Happy Birthday Big T

Tony's birthday was Tuesday, but we started celebrating over the weekend. When there's a birthday, it lasts through the weekend before or after, sometimes both... cuz that's the way we roll.

So, last Saturday, it just so happened that his favorite bluegrass pickers were in Maryville for their final show of this year!! Go BlueMoon Rising! You saved the day, boys, because I had no idea what to get my man, the who has every-damn thing.

So, we ventured to the Palace Theater for a knee slappin, toe tappin helluva time.
They did two one hour sets and at half time they took the time to wish Tony a Happy Happy Birthday from the stage. They also signed a t-shirt for him wishing him a good one!



On his birthday Tuesday, he was Hooter'd. He'd never been to Hooter's before and it's one of my favorite places to go.


Who doesn't love tits and ass? (Oh God, if that didn't sound sexist.. wait I'm not a man)...

Paging Dr. Tony

I’m sure everybody knows that Tony’s mama got really, really, REALLY sick on the day we got married. It is amazing, incredible even to see Ms. Pat now and how incredibly far she’s come along since that day. Had I known the day we got married, before I walked down the aisle, that she wasn’t there I’d have postponed the whole damn thing again (yah, yah Spanky, you’d have won the bet again). But I didn’t know until I actually walked up to Tony and they played the first song in the ceremony that she was even sick.

By 4:30 that afternoon, Tony’s brother called and said that Tony needed to come to make Ms. Pat go to the hospital because she was “out of it” and really, really ill. We made it to Methodist Medical Center, where they quickly found out she had suffered a life threatening aneurysm and needed to be transferred to Univeristy of Tennessee hospital immediately. They did surgery and it honestly appeared that things weren’t going so well and the outlook was grim.

That was six weeks ago. Today she is in EXCELLENT shape! The first thing she got back was her since of humor. When asked “Mom, how do you feel?”

She’d shoot back, “With my fingers.”

She is breathing and eating without any assistance from machines, which 6 weeks ago she could not have lived without.. Her right side is getting stronger and stronger by the day. She has improved so much that she has been moved from UT to Patricia Neal Rehab Center where she’s walking with parallel bars and peddlin’ her ass off on the bikes. GO MS. PAT!

So, we were there to visit her last night. Tony keeps her laughin all the time, which is what she needs for sure. Nobody needs to be sad and worried anymore!! She’s made it through the bad stuff already.

We walked into her room and Leacha is sitting on the end of the bed with her. I took the real chair and Tony got to sit on the portable shitter.

“Damn, mom.” He says. “If you’re not careful on this thing, you’ll shit on your shoes.”

It’s always so good to see her smile and laugh.

As it turns out, Ms. Pat had found out what all had happened to her in the last six weeks yesterday. When we got there, Tony’s sis (Leacha) asked his mom to tell him what had happened.

She looked at Leacha really sad, then over to him still really sad, like she was afraid she’d scare him if she told him.

“He already knows what happened, Mom. He just wants to hear you tell him so he knows you know what happened.” Leacha told her.

Ms. Pat looks over at Tony, still worried, “Well, they told me I had a brain aneurysm and that I was real sick.”

“Yah. You were pretty serious, Mom.” Tony pets her arm. “You know how that happened don’t you?” He asked her all serious like.

“No.” She tells him as we all sit and wait for his professional diagnosis.

“Well, it happens when people hold in their farts.” He explains. “If ya don’t let it out, then it travels up and causes real problems.”

“That’s your son.” Leacha tells her.

Ms. Pat laughed to hard to say anything back.

Thank God for Dr. Tony and his warped since of reality.

The Love of a Sarcastic Mother

I was sitting in my office today when a friend of mine sent me a text message on my phone that had little hearts and said "I love you". At the bottom it instructed me to send it on to all of my friends. So, I did. I sent that bad boy to everybody, including my teenaged boy, who hates that kind of crap.

About 20 minutes later, my phone rang.

"Hola!" I answered. I have caller ID so I knew it was my boy, Matt.

"Hey! Guess what!!!!" He said, all giddy and excited like.

"Uh... what?" I played along.

"My phone's workin!!!" He exclaimed.

You see my boy has a really bad habit of tossing, flipping, pitching his phone..(along with other various forms of abuse). About two weeks ago, the phone, in an act of ultimate retribution, just up and quit working. He could still send and receive text messages, but not talky talky.

"No shit?!?!" I get giddy with him. "You mean the phone you called me from works?!?!?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha." he retorts. "But I wanted to let you know."

"Well, very cool, baby. I'm glad its workin." I tell him.

And I am genuinely glad it's working because he's been on an "I want a new phone" kick for about 2 months now. So right at this second, he's thrilled to have one he can speak into and hear from.

Then it hits me that he's calling from school, because I can hear all the chatter of teenaged boys in the background. So I ask him, "Why the hell are you in school?"

"Cuz we're rednecks and apparently we don't vote up here." He says as serious as can be.

"Did you get my text message?" I ask him all lovey dovey.

"Yah. Yah." He says trying to put me off like teenage boys do when they are confronted with the "L" word.

"Well? Do you love me, dammit?" I push out of sheer enjoyment knowing he was squirming in front of his buddies.

"Come on, Matthew. You can say it." I prod.

"Oh, God." He said. "I gotta go."

"Fine. Love you." I tell him. He knows I really do love him.

"Ya. Ya. Bye." He said and hung up. I'm pretty sure his eyes were rolling in back of his head too.

That's ok. He has to come home sometime.

Santa's Sexy In His Jockey Shorts

You know, for the past decade, I kept thinking to myself "Damn. Christmas seems to come earlier and earlier every year. I thought it was only in my head because I am simply annoyed by how commercial Christmas has become.

I took note, back in August no less, that as soon as Wal-Mart took out the swimming pools and other summer items... in came the Christmas stuff. IN AUGUST! Before even halloween had time to come and go.

Pisses me off, the money-grubbing devil stores peddle as much as they can for as long as they can. And what really slays me is the fact that, everytime I'd pass through lawn & garden, even back in late summer, there were people buying that shit up. It wasn't on sale, it was just out on display and for sale at regular prices.

Now I don't know about you, but I certainly don't want my house decorated with little elves and the like that early in the year. I'm the type that as soon as Christmas is over, I'm ready to jerk the ornaments down and sling the tree in the yard.

What I think should happen is, since the the stores have all the Christmas crap out that early, the Salvation Army should round up sexy bell ringers and have them out there in the heat of summer in a Santa-like underwear or a swimsuit made of red velvet with white trim.

BAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, Humbug.

Refreshed, Rejuvenated, Renewed

I'm working on finding my sarcasm again after losing it somewhere between the altar and Germany. In hindsight, I don't actually think I ever lost it. I think somehow it got kicked in the corner, or under my dresser with the dust-bunnies when I started having girl problems. Nothing like some girl issues to jack one's system completely up. None-the-less, I started to feel my sassy self coming back to life.

Honey, I've Been Violated... again

"Baby!" I hear Tony calling out as he comes down the stairs to the bathroom where I was in the shower.

"Baby?!?!" He calls out again before bursting into the bathroom.

"What's wrong?" I ask him reaching for the towel.

"Well, that damn cat. That damn cat keeps on bothering me." He says shaking his head.

"What'd she do this time, baby?" I asked, as this is quite a normal conversation in our combined domicile.

"Well, I went up there to see if the cheesecake was thawed out, and she was trying to get it. I had to push her fat ass off the table just to get to it. She went down swingin. It was like she was trying not to let me get it." He says, serious as can be. "I think she's got something against me."

"No baby, she's a psycho. It's not just you. She attacks anybody and everybody. She's an equal opportunity hater." I try to mend his feelings.

"That's not all she did, baby." He laments.

"Ok. Tell me." I roll my eyes as I towel dry my hair.

"Then I decided I had to pee, and she followed me in there." He goes on, "She jumped up on the toilet as soon as she saw me go in there. And I shewed her down, so she jumped up on the sink and she started swatting my butt while I tried to pee."

"She's always hung out in the bathroom, Tony. She's not out to get you."

"But the cat violated me. She was grabbin my ass while I was in a vunerable position. I was tryin to pee!" He protests.

"Well, baby. All I can tell you is to keep your back to her or she's liable to swat somethin else."

Adreneline Bubble Has Burst...

Just down in the dumps. Don't feel good. Blah. Miserable and on a self serving pity party.