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