One of these nights...

One of these nights I'm gonna write something absolutely amazing and powerful and I'm really looking forward to it.

So far, I haven't figured out what that is, exactly... but I'm okay with that.  I'll keep on writing until I do.

I'd love to write more, and really, I DO write more than I post on this blog because I prefer not to just throw everything I think onto a blog like a diary for everyone in the universe to read.  I work a lot, and I love what I do 99.44% of the time but I would love to have more time to write.  I spend too much time trying to make money. Well, I might as well while I'm able and my kids aren't little anymore so that I can retire before I die.  I tell people I write every chance I get but it's really not true.  If it were true, I'd have a lot more material to read.  I have many, many stories in my head that I really should put into writing, because I know I'm not going to live forever (at least not in this realm, and I'm not sure how much of my brain will make it through the life I'm living now) and I don't want the stories and characters to die with me. After I'm gone my kids can pass this stuff on to other people, or just give them away, but hopefully, I'll get some of them out into the world and let the universe decide whether they're worth keeping.

There were also people who once walked this earth and not just through my brain whose stories shouldn't be forgotten either.  Those who passed after about 2005 will have more information about them on the Internet for future generations than those who passed before that, and there are stories in the old newspapers and databases for those who wish to look for those folks.  Still there are people who lived quiet and simple lives, whose stories weren't compelling Nicholas Sparks novel fodder (or even Lifetime movie fodder), who've left serious marks on the manuscript of my own life.  My grandmother was one... one of her father's seventeen children as well as one of her mother's eleven.  Her oldest sister Lorene was evidently unable to bear children of her own, but I never, ever heard her complain about that, or talk about it at all.  I never asked her why she didn't have children, maybe because I was afraid to bring it up.  Her husband had lost two children in the Christmas Eve crash that claimed his first wife and left him with only his son. Maybe she figured it might've been better to have had no children at all.  His son gave her four step-grandchildren that she dearly loved in her own quiet way.  She wasn't the kind of grandmother who took the kids to Opryland (actually they didn't have that on either side, but all their grandparents cared for them very much) but she baked them goodies and visited them and kept an eye on them and probably went to graduations and things like that, I don't remember.  She also kept a lot of other relatives, like me. 

She, like Granny, had a portrait of a handsome young man I never had the privilege to know, my uncle Olie.  His death at age 18 was one of those events you see in movies, where a local teenager gets really sick (or has an accident or gets shot or... you get the picture) and dies young and the whole town shuts down for the funeral.  But before I knew all that about the town's reaction, I knew that my grandmother and all her family lost a dear brother, son, grandson, and uncle.  I guess because he didn't live long enough to have children and grandchildren of his own, I felt sort of obligated to keep his memory alive.  I think others in my family might've felt that way too.  For example, my uncle Lanny put a new headstone on Olie's grave.  Lanny was just a little fella when Olie died; I think he was about 3.

These are just a few of the stories I'd like to share, as well as some of the fictional characters I've created over the years.  Some of my characters are loosely based on real people and real events, but in general most are purely made up.  Here's an example of that:  I used to wonder what it would've been like if Lorene and her first husband had adopted a child, or had a baby late in life. Everette was only in his early 40s when he died, so he would've died very early in this baby's life.  I came up with a lot of good stories and characters from that "what if" story. Many of my stories are "what ifs" or at least they start out that way.  I do a lot of research into the past to find details and ideas.  Like looking at Olie's death certificate and obituary. 

I need to be looking at the inside of my eyelids.  Gotta go make that money while it's there.

Let me tell ya that it... HURTS SO BAD

I've written about my health and constant, chronic pain before.  Today, it is reaching new heights.  I slept about 3 hours, then I woke up to go to the bathroom and then I was hitting that period of the morning where different alarms go off every so often, my attempt at keeping my body waking up at around 5 AM when I go back to work tomorrow.  So I was in serious pain when it was time to get ready for church, and I decided not to go.  I didn't really want to miss church, but I sure didn't want to stand in the choir loft (or in the congregation) or sit in the pews while my feet were aching like sore teeth.

If you want to think I'm Miss Cheerful and never complain about anything... stop reading now, because it's gonna get hateful in here.  I hate dealing with chronic pain.  When I was in 3rd grade, I got to know a girl who was diabetic and I wanted to learn all about her.  I was a little jealous because she had a mid-morning break when she went to the teachers' lounge and my suspicion was that she had a snack (I was usually hungry before lunch so this seemed positive) and had to test her sugar... which was all by urine at the time, no sticking.  I thought it was a built-in diet trick to always drink diet sodas, I thought that would keep her from being a fat adult. (It didn't. She's not huge, but has never been thin.)  That was very important to me at the time. She did have to get insulin shots, but they didn't seem to bother her like shots bothered me. I thought, the worst thing that can happen is that old people with diabetes sometimes lost toes, and I wasn't sure why that happened, but her 11-year-old toes seemed to be in decent shape.  I also thought if shots were the worst thing... well, let me assure you, they are not.

The neuropathy started sometime around November, 2008.  I'd been diabetic for at least 2 years before that, and it wasn't too long after my diagnosis.  I was insulin resistant for many years, since at least 1985 and probably a few years before.  I thought it was just a genetic thing, most of my mom's family dealt with it.  I didn't realize what that was doing to my body, and I didn't realize that the way I ate was making it worse.  I had gestational diabetes in my first pregnancy, and though I didn't the second time, I did have a nine pound baby that time - both risk factors for developing diabetes later in life.  Even that didn't scare me.  I thought because I had low blood sugar that I wouldn't become diabetic, just like I couldn't starve myself because my sugar would dip too low.  Honestly, if my blood sugars hadn't been so wild, I probably would've been anorexic because food was always the enemy.  But I'd let them drop too low and then stuff some carbs down to get me through.  Carbs couldn't be too bad, right?  After all, they were low in fat and fat was the problem, right?  I ate more complex carbs, like pasta and potatoes, because they weren't simple sugars like candy that would run through me quickly.  I began to realize that I could eat sugars IF i ate something with protein first, so I did.

When I was diagnosed, I thought if I took my meds, I could still eat what I wanted, within limits.  I didn't really want as much sweet stuff, but I did still like it.  I thought I would never be able to cut carbs out completely, and I was eating so much less sugar than I used to, but eventually, they had to stop one of my medicines because of the liver function tests going haywire, so I just gave up and threw all caution to the wind.  For a year or so I ate whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it.  Eventually I did attempt to cut out carbs, and I'm still pretty good at that, but I do eat some.  Like I had a hot dog, and instead of carb-laden side dishes, I had - sit down - a BUN!  Oops. Flag on the play.  The touchdown will not count.

I've been thoroughly disappointed with the inability of modern medicine to cure my pain.  Doctors say, "You've got to have better control of your sugar."  I'm like, it's 3:00 pm and all I've had all day was a protein shake that says it contains 25 carbs.  How could my sugars be high because of that?  So why are they hurting? Well, lots of things can make them hurt... but only keeping my sugars low is the only relief I can get???

I would try medical marijuana, but I live in a non-legal state.  I'm told my state representatives share the Attorney General's belief that marijuana leads to harder drugs.  I went to college.  I tried "weed" back in the day.  I never did any stronger drugs, and I was offered cocaine more than once.  For the record, I didn't try marijuana the first few times it was offered either.  I guess I did do "harder" drugs at times... I had morphine after surgery.  Once in awhile I'd have a prescription for an opiate, when I had broken bones and migraines and toothaches.  The medicine would help with whatever pain I was in at the time, but that wasn't because I smoked pot in college.  I could understand how people got hooked on opiates, because after surgery, it was a little scary to think about the pain without the drugs, but I was able to go longer and longer without them and substitute Tylenol for doses during the day until I could easily wean off the "hard stuff."  Nowadays I can't even get the doctors to write me a prescription for pain medicine, because it's taboo to prescribe opioids.  Oh, and by the way, I live in the number one opiate-prescribing state according to this study.  Not surprising, considering we are a long way from a medically-legal marijuana state.  I think in a few years our neighbor Arkansas will have it.  That's only three hours from me... certainly not convenient for moving.  Oh, if Kentucky would allow it, I'd probably move the 13 miles due north for that.

So i am left to my own devices to drown out the pain.  I'm gonna try turmeric.  Hell, what do I have to lose?  I go to bed terrified of what the next day is going to bring.  I have no guarantee that a night's sleep will allow me to wake up feeling energetic and pain-free.  (Occasionally, it happens.)  If I have to work, will I be miserable all day?  Maybe I'll have a good day and it'll feel better.  But after I stand a lot, what will my night be like?  If I can't sleep, I'm guaranteed a day of intense pain.  I have to check all the boxes:  a good night of rest, all medications taken on time, all meals at the correct time (which doesn't happen often in my work), no carbs (even on Christmas! Diabetes doesn't take a holiday), a good balance of sitting and standing and walking (something else I can't always control in my job).  Now, who among us can check all those boxes every.single.day?  Maybe I am a loser because I screw up on that list on a pretty regular basis.  Then there are the matters none of us can control, such as weather.  Did we get a cold front?  Count on extra pain.  Rain?  Probably.  But it's the way I eat that's the problem.  RIGHT.  Too cold in the room?  Better cover those feet, but socks are usually too tight, exacerbating the pain.

It's a vicious cycle.  Sleep late and take meds late?  Ouch.  Work to make money and, let's face it, to keep me on my feet... and pay for it later with sleepless nights.  It's driving me insane.  I've tried B-6, B-12, biotin, evening primrose oil, alpha-lipoic acid, multi-vitamins, Metanx, and using a TENS unit... ice, heating pad, more water, liquor, prayer (begging), and acupuncture.  While the latter can be helpful, it can also be useless. I've experienced more movement after a treatment, but also experienced more pain after one too.

If I get a lot of negative comments on today's post, I'll just shut down the comments on it.  So, if you have a suggestion (like the many who say, just eat less, just exercise more... ha, let me put you into my day and see how YOU do), let your words be nice and sweet, for later they may be words you'll have to eat.

Just remember I love you, more than I can say... maybe then your blues will fade away

And I almost titled this one "Your Love Has Lifted Me Higher," because it was out that year.  I was just tired of looking for a more appropriate title from the year in my mind. 

In 1977, I turned ten. My world was pretty small. I was born in Nashville but I lived just north of the county line in Ridgetop.  I thought Nashville was a pretty important place, like Chicago or New York.  I had no idea that there were bigger places in the world, though I had heard of far-away cities like New York and Atlanta.  I had been to the ocean in North Carolina, which made me a little different from my classmates who went to PCB every couple of years.

Two girls moved in up the road from my grandparents' house in the mid '70s.  They were from Seattle, which was way, way up in the return address corner of the United States.  Looking at it on the globe, it looked like it would be much colder, and I learned that sometimes it was, but they had a lot of weather similar to ours in Tennessee with sunshine and rain.  Humidity was something else.  It's still something else, let me tell you.

Looking back, I never began to comprehend what it must have been like to be a newcomer in a town like Ridgetop.  Having moved out of town a few times since then, I feel a little sorry about that. Everybody in Ridgetop must have seemed to be related. They moved to a house on a hill, a house built by my grandmother's family when she was a little girl and their old house on that same location burned.  From the front yard one could see eight houses.  I had relatives in two of those houses, my grandmother and her cousin Jerry.  Another neighbor was my aunt's sister-in-law.  She grew up there too.

That summer the neighbor girls' dad was transferred and they returned to Seattle.  Elvis died, Star Wars premiered, and other things happened that stamped the year in my memory. One happened to my brother.  Mom took him to day care, where he refused to drink the milk.  They thought he was just "faking" when he said he was allergic.  He obeyed.  He vomited.  Mom found another babysitter quick, cousin Jerry's wife Wanda.  Mom hadn't considered really thought of her earlier because she seemed to keep a lot of kids and had her hands full.  To my knowledge though, she never lost any!  At first I stayed by myself at my grandmother's house that summer, but there was some family trouble going on (other unforgettable events I don't want to write about tonight, and a few I didn't really understand) so I started going to Wanda's too.  I think she saw me as another big kid who could help with the little ones, like her younger brother and nephews who dropped in frequently.

Jerry was one of my favorite relatives.  He was one of those people who always had a smile.  Even in sad moments, he could muster up a grin.  He was funny and kind.  When I was a very little girl, long before 1977, I remember thinking he was cute.  Back then we called him "Jerry Lee."  I noticed a lot of my relatives calling him that today; I even found myself saying it.  When he was born he had a hole in his heart, and some of my earliest memories of him involved him being in the hospital in serious condition, having had a heart attack or something at a very early age (like 24 maybe?).  I remember being told his heart had stopped but he was brought back to life.  I knew what that meant.  It was very scary and I remember being very afraid that he would die.

I wish I could've seen him recently.  Most of the times I've seen him over the past 20 years were when he was working on cars out in the yard and the garage, and I was driving by on my way to Mom's and Granddaddy's.  I think I saw him at Mom's funeral; I know I saw him at Granddaddy's and talked to him for quite a while.

Today I went to his funeral.  I sure hated to see him go.  I pray for Wanda and his kids and grandkids.  Ridgetop is a sadder place without him for sure.

It's Only Make-Believe

So I'm watching CNN and I think, what if there was a parody character called "Kellyanne Conway Twitty"??? And of course, I am not the first to think of this... I'm not sure who was, but Seth MacFarlane, for one, beat me to the punch.



Ah, Seth MacFarlane... I have mixed feelings about him... he is drop-dead gorgeous and insanely talented, but his sense of humor is no smarter than a fifth-grader.  A precocious fifth-grader, but... anyway, great minds think alike, eh??? ;D

Seth either loves or loves to rag on ol' Conway.  Like all Southern white kids in the 70s, I was exposed to regular doses of Conway Twitty.  We watched all those GREAT country music TV shows every Saturday afternoon (as my Granny used to say about watching Andy Griffith) BECAUSE WE HAD TO.  Now, I really love to wax nostalgic about the old country shows and seriously, they played a YUGE part in making me the music lover I am today.  The TV alternatives were limited.  Today's youngsters can not begin to imagine three or four channels. Even the "big three" have local networks!

I don't remember just three channels. I don't remember a time before PBS. I'm not sure when public TV came to Nashville, but I do remember seeing "Sesame Street" mentioned on another show, before I had discovered the Muppets.  That was the first time I ever saw that my mom tried to hide things from me.  She did not want me to start watching "Sesame Street" because she foresaw exactly what happened. She knew I'd get hooked. She didn't want to have to watch silly puppets!

If she were here, I would ask her if she really thought Gilligan was any better.

But back to Conway Twitty.  I DID discover him when I was young, like age four, but that's when he looked like this (from "Hee Haw," by the way, and also used by Seth MacFarlane on "Family Guy"):



If I'd discovered him when he looked like he did in this next clip, I probably would have thought he was hot, like my aunt Peggy and a lot of other women who were young in the 1960s and 70s did. OMG. When Conway died on June 5, 1993, Peggy and one of her friends stayed up late, drinking adult beverages, crying and listening to his music, probably on vinyl... possibly on cassette... maybe, but probably not, on 8-track... and maybe on a CD... not everyone had a player then but they were gaining popularity.  I understood that SHE liked him and I could understand, kind of, because I figured she was about 50 and he was probably about 50 and he sang all those sexy songs and had kind of a cool voice, but I didn't think he was HOT.  But in this clip below, he was kind of cute, and that song is freakin' amazing:



Here is another phenomenal clip of the same song... I did not know this show existed.  As performances go, it's not the best Conway ever did (although it might explain why he didn't dance much once color TV footage began), but it's a piece of broadcasting history for Dick Clark's intro alone. Conway looked very uncomfortable and staged, and had to be lip-synching (I just don't think there was any other way back then) but wow! What a lucky break for an Arkansas boy to share a TV audience with Fabian!



It's only make-believe... just like he's making believe he is singing...  I have a real-life, not make-believe, Conway Twitty story.  When I was 12, I ran into him - I mean, I literally ran.into.him - in a bowling alley in Hendersonville, TN.  He was polite, maybe a little annoyed, but polite.  Later I saw him playing in the 11th Frame Lounge, adjoining the bowling alley, just through the door.  I didn't go in.  That would've been a riot. I was there with my church youth group.  He didn't look it in black-and-white, but he was in his mid-20s by the time he made it to Dick Clark's Beech-Nut Show.  That makes me feel better.  I think it's kind of creepy for an old woman to think such a young man would be attractive!  But my daughter will be 25 this summer - NEXT MONTH! - so I guess that's why Conway looks like a kid in those video clips.

I have always had a great sense of imagination. I'm glad that it has grown up along with me, but I am really sorry that I haven't written everything I've dreamt up over the years.  I created characters based on people I knew but mostly based on "what if" scenarios I dreamed up about them.  I have a lot of these stories but now, I don't have nearly enough time to write about them. I'm trying, though. I'm busy in my "real job" but I have a lot more time than I let myself believe.  I like writing non-fiction as well as fiction.. or maybe I should say, real life as much as make-believe.  I'm blessed to have great memories and imagination for both.

Don't waste a moment wondering why...

Well, I can't be a Cheatham Countian and not mention the most famous person who ever came from here, the late and definitely great Pat Summitt.  She died this week (in case you have been in a coma and somehow missed that).  Honestly, I don't have much more to say tonight, God rest her soul.

I do think tonight's song lyric sounds like something a coach would say... lyrics from "Do It or Die" by Atlanta Rhythm Section...

Don't let your troubles make you cry
Don't waste a moment wondering why
When everything goes wrong
You have to go on
And do it or die

Do it or die now
Stand your ground
Don't let your bad breaks go gettin' you down
Even when times get rough
And you've had enough
You still gotta try

Do it no matter what the people say
They don't even know you
Die before you let them stand in your way (Don't you know that)
You should know that... life is a gamble all along
Winners or losers you keep rollin' on
So go on and roll the dice
You only live twice
So do it or die

'Cause we live in a time when meaning falls in splinters from our lives

Today has been a hard day.

It has been a month now, and I can't say it makes sense yet.  I feel terrible, like somehow I let her down by not being able to keep her alive.  She wanted to live, so badly.  And yet I know that she wouldn't want to come back now.  She suffered so much.  I think she just got so tired.

I miss her.  I wish I could have kept her with me for the rest of my life, but only if she was healthy and enjoying life, and not having to go through all that chemo and radiation.  I thought about that occasionally, like what if we were out on a Sunday afternoon and had an accident and went together?  But that's not the way it happened and for the family's sake, I know that's a good thing. 

This experience has changed me and I'm not sure I like the way I have turned out, but I have learned a lot about myself in the past month.

I know that life is short.  I have spent too much time playing cards and looking at silly blogs and tumblrs.  I am going to use my spring break a little more wisely than I have in the past.  I am going to declutter my house 15 minutes at a time.  Yes, that's a FlyLady concept but please don't put me on the email list!  I have to declutter my emails!!!  :D

I know that life is short and we should do things we want to do and things we think will make a difference in the world, even if the difference seems small.  I have searched my heart and my soul to figure out if I am headed in the right direction.

I have had to face some of my past, not that I have a lot of regrets, but I think we should learn from our past, and one mistake I have made over and over and over again is that I seem to never be happy.  Is that why I can't get a nuclear medicine job in Nashville, because I have the reputation for never being content where I am?  I know that's why I have such a dirty house, because I was never happy living here.  I wanted to live in Ridgetop.  Now, I don't have much reason to.  Mom's gone, Grandaddy's gone, and Randy works 40 miles from there.  This house is 17.5 miles from his work and 18.5 miles from mine... and I only work 10 months out of the year. 

I like my car, though.

I may not always like teaching but I like my classroom.  I could improve it, but I like it.

It's late and I have an appointment early.  It may not ever make sense, but maybe I can be at peace with that.

And I don't know how you do it, making love out of nothing at all

It was the song from the 80s that I play sometimes and always think of someone who didn't turn out to be my soulmate, but who has been in my thoughts at least once a day, every day, ever since.  Not in such a way that it ruins my life, more in a wow, that was a fun memory kind of way.  Or yeah, Jeff used to do that, I wonder if he still does.  Things like, the Seahawks were his team, or he had a Herschel Walker "You lied like a dawg" t-shirt, or that he would never admit it to his friends but he liked Air Supply.

He and most of his friends were brainy and somewhat immature, in an innocent and sweet way.  They weren't out tearing up the neighborhood; they were renting movies, hanging out at houses with pool tables and Ataris, ordering pizza, playing football and/or basketball in the backyard, and collecting comic books.  If they were 17 now, they'd be playing video games like my son.  It was sort of like a high school version of "The Big Bang Theory."  There were a few of us girls who had classes with this crowd.  I saw a few of us there today.  If girls who hang out with gay men are "f@g hags" (and I apologize for being offensive, I would never refer to a person that way myself, but I have friends who referred to themselves that way) what are girls who hang out with nerds called?  They weren't really nerds, at least, I thought they all had good qualities.  Brains and wit were far more entertaining than popularity and obsession with looking good.

So today I went to the funeral home to visit a childhood friend, a mutual friend of ours, a former classmate (a grade younger) and even a short-time boyfriend.  His mom died on the 17th.  I sat next to Jeff, another former classmate a grade younger, longtime friend, former neighbor, and sometimes boyfriend in the old days.  I went out with him 3 weeks before I married Randy.  Bill said Randy and I were people who needed that time of trial, that idea of, well, we've tried everything else, and this is what's right for us.  I guess that was true.  We've been together for a long time - and married for 23.5 years.

When you're happy in your relationship, and I am, and I'm pretty sure Randy is too, it's good to see your exes in happy relationships too.  I like Jeff's wife.  She is so sweet, and she tries to take care of Jeff's dad, and he needs that.  I almost wish I could set him up with Mom because they could both use the company.  But, he doesn't need to have to take care of anybody and she's not able to.  And Bill seems to be happy too.  His girlfriend is cute, and seems kind and sweet.

So yeah.  I'm happy for them all.  Really and truly.

you might think I'm delirious...

Oh, it was back in the day.  Way, way back in the day... a lot of water's gone under the bridge since then - the Prince Green bridge, or its predecessor, which I hit in my big old land barge Catalina - and I am reliving it tonight on Facebook.  I heard this song the other day and I would've posted on Tim Horn's wall how this reminded me of going to Ridgecrest, but I had posted a link to "PYT" on Tim's wall the day before and God knows I don't need anybody thinking I'm fooling around with somebody because I posted songs from 1984 on their Facebook wall.

I normally don't like to think about 1984 much, and especially not this time of the year and now, my baby is starting HIS senior year and I know exactly how many years it's been (do the math!  there's a teacher answer for you).  But for some reason, this year has mellowed my memory of 1984 and I can deal with the ugly memories... most of them anyway.  The ones I don't like to remember are the ugly ones caused by me.  The other not-so-pretty memories, well, they are what they are and at least I still have them.

Summer's about over for me.  We had open house at school tonight.  Down here in the extremely hot South we send our kids back to school in the heat of August so we can spend a ton of money on air conditioning (and believe you me, we need our air conditioning in our schools without windows).  It gets earlier and earlier too, although I will say that the August 7 start date is a few days later than the August 4 start date we had my first year in our neighboring county to the east-northeast.  Usually, we get out in mid- to late- May and that makes coming in from bus duty soaked with sweat a little more worthwhile.

Every year I say I'm going to be a little tougher than I was the year before, and every year I end up being a pushover.  I don't want to be meaner than I ought to be, but I don't want to be a pushover, either.  I'm praying and honestly, at the moment, I feel like I'll be all right.  I know I can make it.  I know I can handle it.

I do know that one thing I need to do, in order to make it, is to go to bed and get some well-deserved rest.

SI wk 0, day 4: And when I'm itchy, I scratch.

Anybody remember this one?  It was from Sesame Street back in the 70's.  

Today did not start well.  Randy played yesterday's messages and we learned that Derek's surgery has been postponed for two weeks. This means his jaw will be wired shut when we planned to go on vacation. That means we've got to reschedule not just us but six or seven more people. But he is a good kid; he said not to worry about him. Bless his heart. 

After that we discovered that the cat crapped in the bath tub and vomited in the hall. Not only that but he crapped on a towel in the bathroom too.  Not a good morning.

Work was easy, relatively... my first block took their exam and I graded it, and spent most of the rest of the day doing the end-of-year packing and paperwork.  We have 1.5 more days, and I'll spend them doing more of the same.  It's all right.  I'm going to spend a little time each week preparing for next year.

Randy is practicing and Derek went to spend the night with a buddy.  Rach moved out today, to start her new summer job as a youth worker intern at a church in Nashville.  I've been sitting here itching all evening.  I don't know if the loveseat's got fleas or what.  (That would figure, wouldn't it?)  I need to stop being so lazy but I figure I'll work hard tomorrow.  Just doing some laundry tonight.

The long and winding road

that leads to McMinnville...that's where Randy and I went today. We had a blast. I really enjoyed hanging out with him today and I think he enjoyed being with me too. He played a bunch of Elvis on his iPod. We went to get airbags for Rachel's CRV. We ate at a little place called Wilma Jean's Kitchen. YUM. It was awesome! Fried fish, potato bites, and some of the best white beans ever. Oh, yes, and cornbread. We topped that off with pie. I had chess pie like my granny used to make and Randy had chocolate cream pie. We shared our desserts, but I preferred the chess.

I know, I don't need all that fattening, sweet stuff, but I sure enjoyed it. Generally when we eat like that we don't do supper, maybe sandwiches or something. I haven't even been hungry and it's 9 pm.

After all that driving, though, it was good to get home. Took us about all day!!!

If I can't have you, I don't want nobody, baby

This song said it all in 1979.

I was 12 years old and madly, crazy in love with Tracey Evetts. He was two years older than me and I thought he was the most beautiful creature God put on this earth. He played baseball for my dad and he left his glove in the truck at the end of the season. I slept with it under my pillow for a year.

He had a blue bike and I had a red one. Our grandparents lived in the same neighborhood (and had for 75 years). From Tracey, I learned how to play "Galaga" because that game was at the grocery store. He knew I existed, but I'm sure he just thought I was a silly little girl.

In 7th grade, we had this unspoken agreement. When he got on the bus at the high school, he knew he had a seat next to me. I don't remember telling people not to sit there, but I must have let it be known that was his seat. He was a pest. I loved it, but I never let on. I still sort of liked him then, but by then, I was spending a lot of time on the phone with one of his buddies. As teenage "love" goes, his buddy thought I was a silly little girl, and had a crush on another girl.

In 9th grade I fell for him all over again. I don't really remember what went right, or what went wrong that time. I do remember Mom telling me she didn't know why I kept fooling with him, that he didn't care a thing about me, and that I could find someone who DID care about me. Tracey fell in love with another girl, and eventually they got married. Meanwhile, I dated several people, some who cared a lot, and others who really didn't. Most of them didn't pass muster with the parents either. I wondered if they ever thought they'd have been better off if I'd held out for Tracey. (Truthfully, looking back, I know my mom didn't. Don't know how Daddy felt though.)

A few years later, I got married too. One day we happened to be staying in the same place, with relatives at the lake, and he told me how impressed he was at what I was doing. It was nice.

Our lives went different ways. He got divorced. At that time, Randy and I were in Madisonville, having a baby. Randy and I hit a rough patch a little later, around the time we moved back to Tennessee. By then, he was married again, and they were having a baby. I only saw him once in all those years after that. He didn't quite look like the cute little boy who rode the blue bicycle...but then, I didn't look the same either. I couldn't hold that against him. He signed my guestbook on Classmates about 18 months ago. I thought that was nice.

All through these years I have loved those same songs I liked in 1978 and 1979. It was the music I loved when I was 12 years old, when life was fun, when I believed I would grow up to be pretty, and successful, and have everything I dreamed I would have. Good memories.

I loved living in my hometown. It's a good place. I live about 30 minutes from there now. You can live in town and walk to the store, or to school, or to the Post Office. You don't have to drive 5 miles to get a gallon of milk. If you do drive 5 or 6 miles, you can sit down and eat at any kind of restaurant or shop at any kind of store. (Of course, you only have to drive 10 miles for that here.) The best thing about it was that all my family was/is right there. I have often told people I miss those days when my parents and their friends would get together, and how the best times of my childhood were those neighborhood 4th of July parties and gatherings. Some people there still have those kind of get-togethers with their school buddies. I didn't know this until recently. I learned this when he died a little over 2 weeks ago.

I learned this on Facebook. It may sound superstitious, but I'll never check my Facebook during lunch on an "A" day again. It's a school thing - we have classes on alternating days. On A days my planning period is 1st; on B days it's last period. So...I have to plan for B days at the end of A days. I checked Facebook at lunch, didn't have a planning period afterward, left, distraught, at the end of the day and came in at the beginning of the next week on a B day for which I hadn't planned properly. No. I'll never do it again. I depend too much on my ability to plan for the next day, and I can't take a chance on being devastated at the end of the day.

It made me sad for his wife and his daughter. It made me thankful to have my sweet Randy. It made me feel old to think it has been that long - 30 years - since we rode the bus and he hit me with the two big nails he soldered together. It made me feel strange to realize that what I am now is all because of those days and the things I did then. It made me feel empty to think of all that I have missed living here, where I have nothing in common with my neighbors and my family's 30 minutes away and my kids don't go to school with the children of my classmates.

I have spent too much time on the computer when I should have been doing things with people. A lot of those times I was here because Randy was doing his own thing, either playing cards or playing music, and the kids were too little to leave alone, and I didn't have the money to pay someone to watch them while I did my own thing. Now they are bigger, and they don't need me as much as they did then. Rachel will be in college this time next year.

I've had a great life not living in Ridgetop. I've made a lot of friends over the years. I still see people from Ridgetop a lot. I get home often. (Probably not often enough!) In some ways, though, I've missed out on a lot.

This year has been particularly hard because it takes me 30 or more hours a week to prepare for the 40 I spend teaching, and after you count the 10 hours a week I spend commuting and the 10 I spend eating breakfast, showering, reading the paper, checking email, etc. every week, and the 56 I should spend sleeping, that only leaves 22 hours a week to do everything else. That sounds like a lot until you think of what all has to be done. Church is 2 or more hours a week. (I'm glad I became a Methodist! If I were still Baptist that would be more like 5 or 6 hours.) Going to Mom's takes 30 minutes each way, so if I visit for 2 hours, that's 3 hours total. That leaves 17 hours, divided over 7 days...meaning, I only have about 2.5 hours a day to relax and that's not really accurate because I have to do things like go to the grocery store, pharmacy, etc. I'd like to work out more often, but that's 30 minutes each way travel time and 30 minutes of exercise. And, of course, I spend about an hour of my day on Facebook, but I do get a little social interaction out of that. It's no wonder I feel isolated, though.

I didn't make new year's resolutions this year. Today, though, Feb. 1, I am making new month's resolutions. In my journal, sometime around Jan. 1, I wrote that I need to be happy with the life I have. I do intend to do that. I also intend to start spending more time with my friends while I can.

Behind Closed Doors

I haven't blogged in awhile because...well, I just haven't made the time to write a lot lately. I started this post this morning. Then I re-thought the whole situation & now it's midnight - the next morning & I'm working on it again.

Life is busy, as usual.

This month I finally got an iPod & so far, the song I have played most has been "Behind Closed Doors" by Charlie Rich.

I liked this song when I was a kid. I wonder how much of it I understood, when I was six years old. Did I know what he meant when he said "She makes me glad that I'm a MAN!"? I wonder. But I knew it was something like "She's A Lady." I knew I wanted to be not just a woman, but a lady when I grew up.

I could go into all this, why this song in particular has been the one I've played over and over ad nauseum. And by the way, I always have one of those at any particular time in my life. A few months ago it was "Can't Fight This Feeling." Before that it was something else. My hair is longer now than it used to be, so sometimes I put it up...and behind closed doors, I let my hair hang down. But that's not why I like it. It might be what makes me think of it more often.

This made the fourth week I worked at the new place. I have liked it far more than I thought I would. I really didn't see that coming. I just realized I haven't written about that at all. Wow.

It has been wild. At first, when I was training, I cried a lot. I mean, a LOT. Then I actually did it on my own a few days, & I was OK with it. And after about a week, well, I was glad things happened the way they did. And after two weeks, I was sure it was for the best. I miss my old job. I loved it. But I like the new place too. I have a lot more autonomy and it is a lot closer to home. I may not be getting quite as good of a package, but it is nice to have more free time. I had a tough day today, but it wasn't awful. It was better than sitting at home wondering if Vanderbilt was ever going to call me back. Which they haven't.

It has been a tremendous change, going to a place where I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am making things better. I may not ever be appreciated for that by my employers, but, I think the patients appreciate it. And, just for that alone, I feel much more valuable. Just about every day, at least one patient - sometimes more than one - hugs me, or tells me they had a good experience. Some days I will see a patient I scanned a few days ago & they will say something nice about their test. I hope they are telling the doctors that too. I try to make the patients feel as good as some of them make me feel. So far, it seems to be working.

It has its moments. I cut my thumb open yesterday with a razor, getting ready to prep a man's chest. In my old job, that wouldn't have happened because (A) we had shavers with a different type of blade, though they were trying to replace them when I left, and (B) I didn't have to prep most of my patients...though I did prep some of them so it could've happened there, I guess. On the other hand, in my old job I mashed a finger & cut my hand on a collimator, so you can get hurt anywhere. I had to spend 20 minutes getting put back together, with patients waiting. But as always, it worked out.

The rest of my life has been interesting too. It seems to be going by in a frenzied rush...sort of like the tornadoes that seem to hit on a weekly basis in this area.

A few weeks ago Randy's fraternity was re-chartered at APSU & we got to see some of our old buddies from college. That made me do some thinking...as did a picture a friend put on Facebook...as did a chance encounter with an old acquaintance, & then a second chance encounter with that acquaintance a few days later. I remembered a lot of things from our younger days that I have missed a lot since we grew up & changed. For instance, I used to love going to functions when Randy worked at The Messenger. I don't know if I realized it at the time...I probably dreaded getting ready, I was probably nervous about going, but I have great, great memories of those dinners. And since he left there, he hasn't worked anywhere I got to do that kind of socializing. Once or twice a year we have dinners with Jostens people, and I do like those. But it is so rare.

When we were young, I used to like going to see Randy play because his band played clubs where a lot of people would go: college friends, family members, his co-workers, you name it. That fell by the wayside too. Now, if his bands play out, they're in biker bars, and I'm not really comfortable there. (Though the Bikers Who Care Christmas party I went to was great!) Most of the time his bands just get together & practice, then they sit around & play cards or watch a race or game or something. I am not a part of this scene. I spend most of my weekend nights here at the house doing nothing.

This has always been a source of friction for me & Randy. His friends are mostly single, or divorced...few have girlfriends. When they get girlfriends, the girls keep them out of that circle. I don't particularly want to hang out with single women on the weekends. It is nothing personal. I just feel like I'm the only one not looking for a date, or who has to get home to the kids. It makes me wonder if Randy's buddies are looking for dates too. (If they are truly at some guy's house playing cards, probably not.) If I weren't married to Randy, I wouldn't be out trolling in some bar looking for a date. I seriously don't think I would have to, but if I did, I'd rather go sit at Borders & read for my own personal pleasure! Or sing Karaoke at Talents!

Truth be told, I LIKED the hobnobbing. I liked being the lady who was leaving with Randy! I liked the feeling that he was proud to be seen out with me in places like that. I don't necessarily have to be the most beautiful woman there, or by any means the most important one. I just want to be there, & for Randy to be proud to have me there. For a long time, that has been missing. I used to think I looked too frumpy & it didn't matter. But now, I don't feel all that frumpy anymore & by golly, I want him to be proud to be with me. So stay tuned. We will see how this pans out.

Mom's hanging in there, not getting any better really (I am a medical professional. Please don't tell me she's not going to get better. I know how this works. I also know people who have lived with this disease for a long time.) but, considering all, it is nothing short of AMAZING that she has been able to work as long as she has in her job as a school cafeteria worker. I think she would've liked to have been off work more, but at the same time, she didn't WANT to quit. But the time has come that she needs to quit her job. Hopefully, this will allow her to use her strength to feel better, instead of to get by. It is a tough time for her.

Rachel's job situation isn't good. Her hours have been cut. I hate this because we go to church with her boss, and Sunday is Easter, of course, so we will have to see her. But losing my job, though it seemed like the end of the world, has opened new doors for me, and maybe this change will do the same for Rachel.

I thought about saying something crazy, like publicly asking the church to donate money for Rachel's trip to Costa Rica because she was getting her hours cut...but I have more class than that. I am not going to be mean. Like I said, it wasn't bad for me in the long run, so it might be good for Rachel too. Besides, we've just about got this trip paid for anyway.

Longtime Channel 4 news anchor Dan Miller died this week. He's been a fixture in Nashville news. He will be missed, especially by his family. I understand he was a great dad.

Well, that's enough for now, I guess.

my head is like a football

I am not hung over, but I don't feel much better than that. I am sucking down coffee and hoping for relief soon. It may be a fraction better than it was when I got up. I hate waking up with a headache. I have done it two of the last three days.

On a brighter note, the Cheatham County Rock Star's Wife and Hee Haw Tribute Page author salutes UT women's basketball coach Pat Head Summitt on her 1000th win. Yes, I work at Vanderbilt but that doesn't mean I am not happy for her!!! How many basketball coaches do that? Awesome!

There'll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover

Tomorrow, just you wait and see.

I want that song played at my funeral.

You see, I married a man whose family is from Dover. That's Dover, Tennessee, not Delaware or England. I usually go to Dover once or twice a year. Thanksgiving is usually one of those days. I may go this year - I'm not sure. This year's been weird so far. I really don't know what I'll be doing.

When I was in elementary school, my parents used to take us camping down at Land Between the Lakes (LBL), just outside of Dover, but I didn't go there at all from about 1980 until 1986. During my first year of college, my best friend (at the time) & I rode through Dover on our way to visit her parents, who were staying near Paris Landing. Around that time, my grandparents bought land near there too. In high school (& the first year or so I was in college) I had a special friend whose dad grew up in that area too - in fact, he went to school with Randy's aunt.

I guess Dover was just meant to be a special place for me.

When I was crazy about the "special friend" I mentioned a minute ago, I liked listening to the Righteous Brothers, & that's when I discovered the song "White Cliffs of Dover."

I knew Randy was the one when, a few days after our first date, he played HIS Righteous Brothers album for me.

So, that song, my funeral. And now, if you're there, you'll know why. Hopefully that won't be anytime soon. I am not sick. I HAVE thought a lot about death today, though. We lost a member of our church today. He was there taking communion with us, right next to me, this past Sunday. He had a heart attack yesterday & died this morning.

Mom's former pastor died this week. I think he was buried today.

I wrote about Porter Wagoner the other day. A lady who works down the hall from me is the daughter of a country singer who died in the 1970's. (For now, we'll keep her identity private.) I have a VHS tape of the Opry Christmas special from 1967, & her dad is in this video. I told her about it the other day, & she wants to see it, so I dug it out & watched it myself. Of course, this was one of the videos I brought back from Granny's house a few weeks ago. I imagine this lady will cry when she watches it. I thought I would. One of the songs performed was "Christmas at the Opry," where the late Archie Campbell mentions many Opry stars who had passed. Now, almost all the stars on that tape are deceased, with the exception of Dolly Parton & 3 of Porter's Wagonmasters.

A young lady at church lost a good friend in a car accident Sunday morning. She came tonight to the Youth Sunday rehearsal, & she talked to Robbie & me about how hard it is to lose a friend so young. We looked at each other. We knew. I told her I would look for the poem that meant so much to me when one of my friends died during my senior year. I couldn't find my old green copy that I kept under plastic for years & years, but I found the poem on the Internet. It has obviously given a lot of people the comfort it gave me. It goes like this:

My Father’s way may twist and turn
My heart may throb and ache.
But in my soul I’m glad I know,
He maketh no mistake.

My cherished plans may go astray,
My hopes may fade away,
But still I’ll trust my Lord to lead,
For He doth know the way.

Tho’ night be dark and it may seem
That day will never break;
I’ll pin my faith, my all in Him,
He maketh no mistake.

There’s so much now I cannot see,
My eyesight’s far too dim;
But come what may, I’ll simply trust
And leave it all to Him.

For by and by the mist will lift
And plain it all He’ll make.
Through all the way, tho’dark to me,
He made not one mistake.

The poem was written in 1932 by A. M. Overton, a retired minister, upon the death of his wife. It meant a lot to me that week in 1984 when nothing made sense. It means a lot to me now.

Can you feel the love tonight?

You could if you were here. I'm in my apron, drinking real milk, eating chocolate chips I just made with flour I just milled...the domestic earth mama has returned!

Just kidding, sort of???

Actually, after I came home dog tired last night, I did a lot of thinking. While I have no regrets about leaving my previous job for my current one - not by a long, long shot - the change in lifestyle has not been all it promised to be. Yet. I think it's coming. Right now I am still too broke to buy a hybrid with a plug for my mp3 player, or to have Randy bring the kids to Nashville on a weeknight so we can see live music after I get off work. For that matter, I have to get to bed really early on weeknights, because I have to leave the house by 6 am or I'll be late. Too many nights up past 9, & I can barely function by the end of the week. Ten hour days are tough. I get home 12.5 hours after I leave every day.

I've been broadening my horizons by listening to books on CD during the drives. So far I have listened to "Sisterchicks On the Loose," by Robin Jones Gunn, "The Year the Colored Sisters Came to Town," by Jacqueline Guidry, & now I'm listening to "I Hate to See that Evening Sun Go Down," a collection of short stories by William Gay. "Sisterchicks" is not my usual kind of read, but I enjoyed it. I was a little disappointed to learn that the next Sisterchicks book wasn't about the characters Penny and Sharon because I had really come to love them! My favorite so far is the Jacqueline Guidry book, but I'm enjoying the work of my fellow Tennessean. In one story a character is named "Stayrook," which is an unusual name but the maiden name of the mother of one of my best friends. Mr. Gay lives in Lewis County, & my friend's mom's family lives next door in Perry County. I have other friends in Perry County too, & I recognize some of the towns he mentions.

I am very thankful that Randy helps me a lot. I think he felt sorry for me there for awhile. I was in such a daze there for a few weeks, when Granny died & then Mom had bad test results. But, she is feeling a lot better & I am too. She has returned to work part-time, which is perfect, because it keeps her busy without wearing her out. She may go back to full-time, after she regains some of her strength. But one step at a time.

One step at a time in the changes in our lifestyle, too. For awhile I tried baking my own bread, making my own butter, & all that stuff, back when I was working part-time. There is something really wrong with the world when it is cheaper to buy canned carrots than fresh ones & to buy factory-made soap than homemade. Before I got this job, it was too costly to keep messing up practice loaves of bread. That's sad. Now, I don't have lots & lots of extra time (case in point: I need to go to bed NOW.) but I do still have a day off every week, besides the weekend, & so today, I spent a little time making old fashioned cookies. Yum.