not in the middle of this.”

Then, I see this video and I’m scratching my head, sounding like my mother saying “That’s IT? That’s Flugtag?” 

A bit ago, me and the Smiff Boys ate and decided we needed frozen refreshment of the ice cream sort.  I wanted to go to Dairy Queen cause I wanted one of those Blizzards.  For some reason, I couldn’t think of what they’re called and I told the Manchild I wanted a “Blazer.”  He laughed at me for calling it that.

I think I had a cross between “blizzard” and “Brazier” in my head.  Remember when they used to call Dairy Queen’s “Brazier Stores?”  What the crap is a Brazier anyway?

So, we get up to the drive-up thing and the voice asked me what I wanted and I said (proudly) “I want a Butterfinger Blazer”, not realizing I had called it that.  I knew I had made a faux pas when the Manchild did his laugh he does when somebody does something stupid or somebody says the name of a body part…kinda like Beavis and Butthead.  “You said Blazer.”

Quick!  Call McKendree Manor and see if my room is ready!

Seeeeer-dee

Our church had a big shebang this morning.  A summer kick off sorta thang, getting ready for VBS this week.  The Drama Queen and her friend had their faces painted.

The police department was there fingerprinting the kids.  This is the first time I’ve ever had any of my kids fingerprinted.  Bad mother. It took some convincing to convince the Drama Queen that she should get fingerprinted.  She thinks she’s too old and far too sophisticated for that, but, #2’s new pal, Officer Garrett said it’s almost more important to get kids her age printed, so the DQ and her friend were booked properly.

Everybody should probably get fingerprinted.  If we ever turn up missing, ever in our lives, our fingerprints would be on file.  It’s kinda mind-blowing to think that out of all the people on the planet, not a one of us has the same fingerprint. 

Officer Garrett snuck #2 a special eraser.  Said not everybody gets them.  #2 kinda affects people that way.

I Wanna Tell You All A Story…

I dreamed about Jeannie last night. Thank goodness, I didn’t dream about her what I dreamt about Porter (Twitterers!). I simply adore this song. Written by Tom T. Hall, this song took Jeannie C. Riley from being an unknown wife and mother to a huge celebrity, literally overnight.

I remember one time about 1976, it was at Christmastime and for some reason Jeannie and her bunch and us, and I don’t know who else was there, were at a nursing home and she sang this accapella. I remember she had on cool, lace up boots and she stood there and sang this for the old folks, patting her leg and it was great. Good people. Enjoy.

TGIF

Happy Friday night, cats and kittens!

I had big lunch plans today.  I decided that today would be the day I took the old cable box and traded it for a DVR.  There was nothing gonna stop me from doing this.  Not even getting a phone call from His Hutchness saying he was going to be at my office and did I want to lunch with him and Ginger.  “Why sure,” said the Sista…” I’d love to lunch with y’all, however, my priorities are highly intact.  Nevermind the fact that since last Friday, you have been in the Intensive Care Unit, receiving more than one blood transfusion, I’m getting my DVR today!” 

Losing all that blood has not in any way, shape or form messed up the Hutchmeister’s keen sense of where to eat.  He had a solution…we could go to Neely’s at Fountain Square and then swing by Comcast.  I didn’t know that place existed. So we had good food, fellowship AND most importantly, I can record my programs now. 

Hutch and I discussed our mutual love of Judy Holliday.  I love, love, love Judy Holliday.  She was a brilliant, comedic actress/writer  of the 40’s and 50’s who died pretty young of breast cancer.  I had watched a movie with her yesterday and was babbling about that.  I think I got off on that tangent cause of my DVR.  Me and that stupid recorder.  I’m slapping myself silly for being so retarded about that.  I’m so thankful our pal is ok. 

I did feel  bad that Hutch drove.  He seems to take the whole “I’ve had blood transfusion” thing in stride.  Hutch is Hutch and I was pretty glad to see the old boy.  I hope he’s not overdoing it getting back at work so quick.  Easy, boy.

 On a totally unrelated note, sorta…Hutch said he wants to come out to the Station Inn next Saturday (6/30) to see Mr. Smiff and Them.  Others have expressed interest in coming. We can make it yet another excuse to get together and consume alcohol.   I wish you would.  It would make it look like I have friends.  I’m not quite so outgoing at these shows.  I don’t know if the bluegrass folk just don’t like me or perhaps they think I don’t like them.  I have been accused of being snotty.    (That’s that whole other persona I have that my blogging friends don’t know).  I think I somehow put off an unapproachable vibe.  I certainly don’t mean to.  I’m jacked up that way. So anyway, y’all pretend to be my friends and come down.

Meanwhile, I’m going to go play with my new DVR.  I’m so pumped about it! While I’m recording every program on tv, I will again thank the good Lord for Hutch and pray he stays well.

Does It REALLY Matter?

So Pacman Jones has surrendered in Las Vegas.  Whoop. Tee. Doo.  Next please…

Y’know, I’d rather hear the news tell us more about the 9 firemen who died in Charleston earlier this week than hear about this bozo anymore.  Those guys deserve any praise and attention we can give them. 

Are we shocked or surprised His No Brain-ness has gotten in trouble again?  Really sick of Pacman being the lead story on every newscast.  

Is football THIS important? 

I Want It Now!

I know that I’m an alleged grown up and all that, but, dang it, everywhere I look, there are people who have either just returned from, are gone to or are going to the beach. 

When I was at the hair place the other day, that shop was just all a twitter of this one and that one who were fixing to leave for the beach…”Where are you staying?” and all that mess. Even my boss and her family are leaving for Destin this weekend. 

Dangit.  I’m having a Veruca Salt moment.    I’m full of beach envy, by golly.

Had I not lost my job, I’d have a buttload of vacation days.  I’d have something like 15.  At this moment, I have a total of 6.5 hours of vacation.  Bleh. 

I’m trying to resist the urge to whine.  I’m moving onto another career path.  Hopefully, in the next week or so, I’ll be doing placement tests and stuff to start school this fall so think about that, Sista.  Hush, I’m trying to stay positive and not think about how bad I need to sit on a white beach on the Gulf Coast like, apparently, most others are getting to do.

Where Were You in ’87?

Because I don’t blog on taxpayers time, I’m doing a few posts in a row.

I have a bit of a dilemna.  It’s a dilemna of the High School Reunion kind.  As in the 20th year reunion.  I know you’re thinking that your Sista is way too young to have been out of high school 20 years because I am so youthful looking (note bags under eyes in previous post), but, amazingly, it has been 20 years. 

The dilemna I have is thus: I went to two high schools.  Both reunions are in July.  They may even be on the same night.  Anyway, I went to the 10 year reunion for Franklin High School.  It was fun.  I’d like to see those people, however, I only went to school with those people two years.  (Actually, a year and a half) Even so, those were extremely memorable friendships and stuff.  I’d like to visit with some of those people.  (Patrick, if you are out there, remember our pact that we would be each other’s date?)

I’d also like to go to the Brentwood High School reunion.  I went to BHS my Freshman and Sophomore years.  A lot of these kids are the kids I go back to elementary school with. These are the kids I remember when they wore their shoes on the wrong feet and wetting their pants and stuff.

Bo says he probably won’t go.  I don’t know if Sam Huffman, Murrey Gropp and people like that will be there or not.  I would LOVE to see those people.  I mean, I would turn into a 10 year old again if I could hang out with those guys for an evening and it would be fun to see people I forgot existed. 

The problem is, I get these emails from BHS and see all these names on them that turn me into a terribly insecure 14 year old.  I don’t know why.  These people were never mean to me.  I was very mean to me though.  It’s sad.  I know a few of these people will remember me, but, then I get scared none of them will.

I do know that both reunions are both going to be held at hotels in Cool Springs.  It would be cool if they were held the same night.  What’s not cool is the FHS reunion costs $67 a head.  BHS’s probably costs something like that. 

What’s a girl to do?

The Drama Queen is Traumatized

Note to self:  Change phonebook names around so Drama Queen and Mr. Smiff’s names aren’t right next to each other so you don’t accidentally send your teenaged daughter text messages meant for Daddy’s eyes only. 

Now that Mr. Smiff is a text messaging machine, we’re finding that texting is a fun way for the old folks to flirt and be nawtee.  Actually, I wasn’t being naughty in this message, but, it sounded like it. 

The last couple nights, Mr. Smiff has been continuing the bonding with our boys over Family Guy.  I wish he’d bond with them over old Andy Griffith episodes, myself, but, we’re weird that way.  I told Mr. Smiff to come back and watch tv with me and he said he would, but, he di-int.  So, I was attempting to text him today that I wanted him to come hang out with Mama a little bit.  It wasn’t nasty or nothing, but, had I ever seen something like that betwixt my parents when I was 13, I would have just flat out died.  I don’t think my parents ever actually did that though.  At least not after I was born. 

Funny now, I watch old home movies and have some cards my parents gave each other on birthdays and stuff and I can tell by the looks my dad would give my mom as she was filming that he was hawt for her and by their cards, especially a note I have that he left her by the coffeepot (her trusty, Corningware pot, remember those?) in 1971 telling her to have a good day and that he loved her.  How sweet is that?

Now, my Shishter walked in her Preacher Daddy and Mama one time when she was grown.  That would be traumatizing.  In fact, I don’t think she’s over it yet.

The Hairdo Hall of Fame

I started out Tuesday with hair like this.  (I’m shown here with my co worker gals Susan and Cherry.  We’re in Co-Worker Dave’s cube taking silly pictures sending him while he’s away at Reserves for a couple weeks.) What you can’t see from that fur a distance is that my hair was jacked right on up.  I was starting to resemble a hag. A tanned hag.  I’m getting me a nice tan, aren’t I?

Then, Tuesday after work, I made a trip here, to the Color (Cullah) Cafe.  Cheryl did some major work covering up my frightening amount of white hair (I will spare you pictures of me under the dryer with foil in my head).  After some cullah, a haircut, some hilarious stories from Cheryl (she is the funniest hairdo person I’ve ever had) she made me look like this .  This is me right after Cheryl finished.  If I ever win the lottery, I’m hiring me a hair person to have at my disposal.  I can never make it look like they do. (Could I look any more tired-er than I do here?  Sheesh.  What can you do for bags under the eyes?)

I have so much gray hair, it’s scary.  You think I’m lying.  Look at this.

See that white stuff at my temples?  That is what the front of my head would look like if I didn’t color it.  Cheryl gave more highlights so when my gray roots grow in (my hair grows FAST. Like kudzu) it won’t be so much like they’re coming in screaming “We’re baaaa-aaack!”  I think this is the lightest my hair has ever been. 

Here’s a better picture from this morning.  I took this one cause Chris asked to see it.  Now I will find out if blondes do have more fun.  (It looks like I’m deep in prayer here.  I pray all the time.  I just don’t stop and close my eyes and do it)