jimmy, billy ray...and doris?

Jimmy Wayne stops by for a chat next week.

You know, the guy who told us he made his underwear resemble a thong to prank Brad Paisley in the weight room. Brad responded, 'You're a sick man.' Looking forward to chatting with Jimmy, who also says he is often told he smells good, which he attributes to Brut. (I smell an endorsement coming his way.)

Billy Ray Cyrus takes a break from being Hanna Montana's dad long enough to film a new tv movie, and he'll talk with us about it. He still recalls the day, years ago, that he was snapped wearing a WFMS t-shirt and it made all the tabloids. And remember when I mentioned Doris Roberts, from Everybody Loves Raymond? She'll stop by, too. It's all next week.

Stay tuned.

so much for that warm fuzzy

Today was one of those 'Come-dine-with-your-child' Thanksgiving lunches at school.

I marked my calendar two weeks ago as a reminder to go eat a Thankgiving feast with my soon-to-be-five year old. Waking up this morning, I was excited for turkey and pumpkin pie a couple of days early, as it's been kind of tiring sneaking candy from the boys Halloween stash.

Arriving a few minutes before it began, Hayden beamed from ear to ear and looked up at me with a grin the size of Texas as I walked and he galloped to the cafeteria. He passed on the buttery rolls, but said yes to a giant helping of turkey and green beans. Other staples? Stuffing...but none for Hayden. Mashed potatoes? No. That pumpkin pie I mentioned earlier? Nooooooooooo. However, he ate the whipped cream. Does that count as a dessert?

It was a fun time, and I even seemed to forget about the moment Hayden put a forkful of turkey in his mouth to pose for a photo as one of the employees made her rounds saying 'cheese.'

Driving home with my little guy, I turned down the radio and told him how much I enjoyed our Thanksgiving lunch, and thanked him for inviting me. His response?

'But, I DIDN'T invite you. You just sort of...showed up.'

just some of the things I wonder about

Just back from taking my son to have some minor surgery this morning.

He's resting for the day, but not before asking on the way home in a sleepy voice if he could possibly get a double-scoop of ice cream as a reward for his bravery. The kid knows how to negotiate, and I'm sure he had some help from his Aunt Shel, who text me to 'buy that boy some ice cream and goodies.'

My husband and I both realized while sitting in the waiting room this morning that it's an interesting place to people watch. We found ourselves wondering what others were there for, what procedure they may be having done. Another couple, and their young child who was sleeping on Dad's lap, was already there by the time we arrived at 6:55 am. Tonsils removed? Tubes in his ears? Something more serious? Then there was the couple who waited alone, reading the newspaper and watching Matt Lauer on the Today show deliver the day's headlines. A nurse approached them, confirming that the woman would be spending the night, and surgery would take 3 1/2 hours. For what, I wondered? Or the man who sat alone in the corner of the sterile waiting room, with his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest. Was he waiting on his wife? Was he the one being admitted? Would there be anyone there to greet him once he awoke in recovery?

Our 8-year-old surprised me with his composure, despite having said he was a little nervous during the car ride over. His biggest concern, once inside, was telling his father and I to 'turn around...give a boy some privacy,' when it was time to undress and put on that trendy, and drafty, hospital gown. And when it was time to leave, they wheeled Griff to the car, but not before passing another gentleman being transported post-surgery, still asleep and hooked up to many tubes and an IV. And I wondered, will he be ok? Is this just a routine something-or-other, or was it the first stop on his journey of the unknown? Those thoughts were quickly interrupted by a hungry child, who asked as soon as the cardoor shut...

'Can we get McDonalds?'

you might need it later

I'm a keeper.

No, I don't mean worthy of being kept around, although hopefully my family would think so, but more in terms of not throwing things away.

I tend to think I will use the item again, that or I can't stand the thought of spending more money to replace whatever I've kept. I suppose I get this trait from my grandmother, who is 85, resuses aluminum foil and has a freezer full of leftovers dated back to the T-Rex days. I'm not that extreme, but I do tend to keep things my husband would rather me toss in the trash. Like my eyeshadow that crumbled when I dropped it on the floor, and what's left of it has been scooped into a ziplock bag. That certainly resulted in some odd looks from Greg.

I'm guilty of putting back the three sips of milk left in the gallon container, 'just in case.'

Extra packets of ketchup from fast-food takeouts are inside my fridge, should we run out of the stuff in the bottle.

I still have my Bally's membership card, though the plastic little rectangle expired a good ten years ago. I don't even mind parting with it, just haven't gotten around to actually throwing it away.

And so on and so on.

Like the gold teardrop earring that sits in my jewelry armoire without it's match because I lost it two years ago. Yet, the minute I throw it away, the other will turn up.

Or the sliver of barsoap left on the tub, which could be replaced but still provides some use.

These are the things I keep.

What about you?

just some random observations

In my usual day-to-day tasks, something will strike me as blog-worthy of a post.

I've been known to text myself a reminder, or jot it down on a napkin at Steak N' Shake, and then toss them in my purse.

Well, tonight I cleaned out that purse, a rather risky task in itself, because who knew one could have an individual packet of peanut butter (taken from a hotel buffet during CMA week), a juice box (apple...for those times when one of the boys declares they're thirsty...and just can't wait the 3 stoplights from home to get a drink,) or a business card from a girl I don't remember meeting. Hey, do I know how to network, or what?

This purse that I speak of is much lighter tonight after tossing the peanut butter and business card, (she'll call eventually, right?), and discovering many of those 'reminders' to eventually write about here. And they are:

Arriving home from Nashville, my oldest son wrapped his arms around my waist, squeezed tight and said, 'I LOVE this moment.'

Driving home from dinner this week, my father's favorite Christmas tune came on the radio. I told my youngest that Papaw loved this song, so he started dancing, looked up to the sky and said, 'Papaw, dance with me! C'mon!'

My youngest asking me why the guy who bagged our groceries called me 'Maam.' 'Because he was using his manners,' I said. Hayden needed more of an answer than that, asking...'But why Maam? Why not Mom? Or Deb? Or...Hey Lady?'

Shaving my legs recently, I wondered why I could still feel stubble. I was using a brand new razor and figured there was a reason the darn things were on sale. Then I noticed the plastic guard was still on the blade.

And Santa should have no trouble knowing what to get our 4-year-old. The boy loves gum. He asks for it when he wakes up, doesn't like being told he 'has to eat breakfast first,' wants it when he is picked up from school, and I've even found him digging in my purse for the sugar-free stuff.

But, all he came up with was peanut butter.

CMA pics...finally

Jim, me and Kevin...just before the CMA's.

Inside the Sommet Center, in Nashville. Just picked up our tickets at the CMA office. One of the signs I passed backstage. Taylor Swift opening the show. Carrie Underwood & Brad Paisley welcome the crowd! Rodney Atkins & wife posed for a picture...they sat behind us. Lady Antebellum got to the show early and sat two rows away! Jim goofs off during our moment on stage. Clay Walker sat behind Jim and was happy to pose for a pic! The morning show with producer Gator, Vicki Murphy & Cumulus' Jan Jeffries. Say cheese...and we're looking the same direction! The morning show with the other personality winners. Did Kev need to pee? Above...waiting for the show to start, and below...Kev says I'm in his 'space.'

Camera fun during the commercial breaks...we all were texting back home!

say cheese...and spit out your gum

Greg and I took the boys to a photo shoot yesterday.

Our goal was to get a good shot to use for our Christmas card, not to mention updating the framed photos in our home, which still show one son in glasses and the other with babyfat in his cheeks. In other words, the photos were well overdue.

A big, huge thanks to Tara, the photographer, who is a true talent and exercised lots of patience with our 4-year-old, who asked if he could have a piece of gum after each and every pose, followed by 'Are we done now?'

An hour later, their faces stiff from smiling, we piled in the car, Hayden got his gum, and we headed home feeling satisfied. The boys may not have completed baby books, despite my efforts to save their first Happy Meal toys and first ties they ever wore, but they do have current pictures to be proud of.

Those Happy Meal toys don't fit in the scrapbook anyway.

we love us some roadtrips

let's hear it for Mom and UPS

Thanks to my Mom, I'm not wearing sweats to the CMA's.

After fretting over the fact that I waited until the last minute to find something to wear, Mom came through and told me about a dress that she could have overnighted to her bridal and prom studio at Something Old Something New.

I loved it, especially the color, and just as Mom held my hand at the age of 13 when I got the worst haircut of my life, she again saved me.

Sure beats a track suit.

Thanks, Mom!

too bad brad can't wear THIS tonight

Chances are high that Brad Paisley will look a little differently for his duties as co-host of tonight's CMA Awards. That's Brad and Carrie at rehearsals for tonight's ABC event, where we managed to score 4th row seats. Meanwhile, here is a list of observations since arriving in Nashville:

Kellie Pickler's red hair seems to be getting a thumbs up from the public. Kellie showed off her new look during a private party at the Hall of Fame last night, where she rocked some major stilletos.

Jack Ingram's hair looks good, even at 7 in the morning. He says he only hit snooze once, and never complains about getting up early. 'I get to play music for living, I won't bi**h.' Sure hope Jack doesn't catch a cold, he left his shirt unbuttoned rather low.

The bathtub in my hotel room wouldn't hold water, despite my many efforts to fill it. However, the coffee maker was just short of amazing and I enjoyed the poof of steam as a finale' at 4:00 am today. Hey, it doesn't take much to entertain me that early in the morning.

Gator, our producer, brought some wine to celebrate our CMA, but Jim had the corkscrew in his room on a different floor. Sort of a problem.

The same shoe shine guy who was working in the lobby of our hotel is here again this year. Actually, he's always been here, but WE are the ones here again. And he remembered us. However, Jim's the only one who gets a shoe buff.

Our hotel clerk told us it's not uncommon to see Taylor Swift and her momma in their Hummer at Wal-Mart. Taylor shops at Wal-Mart, just like the rest of us.

Jimmy Wayne likes his Starbucks, and had it with him this morning. But no fancy stuff, so hold the whip, he drinks it black.

And that's only some of what we're seeing. Gotta love Nashville.

the only time I'll wear a shower cap

I got a spray tan.

And I have to admit that the process is slightly abnormal. I mean, where else can you undress, other than the shower, and PUT ON a shower cap?

I'm fairly sure other tanners could hear me giggling as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror just before stepping inside the giant booth that sprays bronzing mist from head to toe. I read the instructions at least three times before hitting the huge green button which resembled a stoplight, knowing once I activate the thing, there would be no going back. I tried to anticipate when the spray would begin by holding my breath, only to have to start over three different times. And no one prepared me for just how cold the solution would be, because there's nothing better than being misted with bits of ice-cold something or other.

My favorite part? Standing in the 'stopsign' position, which means an unnatural turn to the side, with one hand up as if you're directing traffic, and the other hand dropped to the other side, doing something I've never seen before.

Two minutes and a blast of warm air later, I was done, and dried off with a tiny towel the size of a piece of Chicklet gum. The shower cap was tempting, but I figured even my grandmother wouldn't be caught wearing it out in public, so I tossed it in the trash.

All in all, the silly process gives good results, even if my youngest son took one look at me upon arriving home and said, 'Mommy, you don't look the same.' The things we do just to wear a fancy dress.

Thank goodness the CMA Awards come only once a year.

it's one way to save money, I guess

I stopped to fill up my gas tank today, and noticed the guy at the pump next to me.

He was cleaning his windshield with the complimentary solution and sponge provided, something I always think appears to be a good idea but never do. I finished up, and walked inside to get my husband the fountain drink that he loves more than the swimshirt our 4-year-old loves, and still wears, even though the pools have closed for the season. When I returned to my car, I spotted the guy next to me still cleaning his car.

The whole car.

He sponged down the entire exterior of his vehicle, the trunk, the doors the hood, even the roof. Sure wish I had that kinda time. Yet, I suppose it's cheaper than a carwash. His kids and wife waited patiently inside, so calm that I'm fairly sure they wouldn't have cared if I'd asked the guy to sponge down my car as well.

Something to think about.

it's easier to spell, that's for sure

Apparently, I screwed up.

No, I didn't forget to put money in my son's lunch account. Instead, one of my boys came home today and told me he no longer liked his name and wanted to change it. Said it 'wasn't even a name,' and I apparently made it up. I'll admit, neither of our kids are a John or a Christopher, but it's not like I named the boys after my favorite Starbucks beverage.

Latte Honeycutt?

Really, that would never happen. Unless, by some small chance I would be given a discount in exchange for naming rights. Hey, some things are worth negotiating.

Anyway, my son told me he would have preferred something a little more common, like 'Joe.'

So, Joe it is. But, I told him kids named Joe or Joseph usually love to help clean the house, especially on Friday nights, so I'm fairly sure this phase will soon pass.

G'night.

there are picky eaters...and REALLY picky

My oldest wasn't a fan of tonight's dinner...pork loin.

Ok, so every meal won't be a homerun. Let's face it, I had to have a separate pot of chili as a child because the idea of beans was enough to make me more nervous than the time I thought the paperboy was the boogey man.

My son's Plan B for dinner? An Uncrustable. Except as I tore it open, he asked me to tear off the 'crust.' You know, that zigzaggy edge that looks similar to a pie crust? Hey, whatever it takes...but I got to thinking...

Does that make it an Un-uncrustable?

a little Carrie 101

Carrie Underwood called the show this week, the morning of the release of her new album Play On. And we always learn something new about the girl whose father calls 'Abdul.' So, here you go:

The release of her album is sort of like the first day of school butterflies.

The leather pants Carrie wears in the album's promo shot, featuring slashed pants, were hard to put on. Carrie joked that she got into a weed-whacking accident while taking out the dog.

Carrie says she has a stylist, and they try to stay off the worst-dressed lists. Still, she admits to being irritated by critical comments from the fashion police. I told her I never hear the negative, and Carrie responded, 'Listen harder.'

Carrie promised to dish about what she plans to wear when she first steps onstage at next week's CMA Awards. More on that when she visits our broadcast next week, in Nashville.

And there you have it.

this is pathetic

Ok...so still no dress.

I'm pretty spontaneous, so waiting till the last minute to figure out what I'm wearing to the CMA Awards is par of the course when it comes to me, however, I'm starting to panic. I fell in love with the dress I tried on today, and by the way this shopping stuff is cutting in to my naptime, until I caught a glimpse of the price tag.

$398.00

Uhhhhhhh...no. After all, I will likely wear the threads one night, not to mention the countless cups of coffee I could buy at Starbucks with that cash. So, I returned home with nothing, and now I'm feeling antsy. Kinda like the feeling you get when it's your child's turn at bat with a full count, and you're praying he doesn't return to the bench. That kind of antsy.

But, it's just a dress.

Speaking of dresses, Carrie Underwood has promised to share with us a little inside scoop regarding her opening attire when she co-hosts the show next Wednesday. The CMA Female Vocalist nominee will visit with us in Nashville that morning, and I promise to ask if she voted for herself. Don't all the stars?

Stay tuned.

shopping...family style

Remember that shopping trip I told you about?

Well, I went. And it was unsuccessful. So, I'll be the one in the 3rd or 4th row at the CMA Awards wearing sweats. Should blend in well, don't ya think?

On the other hand, it was nice meeting my mother and younger sis out. That's always a giggle or two. Too bad my older sister was working...she makes it fun as well.

No dress, but we did learn some new things about each other. They came to the agreement that I'm waaaaaaaaaay too picky. After about an hour, Kristen eventually told me that part of shopping involves 'trying things on.' I suppose that's the way it works. I learned that Kristen walks waaaaaaay too fast, and Mom moves waaaaaaaay too slow. We shopped together, but had trouble walking the same stride.

I left empty-handed, and realized half-way home that I never got that pretzel.

Good times.

no one looks at the back, right?

Ok, so I've got my dress for the CMA Awards.

Now I need another one. I tried that very dress on for the first time yesterday since it arrived last week in the mail. I remember the day clearly. I found a cardboard box from Nordstroms on my porch, and I excitedly opened it to find a jeweled green strapless dress inside. Trying it on proved to be a little difficult. No one was home at the time, and no matter how far I reached, I couldn't get it zipped. It would only go so far, then nothin'. Not too concerned, I put it aside.

Yesterday, we traveled to visit my mom, grandma and sisters for a family dinner and I brought the dress along. I got them up to speed, and told them one of two things would happen: Either the dress doesn't fit, or I simply needed assistance.

And it's never a good sign when your 85-year-old grandmother offers to help and you hear, 'Honey, I'm afraid I might break your zipper.' Super. And note to self: Don't ask Grams if my jeans make me look fat.

We eventually got it, though sitting down for the show might be as comfortable as a trip to that doctor each year. My sisters voted yes, saying it looked great, but they have to say that...they're related. My complaint is how the dress fit in the back. And it's not exactly a good time to come up with something else. After all, we only leave in 8 days.

So, it's back to square one, and the best part? I hate to shop, as patience is not my forte. Usually, shopping for me involves needing something, going to get it, and leaving...immediately. Browsing, getting a dressing room, trying on, getting dressed again, and repeating the process over and over at multiple stores as frustration builds isn't my thing.

The truth is, I could wear the darn thing. I love the color, love the style, love it all...just not the zipper or the permanent feeling of needing to exhale. Comfort and being able to have an occasional snack the night of the show would be nice. So, I'm heading to the mall shortly.

I'll be the one having a meltdown in the women's department. Nothing a pretzel with salt can't fix.