Archive for June, 2007


saturday.jpgOur 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.  fingerprinting.jpgThis 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 officer-garrett.jpgeverybody 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.


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 holliday.jpglove, 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, gulf-shores.jpgdang 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. 

veruca.jpgDangit.  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.