Sunday, September 28, 2008

My birthday . . . continues

To further continue celebrating the holiday known as "my birthday", my friends G & Bev took me to lunch at the Arcade.

OK, to be honest, yes, I set it up. I was like, "Let's go to lunch." But the way I see it, if you really want something for your birthday (like lunch with G&Bev at the Arcade) it's ok to take the steps to get it. That they happened to buy my lunch for me (a yummy sandwich of thick slices of honey ham with sliced pear and aoili mustard) was just a bonus.

Afterwards, I took my cousinette M.F. to Wiles-Smith Drug Store for a homemade milk shake. There's just not a better one in the city.

I'll be wrapping up festivities today with a family dinner shared with my brother. I got to go get him a present on my way out of town.

Friday, September 26, 2008


It's really been a bit of a whirlwind week, driving, vacationing, birthdaying, etc.

I picked up my cousin M.F. on Friday night and brought her to the apt. long enough to show her around, then leave her Saturday. She came to town to work on a project, sort of. I think she really came to town to get out of our small hometown.

Then zip I headed off to MyFella's to begin the week. Sunday morning we popped up early and hit the road to Pigeon Forge. We discovered that we vacation well together. We both like and dislike similar things. We'll gladly pay to go into a theme park and spend the day happily walking through exhibits, museums, shows, etc. And we'll gladly go to a dinner show and watch the trick riders.

But tourist shopping? We'll pass. Gatlinburg was a bit of a bust for us. Just row after row of touristy shopps with a few places in between to pay and go in and see. . . whatever.

Late one night we did a wee bit of touristy shopping to pick up a souvenir t-shirt for Jamie, and we're both a sucker for a book store anywhere, anytime. But we wanted to go see, go do, not go shop. So all that tourist shop-crap just wasn't our thing.

Did I mention the people up there were super friendly?

Back in town yesterday to go to a friend's house. A friend of mine died, a beautiful lady we'll call D. She was 70, and her suffered through illness the last few months that included a fast spiral into Alzheimer's and a horrible weakening of her body. I haven't asked the particulars, but I think she died with her daughter and grandson near her. So I made it to the house yesterday afternoon to spend a little time with them. The visitation is tonight, and I've offered to pick up a few inbound relatives at the airport. Funeral is tomorrow. She's going into one of those wall-mausoleums. I said it sounded very classy and very "like D." She said she had thought so too when the idea came up.

Last night to the fair, and not one decent photo op out of it. J&K picked us up, and even treated us to tix! K blew her recent uber-healthy organic diet by feasting on every fair food item she could see. Spiral potato chips, pineapple whip, pronto pup, roasted corn, chicken tenders, chicken on a stick (which is different from the honey roasted chicken tenders). About the only thing we somehow skipped was a funnel cake.

If M.F. would wake on up, I'd treat us to some Wiles-Smith for breakfast. But if not, I can probably do it tomorrow. I've got lunch with two of my all-time faves at 11:30 downtown to celebrate my birthday!

Sunday I'm going home for the family supper we missed last weekend. I've got to think of something to buy my brother for his birthday. Wow. By the time Monday comes, I'm going to need some time off just to relax from my vacation!

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Birthday Pics

September 22nd.

My birthday! Yay for me! It's my birthday! It's my birthday!

Once I turned on my phone, I received a plethora of voice mails and text messages and what-not. All the birthday-love I love to receive. I know it sounds greedy of me, but I hope there are some birthday cards in the mail when I get home! I always love to have a phone call from my Moma on my birthday. I had voice mails of song singing from my nephews.

And a Dolly Parton theme it was. We found the Dolly World attraction and my half price tickets were waiting on me. The off season crowd was light, but everything was open. So if you want to ride the roller coasters, you don't have to stand in line. We meandered through the whole day. Had lunch at Lillian's Chicken Buffet or something like that, where MyFella got his hair blessed by Lillian and her chicken. She said he had good hair.

We didn't ride the rides. Between MyFella being a skeerdy cat and my back still feeling a bit out of whack, we just went without this time.

My friend-girl through work met us at Dixie Stampede last night and gave us tickets. So we really enjoyed the dinner and show there. MyFella laughed at the way I ate chicken with my fingers. It's a good, fun show and a good time.

It was a very good day.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Dolly Parton Birthday

Today is going to be THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!
Our ride up to the Smoky Mountains was fairly uneventful, even nice.  We had only one tiny argument, and my biggest disappointment was that he doesn't like Meatloaf, so I didn't play that c.d.   I like to use road trips to listen to favorite old c.d.'s. 
The hotel is something I am going to stress over and over as a positive.  I had a gift certificate for free 2 nights.  So for two free nights, I'm going to stress happiness.  I'm hearing there was some remodeling a few years ago, and I didn't perceive a recent remodel.  What I have found is that it is very clean and the people are very friendly, and there's no sign of anything being worn or ratty.  Is it their fault someone has bad taste in decorating and my room is filled with an odd assortment of faux-Native American designs? 
Let me tell you - there's an indoor pool.  Whatever else goes on, there's an indoor pool that's open til midnight.  I even went to W-M hoping to find a "noodle" in the close-out section.  I'm thrilled 'bout that!
Last night we just rode up and down the tourist strip going in a few touristy joints.  We ate a supper of sandwich in the room before going back to the pool.  You know I just love swimming.
But today is my Dolly Parton birthday!  Dollyworld opens at 10a.m. and we have half price tickets, and then tonight we are meeting a sort-of work friend at Dolly Parton's Dixie Stampede!  So it's going to be a Dolly Parton themed birthday!  This could be the best birthday ever! 
*The work friend got us free tickets!  So that's dinner and a show for free.  The only catch is the girl is stuck going with us to get the free tix.  I told her how much I appreciated it, especially since I'm sure she's seen it all before.  But as a thank-you, I got my boss (who rocks!) to give me one of the signed cookbooks she has in her office and I've got her a little coffee mug and I'm making her a 'happy' out of it all. 

Stay up to date on your PC, the Web, and your mobile phone with Windows Live. See Now


** drama alert **
While I adamantly said, "I'm not mad or bitter about this, MyFella kept saying, "You sound mad and bitter." So I'm going to say that I realize it's impossible to write this (or say it out loud) without sounding mad and bitter.

So there's your bitter alert for this posting.

"Here" she said and was handing me the phone. I said, "Who is it?" She said, "E." I said, "I'm not taking that call." She said into the phone, "I think he's mad at you." I said, "I'm not 'mad.' "

Come home from Iraq or Afghanistan or where ever it is you are and spend a month and don't call me, the first time I won't even think about it. Or the second. But the fourth time? OK, OK. Two times I won't count because you had an intensely personal reason, so I'll give you those two. If you want me to believe you spent the full 30 days so deeply consumed by the personal emotion of a tragedy with some of your friends - I will believe you. I've got no problem with that.

I've told you before, I don't have to be first. I know you have a lot of family and a lot of friends who want your time when you're home. I'll take second. I'll share. You made it all the way from the Middle East, I'll drive to you.

I'll even give you this: I know you are young and handsome and would rather spend your time with young pretty girls and young handsome men than with your old, fat, fag cousin. I got ya, I understand. Just call. Or tell your Mom and aunt to cook a family supper one night. I'll share.

But come home four times in a row, don't call me at all? In fact, tell me by MySpace two months ago you were coming home on the 22nd for a month, and then actually come home a month earlier, and the night you are leaving, as you are driving to the airport, tell somebody to hand me the phone because I happen to be sitting near them. . . in a crowded and noisy restaurant where I really can't talk with you anyway.

I'll be second place. What I won't be is second hand, second rate, second thought.

Doesn't change how much I love you. Doesn't change that I will answer the phone of it rings right now. Or when you come back, I'll still share, take a phone call, etc. But I have people who think of me first. I have people who enjoy my company and call me. I have people who come to town and make the point of seeing me. So I know what it feels like.

I won't be second hand, second rate, second thought.

*Told you. It would read like drama*

See how Windows connects the people, information, and fun that are part of your life. See Now

Friday, September 19, 2008

Aunt Liz

When I get around to blogging about it, if I do, I might go into details that explain why, after so long, tonight with her was such a good thing, a good time, and far too long in the making. Too long a grudge held, to finally slip away.

It was good to be back. Good to be us. Good to feel like the smile and the laugh were sincere, and meant for me, and not just in a room I happened to be in. It was good to see her the way I used to see her, and hoping she saw me the way she used to see me.

Maybe that's enough of a blog. It's never felt so good to lose something.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

College Game Day Hottie

Quite possibly the hottest-built-man-alive.Wearing the muscle-style t-shirt under his white t-shirt. Thick, body building neck, black hair, cannons (not just guns, cannons) on his arms. Perfectly ratty jeans. Broad chest.

A little brunette hottie girlfriend who danced like a stripper girl to the stadium music. You know he's banging her like a screen door in a hurricane.

This picture doesn't do him justice. In fact, the shadow on his shirt seems to make him fat. But he wasn't. Trust me. It's just not so easy to take a good photo with my Razor phone in a crowd, and less so trying to move your camera around a bunch of fans in a stadium.

Monday, September 15, 2008

May they live long and propser

and serve as a role model for all. A wedding over 21 years in the making.

Sunday, September 14, 2008


Pearl and I have been friends for years. Pearl is who she is, and we love her for it. Pearl being a nick-name for a friend of ours who is quite gay and has some of the best stereotype genes. If somebody dies, just tell Pearl. She's the best kitchen manager you'll ever find. Wanna throw a pot luck? Again, it's Pearl to help manage everything. Wanna know good dish on somebody at her church? She'll tell ya.

She's also been known as a bit of . . . a . . . frugal person. The kind to order "soup and a coke" then say, long before the rest of the group are finished, "I've got to go, I can't wait on the waitress. Can you pay my check for me? Thanks" and dash off. Not bothering to toss you a five to pay for the check.

She's . . . well, she's a pearl.

He is also one of the first friends I made when I moved here. He was part of the group that I moved into at my fave-eating-place. He's had a key to my apartment. We've been out to eat. I've done my best to get him complimentary fare at my varied employers so he could impress who-ever.

So. Why. You. Gonna. Do. Me. Like. That? I run into him at the festival yesterday, and go to hug him and he sticks out his hand to shake mine. I push on, introducing him to MyFella and Jamie, and he says in response "I think you should shop there" - pointing at the booth where we are which has a variety of costumes on display. And then? He's gone. Completely walked off. Didn't introduce us to whoever the young hottie with him was, didn't say goodbye, just disappeared as fast as he could.

So how come I'm thrilled to see you, but you treated me like an old neighbor from a poor subdivision?

Sigh. It's not like I'm surprised he's shallow and wants to be with whoever his pretty friend is. I just didn't realize he'd turn his back on me so quick. We'll see what I'll remember the next time I get a coupon for a free meal. That'll teach him!

Mississippi Football Games

You know how some email jokes come back around, every year or so? In sort of the same way you used to get jokes faxed to you? You know the kind - there's one about Memphis drivers and roadways. (There really is an intersection about a mile from me. All four ways to turn have different road names, and there's only 2 streets intersecting. Or the one about 'midtown directions could say 'go to East Parkway and drive until you get to North Parkway, go West on North Parkway until you get to West Parkway. True, it exists).

Anyway, there's this one about football games at a particular Mississippi college. It talks about how the women dress up, how the boys where khaki's, how they hide whiskey in flaks versus . . . I suppose yankee's going to football games in old jeans and t-shirts drinking cheap beer. I haven't read it in a while, but it's out there.

Yesterday, in all my 39 years, was my first time to go to a game at this college, just over an hour away. All the rumors? They're true.

Tents all in the grassy areas with people set up like they are catering meals. It's all family, so if you don't know someone, you don't get none. I swear to you, CABLE DISHES and FLAT SCREEN TV's set up. Chafing trays (the expensive ones, not the cheap, throw-away aluminum ones). Girls in high heels. Men in khaki's. It was. . . . unique, to say the least. Take the concept of tail-gating, throw it away, and just start with "hosting a lawn party." Lots of them. One after one after one, row after row, after row.

Last home game? Someone cut the rope marking off the band's practice area to set up more tents. (Not that they wouldn't KNOW the band practiced there before the game, mind you.) So the band director sent someone out to buy yards and yards of chain metal, painted security yellow. Ha, cut that!

To be normally expected, lots of college pride colors, logo's, emblems, etc. But this is how invasive they are - the college paints rows in the grass and puts up signs that say something like "EMERGENCY PATH - DO NOT FILL" and "STAY OFF THIS GRASS" because if you didn't, there would be no paths. They just pop up next to each other into infinity. All over the place.

And booze? Well, they said last year and years before you could smell it on the breeze. This year there's a new mandate that you can't have it. But security can't sip your cup or open your cooler if there's a lock on it. So just don't show it. Kind of funny.

The whole thing was kind of funny, really. I'll see if I can find that email joke somewhere. Too True.

I'm not racist, I'm just scared!

The best college game story I've got is drunk-white-boy standing 3 feet away. The band is in their warm-up spot just playing little warm-up diddys (once upon a time I knew the correct term for them) and there's these 3 guys next to me. All well into their enjoyment of the intoxicating evening.

One of them must work at some chain store, he struck me as the type, and his 'boss' is in the band playing the trombone. So drunk boy is heckling his boss with great lines like "You can SLIDE one in me!" and "You can BLOW me!" Him and his two buddies just howl with laughter.

A fellow bandmate turns around, a young black gentleman, and looks at them. Heckler, who up to this moment has just been mildly drunk and not particularly annoying yet, says, "Hey! It's all about the love! You wantsum? Cause I don't do black guys!"

Uh. The pause from his drunk-white-heckler-pals, the look on the black guy's face, it's clear. There was a little line there, and you just stepped over it. Maybe not intentional, your mouth was just running faster than your brain. But you did it. You stepped over it.

He yells "I'm not racist, I'm just scared!" Young black band guy changes to sort of a smile and a shake of his head and turns around. Drunk guy says, "It was the only thing I could think of."

One of his pals says, "I'll tell that story for years."

I said, "Yeah, I will to."

It would of been a great story, too, if the three heckler drunks had stopped there. But they kept heckling their pal long after it stopped being funny. Oh well.

They weren't particularly really cute, but the great thing about college aged guys is even the ugly ones are cute. Here's a little snap of a drunk, white, straight boy whose not racist, just scared.

an uncle

An uncle with his favorite niece, or a niece with her favorite uncle? Either way, the picture tells the story best.

Post Secret

This is NOT my secret. It's not my card. I didn't think of it. Can't take credit for it. But it's how I feel every single time I make the drive to his house, then turn around and drive back 2 days later. It is, I always hope, how he feels on Sunday afternoons when he gets back to his home.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

It's 6:45a.m.

and I hear jamie giggling. The day will start soon.


It's 6a.m.

and the weekend of the C-Y festival. For the first time since 1999, I'm not 20 feet away tucked in my adorable apartment. 'course, this apartment is a lot more roomy. But this morning I would like to hear the tinker of Wal-Mart tents being popped up and boxes being unloaded and muffled chatter over coffee while vendors of a variety of useless and beautiful (and sometimes tacky) objects put out their wares.

I liked leaving notes on my door that said, "No. The car left in the street is not mine. Please don't knock" after a couple of years of having go-rounds with vendors. One year they just popped their tent over the car and set stuff up on it. Gotta do what you gotta do.

Well, we're going to the festival this morning. It's just a little hurtful to my sense of sentiment that I have to DRIVE!

It's 6a.m.

It's 6a.m. and I've spent the better part of a week waiting for the weekend to come, waiting for the morning when I can sleep in with MyFella laying next to me. Instead, I'm wide awake and he's in the front bedroom. My part? Oh, going to bed drunk does that to me. His part? Jamie wakes up and tends to stay up, talking to himself and playing with the laundry in his overnight bag, unless someone lays down next to him.

But at least we're here together. And at least we had fun tonight with an "old style" gathering of friends at "our place." It was just like back in the day, when we were young and single and had (we thought) more money than we knew what to do with. When we could just order "another" and then do it again. When we closed the place down. (I left early when Jamie got tired, some body else might have closed the place down. Red's jeep is still parked outside where it was when she came by here.)

Thursday, September 4, 2008


That's my weight this morning. I can't remember if that's up or down from 90 days ago. I'm sure I wrote it down somewhere, but I don't know where.

This morning they took the blood for lab works to make sure the cholesterol pills aren't ruining my liver, to make sure I'm doing some good with lowering my sugar, etc. Let's keep our fingers crossed on the results.

Back went out, did I tell you? Two weeks ago. Chiropractor doctor's been giving it to me good. He's cute, in his own way. I'm not attracted to him, but he's fairly young and nice.

Best thing to come out of campaign rhetoric lately is Sarah's husband. What a cutie he is.

Watched the two episode season closer from last season's House. You know I'm a House fan by association. My friends J&K watch it, so I watch it with them. I knew I had to catch last season's closer on rerun so I would be ready for the new season. The first of the two part episode was arguably the worst & best written. Kind of funny, kind of out there, didn't make sense, too much of House's attitude and not enough good writing but at the same time very out of their normal box. Then the second episode - emotional roller coaster that had me bawling my eyes out at the end. So there I am, darned near 40 years old, crying in front of my friends after dinner, just sniveling at poor Amber.

I got to get a grip on that stuff.

I'm in love with Todd Pallin.

Come on now, can you blame me? He's a total hottie. This isn't his best pic, but he's quite handsome. Hard worker. Union man. Rugged and outdoorsy. Virile.

Lions and tigers and bears. Oh my.