Get This...

Wanna know more about your favorite stars? Here are some of the things we've learned by sitting down with them from time to time.

Faith Hill admits to wearing a wig when she takes her family to Disney, and husband Tim McGraw says he calls her by a different name during their visit to the parks.

Carrie Underwood says fans have followed her into Victoria's Secret, which is 'a little creepy' considering she is buying underwear.

Miranda Lambert's nickname for her boyfriend Blake Shelton is 'mullet,' though he no longer has one.

Toby Keith says he is not a fan of Crocs, but admits to wearing a pair around the pool.

Kenny Chesney says if you're not at his Grandma's house for the holidays, you don't get tickets to his show. That's how he handles the various requests from distant relatives.

When asked how Josh Turner got his great set of teeth, he told us "I brush em."

Martina says she struggles with the guilt of being a working mom just like many other women.

John Rich says he never has and never will have his significant other on the red carpet, due to his privacy.

Brad Paisley says he was once confused by the E! network for Kenny Chesney on the red carpet and never told them any differently.

Keith Urban says if he had his choice, you would call him. He's a fan of hearing someone's voice over texting and emails.

Change...Not Always for the Better

Just got in to work, and realized the company is now using a different brand of creamer.

It's odd how another brand can make your coffee taste completely different. I guess I'm a creature of habit. I can be pretty spontaneous, but I've noticed that I also have little quirks or routines. The old creamer was one of them.

Other quirks?

Writing the word 'TEASE' on the top of my newscasts, yet we no longer tease the news. Probably haven't for three years now. But, I still write it.

When running on the treadmill, I won't let myself look at the timer until a tv show goes to commercial. Otherwise, the time seems to elapse in slow-motion.

Since I was a teen, I've applied my lipstick first in the process of putting on my face. Most people I know do eyes then lips, but I've always done so in reverse.

Crossword puzzles make me tired before going to bed, but I won't turn out the light till the one I'm doing is complete.

I make out a grocery list, but never use it at the store. I remember what I wrote down when I walk through the aisles.

Other things aren't habit for me.

Such as the route I take to work, which changes by the week. Or the place we will stay on Spring break, which by the way is in 5 days and we still haven't booked a hotel. Or the laundry that I try to avoid tackling, but finally did yesterday. I told my sister to call for backup if I didn't turn up after a few days.

Some things matter, some things...not so much.

12 Things We Do in the Studio

I love my job.

Yet, sometimes we say our best show is what takes place behind the scenes. It's not just about playing songs. Other things we like to do:

Watch tv. With no audio.

Eat. Kevin brings in string cheese for everyone, and last week we ate producer Roland's leftover quesadilla's from dinner the night before.

Gawk. Jim and Kevin check out the female co-workers who enter the building.

Jim fixes his hair after each talk break because the headphones tend to flatten his coiff.

Irritate each other. Kevin taps a pen to the point of agony.

Talk to listeners. Jim says 'Bye now' when he hangs up EVERY TIME.

Apply lipgloss. Obviously, this involves me only.

Leave. Jim leaves the studio every 30 minutes when I deliver my newscast. He always returns with coffee for everyone.

I spend two mornings a week...at least...searching the studio for my reading glasses.

All of us tease Jim by pointing at an old photo of him on the wall and laughing a good three times a week. Nice hair, buddy.

I sneak to the thermostat and quickly raise the temp, only to have Kevin say, "Deb, WHAT are you doing?" (The guy is NEVER cold.)

Laugh. We are sometimes doubled over with hysterical giggles over the comments we share when the microphones are off.

Time for some string cheese now...

Things I Know...Things I Don't

KNOW

How to sew

The phone number where I grew up

My 4th-grade teacher's dog's name

How to change a tire, though I've never done so

The French language...barely

How to bake

That I love my kids

How to flip an omelet in the skillet

That I can't sing

How to eat with chopsticks

DONT

How to juggle

How to curl my tongue

How to roll my R's

How to change my oil

Why my childhood dog never came back

How to flip pizza dough

What happened to a former boyfriend's class ring

How to whistle with my fingers

Where my husband keeps the vacuum...and I'm ok with that

Why people hurt children

It's a First

We all experience 'Firsts.'

First date, first car, first job...you get the idea. And today I can add another one to the list. This morning was the first time I've ever been able to say that I've hung out in the women's restroom with a man.

That's right...a man.

Here's how it happened. Driving in to work, I got a little teary-eyed. Sure enough, I thought I had composed myself when I arrived at work, and once I walked into the restroom, I saw a pair of raccoon eyes staring back at me.

So as I did my best to remove the smudged mascara and apply some powder, the door swung open and there stood Moe.

Moe is a co-worker and all-around good guy. He's the Norm of the radio station, like the guy on Cheers that everybody greets with a smile. He has many duties, like driving Super Studio, befriending our listeners, and the very duty that brought him in to the ladies' restroom...replacing the air freshener.

Moe quickly turned to duck out, and I told him I was simply applying some makeup and he could do what he needed to do. So in walked Moe and that's how our visit began.

Moe asked me how I was doing, and I did the same, and before I knew it he was asking me to help him reach the automatic air freshener attached to the wall. I happen to be taller and could reach it easily, and I also learned a little useless piece of information: The air freshener lasts 30 days before it needs replaced. Moe and I chatted some more, shared a couple of laughs and he told me to have a good day.

When he exited, laughter could be heard from another co-worker who wondered why he was hearing both a woman and man conversing in the bathroom. Moe told him to join us next time.

First time for everything. See you in 30 days, Moe.

Dad, Bubble Gum, and a Walk to Remember

Dear Dad,

I'm wishing you were here so I could call you.

You were always good about listening and not always offering advice, but just listening to what I had to say. I can remember the times I would call you at work to share some news. I would ask if you could talk and you would say you were with a client. And when I offered to call you back, you would tell me no and wanted to hear why I had phoned. I always liked that about you.

Life would sometimes get in the way, and we didn't talk every day, but knowing that you were there was comforting. I miss that. I miss your presence, your teasing, and your matter-of-fact ways. How I would tell you I missed curfew because there was a train, and you would say "Should've left five minutes earlier." Or how I would decline coming home for a Sunday dinner, and you would say, "You do what you've gotta do."

Then there are the times when fond memories invade the sad moments, like when I gave Griffin a piece of sugar-free Bubble Yum yesterday. I smiled when I told him that you would give me a pack of grape Bubble Yum for a footrub, and Griff responded, "A whole pack?"

Yep, a whole pack.

Oddly enough, I almost always think of your 'walk' when I reflect on memories of you. You had a certain way of getting through a room, with your long legs taking clumsy steps. Seems silly, I know, but that vision of you brings a smile to my face. I won't ever forget it.

Or you.

Going Commando

My youngest has decided he's no longer a fan of wearing underwear.

Not sure how this came about. He just woke up one day this week and decided underwear is a useless article of clothing that is more hassle than it's worth. "Nope, I don't need 'em," he said.

I wouldn't think that stepping in to the two-holed garment really delays the dressing process all that much, but he's ditched it. Instead, when we headed to dinner Tuesday, my son left the wardobe-staple at home. Sure made going to the bathroom a quick trip.

I guess we parents pick our battles. And look at the positive...

Less laundry to do.

How 'Tweet' it is

Well, we did it.

We've joined the ranks of others who are technologically savvy, though we are far from it, and we now have a Twitter account.

For those of you who don't know, Twitter is a social-networking site that sends 'tweets,' similiar to cell phone version of texts, that answer the simple question, 'What are you doing?' We aren't sure if we joined out of curiosity, pressure or just plain boredom, but we joined. After all, we're sure our listeners are biting their nails from anxiety to learn that Kevin is tired from attending the Pacers game last night, or that I am sipping three-hour old icy coffee, and that Jim is making sure his headphones don't crush his much-adored hair. (A day-ruiner in his book.)

We do plan on sharing much more sought-after information, such as tomorrow's big Rascal Flatts announcement at 7:20 am on WFMS, and today's US magazine cover that claims Leann Rimes has been busted for cheating. We posted her response to the rumors on Twitter. Oops...I mean, we tweeted her response. Or is that even a word? You get the idea.

Twitter, tweets, texts, blogs, emails...We're hip now.

Join us at twitter.com/JimDebKevin

A Nervous Boy and Orange Skittles

The Science Fair.

Ever do a project for the fair when you were younger?

I can remember my dad helping me wire a lamp for my project, and thinking he was very talented and smart. By the end of the project, I had lost interest and dad was kind enough to do the last-minute touches.

History has a way of repeating itself. My oldest volunteered to do a project for his school's science fair, and together we chose to find the answer to a very pressing question...

What is the most popular color in a bag of Skittles?

We had fun counting, and eating, the colors and I helped Griff with the artwork on his display board. Then came the big day. Griff was called out of class to stand beside his board and proudly demonstrate his work. He told me last night that he was nervous as the judge made his rounds and spoke with each participant. I loved what he said next...

"Mom, I felt this thing run from my forehead down my cheek, I mean, I was REALLY nervous."

He was nervous. I was proud. (By the way, the orange Skittles took the cake.)

I'm Grumpy

It's one of those days.

More things to do than there is time in the day.

I usually like being busy, but not this busy. Greg pushed me out of bed today, right about the time I considered pulling the covers back over my head. I got to work ok, but left a trail of things behind at home. A towel on the bathroom floor where I ironed my blouse, (ironing board is too noisy and wakes up the kids), perfume bottle on the washer, (Greg says the scent wakes HIM up, so I spray it downstairs), and I put my shoes on in my car, just before backing down the driveway. Not the worst of mornings.

Just turned on my cell phone, only to have it tell me "battery needs recharged," yet I forgot my charger.

I finally caved and decided a trip to the vending machine would make things better, not the actual walking to the breakroom, but the bag of M&M's I would wrestle out of the machine that inevitably gets stuck. I told myself I'd eat just half of the bag, but that lasted about two minutes and I consumed the entire thing.

In the meantime, my oldest son is proudly wearing his new big-boy deodorant today, (Greg bought him OLD SPICE???), and my youngest told me last night that his pj pants keep getting stuck in his 'bosom.' He obviously doesn't know what that means.

Happy Wednesday.

A 'Swift' Sellout

Taylor Swift.

Quite the rising star, at the age of 19. If you haven't heard, Taylor's concert at Madison Square Garden sold out in mere minutes.

Not bad, huh?

Taylor is the whole package. Talented, writes her own stuff, has a good head on her shoulders, and makes good decisions, including registering to vote the day she turned 18. Vince Gill calls Taylor refreshing, and says she reminds him of his own children, because when talking to Taylor, everything is "awesome."

The morning show will never forget the first time we met Taylor a few years ago in Nashville.

A young teenager at the time, she was wearing a black dress and cowboy boots as she towered over us. We were awestruck by her height and endless blonde ringlets. She couldn't have been nicer. We'd never heard of Taylor Swift at the time and certainly didn't guess that she would be around years later, after all, not everyone makes it in this business.

But, not everyone writes heartfelt, relatable songs in a matter of minutes, or sends handwritten notes after an interview.

Congrats, Taylor.

P.S. I found a box of the same thank-you notes Taylor sent the morning show in the stationary aisle at Target. Gotta love that...

The Kid Who Doesn't Stop Talking

It's been a few weeks since this happened, but I realized I forgot to share one of my most embarrassing mom-moments as we sift through this thing called life.

Greg and I had taken the boys for haircuts. Sort of a thing we do as family. Or at least since Greg did it on his own, and I bawled at the sight of the boys when they returned home. In Greg's defense, he was trying to help. In mine, my father had died three days earlier, and I was an emotional meltdown waiting to happen.

So now we go together as one big happy family.

Hayden was first to hop up in the stylist's seat. Little did the woman know she had a 4-year-old boy who liked to talk, wasn't shy, and very inquistive.

Here are some of the things he peppered his stylist with...

What's your name? My name's Hayden. That's my bwother, Gwiff. And my mom. And my Dad.

I just went to Disney. I saw Chip and Dale. They look the same, though.

I don't like that Bug's life show. Smoke is everywhere and it scared me. I sat on my mom's lap.

Are you a Mom?

Do you have any gum?

What's that guy doing? (Pointing at a gentleman getting his bangs trimmed.) Don't do mine like that. That doesn't look good.

Awww...geez. That hair tickles on my neck. I don't like it.

And on and on and on.

By the time we left, I was worn out, and the woman who cut Hayden's hair was laughing. We paid and walked outside, when Hayden grabbed the door, swung it back open, stuck his head inside and yelled...

"See you later, bosom!" We won't be going back there anytime soon.

A 2nd-Grader's Job Description

I was putting some things away in my oldest son's room, and found a note he had written.

Apparently, it is a chore list of things he thought he could do in exchange for an allowance. I'm guessing he wrote it when we had snow on the ground. Let the negotiations begin...

THINGS TO DO

Make the bed.

Help mom and dad.

Do the dishes.

Make Hayden's bed.

Shuffle the driveway.

Do the laundry.

Set the table.

$1.75...in cash.

Don't Skip the Chocolate Yet

I like to eat, so every once in awhile I skip the tortilla chips and order a salad for my meal. Just to lighten the caloric-intake and temporarily feel like I'm doing something healthy.

Then I read a magazine that says a caesar salad from Chili's with grilled chicken packs more than 76 grams of fat.

76.

That's more fat than a dozen ice cream sandwiches. Not to mention the portion is enough to feed a small elephant, (do they eat salad?), though I never split it in half and save part of it for the following day.

Other menu shockers?

How about Quizno's Chicken with Honey Mustard Flatbread Salad. 74 grams of fat, and as many calories as five packages of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I think I'd rather eat the peanut butter cups.

How about T.G.I. Friday's Pecan Crusted Chicken Salad? I'd tell you the fat count, but the company refuses to disclose the nutritional content of their food. Not a good sign. 1360 calories, if you're counting.

The next time you're thinking about where to dine for dinner, maybe this will come in handy. Or maybe I'll do a faceplant in a dozen ice cream sandwiches instead.

Either way, it's a wash.

I Wanna Be a Kid Again

Warmer weather means kids finally get to play outside.

It also means less arguments with siblings from being couped up, and as a result, much happier parents.

Last Saturday, the weather was nice enough that both boys ventured outside jacket-free to join their neighbor friends and breathe some fresh air. My oldest, who is 7, asked me to come along. Of course, I had a long list of things to do...laundry, scrub toilets, and go through the mail, but that could wait. So, I joined my first-born out back and for a brief time, got to be a kid again.

Griffin and I hit the swings, and tried to see how high we could go, aiming our feet for the few clouds in the sky. We walked to the top of the hill in our backyard, and rolled down it, laughing at the leaves stuck in our hair when we got to our feet. We grabbed twigs and pushed them into the ground, then made a wish on one that could have been mistaken for a wishbone. He got the bigger piece, by the way. Against my better judgement and after a little begging from Griff, I climbed the few steps that led to his treehouse, and sat at the top of our fort with my son, looking down at the world below. Even my youngest wondered what happened to his mother's sanity, shouting, "Mooooom, what are YOU doing up there?"

Griffin asked if I would go down the slide, and I told him I was probably too big for that. Not to mention that our neighbors just might think I've lost it. Something about the look on his face told me I would be sliding anyway. And sure, I'm 36, but somehow I remember the slide being a little longer before touching the ground.

I hugged Griffin before heading back inside and told him I was proud to have him for a son. He told me I was the "best mom he'd ever had." And the only one if anyone's keeping track.

I eventually returned to dishes and laundry, but it was nice to be a kid again.

Sure beats scrubbing toilets.

Tick, Tick, Tick

You've heard the phrase "where does the time go?"

So true.

Things get crazy and the days run in to each other. Then I took a little inventory of exactly what I did one night last week. Figured maybe a little time management would squeeze out an extra hour or so. Here's how the evening rolled out...

Looked for a shoebox top for my oldest to take to school for a class project

Thought about what to make for dinner

Picked up various toys that tend to pile up in the kitchen and put them away

Sifted through the mound of papers my oldest brought home from school, and made him an afternoon snack

Looked at the pile of laundry in my closet, frowned and walked away

Read in that stack of school papers that Griffin no longer needs a shoebox top for class

Told my 4-year-old we needed to get him changed for soccer class, where he told me he didn't want to go

Put the shoebox top away

Thought again about what to make for dinner, and stared at the inside of our freezer

Considered sorting that pile of laundry, but made oatmeal cookies instead

Talked to Greg about these weekly chats with Hayden, who doesn't seem to like soccer

Ate cookie dough

Looked at pile of laundry one more time

Chose to skip soccer, and accepted that Hayden's just not into it

Decided against cooking, and loaded the fam up to go grab a bite

Returned home, and heard my 4-year-old say...

"Hey, why didn't I go to soccer?"

Sure Kills Hand-Washing Boredom

Ever eaten at Buca di Beppo?

The bathrooms make for an interesting conversation with your little ones.

Anyone knows that children become fixated on "potty" talk. Words that parents don't particularly care for, yet kids have some need, just like I need a doughnut, to say them.

We dined at Buca last night, and just like any other visit to a restaurant, Hayden needed to go potty. More than once. I escorted him to the women's room, something he protested, yet I couldn't exactly walk in to the men's. Hayden first complained about the pink-colored stalls, then stepped inside to take care of business, while asking me to "turn around and don't look."

He then locked me out.

Once he emerged, Hayden seemed to be moving as fast as my Grandma drives during the never-ending hand-washing process. I then realized what had caught my four-year-old's attention...

The nude black-and-white photos of women that were plastered on the wall. Hayden couldn't believe his eyes, pointed to a photo and said...

"That lady has a big bottom!"

Let's Try That Again

Hayden.

He's four, and is slightly outspoken. I like to think he didn't get that from me.

Today, I witnessed Hayden not being too kind to his best buddy, Tommy. Trying to teach him a lesson, we later sat down and I told him we don't talk to friends that way. I asked him to apologize, and told him I would walk him to Tommy's house to say he was sorry.

For the short walk two houses away, we went over what to say. He kept repeating the phrase, "I'm sorry for not being nice, and you're my best friend." "I'm sorry for not being nice and you're my best friend." Should be easy enough. Once we got to Tommy's door, Hayden looked him in the eye and said...

"I'm sorry you're my best friend."

Oops.

Missing the Days of Pen and Paper

What would we do without technology?

Without cell phones, texting, multiple e-mail accounts, and Myspace or Facebook?

Probably get a lot more done if you ask me. I'm just as guilty, but it sure is tempting to leave these things at home when we pack for spring break later this month. There's something about being so accessible that tends to drive me crazy. Makes me, even if only temporarily, long for the days of snail-mail and actual telephone calls that could only be placed from home or a payphone. It'd be nice to shut it all down for at least a week, after that I might go crazy.

Randy Travis and Randy Owen just may be two of the toughest people in the business to reach. Neither feel pressured to check e-mail on a daily basis for the simple reason that they don't have a computer. No laptop. And furthermore, no cell phones, no Blackberrys, no texting, and no one asking 'Will you be my friend' on Facebook. They don't have these things because they say they're fine just the way they are. Both told us during separate visits to the studio that they've lived this long without 'em, so why bother. Guess they have a point.

Randy Travis went so far to tell us that he isn't a fan of phone calls in general, and doesn't answer his home phone when it rings. Unless, of course, it's his wife. And how does he know it's her calling? The phone has a special ring which lets him know that wifey expects him to pick up.

Gotta love it.

On the flip side, Trace Adkins had his cell phone in his pocket during an interview, and answered it during our chat. He says if it's his wife or kids, he answers every time. A rule he has and tries his darndest not to break. I didn't mind, it gave me more time to hear his low voice.

So, maybe I will leave the cell phone at home later this month. Or maybe I'll shut it off for a day or two beforehand to see how long I can go without hearing my Faith Hill ringtone.

Maybe.

Feeling Manly and Clumsy

I'm wearing men's deodorant today.

I figured I would just go ahead and get it out there. I ran out, and had to borrow my husband's, which is nowhere close to smelling girly. Nothing like a mixture of perfume and sport-scented anti-perspirant, though I guess it's better than the alternative.

Leaving my house this morning for work, I drove my car directly into our recycle bin that Greg had so diligently placed at the curb to be picked up today. It knocked over, and out spilled a week's worth of reusable items, like empty milk cartons and water bottles. Sorry to the neighbors for the loud noise that I'm sure woke you when you should have been dreaming of that island vacation or winning the lotto.

Not a great start to the day, but I'm sure it will get better.

After all, I'm off to Starbucks, where I've become quite the fan of their apple-bran muffins. Much to my husband's dismay, since it only adds to my bill.

Happy Bump day.

One of a Kind

Today is my Grandmother's birthday.

Even though she has no internet access, and no desire to ever surf the web, I wanted to wish her a happy one. Grandma Evy is a wise woman, and I wrote this letter for her. (Don't worry, I'll give her a hard copy.)

Dear Grandma,

I hope you know how much you mean to the family. You have been a pillar of strength in difficult times, and I admire your will to see us through what has seemed like the impossible.

I love your old-fashioned ways of doing things, like how you taught me to make jelly and gather corn on your farm. How you make your noodles from scratch in the days where instant-everything is the popular thing to do, and the same goes for your pie crusts. I'm still not sure about the rinsing of your ziplock bags so they can be saved for future use, but who am I to judge if that's what makes you happy.

Growing up, I remember your 'pocketbook' as you call it, and how I could always count on you to share a mint or a piece of gum. While digging for the gum, you would pull countless other items out of your purse, like a plastic raincap to protect your hair, and crushed saltine crackers in their plastic, straight from the restaurant. Not to mention the numerous Sweet N' Lows you swiped from Wendy's.

I've always loved your boundless amount of energy, though I know I'll never duplicate it. How you can outshop me on any day, and how you are the first to be at the sink doing dishes following a family dinner, usually joined by your grandson-in-laws. How you take early morning walks for some exercise, even though I will count walking up the stairs as a day's workout. And how you won't miss a Pacers game, and even defended Ron Artest when he was traded, saying "he didn't get a fair deal." I didn't agree, but I knew better to disagree. After all, you're Grandma.

I remember the old days as a child, when you let me give you a 'makeover,' and always seemed to like the results, even though your cheeks sported more rouge than a clown and I went a little heavy on the electric-blue eyeshadow. "Boy, I sure look pretty," you would say.

The truth is, you may be another year older, but it's another year wiser, another year loved, and another year admired.

Happy Birthday, Grandma Evy. You're one of a kind.

Things That May Surprise You

I am often told I "sound" like a redhead when I talk to someone who listens to WFMS. Not sure what that means, really.

I have had the same preconceived notions about many of the artists we meet. Some things that we discover may surprise you...

Keith Urban was barefoot when we interviewed him backstage at the State Fair. Not only barefoot, but his toenails were painted black.

Montgomery Gentry had an inflatable pool set up for a quick dip behind the parked buses at Verizon Wireless Music Center.

Taylor Swift writes personal thank-you notes after every interview.

Shania Twain is even SMALLER in person, and wore no makeup when we chatted before her concert.

Trace Adkins isn't shy, and lifted up his shirt to show us a scar on his belly.

Faith Hill has a great sense of humor, and is way taller than we expected.

Kenny Chesney wears glasses and ate Subway when he stopped by for a visit.

Toby Keith wore his sunglasses for the first part of our interview, then removed them.

Kellie Pickler told us during a visit that she cut her hair short so she wouldn't look like everyone else in the business.

Carrie Underwood had two phones in her purse, one for personal use and the other she gives out to furniture movers or repairmen.

Just some things we learn along the way.

9 Observations

Static Guard doesn't smell good. Yet, the alternative is clothes that cling.

People don't talk to their neighbors in the Winter.

Kids won't sleep in on weekends, but won't get up for school.

You can't call a voice-activated answering service with young kids shouting in the background.

I always realize I'm out of hair conditioner IN THE SHOWER.

Kids always have to "go really bad" AFTER you've dressed them to play in the snow.

'You' becomes the word you use when you can't remember someone's name. "Hey, how are you?" Their response, "Good, and you?"

'JUST' is often a child's favorite word. For example, "Just five more minutes?" or "Just one more cookie?"

The day that I make pancakes and bacon for breakfast, my four-year-old will ask for a Pop-Tart.

Just a few of the things I've noticed.