One More Post....

Pooh on Blogger. Picasa is a little more cooperative. I had to have a picture of our little friend on here.

This was in the summer of 2003 not long after Bogie the Dachshund came along. I still think adding the other two dogs kept Chloe's spirit up and kept her going longer than she probably would've. Bogie and Chelsea kept her frisky and in charge.

Chloe wasn't the prettiest dog in the neighborhood, nor the smartest, but, she was sweet.

Pedorthic Memories of Yesteryear

Everytime I see those commercials for Jensen Shoes, and Mr. Jack telling us he's a registered Pedorthist, I laugh. Not because I enjoy making light of those who have odd feet, that must be a bitch to deal with. Not much normal about me, but, I do have normal feet, for which I am grateful.

I laugh because everytime I see that commercial, or hear him on the radio, I think of this girl I knew in 5th grade. Her name was Suzanne and SHE had weird feet, thus, making her one of Mr. Jack's regular customers and she was very vocal about the fact that she didn't get to go to the "normal" shoe stores to buy her shoes, like all of us ultra-cool kids did. "I have abnormal feet. I have to go to Jensens." Well, praise the Lord!

Suzanne was one of these people that looked at the ceiling when she was talking. You know the type....they look heavenward when making a point. I've never understood what causes one to do that. I know she couldn't hep it, but, it always made me laugh. She was like a little old lady with her bad glasses and even worse permed, short, curly hair (5th grade remember). It was at Suzanne's house, at her slumber party, where I saw the "Dallas" episode where they revealed who shot JR. (Incase you missed that one, it was Krisitin).

Sadness upon sadness, Suzanne moved before we started Junior High. But, I did get the opportunity to see her again. A couple years later she came back to visit. My friend, Barbara and I hatched this plan to fool poor little, geeky-but-didn't-know-it Suzanne. (As if Barbara and I had the lock on coolness. Trust me, we did not) We decided we would tell Suzanne that I had gotten married because I was pregnant. (We were clever, weren't we?) Yes, at 14, I had stumbled into sins path and gotten knocked up. (Writing and remembering this is making me have a gut busting laugh and #2 keeps saying "What's so funny?" Heh. I ain't telling him). I didn't know nothin' about nothin' and worse, didn't even suspect nothin! But back to my pretend marriage. Barbara went and bought one of those $5 rings that could pass for an engagement ring. I can't even remember what we said my "husband's" name was but we went through with this devious plan.

It seems like Suzanne may have bought it, but, I don't know if she did or not. I certainly hope my daughter, who will soon be 13, never takes part in any such hoax and even more so, I hope Suzanne, with her weird feet, has forgotten the stupidity.

How do we know if Jack Jensen is REALLY a "registered pedorthist" anyway?? What if he's falsely claiming to be this, just as I claimed to be pregnant and married at 14?

Good Eatin'

So what do Smiff's do when they are grieving? We shop and eat.

Kohls was having a half off sale on shorts today so me and the Beautiful Dawta mozied on up there and got her some britches.

I had gone to Farmer's Market yesterday and gotten some fresh blackberries and since it turned out I couldn't attend the big Blogger Meat Up at the Mothership, I am making a blackberry cobbler to take to the Motha In Law's, where she has prepared us one of her fabulous feasteses.

Reminds me of my favorite episode of "Roseanne" where Roseanne's father dies. Darlene makes the comment that "Why do people bring food when somebody dies?" Roseanne says "Yeah, not like it helps.....HEY WHO BROUGHT THAT CHOCOLATE CAKE?!"

I'm not comparing losing a pet vs. losing a person. My mother in law does what she does best to comfort us...feed us. That's a nice thing.

Life goes on.

Chloe

Me and the Beautiful Dawta took Chloe up to the vet and did what we had to do. I thought it kinda interesting that the vets office uses this pretty, flowerdy paper to print out the euthanization certificates. Usually, at the vets, Chloe would try to get up and get off the table, but, not today. Her back legs had pretty much given out on her. They asked if I wanted to be in there when they did it and I said I didn't think so and asked them if that made me a bad dog owner and they said "Absolutely not." Some want to stay and some don't.

The Dawta and I both noticed how Chloe's eyes seemed to be teary when we were telling her goodbye. Maybe it was just our imaginations. Our eyes were full and the hearts heavy.

I went outside and waited and I remembered the time I had brought Chloe to that same vet about 12 years ago to be boarded while we went on a trip. Chloe HATED leashes. Scared to death of them and wanted no part of one. She jumped out of my arms and took off running down the parking lot and I had to run like a madwoman to catch her before she got out into West Main/Gallatin Rd. traffic.

We brought her back to the house and our wonderful neighbor, Matthew, a big, sturdy guy, dug a good hole for us and me and the kids buried her. Each kid wanted to help cover the dirt. It was like they had to. That dog had been here longer than any of them and has been with them every single day of their lives.

Chloe went through a lot of life with us....births, a divorce, greeting each kid when they came home from their first day of school, a lot of nights I was alone with Mr. Smiff on the road, she was right there, being a good watch dog, always sleeping right under my head, if I got up, she got up, she got up, even if it was just to the bathroom. Gosh, Chloe even knew my dad, who has been dead nearly 15 years.

#2 asked me if Chloe was in Heaven. I told him I don't know for sure, but, I feel that God has a special place for special pets. He has to. I hope so. Chloe is deserving of whatever special place there is for dogs when they die. She was everything a good pet should be: loving, forgiving, protective and a faithful little friend. There were times she drove me nuts because she had a nervous/insecure side to her, but, I'm glad I saw that ad in the paper that day in 1991 and that I brought her home, even though I was not sure what Mr. Smiff would say. She was so tiny, she fit into my hand and I hid her behind my back before I broke the news to Mr. Smiff that it was a girl.

Everyday when we feed the dogs, there's this routine of Chloe being in charge of the food. The other dogs eat, pretty much when she said so. This morning, when she wouldn't eat, they ate theirs and I noticed after I got back and done with everything, they had not touched her food. Normally, it's a contest. Amazing how instinctive dogs are. Maybe they're hoping she'll be back later to eat. Who knows.

**Once again the wonderful Blogger is being contrary and won't let me put a picture up. Look at the Flickr.

Almost Her Time

It's beginning to look like my 15 year old dog's time is about up.

This morning, Chloe is not eating, not moving much and at this moment is staring at her bowl of water, taking sips now and then. She's not wimpering or anything but it's not like her, when the food comes out, for her not to attack it and then tell the other dogs when they may eat. She has thrown up once and her food is just sitting there.

Mr. Smiff cut her hair a week or so ago and we were able to see how thin she is. Even though she has been, up until today, eaten really good, apparently, she's not holding her weight.

If I take her to the vet, they'll want to put her through a bunch of tests, which, frankly, I can't afford and don't really see the point in putting a 15 year old dog through. I guess I know what I need to do. I guess I need to just call them, ask their over-the-phone opinion and do what needs to be done.

I hate this.

***Her little nearly blind eyes are telling me that she's ready. I called our regular vet and they said they can't see her today unless I want to drop her off. Um, no thanks. I called Dr. Flatt's office and they said to bring her at 11:30. She's so thin, I'm afraid she'll break if I try to pick her up.

An Old Movie Review

I'm on an old movie roll here the last couple days. I go in spurts with TCM and I'll have times where that's all I'll watch (not much else worth watching on regular tv anymore).

Yesterday evening, I had the 2 hour guilty pleasure of watching Valley of Decision. This is a great movie with Greer Garson, that other object of my old movie star desire, Gregory Peck (good grief, that man was sexy) Lionel Barrymore, Marsha Hunt, who reminds me a LOT of Lindsay Ferrier and then there was a young actress in the movie who played Hottie Gregory's sometimes girlfriend and then wife and I knew there was something familiar about her and the very last scene it dawned on me who it was....a very young Jessica Tandy. I keep forgetting Jessica Tandy was not always old like Miss Daisy and Mrs. Threadgoode in Fried Green Tomatoes.

Anyway, the movie is about an Irish immigrant housekeeper Mary Rafferty (Greer Garson) who goes to work for the Scott's, a very wealthy family who owns a steel mill that her father (Barrymore) worked for and ultimately lost his legs because of. Paul (Gregory Peck) falls in love with the cute housekeeper and instead of his family being against the union, it's the bitter, curmudgeonly Barrymore (now there was an acting stretch...remember him as Mr. Potter in It's A Wonderful Life?) who gets pissed off, disowns his daughter and places curses on her and Paul's unborn children.

Because of a strike in the steel mill, some violence ensues, killing both Paul and Mary's fathers and Mary gets all like "I can't marry you" so he ends up marrying Jessica Tandy's character, Louise. That Louise is a snobby, bitchy sort and at the end of the movie, dumps Paul (idiot) and Mary shows up and they ride off in their carriage into the sunset. Endings like that have ruined many a woman's life, but, still, it's a great movie and to see twenty something Gregory Peck clinching that purty jaw of his and being all sweet and crazy about poor Mary Rafferty is a nice way to waste one's time.

Money, greed, love, violence, pride...this movie has it all. If it were made today, it would have a drug dealer and one of the brothers would be a flaming homosexual. Nothing wrong with the latter, just shows how times have changed since 1944.

Pass The Gravy, Please

I miss Rick and Bubba. They were on MSNBC's Scarborough Country so at least I got to see them. The morning drive in has not been the same way since they yanked them off the air here. I can listen to them online and stuff, but, it isn't the same.

Seen and Heard

So that WAS John Dwyer I saw walking down Church St., complete with visor, colorful beach towel, swim trunks (no Speedo) and flip flops, looking like he was on his way to that downtown hotspot, the YMCA.


John Dwyer...
Was that you I saw walking towards the Downtown Y yesterday afternoon, looking like you were going for a dip?
If it wasn't you, you have a twin walking around!!!
Posted by: SistaSmiff June 22, 2006 07:43 AM


SistaSmiff-"Y" yes, that was me walking to the pool top YMCA around 3:00pm. That was also me riding my bike with a pizza in one arm down Church Street to the West End area. I'm trying to keep active in the afternoon so I can get tired and fall asleep MUCH sooner than what I'm used to.
Posted by: john June 22, 2006 09:12 AM

I saw John Dwyer in shooo-rts....neener, neener, neener!

Death By Nightstand??

I watched part of a wonderful interview last night on Turner Classics with the great director/writer Billy Wilder. It was rather interesting in that in parts of the interview, he spoke English and part German, which was his native tongue. This guy was quite the brilliant filmmaker, writing and directing things like The Apartment, Some Like It Hot, The Seven Year Itch, Double Indemnity (which I watched after the interview. GREAT movie with Fred Macmurray as an adultering murderer. Steve Douglas a killer?!?), The Lost Weekend, Sunset Boulevard, Sabrina and others. Billy Wilder somewhat resembled Barney Rubble and lived to be something like 96 years old. I don't know when this interview was done, but, it was great. His memory and recall was fantastic and he was full of great stories and rememberances of some of the people he worked with. He was quite honest and straightforward about the people he worked with.

He talked a lot about William Holden, who is one of my absolute favorite actors. Mr. Smiff knows I have a thing for William Holden. Charisma out the ying-yang and a gorgeous man, Mr. Holden was also a pretty good actor. (I don't have a thing for old Bill Holden in The Towering Inferno, though. The horn rimmed glasses and ugly tuxedo just don't do it for me.) He was the best man at Ronald Reagan's wedding to Nancy. He had liasons with people like Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly and Stefanie Powers. He was a real adventurer in his life and traveled all over the world. He had fallen in love with Africa and I believe, he had a home somewhere in Kenya and spent a ton of money supporting wildlife preserves and stuff there. He worked up until not long before he died, in spite of his fondness for things of the alocholic nature.

Rex Camino was talking earlier about ways one would and wouldn't want to die. The way William Holden died is one of the saddest stories ever. Billy Wilder even talked a heap about it in that interview. He said he would've expected Holden to die by a spear during one of his African safaris or in a plane crash in a harbor in Hong Kong, but, to die by the corner of his nightstand in a dinky little apartment? No way. But that's what happened to him. You can read the story here and even see the autopsy report. (Warning-this page is addicting!)

More ADD Fun

I wrote about my son's ADHD the other day and for the heckuvit, I took me an Adult ADD test. I do realize this is not a diagnostic tool. It says if you have an answer higher than 2 on 20 or more of the questions is an indication of a "strong tendency toward ADD." Ok...so what if you have 30??!?!?!??!

My sister is always telling me I oughta get on some sort of medication. I get so intimidated by doctors and medical people and tend to get all stuttery and retard sounding when trying to explain something to them. I'm afraid they'll think I'm a junkie wanting some stuff. Do I invite him to spend a couple days with me and then maybe he'll get why I think I might be an adult with ADD?

Sista Sista Fo Fista Banana Nana Fo Fana

I was just talking to my girlfran Chris and I asked her what her middle name was. Prima donna that she is, her middle name is Lynn. I told her that when I was a kid, I always wanted my middle name to be Lynn or Marie (as in Osmond). I hated my middle name back then. I was the only kid at Lipscomb School with a ridiculous middle name like "Rose." That was a Granny name. In fact, my "Rose" was a derivative of my maternal grandmother, Rosena. I often dreamt of changing the Rose to Marie when I was 18. I learned to like it, though, and passed the middle name on to my own daughter. Rose has since become a hip middle name for little girls. Lots of Hollywood types like it.

Growing up in the 70's, tons of Jennifers, Christy's, Michelle's, Amy's, Tracy's, etc. dotted the landscape. No, I didn't have a trendy name. My name evokes images of somebody maybe being one of Gidget's best friends, or Patty Duke's. It was a popular name during the Baby Boom era and for whatever reasons, my parents felt it necessary to adorn me with the name "Sharon." My oldest cousin on Dad's side is Sharon and that's where they got it from. It's not bad. It could be worse. It's just null and void of character. Lots of my classmates had friggin' MOMS named Sharon.

There aren't lots of songs screaming my name. I've always claimed "My Sharona" and recently, I uncovered a song that Bobby Darin cut way back called "I Ain't Sharin' Sharon." It sounds like what Patty Duke was probably shagging to on the opening credits of her tv show.

When I was about 2 or 3, my parents realized what they had done in naming me "Sharon Rose." I have the same name as Jesus, cept reversed. I always giggled in church when a hymn or something would reference the "Rose of Sharon." Heh. That's me. They didn't do it on purpose, though. My parents aren't the "Lets name our girls Faith, Hope and Charity" kinda folks. They did get slightly cheesy and give both us girls names that started with "S." I can't say nothing bout that cause all my kids names start with the same letter. That was not on purpose either. It just kinda ended up that way. In fact, they're all T's and I'm the oddball. When I call for one, I end up saying everybody else's name before I get to them. Mr. Smiff was the one who felt it necessary to continue the T tradition when #2 Son came along. I'm just glad #2 was a boy because there aren't a plethora of T names I like for girls.

Totally random, off subject but this guy that works here where I work just now asked me about the Mothership, had I been there, was it good, etc. Apparently, Wade is a blog reader and is a fan of Knuck's. "You know how I found him? He has a blog." Heh, yeah, I know.

To Bless or Not To Bless

I sneeze a lot. Allergies. I'm usually a three sneezer. When I sneeze in the presence of Mr. Smiff, he counts along with me in my sneezes. After 17 years of hearing me sneeze, he knows the pattern well. Sometimes I throw him and do 5 or 7.

Today is 5-7 sneeze kinda day. I woke up sneezing and I suppose I will go to sleep sneezing. My eyes are even swollen which makes for my usual, lovely visage being even lovlier. I had to take a Benadryl and while usually they don't make me too sleepy, today, it's making me nearly incoherent to speak to. I can't imagine what I'd be like if I took REAL drugs or partook in alcohol regularly. (My Shishter has has seen the intoxicated Sista Smiff and will tell you, it ain't purty)

So I'm sneezing left and right all morning and my co-workers are "God blessin" me left and right. I NEVER say "bless you" to somebody when they sneeze. Does this make me selfish? Unrighteous? Un-neighborly? Ungodly? It's not that I don't care that my neighbor has a spot of hay fever, I just don't feel like I (or they) need to bless each other everytime we "Kachoo."

My 8th grade English teacher at what was then Northside Jr. High, one Miss Schwemer, NEVER missed a "Guzunteit" when a kid sneezed. Some days, she guzunhited the whole day. That woman had the LOUDEST snap ever. She'd snap her finger at you if you got out of line and the snap was loud and scary.

Am I wrawng to be anti-Bless You-er?

I Got New Graphics....I Got New Graphics!

Want a lick? PSYCHE! (Think Eddie Murphy)....thanks to the fabulous Miss Zoot. Now I have to get that Glamour Shot out for my new picksha.

Ya dig?

Praise the Lord and Pass the Underwear

Say what you will about us Southern Baptists....chide me because there are a few in my denomination who don't think the women folk should hold places of leadership and there are some who have an issue with homosexuals, we don't like abortions, and we like us some Dubya, but, one thing you CAN'T hold us liable for is that we don't make our peoples wear special underdrawers, as Jeremy at Welcome To My World is showing on his blog. (Another one I've never seen til just now).

Are You There God, It's Me, Sista

I normally don't get so personal on here, but, I just had a 7th grade moment.

Co-worker Bonnie (one of the three 20-somethings I work with) informed me I had a spot on my pants. NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is horrible. These moments are meant for middle school not late 30's. I should be past this. I don't even have a jacket to wrap around my waist, plus, even if I did, how obvious would it be, in 90 degree heat, to be wearing a jacket?!?!

And of course, after this discovery was made, I back up against a wall and we girls had one of our girly conversations about female stuff (they like to get me going on birthin' babies, since that is one thing I AM an expert on) and I'm waiting for the proper moment to run back to my office and OF COURSE....every man on the floor walks by. It's like they have a sixth sense about the women on the floor having a personal iss-yoo and they come out in droves.

I was going to walk downstairs to take something to be processed somewhere, but, not now. I know if I do.....I am SURE to run into another Gentleman Formerly Known as My Boss (not the one who comes here regularly) and he notices everything and would surely notice my female iss-yoo and would make a comment about it. I'd run into him and there's about 3 or 4 other guys I know here who would take great delight in my plight and in pointing out to me.

Nah...this job'll have to wait. I want a hysterectomy, NOW!

She's On The Case

Arybody was yappin' about the upcoming Kidman/Urban nupshals yesterday. As usual, my mother in law had the story, first, a week ago.

Not That I'm Anxious For Him To Come Home Or Nothing...

Curious...Mr. Smiff's plane was scheduled to leave Ontario, California at 8:40 this morning. I checked it this morning and it said the flight was delayed. It took off ten minutes late, according to Southwest's website. I checked it a couple hours into it and the website said the flight would be early, about ten minutes. I just checked it again and it now says it's scheduled to land ontime at the original time.

Is it because of clearance...how busy the gate it is? Drunk pilot?

Out of the Box

The house was extremely quiet yesterday and this morning. #2 went home with Grandma after lunch yesterday and stayed on to spend the night because Mr. Smiff is flying back from California as we speak and I had to be at work early this morning.

I can't tell you how eerily, oddly quiet it is without #2 around. Anytime, any of my Trio is missing, the whole rythym and noise level is a lot lower, but, when #2 isn't there, it's even much more so. It's not because he is so difficult, or misbehaves or is bad or anything like that. He has such a spirited presence and he can be quite loud but the house without the #2 Vibe is just so strange.

#2 is clinically ADHD. I was not surprised to find this out in February 2005 when he got his official diagnosis. I was not surprised when Dr. Couch gave me the list of symptoms of ADHD that said "If your child has some of these" and I counted twenty-something symptoms and #2...well, he has nearly every single one.

I knew when the second day he was in Kindergarten and he disappeared from the cafeteria during lunch and his teacher found him out in the hallway, cutting a rug, that we might have a little problem. (When I asked him why he left the cafeteria, he said " I HAD to dance!")

I knew #2 was going to have to learn to work around this when his Kindergarten teacher, exasperated, suggested we send him back to preschool. Apparently, even though she had taught 27 years (as she loved to brag) she had never had an out of the box kinda kid like #2. Luckily, we did not take her advice and his good humor, attitude and Buddy the Elf-ness of him made the Kindergarten teacher, 1st grade teacher and 2nd grade teacher fall completely in love with him.

In spite of the love, he does sometimes have to have an aide sit with him to help keep him on task. Every year, I pray that the next teacher will "get" him and be patient with him. Academically, he does very well and I hope some of his symptoms will ease as he approaches middle school age, but, I realize (like so many of his relatives before him, including his mother) some of it, he will have to learn to work around and in spite of.

His attitude is so good (usually, he does have his moments) that Christmas before last...we're putting the Christmas tree up. The other two kids are a little less consistent with happy, sunny attitudes and with the Smiff's, we tend to have an argument regardless of what we're doing. We're having a little tiff as to what ornament goes where and me and the other two are going back and forth, verbally to the point Mr. Smiff had to intervene and smack dab in the middle of it all, #2 shouts, in best Buddy the Elf voice, "This is gonna be the BEST Christmas EVER!" And he was being 100% serious!!!!!

All that to say that when #2 isn't around it's a void. He is one of the funniest, happiest people I know. He is about to be 8 years old but still likes to sit on my lap, still has to check out every restroom in every restaurant we go to (umpteen times a visit), still has trouble tying his shoe and I still spend a lot of grocery store time trying to find him.

While I did enjoy taking a Sunday afternoon nap without #2 jumping on the bed, asking me to scratch his back and put it on On Demand so he could watch Johnny Brave or the Flintstones with me (amazing to me he enjoys watching that with me. Go figya) it just isn't the same when #2's not there.

A Father's Day Card

Happy Father's Day!

If you're one of the lucky ones that still has a father on Earth, go take him to lunch today or go see him and if you have kids, take a ton of pictures of them with their grandfather. If he lives far away, give him a call, even if he's not the easiest person to talk to. Lots of us can't do either of those things and would give our last dime to be able to have 5 minutes with them.

My Dad loved cards and although I don't spend every Father's Day all sad and depressed cause mine's gone, I do get a little twinge of wishing I could buy him one of those funny, somewhat off color cards he used to enjoy getting from me. In fact, I look at them every year, at the store, and in my mind decide which one I would get him if he were still around. It's not a big, dramatic deal, it's just something I do and then I laugh and thank him for passing along his wacko sense of humor to me, which often comes in handy.

One of my favorite Father's Day cards I've ever seen was not in a store and it was not even one I ever sent to Dad, but, one my Dad sent to his father in 1975. Back then, people still sent telegrams and my Dad's family often sent them when they wanted to say something extra special to each other. In it, Dad copied a poem he wrote to his father when he was 8 years old:


What do you think has happened now
I'm the proudest boy alive
For sometimes when we are out alone
My dad, he lets me drive
He showed me about the gears and things
a long long time ago
And he is always explaining out to me
the things a boy should know
Of course, when Mother is along
then Dad sticks to the wheel
She is nervous and gets scared
You know how women feel
My mother is a brick alright, she is the best by far
She mends and cooks and sews for me,
but Dad, he lets me drive the car.
June 10, 1935
Happy Father's Day, Dad. I still think you're the best. Love you.

I can't let my Father's Day post go without giving a big shout to my own Babys' Daddy, Mr. Smiff. Your babies and their mama do love you.

***Blogger isn't in the mood to let me upload so look over there <<< at my Flickr.

Hendersonville Public Access TV

We have some crappy Public Access television out here in Hendersonville. They run the City Council meetings about 23 hours a day. The other couple hours they play elevator music (you have not lived until you've heard "Devil Woman" in this wonderful genre) and run what appears to be a Power Point slide of advertisements of upcoming happenings in the community, churches, etc and they run a church service or two. Typical boring Public Access. They don't even run the time and temp on there. They also keep the volume on this channel so loud it could probably cause you to lose your hearing.

There is, however, one highly entertaining show they run a lot and that is the gripping 30 minutes they allow this older gentleman named Wayne Joiner to have a half hour all his own. Recorded in his basement, Bro. Joiner appears to be a preacher of some sort. I don't know what church he aligns himself with but I do know whatever it is, it is not a group that believes in the Trinity. Ol' Wayne gets pretty heated on there fussing at those of us who believe in the Trinity, me oh my....he doesn't like it not one bit.

The best part about the Wayne Joiner Show is the fact that he has these little Kewpie-lookin' dolls he uses to help all us heathens (who believe in the Trinity) understand the difference between Jesus and the Trinity. The Kewpie Jesus is dressed in white, while the Trinity is a Kewpie dressed in black, signifying the obvious, that it is bad...bad, I tell you.

Bro. Joiner also has a rather interesting wardrobe. Sometimes, he dresses down in just a plain, Western like shirt but then, there are times, he dresses up in a dressy western shirt with a bolo tie. On extry special occasions, he'll get really dressy and wear his white cowboy hat and a dress up white sportcoat (no pink carnation) over his black, dress up western shirt. Bro. J is one stylin' man as well as very suave and seasoned at the whole tv thing. At the end of the program, he gets up from his little desk, goes around and in the mirror on the wall, you see him cutting his camera off. It's great. I'm really surprised the TBN folks haven't picked up on Wayne and had him on with Jan Crouch and her Barbie dolls.

If you aren't blessed enough to live in the Hendersonville area, get one of your friends to tape him for you. Maybe someday, the world will be blessed and he'll go syndicated. It's truly one of Hendersonville's best kept secrets. How I wish I had a photo to share with you. Use your imaginations.

Maybe....just maybe....what Hendersonville Public Access Television needs is the Sista Smiff hour!!!

A Saturday Morning Funny

#2 has just told me the silliest joke. It goes like this:


Why is the toliet paper all over the floor?

To get to the bottom! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA


Must be that fine programming on Cartoon Network and Nick at it again.

Awwwwwwwww Pig Out!!!!! (Le Funk C'est Knuck)

I never have lunch plans. I am dull. I am old and set in my ways. EXCEPT today I mozied on over to the Mothership and am so glad I did. Everybody's favorite Knucklehead has the cutest little place and I tell ya...the bathrooms are the best you'll ever see. And about that barbecue....it really is as good as everybody's been a'sayin it is.

I got to enjoy pulled pork with Sara Clark and we are 99.9% sure we have met before, probably through a couple of common friends we have. Enjoying the culinary experience with us was the lovely Malia and her two cute chilluns. Now she and David have both met Uncle Knuck!

Aunt B. was spotted under the Bee Gee's Spirits Having Flown album and I thanked her for evangelizing about the Martini Ministry. Kinda felt like I was meeting Blogging Royalty meeting her.

I think I'll have to go back next week and get some more pulled pork (the cole slaw is good, too). Ya'll should, too, and you should tell everybody you know.

Goodbye To A Friend

Funny after posting about the fabulous Martini Ministry, I'm going to post about a real ministry. I heard today that my pastor, Leonard Markham, is moving on after serving 17 years in my congregation. I must admit, I was not totally shocked to hear it, but, all the same, I am sad to know this coming Sunday will be the last Sunday he'll be at my church.

I imagine Leonard is probably tuckered out and more than ready to move on. I know the last several years have not been the easiest, nor have some amongst the flock been particularly gentle on him. My purpose of this post is not to rag on those who have ragged on Leonard. I am not them and it is not my place to say whether they are right or they are wrong. I have made it a point in my adult years to stay as far away from church politics and drama as possible because it interferes with why I go to church in the first place, which is to deepen my walk, to enjoy fellowship with other believers and for accountability. (Translated....Sista Smiff is as sinful as the next person and if I didn't do this, there's no telling what kind of trouble I'd find myself in. Somewhat makes me shudder to imagine myself.)

Leonard is more to me than the guy in the suit, carrying the nice Bible, preaching quaint sermons. He has been a friend to me and I don't know that I know a pastor who is as much as shepherd as Leonard is. He loves and cares for his congregation and is passionate about what he does.

During a particularly yucky time in my life, when everything was chaotic and I didn't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt (thank you, Truvy for that one), Leonard made himself available to me and spent a lot of time helping me sort out my stuff. I was sure that everybody on the face of the earth was against me, but, Leonard was my champion during all that. That's a time in my life I'd rather forget, but, God reminds me of it now and then to keep me honest, but, I will never forget Leonard, my friend, rather than the preacher, for that.

My kids will never forget Leonard because he will forever be the first pastor they remember in their lives. He baptized two of them and dedicated the other. For me, it's not about whether or not we sing traditional hymns or praise choruses, use the hymnbook or don't....I don't know what kind of boss he is or if he's prone to temper tantrums during staff meetings....I don't know about any of that stuff. For me, personally, he's been a friend and spiritual mentor, ALWAYS answers emails and has always been available to me.

I will miss him and Debra a lot.

I Want To Serve In the Martini Ministry

How....in....the world....have I missed this blog lo these many months I've been at it??? All Baptists must read this and laugh hysterically, just as I did. I mean, anybody in their right, twisted minds would love this, but, I especially implore my Baptist bretheren and sisteren, especially if you ever were a GA, RA, Acteen, went to Training Union and know who Lottie Moon was....

Is This Thing On?

I have to take this opportunity to wish Mr. Smiff a happy birthday today.....so here goes....in best Marilyn Monroe voice....

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday....Mister President....
Happy Birthday to you
Well......I love ya. Heh (inside joke)

Ya'll feel free to jump in and sing to him.

Sneaky Snake Goes Dancin'...A Wigglin' and A'Hissin'

Was just wondering what I was going to enlighten the blogosphere with today until a few minutes ago.....

Mr. Smiff calls and asks about something and then goes into his, "Now this is not THAT big a deal" (I know when he says that, he's about to throw a doozy at me and usually it involves that he might have seen a mouse in the house or one of the cats got one. I HATE mice.) He goes on to tell me that the Yard Guy, Mr. Mowtown, informed him that he had run over a 10 foot long snake in our yard. He ran over it because #2 was out kinda close to where he was playing. Mr. Smiff says he couldn't tell what kind it was because it was so, well, cut up in many pieces, but, he could tell it was brown.

I have known snakes are in our vicinity. We live close to a creek and I did find snake skin in my garage some years ago. #1 and Mr. Smiff have seen little grass snakes in the front. I'm aware of the possibility, subconsciously, everytime I go out to the messy garage to get laundry and that's what freaks me out the most is running into one out there. I also have heard snakes tend to have pals that they run with. I really don't care nothing about running into the Snake Pal as I'm about to do Whites, thanyavurymuch. Mr. Smiff insists our backyard is safe because of the three dogs. I don't know that I believe him or not. I should because he is the Country Boy in this family, compared to my Brentwood raisin'. His Granny was never afraid of snakes and would practically kill them with her bare hands.

They have snakes in Brentwood, too. My parents lived in our house over 20 years before they ever encountered one and my poor, snake-phobic mother and un-outdoorsy father dealt with a water moccassin and then a couple days later, his buddy.

Remember Tom T. Hall's song about Sneaky Snake?!?!?! Well, I DON'T like old Sneaky Snake.

Well, then, I have a good excuse not to do laundry today!

The Real Deal

For the CeeC (and anybody else that's interested) here's some Maria McKee, both during and after her days with Lone Justice.

Why she has never been a household name, I do not know. Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks is a huge fan and even did one of her songs on Wide Open Spaces. Patty Loveless covered Maria on Don't Toss Us Away and Quentin Tarantino included her on the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, one of my favorite Maria tunes If Love Is A Red Dress (Hang Me In Rags).

Maria made me want to move back West so I could hang out at the Palomino. Heh.









Maria McKee & Lone Justice: "1. Ways To Be Wicked - Lone Justice - Maria McKee
2. Don't Toss Us Away - Lone Justice - Maria McKee
3. Shelter - Lone Justice - Maria McKee
4. If Love Is A Red Dress (Hang Me In Rags) - Maria McKee
5. East Of Eden - Lone Justice
6. Soap, Soap & Salvation - Lone Justice
7. You Are The Light - Lone Justice
8. Am I The Only One (Who's Ever Felt This Way) - Maria McKee
9. I've Forgotten What It Was In You (That Put The Need In Me) - Maria McKee"

Top 30

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That Blogarita has gotten me distracted and I've spent more time than I should trying to pick out my favorite albums. My favorites tend to change from day to day and these are in no particular order.

What a fun way to waste time. Give 'er a try, why don't you?

Multi-Faceted Children

My niece is quite the card. She is full of interesting thoughts and is known to make colorful statements. Hannah is not only colorful in her words, but, in every aspect of her life. Her latest venture is Body Art. With Sharpies. I think that's a smiley face on her tummy. 

The Good, The Bad and The Thirsty

Mr. Smiff is home for a few days after a grueling few weeks of traveling, recording, Fan Fairing, mixing. The last month, we've seen him swoop in and out...hi and bye kinda thing. This means the tv is back on the NBA playoffs and yesterday the 3,458th viewing of "The Good, The Bad and the Ugly" on the teevee.

I guess for the menfolk, TGTBATU holds the same love and attraction as "Steel Magnolias" and "Sleepless in Seattle" does for the wimmin. (I HATE The Notebook, just for the record). The guys love this movie. This one and The Dirty Dozen they could watch over and over and never tire of it, just as a lot of us women never get tired of watching Shelby die and seeing Tom and Meg hook up on the top of the Empire State Building.

The Good, Bad, etc. makes me thirsty to watch it. I always want to give Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach a drink of water. They're so bloody and their mouths are covered in dirt.

Speaking of Mr. Smiff, he has a birthday this week. I never know what to get him. You ask him and he will not say "I want this " or "I want that." In 17 years of birthdays, he has never once asked for any specific thing. It's kinda frustrating. He'll be 46 so give me idears.

Can Cows Drive?

Sarcastro provided me with my second best laugh of the day by simply implying Kay West made a noise.

My best laugh of today was about 30 minutes ago. I had to drive to Gallatin, all the way out Douglas Bend Rd. to fetch #1 Son who had attended a birthday soiree. Incidentally, the houses way out Douglas Bend, along Old Hickory Lake would make the Brentwood/Franklin people plumb jealous. Talk about gorgeous...I could get used to having an unobstructed view of the water out my back door. This house is directly across the street from the old Barbara Mandrell estate....but back to laughing....

We stopped at the Foxland Market and right next to it is a pasture full of cows. A few of them were right up at the fence, next to the store. They were dining on grass and other greenery and #2 Son was crying about something (can't even remember what it was now) and I was saying "Look at the cows!" trying to get him to hush. As I stopped the car to get a closer look, one of the cows stopped eating and looked up at us as if to say "Howdy folks!" So, I did what all intelligent people do...I waved and said "Hi There Cow." Beautiful Dawta then rolled her window down and hollered "Moooooooooooo."

Just like that Garry Shandling routine where he asks why people, when they drive past a pasture of cows, roll down the window and holler "Moo"...as if the cows are going to say "Hey....there's a cow driving that car. How can they afford that?" We got to laughing about the Shandling routine and how we had just done exactly what he said people do and I laughed so hard, I thought I was going to wet my pants. Then #1 did what all 14 year old boys do...he said "I'll stop you from laughing" and he cut one. #2 continued his crying and #1 inquired why the heck he was crying and I said "He knows from experience that your farts are worthy of tears."

Just a retard Smiff Moment. There's a cow driving that car....heh.

What Age Difference?

I love the internet. The things you can find, by mistake, are my favorite things about the world wide web.

I found this picture of my husband, taken in 1974, when he 14 years old. I have seen other shots taken at this same time, but, never this particular one. The photo was taken by Les Leverett, who was the longtime, official Grand Ole Opry photographer. Les is one of the nicer people I know.

In the photo with the teenaged Mr. Smiff are Alan O'Bryant, later of the Nashville Bluegrass Band and composer of "Those Memories Of You"....the Smiffs and O'Bryant's are kin. Mr. Smiff's Grandma Smiff and Alan's grandad were brother and sister. Mike Hartgrove is the one with the fiddle and my brother in law is the one in the JJ Evans, "Dynomite" hat.

The only time me and Mr. Smiff's age difference is ever mentioned is when stuff like this comes up and we discuss what we were doing in 1974. Mr. Smiff was playing music in clubs til all hours and I was 5 years old, still playing with my Fisher Price Little People and counting along with Sesame Street.

ADD Saturday A.M Thoughts

Why in the world did I rise at 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning??? What is wrong with me?

The alarm went off and I was a nice wife and fixed Mr. Smiff coffee. He has been doing the Fan Fair thing the whole week and I've seen him a total of about 30 minutes the whole week. They signed autographs all day yesterday and then had to go to the studio to mix the new cd. He said he got home about 3 a.m. He just left to meet the bus to go to Bean Blossom.

I also got up that ridiculously early so I could water my petunias. They seem to appreciate being watered in the morning (and Miracle Growed) as opposed to the evening. I've got to say, I've got some pretty petunias in my yard.

I watched that movie The Family Stone last night on On Demand. I was hoping that would be a great movie, being it has such a great cast. It was one of those movies that seemed to kinda Jump The Shark. Little disappointed. Glad I didn't pay to see it in the theater. On Demand is making it up to me, though, by having a veritable Hitcockpalooza, having a number of Uncle Al's movies on right now: Notorious, The Birds, The Trouble With Harry (love that movie. Has a little bitty Beaver Cleaver in it and Shirley McLaine in her first movie role) Rear Window (all time favorite Hitchock) Saboteur.....I love Hitchcock movies.

If you can shake a tail feather, run by and see the Knucklehead today and get you some pulled pork. If you're of the vegetarian sort, go get you a cold drink I hope I can get out there today, if not, some of my work girls and me and Sara Clark are planning a lunch excursion this next week.

Reading Josephine's Journal

I so love to stumble across interesting blogs. This one, if you want to call it a blog, is all about life in Livingston, Tennessee, over in Overton County. Whoda thunk Livingston is/was so full of interesting people. I love reading this stuff. Makes me want to go there.

Thank you to my friend Jerald in East Tennessee for turning me onto this site.

Bible Skoo and Cookies

I''ve blogged an awful lot about music the last week, so I'll take a break from that and tell ya'll something that made me laugh and made me shake my head. I hope my girls at White Trash Mom are listening because they will LOVE this.

It's Bible Skoo (school) week in Hendersonville. The church I used to go to (it's big, Baptist, in Hendersonville and is next door to Trinity City USA-formerly Twitty City, you figure it out) has great Bible Skoos. They go all out. They're huge and they do a great job hosting a couple thousand kids every June.

This years theme is the Arctic Edge. #2 says every year the current theme is the best one ever. He's having a big time. I think he's gotten more out of the whole thing than cookies and juice. The other day he said he wanted to look up Joshua 1:9 in the Bible to see what it says. It's the theme verse and it's printed on his nifty, Bible Skoo tshirt:

"Haven't I commanded you to be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." Good verse to know.

Speaking of cookies and juice, I was told something this morning about the Bible Skoo and the people running the thing. It reminded me why I left there sos I could worship with people more interested in the Lord than being the Muffia Godmother. I'm sure those Muffia gals there are deep down, decent, good people and ya know, they'll speak to you and smile but they'd never, ever stoop so low as to have a conversation with me, let alone get to know me. I mean, I drive a 1998 Mercury Villager for the love of John the Baptist....it's very clear at that church who fits into their social register and who doesn't. But about those cookies...

Co worker Bonnie and her inlaws all attend this church and in her ma in law's Sunday School class, they had asked them to sign up for what refreshments, drinks and cookies they would bring. They specified that they wanted people to bring NAME BRAND cookies. WHAT?!?!?!?!? Like the kids give a rip if they have Hydrox or Nabisco????? Get outta here. That is so typical Muffia. They're concerned with whether or not they have cookies of the generic variety.

Her mother in law scratched her name off the list. Just for the principle of it. Yea Bonnie's mother in law!!!

My own mother in law picked #2 up from Bible Skoo yesterday and remarked how all the women up there drive big, SUV's and have lots of "attitude" with them. Heh.

I'm glad I'm fairly mature in my faith and know that it's God I worship and not His muffia Bible Skoo leaders and that I've never allowed that to stand in my way of growing in my faith and in my walk. It makes me mad to see people who get so put out with church people and they don't go back, but, I can see why they do. Ghandi himself said the reason he did'nt become a Christian was not the theology, but, rather the way Christians treat each other. That right there is the truth....and it's very sad.

Playin' Possum WIth The Possum

So Mr. Smiff tells me to be at the studio at 12:30 because by then, our pal George Jones would be done doing his thing and we could do the Shake 'N Howdy. This is what he was told. Perfect because I could use my lunchtime to run over to Music Row and reasonably be back in an hour or thereabouts. I was planning on going about 12 so I could through the traffic, etc.

A little before 12, my phone rings and Mr. Smiff says "He's done...come on." Now, I don't work in the kind of building that I can hop out the door, be in my car and on the road in 60 seconds. I have to take a crosswalk back to the main building, hop an elevator, walk a good ways to the parking garage, drive over 123 speed bumps down about three levels to the street. It takes a little time. I get on Broadway and with all the Fan Fair traffic, Broadway was hopping. Everybody and their cousin was on Broadway. I had to sit at the light at Broadway and 12th through two cycles of red because the traffic was so bad, the intersection was blocked.

Just as I had turned from Broad to go up towards the light at Demonbreun, Mr. Smiff calls and says "He's leaving." Great. That was enough to send me into a raging, Mommie Dearest fit of tears and just pissed off in general. Of course, I missed George Jones. I was not nice to Mr. Smiff, I must confess. I believe I hung up on him. The same thing happened when Dierks did his thing on the recording...showed up a little earlier than planned, etc. I was sure Mr. Smiff and company had some sort of conspiracy against me by this time.

Mr. Smiff calls back and by this time, I turned around on Demonbreun and headed back to work. I was bawling and spewing obscenities about how I never get to do this or that and Lord only knows what else I said. Mr. Smiff was not the doormat husband either. He gave it back to me pretty good. I bet passersby wondered what in the world was wrong with the crazy woman in the mini van. The phone rang before I got back to work. I knew it was Mr. Smiff and I wouldn't answer it. I knew what he was doing.

I get back to work and am still feeling sorry for myself, STILL crying and wallowing in self-pity, as I'm so gifted at, and sitting in the garage, attempting to collect myself when the phone rings. I ignored it again. I couldnt carry on an intelligent conversation with The Possum while having an uncontrollable crying spell.

So, a little later, after I had resumed a normal demeanor, Mr. Smiff calls and tells me George really wanted to speak with me, after he found out who The Dad was. (Those two went back to Texas days, early in George's career and thought a lot of each other. George & Nancy sent a lovely flower arrangement for Dad's memorial in 1992). He told Mr. Smiff to get his home phone number from Karen (Grascals manager) and he wanted me to call him tonight.

We know my issues with the telephone and having to place calls to country music stars. If I couldn't bring myself to call Whisperin' Bill, the Lawd knows I REALLY would have an issue calling No Show. I could just hear me now "Hi Mithter Joneth.....I was having a nervous breakdown and psychotic episode earlier. Sorry I missed you." (I remembered later ol' George is not stranger to "moments." )

Mr. Smiff did call the Jones home this evening and thank goodness, he got the answering machine. He made an even more brilliant move and didn't leave his number on his message, but, that's OK. Maybe I'll catch him again. Hope so.

In the meantime, do listen and revel in the sounds of my favorite George Jones songs on this
A Piece O'Possum. Wait til you hear what he did with the Grascals. Mind blowing and Mama slapping. August 29th.

Step Right Up, Come On In

I'm a little excited and nervous this morning. I get to meet The Possum today. Oddly enough, a lifetime of hobknobbing with legends, George Jones is one I haven't yet met.

George is going to be recording a little something with Mr. Smiff and the boys today for their upcoming cd on Rounder Records. (Due out August 29) Steve Wariner, Dierks Bentley and piano god Hargus "Pig" Robbins will also be making appearances. The rough cuts I've heard are something else.

What does one say when introduced to George Jones? I don't usually get all messed up when meeting people like that, but, this one messes me up. I probably won't be able to say a thing, which is just as well because I'd probably sound retarded.

I'll be taking some pictures, if I can hold the camera steady. 

Formerly Known As Fan Fair

I keep getting asked if I'm going to any of the Fan Fair stuff going on this week. I keep answering "No and hell no."

Don't misunderstand...I love Fan Fair (or whatever it's name is now). I think it's a great thing and unlike a lot of people, am glad that the Event has grown and evolved through the years. I just don't have any desire to get in the middle of it, although Mr. Smiff is this week smack dab there.

I've done lots of Fan Fairing in my time. As a kid, I was down there with the Dad and I'd roam around the Municipal Auditorium and take in all the sights, sounds and smells of Fan Fair. Smells you say? What smells? Two letters.....B.O. One thing you could count on then and I'm sure can still count on now is da body odor. Hot, sweaty country music fans all in a tizzy, trying to get to see Dave of Dave & Sugar was serious business.

People stood in lines hoping to get autographs of the Mandrell Girls and Marty Robbins. Marty Robbins never failed to have a line at least 2 miles long. It was something else. He drew the people like flies. Even as a little kid, I could see his magnetism and charisma even though I had yet to discover the beauty of "El Paso" and "Don't Worry." Marty could hold an audience in the palm of his hand like nobody else could before or since. Marty had it going on.

I am the first to admit that I don't get the Chesney Phenomena or Rascal Flatts or Miz Armpits of Sugarland, but, I do get what keeps the most dedicated of country fans coming back to Nashville year after year and that is the music itself. The country fans of today connect with Kenny Chesney the same way those people did with Marty Robbins in 1973. I could give a myriad of reasons why Kenny Chesney sucks, musically, but, the spirit of it all is still the same and that's good.

I get irritated when Nashvillians roll their eyes and talk about our Fan Fair visitors like they are inferior beings DJ's will warn their listeners of the "Polyester Patrol" like country music fans are second class citizens. They come here, year after year, taking their vacation time, eating at our restaurants, staying in our motels...we should be very nice to them.

I just don't want to be in the middle of all of them. 

There Is No Such Thing As Natural Beauty

I am back from the Sal-on and I discussed the gray sitcheeashun with my stylist. She thinks my hair would be good to let it go, alas, I did have her go ahead and color it. The reason being is that she said she could put some sort of non permanent type of rinse on it to even it out as it grows out. We're not going to do it right now because I spend summertimes by the pool, in the sun and the sun would fade the non permanent really quickly SO, come fall, we might be taking the gray plunge.

I heard a couple interesting stories whilst I spent two hours getting my coif done.

My stylist just got married a few weeks back and I asked her if there was anything wild and crazy that went on that might secure her a spot on "America's Funniest Home Videos." She said nothing too wild went on, EXCEPT for the fact she had to fire the preacher a couple days before and scramble to find another one. Seems the originally shedyooled preacher man had something come up and he said he'd be able to be there, however, he might be 15-20 minutes late. He said the people wouldn't mind waiting a few minutes? Hello? Miraculously, she found her another preacher. That struck me as really funny. I've never heard of anybody having to fire the preacher.

They got the preacher thing settled and then the Maid of Honor also got fired. Her MOH, friend of more than a decade got drunk and tried to get the GROOM to spend his last night of bachelorhood with her in her hotel room and it wasn't to discuss who would keep charge of the weddin' rangs.

Then, I heard another customer telling how when her cat died, she had to take two weeks off work for bereavement. Two weeks????? Hear me....I have three dogs and two cats. Ok, so the cats aren't on the top of my Love List (but they adore me and won't leave me alone...go figya) and I have a 15 year old dog who has long been in her twilight, that I love dearly and will miss when her time comes but TWO WEEKS OFF WORK???

I must say, the 'do looks quite good. Wish I could make it look like this everyday.

5 Minutes With Wichita

After a lovely night and morning of, um, sickness, one needs to howl with laughter, which is one of my favorite pasttimes. Nothing better to howl with laughter than listening to "5 Minutes With Wichita." I bet you didn't think bluegrassers had a sense of humor? Oh, but, they do. Go listen to him interview Ricky Skaggs, Alison Krauss, Dan Tyminksi, and even John Paul Jones.

I'm not surprised that Wichita has become such a celebrity. I first met him many, many years ago (or rather his altar ego) before I ever was part of Mr. Smiff's world. A group of us hung out a little there for awhile and the funny thing is, even though age has changed Wichita's speech a little (he grew an impediment) it's the same wacko, twisted sense of humor he had back when he had a mullet.

Middle of the Night Sick Call

One of the things I do like about having kids turn into teens is that they are able to care for their own persons. By that, I mean, I no longer have to accompany them to the bathroom or dress them or tend to those kinds of needs. I remember a time when I didn't think that would ever happen.

Probably 10 years ago when #1 Son and Daughter were 2 and 3, I was at aerobics class and my Beautiful Dawta was bebopping around like an active 2 year old tends to do and I had to stop and take her to the potty. Another lady in the class, who then had kids the same age as mine are now apparently recognized the weariness of tending to preschoolers on my face and said in this great, Jersey accent, "Believe it or not, there WILL come a time you will not ever have to see them naked again." That seemed like a total unreality at the time, for that was my life then, but, she was right. I don't have to deal with things like that because praise Jesus, I've gotten them to the point where they can do that for themselves.

I was, however, about 30 minutes ago, wakened from a sound sleep to have one of my teens being riddled with this stomach virus that seems to be going around. My sister in law and 1 year old niece have been fighting it the last few days and apparently, even Alison Krauss has been hit with it (nice to know talented, beautiful people like them have those doses of reality as well). It is pretty brutal and well, messy.

I can't remember the last time I had to clean up after one of the older kids throwing up and the aftermath, but, I am here to tell you, it's a whole different ballgame to have to do so after a young person who is as tall as me than it is a preschooler. Let's just say, I have not handled it well. Poor thing was apologizing and I was quick to tell them "No, no...don't apologize" and try to be somewhat merciful to the poor darling. In the middle of all the yuckness of it, though, I see that, yes, my teens do still need me, even though the majority of the time, they try to act like I'm not a necessary entity in their lives....even if it is cleaning up the fallout of a stomach virus, changing sheets and using the washing machine in the middle of the night.

To Gray Or Not To Gray

I am toying with a thought here and I need your input. (Whoever "You" may be)

I have a hair appointment tomorrow. I'm due for a color job. My roots have grown out so much, I can see my salt 'n pepper gray pattern pretty good. Now, I used to have black hair but I blame that one boss I had a few years ago for causing my hair to prematurely turn on me. The girl that used to do my hair said my hair turned grayish quicker than anybody she'd ever seen. Now there's an honor I never wanted.

The question is....wonder if I should let it go and let it be cool looking salt and pepper like? I don't want to look like an old heifer, but, I think it has potential of looking kinda interesting. Does salt and pepper look good you think or should I keep forking that $100 over and getting the color and highlights??

Come on now...those who know me, and those who don't....I want opinions.

Monday Oddities

A few unusual things today...things that are not the norm;

1. His Smiffness is home from the road and is at the swimming pool with four Smiff kids-our three plus Nephew Smiff. Mr. Smiff is not a swimming pool guy. He stayed home from some studio stuff so he could haul them all there after picking up #2 Son from Bible Skoo. (Some call it Vacation Bible School...I like the Baptist way of putting the "SKOO" in there).

2. I ate my salad today at lunch with a spoon. I had walked all the way back up to my office before I realized I neglected to pick up a fork. Eating salad with a spoon is just, weird. It works, but, it's uncomfortable.

3. I am going to a wedding tonight. I have never been to a Monday night wedding. In our world, that's not really that strange. The groom is a musician and getting married on Monday will assure he doesn't miss any work. Even so, it's still odd. I've been afraid all day I was going to forget.

Speaking of weddings and this doesn't affect me directly in any way, but, I thought it was extremely odd.....my Shishter's supposed "best" friend got married over the weekend and didn't even invite her. Didn't mention it. This, after she walked through a painful marriage and divorce with her, not to mention, gave her a place to stay a good while after she left an emotionally abusive marriage with nothing more than the clothes on her back. It'd be one thing if there would not have been any close friends in attendance, but, there were, except for my Shishter. Something about that is just plain wrong. Apparently, the new bride is the fourth wife of the groom and they held their ceremony in his woodshop.

Speaking of love, why is it, that at 37 years old, the phrase "making love" is something that causes me to snicker and one I can't bring myself to say????? I'm listening to Peter Frampton's "I'm In You" and that line where he says "you and I don't pretend, we make love" causes me to cringe. I have issews with that phrase and I daint know whyyy.

Old Age

This excellent post from The Sarcastic Journalist overwhelmed me. None of us like to think of ourselves in our old age, but, there are moments I think what is going to happen to me when I'm in my 80's, Lord willing I live that long?

What are my teens going to do with me when I'm that old? I look at them now and here lately, half the time, I can't get a polite word out of them. What are they going to do with me when I'm 80 something??

As much as I'd give to have my dad around and to not have had him die when he was 65, I'm glad I will never have to see him in that kind of shape. That still leaves my mother. She's been blessed with good health , except that nasty smoker's bronchitis that she insists is "drainage" or "allergies" that is getting worse and will probably end up tying her to an oxygen machine.

People like my second cousin Dr. W. C. Link have made it their mission to see to it that old folks are well cared for. W. C. had the vision many years ago for a place for seniors that ended up being McKendree Manor. We've long since jokingly threatened Mom with having her a room reserved out there for years, but, as her 72nd birthday comes later this year, it's becoming less and less funny.

At The Cee-Ment Pond

It was a Retro-Wonderland today at the Sumner County YMCA. They had their little Splash Bash, like they do at the beginning of the summer every year. Free hot dogs, free Purity Ice Cream (who knew there was such a thang as "Cookie Buddies?" Not quite as yumtastic as Moose Tracks, but, it did just fine).

Alderman Tommy Elsten brought his DJ stuff out and I don't know what it is about the song "YMCA" that sends normally subdued people into a frenzy of arm-flailing, forming the letters, euphoria. I mean, people go nuts over that song, regardless of age. It's quite amazing. Even #2 goes crazy over it.

I got to thinking how when that song came out, what, in about 1978 or 79, coming up on 30 years ago,whoda thunk that MY children would know it??? I also can't help but laugh to think I thought that the song was REALLY about hanging out and having a good time, working out at the Y, with yer buddies. I guess it is about good times,but, not the kinda good times I thought it was. Ahhh naivete.

Alderman/DJ Tommy was playing LOTS of Beach Boys today too; lots of Motown.. He even played one I hadn't heard since the days of roller boogie'n it at the Brentwood Skate Center..."Apache" by the Sugarhill Gang. I remembered every single word. Do dig the lyrical brilliance:

When you're stung by the rapping ranger
When Silver and I, take a ride
All you suckers better step aside
I sting squaws, then I run away
HIYOO Silver, is what I say!

The days when rap was light and easy....kinder and gentler.

#1 Son displayed an unusual attitude of teen angst towards me and is, at the moment, not conversing with me or acknowledging my existence. I don't know what I did that was so horrible. At least I didn't get up dancing, spankin' the monkey, like I would have liked to do, at the pool. Maybe next time.

Random ADD Sunday Thoughts

I just took some clothes out of the washing machine to put into the dryer and a tire from, I guess, some sort of truck belonging to #2 rolled out and I didn't even flinch. 14 years of mama-ness does that to you.

I should've probably stayed home yesterday and tried to do something with my house, but, I didn't. I was at the pool, enjoying what could have been probably the perfect summer day. I'm not flourescent white anymore and a nice, light little tan is beginning to emerge. I don't get black as night or nothing. I know when to quit. Co-worker Debbie was there part of the time and I just enjoyed hanging with her awhile. She's one of the cooler people you could ever meet and I'm bummed they're moving her to the other side of the floor, probably next week. I might actually get some work done, though.

I also met a 26 year old young lady at the pool who is caring for her 8 year old sister, indefnitely, due to their mother's illness. She was a chatty, outgoing young woman who has kinda put her life on hold to take over this responsibility. I was very impressed with her. No easy task.

Trying to get myself in gear and get ready for church. At least this Sunday, I'm not singing. I sang last Sunday and while I love to sing, I was asked by the preacher to sing a certain song....a song I would've never chosen, not because I don't like it (I Can Only Imagine) it's just I'd ahve never picked that one. I think it came out ok. I'm too harsh on myself and in my mind, I sounded like Kip in "Napoleon Dynamite" singing at his wedding. I don't think it was that bad, though.

Today is my Grandma Collie's 109th birthday. She's long gone, some 22 years now, but, I still think about her. I wish I could have a conversation with her now, at 37. Last time I talked to her, I was about 14 and she really didn't know who I was. I'd like to compare notes with her and get her advice on kid rearing. I'd love to take her to her weekly shopping trip to the Handy Andy in San Antonio; take her to get her hair done at Opal's on Fredericksburg Rd.; I'd love to hear her tell me how I shouldn't give up clarinet because music is so important; I'd love to pick her up and take her to church at Los Angeles Heights United Methodist Church; I'd love to hear her say "Whoa John!" when riding in a car that might be going just a little too fast for her taste. I'd love to see her with my kids and hear her ask my daughter how much she weighs. Everytime I smell raisin toast and oatmeal, I feel like Grandma is in the next room.





"Meeting In The Air" - June Carter Cash: "1. Meeting In The Air - June Carter Cash"

Does He Or Doesn't He?? You Be The Judge

I'm kinda thinking that Travis Tritt has been hitting the Botox Bar. Why? Cause tonight on the Grand Ole Opry, as he was straining, veins a'poppin in his neck, singing Ray Charles songs, his face did not move. Not once. I mean, not a crows foot to be seen. He did "Georgia" pretty good. His "What I'd Say"...well, lets just say some Ray Charles songs should just be left alone. Even more entertaining and humorous was the Carol Lee Singers doing the "Heys" and "Ho's". Whitey white folks trying to sound soulful and emulate the Raelettes. They put the honk in honkytonk. Heh.

I tell ya one guy who doesn't do Botox is Mike Compton. He doesn't need to cause he is one mandolin pickin' fool. You know that most cool mandolin intro on "Man Of Constant Sorrow" on the "O Brother Where Art Thou" soundtrack? That would be Mike. He has a new cd with David Long called "Stomp." You should get it. You should also read his most interesting blog about his adventures on the road. He has an almost Rainman kinda memory when it comes to details about people he comes across. Mike notices little things in the world that most of us don't take the time to give a second thought to. Fascinating reading.

Knuck Watch

According to everybody's favorite Knucklehead, the Mothership will soon be launching. I don't have an official start date but it appears the handicapped ramp is near completion and Uncle Knuck hisself has invited us all to come clog on it. Get on your tap shoes and frilly skirts....I myself can't wait.

I am hoping and praying it's not that God-awful Memphis style of barbecue cause I just don't like it. It's too spicy hot and has that dark sauce. I'm more of the Carolina style and for that, I blame Mr. Smiff and his North Carolina origins for making me thataway.

According to the in law Smiffs, the best place to eat barbecue is a little place called Short Sugars in Mr. Smiff's hometown of Reidsville, NC. It is pretty doggone good and they have some great cheese dogs. I've never had a cheese dog in the state of Tennessee and the only time I ever partake in those delectible delights is when we go east to the Piedmont region.

Here in the greater Naishful area, I dig me some Whitts and Center Point Barbecue (Home of the Three Little Pigs) in Hendersonville is good too.

I have high hopes for the Knucklehead and can't wait to ingest what he promises to be the best ever. So, we have to tell all our friends, neighbors and kinfolk about it.

I Am Not Done Talking About Reba

I bet some of ya'll have never even heard Reba pre 1992. It is my duty to see to it that all experience the twang that was once Reba and hope against all hope that someday, she'll do another country recording. This is my blog...I can dream can't I? I do love Reba McEntire. This Reba, one name, as in "Liza With A Z", is kinda silly. Reminds me of Sylvia. Oh geez...there's a name from the way back past. Remember "Nobody?"

So, dig, if you will, a circa 1980ish Reba McEntire and notice the fine harmony singing of one Ricky Skaggs (before he had a pot to pee in as well) and then jump ahead to about 1984, just as she started to explode as a superstah from her My Kind of Country album (remember those?).

For the record, like our pal Brittney, I also like "Fancy" a lot (any Bobbie Gentry song is cool) and that "Is There Life Out There" and I loooooove "Rumor Has It".






She Really Sang Country Once: "1. Today All Over Again - Reba McEntire
2. Before I Met You - Reba McEntire"

The World Famous Station Inn

I saw in the paper earlier this week that Reba showed up down at the Station Inn and woodshedded a little bit with The Time Jumpers. I was kinda surprised that ol Reeb went there. Reba's not the kinda gal we tend to see showing up at places like that, although my pal Larry says he saw her one time at the O'Charley's in Gallatin. The only time I've ever seen her in public was in 1986 when we were on the same airplane from Dallas to Los Angeles. I see lots of celebrity types, too.

Reba got so into her star trip. I miss the cross-eyed Reba, pre-capped teeth, pre-plastic surgery that wore the big, rodeo belt buckle and could twang with the best of them. I bet you money she doesn't even remember the words to "Today All Over Again", which happens to be my very favorite Reba song ever! Yes, I think she sold out and has made some crappy records. Not a thing distinctive about anything she's cut in the last ten years. Then again, good for her because she's done well. As long as I don't EVER have to hear her do her nauseating, vomit-inducing, accapella version of "Sweet Dreams" again, I will be just fine, thank you.

Anyway, my point with this post is about the Station Inn. As we saw the other night with The Reeb showing up, you never know who is going to show up there. If you've never been to the Station Inn on 12th Avenue South in Downtown Nashville, it would behoove you to do so. Even if you say to yourself "I don't like bluegrass", still, if you want to experience all that Nashville has to offer, you'd be remiss to not go down there some night and soak up the atmosphere and see some incredible musicians do their thing.

For me, the Station Inn was a life changing thing. Why? Well, had I not ever gone to the Station Inn, you would not be talking to "Sista Smiff". I might've been Sista Jones or Sista Brown and it just wouldn't have been the same, now would it? Thank the good Lord and Bill Monroe I didn't end up being Sista Parrish. Someday I'll have to blog about that.)

Yes, friends, it was at the Station Inn where I first laid eyes on the tawl drinka wawta, sometimes known as Mr. Smiff. I've had moments I've wondered if maybe I should've just stayed home that first time I went (especially when the Smiff Kids fuss and fight) but through that little dive on 12th Avenue, not only was the course of my life altered, but, I've witnessed some wonderful musical moments.

I can remember about 1989 going to see that teenaged girl named Alison....leaving the Homecoming football game to hurry down to get a good seat to hear the amazing Nashville Bluegrass Band, with Alan O'Bryant (who later became my cousin-in-law) sing into his banjo head....John Hartford singing his classic "Gentle On My Mind" and the late Gene Wooten doing "Montana Cowboy"....I even saw that retard Bill Boner have the balls to get up on the stage and play that stupid harmonica of his....I'll never forget one night, a big crowd of people all crammed to see somebody (who, I can't remember) and turning to my left and Don Everly was practically sitting in my chair, we were crammed so close....Songwriters like the great Larry Cordle, Harley Allen, Shawn Camp (who I saw perform the very first night he moved to Nashville in January of 1987, became a friend and have sat back and been totally amazed at the writer he has evolved into. ) Vince Gill; Emmylou; I've seen legends like Mac Wiseman, Bill Monroe, Ralph Stanley, Larry Sparks...The Cluster Pluckers, Mark O'Connor; The Sidemen held court on Tuesday nights there for many a year and the New Year's Eve parties are legendary.

Mr. Smiff has been part of the Station Inn since it began with its original home and owners when he was about 14 years old. I think his most memorable famous person he met was a few years back when William Shatner came down and he was introduced to Captain Kirk in the backroom!

Since I've had kids, I don't get down there very often anymore. Still, the little dive on 12th Avenue South is almost sacred to me. J. T. Gray has kept this beautiful ship sailing all these years....his helper, my good friend Lin Barber, keeps everybody in line, serving up pizza and nachos and beer (no likka there, just beer) and ringing the bell when the music gets especially hot.

If you like music at all...just go. Just to say you went. You will be so glad you did.

You Picked A Fine Time To Bust Me, Lucille

Songwriter Hal Bynum has an interest in cultivating and apparently, has a pretty lucrative bidness. His neighbor told the cops about the suspicious crops.

Would you tell on your neighbors if you were suspecting they were up to something like that?

Does This Make Me Odd?

I work in a large company downtown. There's lots of fun people here where I work, in particular a group of people I like very much that I often join for break time. I think I've written about this bunch before, but, they're really good peoples.

I don't lunch with them because some of them, during lunch every single day, go down to a room here in this rather large complex and play cards. They don't play poker, but, some very simple little game. They do this everyday. They are card-playing freaks. They love it. They are all very seasoned card players. They are into it.

I ran into one of the girls in the cafe a bit ago and she said "When are you going to come back down during lunch?" (I went down to the Card Room once, upon invitation). Now, they don't ask just anybody to come into their inner sanctum of card playing nirvana. I should be, and am, quite delighted that they think so much of Sista Smiff that they'd want me to join them, but, the truth is.....Cards are just boring to me. The only card playing I've ever done is pretty limited to Slapjack and Old Maid. Oh, and Solitaire on the computer.

I think the tendency to play cards runs in families and my parents neither were card players, in fact, my mother was not allowed to play cards as a kid. When her father was about 12, his mother, who was ill, sent him to the store to get the mail (early 1900's...post office, everything was at the store). While he was there, there were some men playing cards and apparently doing some sort of gambling and my grandfather joined in. I don't know how long he had been gone, but, by the time he got back home,(you know where this is going) his mother had died. He blamed the cards for keeping him from saying goodbye to his mother and it scarred him so, he wouldn't let a deck of cards in his home.

I dated a guy whose family was BIG into Rook and then another guy whose family was big into Canasta.

Mr. Smiff can watch poker endlessly on television. I find it all ridiculously boring.

What am I missing not playing cards?? Apparently, something because so many people are just into it.

Hmmmph!

Now that school is out for the summer, something about me still having to get up at 5:30 a.m. and go to work while the rest of the family blissfully sleeps in just isn't fair and is making my inner Nellie Oleson come out. I've kinda been in a whiny, hands on hips, stomping foot mood the last couple days anyway. Lots of reasons.

I wish I weren't so transparent and could master the art of compartmentalization as well as the Gentleman Formerly Known As My Boss does. He is a pro at it. I wish I were like that. I don't ever have to tell anybody I'm in a crappy mood. I wear my crappy moods like an accessory. I hate that about myself.

I know it's hard to believe I'm not just a total joy to live with, but, Mr. Smiff always thinks a crappy mood of mine is his fault. I don't know why he thinks this but he just totally avoids me. I guess he feels like he's safer that way. My current crappy state of mind really doesn't have a whole lot to do with him.

I'll just be glad when it passes.