Archive for August 17th, 2007

Friday Finally Came Around (And This Girl WASN’T Ready To Paint The Town)

 Raise your hand if you’re glad it’s Friday…Gosh, but, it’s been a long and tiring week.  Not necessarily a bad week, just long, busy, and HOT. 

I’m glad I followed up with our regular doctor today with the Holy Tara.  She has said all week she’s had a headache and all, but, she has continued on with her regular activities pretty normal.  The doctor gave her a series of neurological test-type things today.  Things like spelling certain words, drawing certain things, standing a certain way without falling, etc.  Things that sound pretty silly, but, somehow tell a lot about the brain.  He said she most definitely has a concussion and that anytime you are knocked out, even if for a couple seconds, it’s a concussion.  It’s a shock to the brain and it experiences some swelling.  He ordered her to lay low all weekend and not do anything but rest and take in lots of fluids.  If the headache gets worse, I get to take her back for a CAT scan over the weekend.  Yay.

I was surprised last weekend that Vanderbilt didn’t do a scan on her and so was the doctor.  I don’t know that they ever got how hard her head hit that tree. I guess the protocol they followed did not lead them to believe it was necessary, but, I wish they’d have done it.  Anyway, she’s resting and not very happy that she missed a couple very important social opportunities tonight.  I’m feeling a teeny bit of Bad Mother Guilt for not keeping her out of school one day.  She went on about her regular routine, though.

It’s been a busy, busy few weeks for the Grascals and that, in turn, is draining on me. Hard on everybody, really.  It’s been one of those weeks where Mr. Smiff is in and out…hi and bye.  We had some asspain things to deal with the finances this week. Without going into all the long, drawnout details, we hate Wells Fargo and once the car is paid for will never, ever do bidness with them again.

I finally, FINALLY made an appointment and got the insurance approval to be tested for ADD.  I think my life may change drastically.  I’ve been dealing with this since I was about 12.  Maybe some help is around the corner.  I hope so.

I’m a little put out with the voters of the IBMA for not giving The Grascals any Individual Instrument nominations.  Sorry folks, maybe I’m prejudiced but Terry Eldredge deserves a Male Vocalist nomination,  Danny Roberts deserves a mandolin nomination and Terry Smith is LONG overdue for a Bass nomination.  He can play circles around a certain nominee, who has won it umpteen times, is a good guy and a friend, but, just so happens to be a better politicker than Terry is.  Either way, it infuriates me.  There, I said it.  The IBMA voters were smart enough to nominate the Grascals for Entertainer of the Year and Gospel Recorded Song of the Year.  That keeps me from throwing and out and out hissy fit.

I had lunch at the absolute cutest place today…The Yard Shop on Gallatin Rd. in Inglewood.  Wonderful sandwiches, coffee, eclectic things inside, yard stuff…fun place to eat.  I’ll definitely be going back.  They had a picture hanging on the wall that I have and an old pew that used to sit on the stage at the Grand Ole Opry. 

I hated to miss the get-together at Blackstone, but, I only had a limited amount of time this evening to visit with Sir Smiff and I was just plain worn out from learning more than I ever thought I would know about STD’s this week at work and how rampant it is in this area and everything else that’s gone on this week.  I don’t have the stamina the other guys have.  Does that mean I’m old because I’m more interested in some quality time in bed (don’t get all excited. Mr. Smiff is at the Grand Ole Opry tonight.  No excitement there). 

Your Sista is tuckered out and very happy it’s Friday and anticipating a nice sleep tonight


Go here and you can hear the Mayberry’s Finest jingle featuring your favorite Mista.  Get used to it.  You’re gonna hear it a lot…nationwide.  (Hit the arrow in the top, left hand corner)

The whistles you hear are courtesy  Mr. Smiff.  Harmony whistling.  He’s goooood.

Sista Has A Weird, Unsettling Experience

On the road in which I journey to work every morning (Vietnam Veterans Bypass or aka 386), since school has begun, the traffic has grown immensely.  This is not a surprise to me cause it always does this. 

Every single morning, when I get on the Bypass and go about a mile, it becomes all bottlenecked for the rest of the 4 miles or so until 65.  I finally figured out why it gets so clogged up and then eases up past Conference Dr.  You know what it is?
That stupid, electric sign that says “Air Quality Alert-It’s hotter than hell outside” or something like that. 

If the sign had an Amber Alert on it, ok, that’s worth slowing traffic down to look at.  But if there’s anybody in the State of Tennessee who doesn’t realize it’s hot and to take precautions, ain’t no electric sign going to help you understand that.

It’s sorta like that weirdo I bumped into at McDonalds the other day….I went into the Music Valley Dr. McDonalds, which should have a sign out front that says “We have the rudest workers in Nashville right here!”  It’s really no wonder the place was empty.

Sos anyway, there was nobody in McDonalds and it was lunchtime.  I stood.  And stood.  And stood waiting for Quanesha and her co-worker  to finish their conversation before I was waited on.  Finally, they took my order, I got it and went to the table.  The ketchup dispenser was out.  I left my food on the table, took my purse with me and went back up to the front and asked this woman who appeared to be a manager (she had on a different color top than everybody) if I could have some ketchup.  She never acknowledged my presence.  Didn’t say “Well, sure”, “No way” nothing.  I was about to ask her again when she picked up the ketchup box and threw it at me, never saying a word.  Good grief.

Then, I go back to my table with the food (remember, nobody was in the place) and there’s a man sitting at my table, with my food.  He was somewhat scruffy looking so I’m assuming (I know, profiling…sue me) he was homeless or something.  I didn’t say anything, I just glared at him and he said “Oh…is this your table?”  Did he not see the tray of food?  He didn’t mess with it or nothing.  He asked me if it was my table and I gave him a Holy Tara, half-eye roll, half nod as if to say “Der-duh-dee” and he said “Oh.” Then he got up and moved to the next table. Like I was going to sit there.  I moved to the other side of the place. That was so odd.

Take it from your Sista….stay away from McDonalds on Music Valley Dr.  Heck, stay away from McDonalds.