'eye' loved this moment

Milestones.

We all experience them. As kids and as adults. Getting your driver's license, turning 21, then 30, then 40, and on and on and on. We celebrate all kinds of 'moments,' getting your braces on, or off, tying the knot, going to prom, graduating high school, and others.

And so it was time for a milestone in my home yesterday, a day when my 8-year-old would remove his glasses he had worn for four years and officially don his first pair of contacts.

Eight is a bit young for contacts, yet Griff's doc tossed him a bone and we found ourselves at the eye doctor yesterday, learning how to hold the slippery oval on a fingertip without poking an eye out or tearing up as I do while watching Steel Magnolias with a box of lotion Puffs in my lap.

In the waiting room, Griffin asked me, 'What if I can't do it? I'm nervous,' yet twenty minutes later, he had mastered the art of taking the contacts in and out, and we were on our way. Not sure what it was, could have been the smile plastered across my son's face as we walked to our car, but I knew I would always remember this moment.

We celebrated with an ice cream cone on an outdoor bench, sending pics of my son and his new contacts to everyone we could think of, short of the barista at the Starbucks counter. That's when we received the following text from my mother...

Dear Griff,

Congrats on wearing contacts! You are the youngest person I have ever known to wear them. It must be because you're 8 now! You look so handsome. Won't your friends be surprised.

Love, Grandma

It was a fun day, a fun moment. A memory to tuck away.

sure makes life interesting

Things couldn't be more opposite in my home.

Take my closet, for example.

My husband's side is the epitome of neat, baseball hats stacked like Legos, shoes aligned perfectly with laces tucked inside, shirts arranged by season, sweaters folded with the sleeves crossed in the same direction, and so on. It's really kind of sickening, at least for some one like me, who is lucky to have more than 11 articles of clean clothing actually placed on a hangar.

I'm a little more spontaneous, or whimsical.

I go with the flow, and hope that somewhere along the way it all works out. Greg is a planner, and frets when his plan goes astray. I'm a multi-tasker, and somehow manage to maneuver around hurdles that present themselves. So our closet looks like half masterpiece, half trainwreck. Maybe my mess and his orderly ways cancel each other out, after all we married each other, right?

Our boys are similar.

Griffin is sentimental and always has some heartfelt phrase to share. I remember telling him how great his grandparents were to me, and what a good childhood I had, etc. He stopped me and said, 'Kinda like I have good parents, right?' Aww, shucks, that's almost enough to make me forget he was grounded. ALMOST.

And then you have the flip side of the coin, my four-year-old. He's a little more rough around the edges, as I like to say. He's the same kid who, at barely three, insisted on putting himself in his carseat, saying 'I can do it myself.'

And so it's no surprise that I took Hayden out to dinner last week while big brother and Greg were at tackle football, and found myself enjoying the one-on-one time with my son. I told him it was 'nice to have a little mommy-son date', but he was all like, hey now, don't get any ideas.

Hayden shot me a look and instantly said, 'This is NOT a date, Mom. This is just a regular dinner. Regular, ok?'

Got it.

Makes for an interesting household.

i wasn't ready for this

My oldest came in to my room recently just before bedtime to tell me goodnight.

I told him to brush his teeth and I would soon be in to tuck him in. He gave me the child's version of thanks but no thanks, and said I didn't have to get up, that he could just do it himself. 'But I always tuck you in,' I told him, a little confused.

'Yeah, Mom, but ummmmmmmmmmmmm...I'M EIGHT NOW.'

Have to admit, he walked away and I thought to myself, is this what happens? Kids grow up overnight? One minute, they want you to tell them a story, the next they are good for skipping storytime and pulling their covers up themselves? It's no surprise that my eyes welled with tears, since I also cry during episodes of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, so I did what any mom would do.

I tucked in my son.

And he told me with a smile, 'I figured you'd still come.'

blake shelton comes clean

If you missed Blake Shelton on the morning show yesterday, here's a recap.

Blake set the record straight on the twitter mystery, is it him or is it a fake, saying if you like what he says...it's him, and if you don't like what he says, it's not.

How's that for specific?

Blake eventually fessed up, saying yes, it is HIM sending those tweets, and he believes the doubts have originated from those who seem to believe country artists don't say what's on their mind. Blake says he's never been that guy. He calls himself honest, tells it like it is, and told me he has no problem calling someone out if they deserve it. And what about blocking some of his twitter followers?

'I've blocked 6 or 7,' he said. 'Once they're blocked, they're done. Out of the club. Gone.' But only because they've said some less-than-kind things. Blake also said he loves interacting with his fans, and that's his favorite part.

After introducing Blake to my sister, (remember he met my 85-year-old grandmother back in April), he said he's waiting on his invite to Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving with my family means you have to bring a dish. Blake's answer tells me he won't be spending much time in the kitchen.

'Coke? I could bring that. Or ice? I could freeze some, somebody's gotta do that, right?'

By the way, that's my sis and Blake in the pic, which prompted my sweet Grandmother to say with a wink, 'Did she get more attention?'

need a giggle?

This had the morning show laughing recently, even bringing tears to my eyes!The bride and groom were later interviewed on the Today show.

Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0

blake shelton hangs with hoosiers

Did you miss Blake Shelton's in-store signing at the Castleton Square Mall?

We chatted before he hopped on his bus to head to the George Strait show at Verizon. Catch our interview Monday morning and I'll post the highlights here as well! Including the lowdown on Blake's twitter obsession.

And what would he bring to your family get-together if he was invited? Let's just say Blake goes the easy route.

Stay tuned.

light 40 more candles

Remember that sister who turned 30 yesterday? That was the youngest one. Well, birthday wishes continue as my older sis turns the big 4-0 today.

Forty.

Still young by all accounts. Or as she's been saying over the past week, 29 with 11 years of experience. Not sure if that's the way it works, but let's hear it for originality.

I can remember when Michelle first got her driver's license and found herself shuttling me to school and sharing her senior locker with her tag-a-long little sister. Not all siblings would be that giving, but she tolerated having me as a shadow. Although I also recall suggesting we leave for school just a tad bit earlier in the morning, and she suggested I take the bus.

So happy 40th to my sister, who has been a great role model for her two younger sisters following in her footsteps. I came up with the following list of some of my favorite memories about Michelle in honor of her birthday.

Top 'SHEL' Moments

Sharing a bedroom, waterbed and all, encased in a headboard made of shaggy green carpet

Watching you pose for prom pictures in that pink Cinderella dress

The 'map' you made of our Disney trip, including a pic of Mom losing our shuttle tickets

When you drove us to school, and we got stuck in the snow

That phone call you made from South Padre Island to have me check your report card that came in the mail

Your cool dorm room at Ball State

When you cried at my wedding, and grabbed for a tissue saying, 'Give me that.'

Seeing you and Dad cry at yours.

When I insisted you take cover for a tornado watch as a child, and you insisted you talk on the phone instead. Nothing phased you.

This isn't as touching, but I always think of you when I see a nail. Remember when you got mad about something and stomped your foot, stepping on one that had fallen from our patio table?

And finally, seeing you honored with the Top 30 Under 30 Distinction from the IBJ. Quite an accomplishment.

Happy 40, I mean 29, plus 11 years of experience.

You aren't another year older, but simply making room in the scrapbook of life for more memories. Dad would be proud of his oldest daughter, all grown up and a spitting image of who he wanted you to become.

Love you.

i won't sing, don't worry

I want to wish my younger sis a very happy 30th birthday. Consider this your official welcome to the dark side.

Despite your reservations, you will enjoy your 30's. And you have many things going for you. You're a great mother, great friend, one whose laugh can make me giggle. It's certainly been fun watching you grow up, no more hiding report cards, right Kris?, and no more pouring chocolate milk into coffee cups and having 'grownup talk' at the kitchen table.

I know today is bittersweet, the milestone of turning 30 and celebrating without Dad who would be so proud of who you are. He would be thrilled to know that you've moved closer to home, and I'm sure he's watching his little girl from his recliner in the sky, amazed at the fact that you're no longer the toddler who once snoozed at his side.

Keep on doing what you do, as I've always admired the way you seem to maneuver life in easy fashion, like a pinball that bounces from task to task and keeps on movin. You make it look effortless.

The 30's are where I seemed to 'find' myself, and you may have already, but enjoy these years. It's your special day and know that you are loved.

Happy Birthday to my 'little' sis.

Doober

musical chairs in bed

Why is it I can go to bed and wake up next to someone completely different? Hey now, it's not what you think.

All parents drudge through the share-your-bed phase with their children, unless you're my friend Cathy who held her ground and I envy more than the girl at the mall wearing skinny jeans.

The rest of us find ourselves laying down next to spouses, only to be awakened three hours later by a sleepy 4-year-old carrying a blanket and hoping to hear those four little words that are sure to make his heart skip, 'Climb on up here.'

So how is it that we've gone from not one, but sometimes two, kids worming their way through our covers, with one who insists he's hot so I end up cold, all packed in like sardines wearing pj's in a tin can?

Some mornings find me and my kids in bed, and my husband in the guest room, following an apparent surrender and waving of the white flag. I myself have 'traded' beds if you will, knowing it isn't right and certainly won't win me any Mom of the Year nominations, though my back will appreciate it in the morning. After all, who wouldn't be knotted up following a night of sleep in the fetal position on 4 inches of mattress? One move to the left and I'm face down on berber carpet.

That's how we roll. Or snooze, whichever.

So Monday, I went to bed with Greg to my left. Woke up with Hayden to my right. Woke up again to find Griffin at my feet, and Greg MIA. Found him in the guest room. Awoke again to find Griffin about to roll off our king-sized bed, so I moved him back and took my clock to his room with one hour to go before I had to shower for work.

That's when it hit me.

All four of us will wake up in beds that aren't where we originally fell asleep.

How does that happen?

latest journal entry to dad

Dear Dad,

Vivid memories of you and family life have been on my mind over the past two weeks.

Always fond memories, but even some from the days when I caused you trouble. Why they surface when they do is beyond me, though I choose to believe it's your way of letting me know you're thinking of us.

Like the time we walked to our neighbor's home for her graduation party, and you told me you were disappointed that I had worn jeans with a rip in the knee. I tried explaining that ripped jeans was the style for teens, but you weren't having it. By the way, Griffin and I now have the same talk when he asks if he HAS to wear a 'collared shirt', as he calls it, to a party.

Or the time when I was younger and refused to eat tomatoes. You told me that the tomato you were holding was really something called a 'toe-mapple' and tasted more like fruit. You later laughed when I said I liked it, knowing you had taught me a good lesson.

Or the constant jingle of spare change we would hear when you put your hands in your pocket. You always kept the right amount of coins that would make change for a dollar, 'just in case.'

Or how when we danced to Natalie Cole's Unforgettable at my wedding, and you half-hummed your own lyrics in my ear, 'Doo Bee Doo Bee Doo.' You were always saying that, whether walking around the house or checking the mail.

Or how I can't walk past a watermelon at the grocery store, and not think of you carving one in the kitchen. You'll be glad to know that Hayden loves the stuff as much as you once did, which is why I don't mind when he asks for thirds.

Or how I was proud to show you off when you visited my sorority house during my college days, yet knew I had let you down when I failed to mention I needed to take one summer course before getting my college diploma.

Or how I sometimes walk into the studio at work to be by myself and listen to audio of you laughing, when the morning show called you years ago. I always loved hearing your happiness.

And you.

that's no Power Ranger, it's the Gov

A quick thanks to Governor Mitch Daniels for surprising the morning show with a visit this morning.

We were about to end the show, and the Gov roared up on his Harley Davidson, sporting his helmet like the First Lady would want him to. Governor Daniels told us he was on his way to a doctor's appointment and felt like stopping in to say hello.

Jim just happened to be out, so we told Governor Daniels that Jim would be sorry he didn't get to catch up. The Governor flashed his pearly whites and said...

'Jim WHO?'

on turning another year older

At Benihana, celebrating my son's 8th birthday, he leans over after watching the chef flip his knife in the air and says, 'I think he's trained.'

Same son, while being tucked into bed after opening a catcher's mitt from his aunt, says 'I've wanted that mitt my WHOLE life.'

After asking Griffin what he wanted to do on his birthday, he responded, 'Oh, you know. Take it easy, hang out, relax.'

After asking Griff if I could cash in my Mother's Day coupon for that neckrub, he told me 'Ummmm...I'm not open right now. But, I can feed the dog.'

Leaving Benihana, after shopping at Target with birthday gift cards and opening presents from Mom and Dad, I heard Griffin sign and mutter under his breath,'This has been a great day.'

Happy Birthday to my old soul. I love you.

or whatever his name is

Crazy busy week.

One of those weeks when you feel like the days fade into each other and you wonder where the time went. Lots to do and I apparently didn't major in time management back in college because cramming it all in to one week is SO much better.

Not.

On my To-Do list? Preparing for my oldest son's 8th birthday this weekend, gift-shopping for my sisters two milestone birthdays, no need to mention numbers, baking cupcakes and catching my youngest sneaking licks of the batter, taking one child to the ear doctor (out came the tubes), then on to the eye doctor, (in go the contacts), and so on and so on.

Still, we managed to fit in a trip to Toys R Us, where my older sis told me to stop by the customer service desk and let them know we are celebrating a birthday. Evidently, they do a little song and dance about your child surviving another year in your care and make him or her the VIP shopper, alerting the other customers via intercom that a birthday kid is in the house.

So off we went, marching up to the counter to try our hand at a little birthday attention, with skepticism lurking around the corner, assuming the employee would either tell me the policy had been suspended or the intercom didn't survive a budget cut.

Not the case.

Within seconds, a birthday crown fit for a king was plopped onto my son's head and he was handed a balloon, then asked for his name and age. 'Griffin...8', I told the clerk with microphone in hand. And we were on our way.

Just as we turned the corner, we heard the squeak of the intercom turn on through the ceiling speakers, and a female voice enthusiastically asking for the attention of fellow shoppers. 'We have a birthday boy among us...celebrating his 8th birthday...so when you see him, please wish OWEN a Happy Birthday.'

Owen.

a chat with my son

7-year-old: Can Hayden and I have some gum, Mom?

Me: No, not anymore today. You and your brother had some earlier.

7-year-old: But, Mom...it's sugar-free, you know.

Me: Yeah, I know.

7-year-old: Soooo, can we?

Me: Mom said no. Listen, you two are lucky. When I was little, I didn't get gum all the time.

7-year-old: You didn't?

Me: Nope.

7-year-old: You mean it wasn't invented?

probably won't see Kenny at Target

We came across some audio of a previous chat we had with Kenny Chesney, when he stopped by our studios at WFMS.

At that time, I asked Kenny if he can go shopping at Target without causing sales racks to be knocked over in the crowd's rush for an autograph. 'That's getting hard to do,' Kenny said. He told us, in humble fashion, that he avoids the mall, the grocery store and other places, like Target, and has his assistant pick up items he may need. "She even does my Christmas shopping,' he laughed.

Speaking of shopping, we asked Kenny to think back to his first major purchase that cost some dough after reaching financial success. His answer?

His boat.

'If everything else went away, at least I'd have a boat.'

Shouldn't be a problem.

5 things we learned about dolly

She's uses twitter. Dolly calls herself 'an oldtimer', but says she surrounds herself with people smarter than her to keep her ahead of the trends. In fact, we sent Dolly a tweet prior to our chat, and she tweeted us back.

She writes music almost every day, but notepads aren't always nearby. Dolly says she writes on impromptu items such as cereal boxes, paper plates, napkins and receipts. 'Anything I can get my hands on,' she says.

Her envious waistline is a family trait. Dolly told us her aunts 'always had small waists, even if their butts were bigger than most.' Dolly is no fan of exercise.

She doesn't really diet. We asked Dolly if she watches what she eats. 'I watch it go down,' she laughed. She admits to cooking the old-fashioned way, with grease, butter, and lard.

Will she sign an autograph if she is recognized in public? 'Absolutely. I think I'd be offended if they DIDN'T notice me.' She says she can politely tell a fan that she needs to move along, no need to be rude. Her standard line? 'Hey, I think I'll eat before my food gets cold.'

a 4-year-old's perspective on marriage

Starbucks guy: (Looking at my debit card) Oh, are you related to an Angela? She has the same last name as you.

Me: Nope. That's my husband's family...but, I've never heard of an Angela.

My 4-year-old: Husband? You're not married, mom!

Me: Yes, I am! I'm married to your daddy, remember? Did you forget?

4-year-old: Oh yeah. Well, you're not married right now.

Me: What are you talking about?

4-year-old: Well, you're married. But, not when you leave the house. You're unmarried till you get home. That's the rule.

Where'd he come up with that one? I grabbed my debit card, chatty 4-year-old and quickly ran to the car.

wanna get in on the twitter fun?

Who knew twitter would be this much fun?

We began tweeting, which is merely telling you what the morning show is doing, plus extra stuff like in-studio pics, pics during our time with family, and heads-up on contests or interviews with your favorite artists, a few months ago.

Did you catch when Brad Paisley tweeted us during our interview? Blake Shelton is, hands-down, our favorite tweeter, with always something funny to say. The guy missed his calling as a stand-up, in our opinion.

Where else would you see Kev and his family during Taco Bell Wednesday? Or Jim's son Corbin on the farm? Or Rupert from Survivor hanging in the studio?

Cato June, formerly of the Colts, Darius Rucker, Lady Antebellum, and Dateline NBC are now following us. You can too...click here. www.twitter.com/jimdebkevin

I don't recall inviting you

I heard it would happen.

Others have talked about it, and it's here.

I'm talking about gravity. Gravity kicking in. Gravity causing things to shift on my body that didn't have permission to do so in the first place. I'm about a month or so away from turning 37, so I suppose its time, but I'm not thrilled about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not laying in the fetal position over the discovery, but I am dreadfully reminded each time I sit down that the waist just isn't what it used to be. Greg rolls his eyes, saying I don't look any different, but I can feel it. Somewhere between parenting two kids and looking under countless sofa cushions for lost car keys, my skin lost its elasticity. It stretched. And not in the right places. I can either cry about it or put down that bowl of raw cookie dough and take action. So Tuesday, I decided to take up pilates.

Wednesday, I quit.

How's that for upping the ante? I had good intentions. I wasn't going to an actual class, heck no, why pay money for something and actually be held accountable? Instead, I hit play on a pilates dvd that was collecting dust in my living room and tried my best to contort my body into pretzel-like poses, which by the way couldn't feel more unnatural. I'm convinced even Gumby couldn't do this routine.

At one point, the way-too-happy trainer told me to stand, cross one leg over the other and slowly squat to the floor, so I did.

And fell over.

where's the bubble wrap?

My oldest son just came home from picking up his football equipment for the new season.

No more flag football. Nope, playing tackle now. I suppose this means I need to start packing more than bottled water for the games. Would it be obvious for me to carry a cooler in one hand and a first aid kit in the other? I mean, I'm all for sports and a little friendly competition, but I'm also known to worry incessantly and this certainly qualifies.

I watched as my husband showed him how to properly wear his equipment, and Griffin grinned at me proudly the same way a graduate does when donning their cap and gown. All this and he hasn't yet stepped foot on a field. His younger brother was more impressed than the time he sat with his mouth in the catching-flies-position at last year's Jonas Brothers concert, and exclaimed 'You look COOL, Griffin!' which was immediately followed by, 'Hey Mom, will they have hotdogs at the concession stand?' Yes, they sell hot dogs at the concession stand. Hey, he has priorities.

Tackle football. Might be the first time in my life I've wished my son had taken up ballet.

shameless plug

I don't usually do this, but I need a favor.

My co-host, Kevin, brought to my attention this week that a local television station is asking viewers to vote for their favorite radio personalities. So, what better thing to do than ask, translate...beg, my blog readers to help a morning show out? We would appreciate it more than we appreciate a good nap in the afternoon.

You can vote for Jim, Deb & Kevin here http://bit.ly/gMBkq.

dinner conversation

Me: Okay boys, it's been a busy one. Do you have a favorite thing that happened today?

Griff: You go first, Hayden. It's your turn. Or maybe it's mine. Why don't you pick, Mom?

Hayden: No, it's mine. You went first last time, brother.

Griff: Ok, fine, just go then.

Hayden: Hmmmm, let me see. My favorite part of the day was...ummmm...well...can I have two things? Two favorite parts?

Me: Uh, sure.

Hayden: Good. My favorite part of the day was playing with Tommy. AND...

...loving Griffin.

Sure makes all the fights worth it.

learning as I go

Being a parent is a difficult thing. Rewarding, yes. But, never easy.

I can spend hours reading all of the parenting manuals at the nearest Barnes and Noble, including the one my pal Mike in Nashville wrote, in which I was fortunate enough to pen the foreword and watch his gem become a bestseller, yet in the end, we...gulp...are the ones making the right, or wrong, choices for our children.

No pressure.

Starting out, it seemed so easy. Change a diaper, warm a bottle, and take lots of photos that will later be produced for one of those embarrassing wedding videos. Lack of sleep was probably my biggest complaint in those days, only to be joined by backfat and an expanded waistline, but those don't weigh much on life's priority scale. Kids need more than just healthy snacks and good study habits, and the challenges get more difficult as they age. Throw in the chaos of life, and it's like playing the advanced level of a video game blindfolded. After all, there are dentist appointments to keep, dry-cleaning to pick up, and kids' bangs to trim. All the while offering good advice, steering them toward good influences, and hoping they ignore our inevitable mistakes.

And so last night, between a talk with my oldest who asked if prayers for Papaw to be alive could come true, and practicing giving eyedrops to a stuffed animal in hopes that he can conquer the task of wearing contacts, I realized more than ever the role of a parent.

We shape lives. And before we know it, they're off to live them.

Rupert stops by WFMS

Remember Rupert from Survivor? How could you forget the friendly guy, right?

He's always fun to visit with...and he's making a return visit to our studio! In fact, Rupert has a surprise announcement for you country fans...so stay tuned!

He stops by this week.

memories in a pizza box

If you've read this blog for some time, you may recall occasional mentions that my father was fond of Tootsie Rolls. And he often snuck them to his grandkids, long after I had told him no more sweets for the little ones.

But, that's what Grandparents do. They're exempt from the rules.

We celebrated the Fourth at my sister's home, all the while missing my Dad, who loved celebrating our freedom on the Fourth of July. I could picture him carving the watermelon as we arrived like he did in years past, sneaking a bite every couple of minutes 'to make sure it was ripe.'

We ate Dad's favorite cheeseball in his honor, and told stories about him around the table, laughing when we talked about how strict Dad was when it came to his three daughters having boyfriends, and how he often flipped the porch light on and off once we'd returned home from a date, his way of saying 'get in the house.' Now that I think about it, it's a wonder that the three of us ever married.

Just like any other day, it wasn't the same without Dad, a noticeably absent smiling presence. Yet, it ended with a 'sign' that he was watching over us, when we ordered some pizzas to be delivered, only to find a handful of Tootsie Rolls inside the box, a gimmick of the pizza company.

'Papaw Pizza,' as my nieces called it. Hands down, the best kind.

the phrase that drives me crazy

For her age.

You've heard people say it, heck, I'm sure I have been known to mutter the phrase at one point in my life. But, I don't like it really.

I realized it this morning while talking with Jim and Kevin, my two favorite friends that have interesting male opinions. We wound up talking about a female celeb, and I asked them if they found her attractive.

'Sure, for her age.'

What's THAT supposed to mean? Isn't it a yes or a no question? Either she is or she isn't? She either makes the attractive list or she's not in the eye-candy category. Isn't that how it works? Instead, the phrase seems to serve as a disclaimer. Sort of a 'yes, she is...BUT.'

It's not always for her age, sometimes you hear people say for a mom. 'Yeah, she's attractive, for a mom.' Huh? Isn't it a clear-cut thumbs-up or thumbs-down? What does having labored for 19 hours have anything to do with it?

Just one of those things I think about, but won't lose sleep over.

5 new things about brad

As promised...

Here are 5 things we didn't know about Brad Paisley. He shared during our chat yesterday, which aired this morning.

Brad has no interest in competing on the Celebrity Apprentice.

Brad is even MORE uninterested in competing on Dancing with the Stars, and says producers would have to promise that his appearance would 'cure cancer' before he would be on 'that stupid show.' Performing on the show is the closest he'll get.

Brad has never had a back waxing, for the simple reason that he doesn't have enough hair back there to need it. 'It'd be a waste of wax,' Brad says.

Brad's oldest son, Huck, makes a super brief appearance on his new song 'Anything Like Me,' and often asks his Daddy 'Can I hear mine?' Brad will tell him, 'Yeah, you can hear yours.'

Brad gets a kick out of the makeup artists who get him tv-ready, when they dance around trying to groom his eyebrows. Brad tells him to just go ahead and pluck em, 'because I know I look like Bert.'

brad paisley shows wfms some love

Remember when Brad Paisley sent a tweet from stage during the CMT Music Awards?

He may have been the first country act to use twitter on live tv, who knows. We talked to Brad today and asked him about twitter, and he admitted to not really knowing what he's doing but certainly trying. One female 'follower' recently chastised him for not following her back, yet Brad said he's not quite figured that part out.

We told Brad we are 'followers,' or stalkers as Kevin put it, so he offered to tweet that he was talking to us while he had us on the line. That was interesting. Brad told us to wait as he grabbed his iphone, wondering aloud if the phone's spell-check would correct WFMS, then told us the task was complete. 'Check and see if it went through,' he said. Sure enough, Brad made good on his word.

'Talking to the idiots at WFMS right now,' it read. It was quickly followed by a 'Just Kidding.'

Gotta love Brad's humor. Kidding aside, Brad never ceases to amaze, and we learned a few new things about the guy who says he's NEVER had a manicure. Like just what Brad really thinks of Dancing with the Stars, and would he ever partake in a back waxing? His answers may surprise you.

Stay tuned...more tomorrow.

my husband and a jar of wax

Backhair.

Let's just say I'm not too fond of it. Kind of like I'm not too fond of turning on the tv and seeing a hot-dog eating contest, where the contestants seem to be unfazed by the ungodly amount of food they're inhaling. I can't watch without dry-heaving a good three dozen times.

Just not my thing.

So I should lead with a disclaimer that I think Greg is a very handsome guy. A very handsome guy with a few backhairs that sprouted up some time after he turned 30. He's not Chubaka by any means, it's more hit and miss. Patchy, if you will.

Oh, let's hope he doesn't read this.

Last week we received an invite to go boating with some friends, which was quickly followed by my request that Greg get his back waxed before going shirtless for all to see. No, was Gilligan's reply.

After some slight begging, Greg surprised me Friday morning with a call saying that he was walking into a spa and was completely nervous. 'What do I say' he asked? "Tell them your wife said you need your back waxed and don't worry. It's no big deal.' Yet Greg was one big ball of nerves, and mumbled something about he couldn't believe he was doing this, because what guy gets his back waxed, and if anyone in the spa laughs at him I'm dead meat. Good to know he was handling things.

To make matters worse, Greg called back to say the spa couldn't get him in for another 45 minutes, which means he had just that long to stew about the procedure. 'Can you believe they asked me HALf-BACK or FULL-BACK? I mean, really.' I'm sure a good wife would have said something encouraging here, instead I was laughing hysterically. I explained he had nothing to feel uneasy about, and tried walking him through the process, starting with the locker room where he would receive a robe.

'A ROBE? I am NOT wearing a robe. No way.' I'd be lucky to get Greg past the front desk, and certainly didn't help by introducing visions of Hugh Hefner. Plain and simple, he wanted the Express wax and hoped to disappear out the door that reads 'Embarrassed Male Customers.'

Fast-forward one hour and $30.00 later, and Greg's back is smoothalicious. As in 6-weeks smooth, which means no more jokes about breaking out my flat-iron. After all the worries, Greg lived to tell about it. In fact, I might even say he didn't mind it. And, heaven forbid, he just might go again. Of course, then there's the chesthair.

But I won't push my luck.