Last week, my boss took me to lunch at 501 Arthur. It was fabulous! Great food, great atmosphere, etc. They had an unobtrusive sound system. You knew the music was playing, but it didn’t overpower conversation. As he was paying the tab, an instrumental came on, and I started humming with it. Then, my mind just went blank. I couldn’t remember the title of the song, or any of the words. The only thought my mind registered was that Dad used to sing it when I was little, and it was one of the few songs he sang. He had a deep, baritone voice that edged toward bass, and he could really hit the low notes of the song — if I could only remember the name of it.

I kept humming it when we got back to the office, and after about an hour or so, I finally remembered the name of the song. You guessed it, The Streets of Laredo. Now that I finally had a name, I looked it up on YouTube. Wow! There are several different versions of the song. And I watched all of them with tears in my eyes.

Then I discovered something that no “Daddy’s girl” should ever have to face. He had part of the lyrics wrong. Apparently, he didn’t remember all of them and just filled in with other parts of the song that fit. So, I sat at my desk, making the strange sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a choked cry and decided to keep singing it the way Dad did.

Now, here’s the freaky part. I got home that night and DH had the television tuned to the western channel. You’ll never guess what movie was on. Yep, The Streets of Laredo.

Now, I’m not so much of a believer of messages from the grave, but this coincidence was just a little too much to ignore. The song is basically a cowboy who is dying and who wants to tell his story to a young gunslinger to keep the young gun from the same fate. A “learn from my mistakes” theme, if you will. Dad had several mantras, and one of them was “work smart, not hard.” When he used it, he meant learn from my mistakes, or learn from what I’ve learned and save yourself some time and trouble.

So, what do I think he was telling me?

Get off your butt and finish the damn book.

Yes, Daddy.

Okay, I haven’t blogged in a looooong time, but it’s that time of year again (Super Bowl), and I had to get my annual picks for the half-time show out. This Super Bowl is very special for me this year. Not only are my beloved Colts playing, but it’s on my birthday! Probably won’t do a big b’day bash, maybe have the kids over for a little while, but I do plan on opening a bottle of champagne when the Colts win. I’ve also already told the bosses I’ll be late on the 8th, because well, I’m older than the Super Bowl and basically want to sleep in after a long night.

Now, on to my picks. The Who is the half-time entertainment, and they have an extensive amount of material to choose from, but I’m giving it my best shot. (My favorite, Mama’s Got a Squeezebox, probably won’t make it.)

Baba O’Riley

Magic Bus

The Kids Are Alright

You Better You Bet

Who Are You

Go Colts!

Jessie

  This is a photograph of me, my grandfather, and my great grandfather.  It was taken in Cleveland, TN circa 1968.  Compositionally, there’s not a lot to the photograph. We’re in the back yard of my great aunt’s house at a picnic table. Here’s what the photograph doesn’t show you:

I was an ADHD child. My grandfather has his arms to either side of me to keep me in one place.

I was never a tea party type of girl, which probably explains why the teacup is toppled.

My great grandfather is using a cane. Not long after this photo was taken, he was bed ridden. Less than a year later, he passed away. I inherited the hospital-type bed he had. It’s got a metal frame, and the mattress is a lot higher than most beds.

The screen door at the back of the house was actually to an enclosed porch. My great aunt was a child care provider and this area was a play room of sorts for the kids. This is also where she made pickles. There was always a bucket of cucumber slices soaking in lime next to the door. I love homemade bread & butter pickles.

The garage (left building) housed a 1953 (we think) Chevrolet, brown and tan. The seat fabric was gaberdine, the scratchy stuff. This is probably one of the few times that “she only drove it to the store and church” was true. Although, I do remember that she did drive it to Knoxville once. When my aunt passed away, the car went to a nephew. The tires had completely rotted and had to be replaced before it could be moved out of the garage. 

My great-grandfather was a carmudgeon. Although, you can probably tell that from his expression. He delighted in getting me to do things that would get us both in trouble.

The back yard is completely fenced in.

There was a clothesline that ran down the left side fence, and my great aunt used it regularly.

And, my memory is a little fuzzy on this, but I believe there was a small shed in the back left corner. I’ll have to check on that.

One photograph. Years of memories.

Jessie

A little backstory here: My Mom can’t drive because of medical reasons. My DH has been out of work since the end of December. He’s been doing some odds and ends stuff around her house. Her car battery drained from lack of use, and DH bought her one today. The tags also needed to be renewed. Mom can’t find the renewal form.

So, after he took her to the doctor, they started searching for the old registration. They were both in the car looking in the glove box, the compartment between the seats, etc., when DH found something. He didn’t know what it was, and neither did Mom. It had a little red button on the top, and Mom told DH to push it. I’m sure she thought it was some sort of air freshener.

It was mace.

She said he got the worst of it, because it was right in front of his face, but she was still coughing when she called. After they scrambled out of the car (another Kodak moment missed), she remembered that her sister bought it for her years ago. Her sister passed away in 2002, and suffered from dementia brought on from Lewy-Body Disease for about 18 months prior to her death. So, I’m thinking the mace must have been in the car for about 10 years. Apparently, it doesn’t lose its effectiveness.

Lesson Learned: Don’t push strange buttons.

Jessie

But can you get what you need?  I’m hearing, in the quiet murmuring of the masses, that the Tennessee Titans should go after Marvin Harrison and Jeff Saturday.  The Titans need a good wide receiver (they can certainly afford Marvin Harrison), and the Colts need Jeff Saturday.

Age, I’m sure, is playing a big factor in the Colts’ decision to let these two stellar players go, and while I can almost understand the situation with Harrison, the situation with Saturday makes me wonder.  

It’ll be interesting to see how this all shakes out.

Jessie

I Caved

After the intense craving I had for fast food a few weeks ago, I have to admit that I caved. In fact, I cave once a week, but otherwise I’m eating healthier. I’m working my way to only caving in once every two weeks.

Well, today was my cave day. I went all out at Sonic, including the hot fudge cake sundae.

Now, I want a nap, and I wonder why. With the sugar (from the sundae and the cherry limeade), the chocolate, and the coffee I should be on a rush and a little jittery. In fact, I’m having a hard time just keeping my eyes open.

I think I’ll go splash cold water on my face. See if it helps.

Have a great weekend!
Jessie
On the iPod - Reminiscing, Little River Band

Haircuts. I’m not particularly vain, and the only real requirement I have for a haircut is that my bangs are out of my eyes. So naturally, I hate paying for haircuts. Especially when all I really want to do is take any pair of scissors and cut the offending bangs myself.

Confession time: I have cut my bangs - several times, and have on occasion snipped away at other parts of my hair.

But hey, no one, not even my really good friends who tell me I’m getting fatter, or that a color doesn’t compliment my skin tone, or that my shoes are ugly, have ever said anything about my hair.

Hmmm, is that a good or bad sign? Is it worse to comment on a friend’s haircut than her weight?

Well, it is haircut time again, and I’ll be heading to the salon because I have some special events coming up in the next couple of weeks that I want to look nice for. One of them, a presentation on electronic publishing for CLE - Literary Lawyers, is being videotaped. Aaack! Adding 10 lbs! I’d better have a good haircut.

Jessie

I’m a total House junkie.  I love that I get to watch a couple of shows a night, even if they are reruns I’ve seen a dozen times.  But tonight, a rare treat.  I’m watching one I haven’t seen before.  House isn’t the kind of man I’d want to be around for any amount of time.  So, the question is would I want him for my doctor.  I’m not sure.  Of course, for television drama, he and his team have to get the diagnosis wrong a number of times before they can pronounce the right one and save the day (at least most of the time).  I’m not so sure I’d want a doctor who makes so many mistakes before getting to the right answer.

I hope everyone had a great Valentine’s Day.  I got the works, candy, roses, card, dinner out.  It wasn’t extravagant (regular box, silk flower, Chinese buffet, but it made me misty-eyed.  I’m a sucker for silly love.

On another note, I also got some exciting news, but I can’t say anything now.  maybe in a few days.

Jessie

How long do you wash your hands after using the facilities? They (whoever “they” are) recommend 30 seconds. I’ve heard of several different ways to time it. There’s the sing the Alphabet Song, or Happy Birthday to You song twice (in your head of course). Well, I did a little experiment, and both the songs timed out at around 22 - 25 seconds.

But here’s the quirky observation: I’ve noticed that if a restroom is spotless or very clean, people don’t spend as much time washing their hands as when the bathroom is…not so clean. I’ve even seen people just sort of wet their fingertips, no soap, and dry them with a paper towell on their way out. And sadly, I’ve seen people who don’t wash their hands at all. However, maybe they have hand sanitizer in the purse or pocket and will use it once outside the restroom door. That’s my hope, anyway.

While we hope that the fingertip washer had a lot of toilet paper to prevent any seepage, we really don’t know. I have to admit, if the exit door allows it, I’ll push it open with my foot to avoid touching the handle after a fingertip washer, or no washer has exited in front of me. If it isn’t possible, I do have sanitizer in my purse.

Jessie