I love a good road trip. Don’t even mind driving by myself every now and then. I take that opportunity to sing to my heart’s content. I sound just like the artist of the CD I’m playing!
In January, I was driving the road between Lubbock and Dallas. There were no CD’s in the car and radio reception was poor. I did happen to catch part of a Carrie Underwood song as I left Abilene, but it quickly faded.
Not to worry. I knew a couple of her songs. I decided to sing the one about her with the little baby in the car seat. She’s driving. I’m driving. Perfect choice. I couldn’t remember exactly how it started so I jumped to the chorus, “Jesus, take the wheee-eeeel. Take it from my hand. ‘Cause I can’t do this on my own. Nah nah nah nahnah....”...okay, so maybe I don’t know that one.
But! She does the one about messing up that guy’s car. Still with the auto theme. Another perfect choice. “Right now, he’s probably doing something...something something something and Shania karaoke. Right now...(ugh!) So I dug my keys into his car. (not car), I dug my keys into the side of his pretty little souped up four wheel drive...” (drive and side don’t rhyme, maybe it was four wheel ride) “Carved my name into his leather seeeeeats. I took a baseball bat and beat the lights...” (that can't be right) “Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.”
That concert went nowhere fast.
Eastland was a few miles ahead, with a new WalMart, which meant clean restrooms and CD’s. So I stopped for a potty break and found the electronics department. There on the end cap was a display of new releases, and wouldn’t you know it, they had two Carrie Underwood CD’s. One was “Carrie Underwood Salutes the Grammys”. I looked on the back and “Jesus Take the Wheel” and “Right Now” were not listed. I picked up the other one. It said “A Carrie Underwood Tribute”. I checked the back and both of our greatest hits were listed, so I bought it and hit the road.
While I was at the Starbuck’s drive thru, I opened the package (grrrrrr) and popped it in. The music was a little slower than I remembered, and the intro was much longer...in fact, the entire song was instrumental. Had I bought a karaoke CD? Even better! Maybe the next trac would be of her singing the words, and then I could have my turn without her messing me up. I punched through all 18 songs...NOT ONE WORD. I pulled over and turned on the light to find the title, “A Carrie Underwood Tribute...by the Banjo Brothers. Or something like that. I bought a stinkin’ banjo CD!
I don’t hate banjos especially, but the point was to learn the words, not have “Deliverance” flashbacks. Now instead of singing “Jesus, Take the Wheel” and “Right Now!”, I’m singing, “...Take This Back to WalMart”.
RIGHT NOW!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Ode to My Neti Pot
Dinner time was all for naught.
I couldn't taste the food I bought.
My throat was sore, my head was hot,
It must have been the flu I caught.
"It's only getting worse," I thought.
So Dr. Oz's help I sought.
On Oprah's show there was a spot,
With some girl rinsing out her snot.
At closer glance, I looked at what
Was in her hand...a neti pot?!
And at the store that's what I got.
Not a penicillin shot.
Now I can breathe, since I have taught
Myself to use a neti pot.
Thank you, Neti! Thanks a lot!
I couldn't taste the food I bought.
My throat was sore, my head was hot,
It must have been the flu I caught.
"It's only getting worse," I thought.
So Dr. Oz's help I sought.
On Oprah's show there was a spot,
With some girl rinsing out her snot.
At closer glance, I looked at what
Was in her hand...a neti pot?!
And at the store that's what I got.
Not a penicillin shot.
Now I can breathe, since I have taught
Myself to use a neti pot.
Thank you, Neti! Thanks a lot!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Miss You, Miss the Baby, Miss Texas!
Miss You, Miss the Baby, Miss Texas!
A year ago Karla Hale asked me to speak at the RE Women’s retreat about broken dreams. She had no way of knowing that the broken dream closest to my heart at the time was that we were leaving our friends and family in Texas and moving to Florida.
That seems a little petty now, as many of you are dealing with real life and death issues. But I couldn’t imagine that not being near our kids and future grandkids was anything in God’s plan for us. I had been at the hospital when all three of the Stevens’ babies were born. What would happen if I missed being there when Matt and Scott became dads?
Matt & Kyla were expecting their first baby January 2nd. We made airline reservations for Christmas afternoon, and planned to stay with one of you(!)until baby Mark was born. When Matt called to say the doctor wanted to induce on the 31st, we were relieved that we wouldn’t have to worry about missing the birth.
On Saturday morning, December 22nd around 5:00 Texas time, Matt called to say that they had been at the hospital since 4:00 and the doctor said they were staying. In my bravest voice, I said, “Matt, that’s great!”
“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll be okay.”
Knowing our flight was still 3 days away and the drive was 24 hours at best, we sent our love and told them we’d see them Christmas afternoon. There were surely no flights available the Saturday before Christmas. I knew it was tearing Drew up, too, so I wasn’t about to ask him to try to get another flight. However, the story of the crazy astronaut diaper lady flashed across my mind, and I had no problem running to the store for a box of Depends on our way out of town.
Drew sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Let’s pray.” We prayed for them and gave Him our travel plans. Then Drew said, “I’m calling American Airlines.” Within a few minutes I heard him say, “1:00 today?!” He had told the AA rep that our daughter-in-law had gone into labor early, and she informed him that he had said the magic words which qualified us for medical emergency tickets.
Excitement mixed with panic ensued as we began to throw things into suitcases. As far as I was concerned, all I needed was my camera and a photo ID. I was calculating centimeters and averages of first baby labor hours as I was shoving my third suitcase in the trunk, when Drew ran out to the driveway with his cell phone and said, “6 lbs, 2 oz? Congratulations, son! Here’s Mom!”
It happened. The moment I thought I wouldn’t survive was playing out before me and all I could think of was, “Is he okay?”
“He’s more than okay, Mom...he’s perfect! And he can’t wait to meet his Grams and Papa this afternoon.”
I paused to see if the world was still turning, and it was. In a way, it was a little easier getting on the plane and not worrying if we would make it to the hospital in time. The baby was here. They were okay. We had tickets. We were okay.
The 2 ½ hour flight also gave me time to get a grip and realize that this was not all about me. When I start to whine about having to be a long distance grandmother, Carla Holland comes to mind. She wins. Every time. She’s my hero.
God has been so sweet to give me friends at this church who ask to see baby pictures. Again. Little friends at church who call me Miss. Texas. (Long story...Pageant officials across the state are horrified!) Girlfriends who pray with me and encourage me to take care of myself spiritually and physically. And He’s given me one especially special friend who sits on the 2nd row at church with a camera in her purse and loves on someone else’s kids. I celebrate that!
I am so thankful. Right now that’s about all my heart can feel. I know the days will come when it will feel like that baby is as far away as Africa, but for now, it’s all good. I think he’ll call me Grams.
Or, Miss Texas!
A year ago Karla Hale asked me to speak at the RE Women’s retreat about broken dreams. She had no way of knowing that the broken dream closest to my heart at the time was that we were leaving our friends and family in Texas and moving to Florida.
That seems a little petty now, as many of you are dealing with real life and death issues. But I couldn’t imagine that not being near our kids and future grandkids was anything in God’s plan for us. I had been at the hospital when all three of the Stevens’ babies were born. What would happen if I missed being there when Matt and Scott became dads?
Matt & Kyla were expecting their first baby January 2nd. We made airline reservations for Christmas afternoon, and planned to stay with one of you(!)until baby Mark was born. When Matt called to say the doctor wanted to induce on the 31st, we were relieved that we wouldn’t have to worry about missing the birth.
On Saturday morning, December 22nd around 5:00 Texas time, Matt called to say that they had been at the hospital since 4:00 and the doctor said they were staying. In my bravest voice, I said, “Matt, that’s great!”
“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll be okay.”
Knowing our flight was still 3 days away and the drive was 24 hours at best, we sent our love and told them we’d see them Christmas afternoon. There were surely no flights available the Saturday before Christmas. I knew it was tearing Drew up, too, so I wasn’t about to ask him to try to get another flight. However, the story of the crazy astronaut diaper lady flashed across my mind, and I had no problem running to the store for a box of Depends on our way out of town.
Drew sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Let’s pray.” We prayed for them and gave Him our travel plans. Then Drew said, “I’m calling American Airlines.” Within a few minutes I heard him say, “1:00 today?!” He had told the AA rep that our daughter-in-law had gone into labor early, and she informed him that he had said the magic words which qualified us for medical emergency tickets.
Excitement mixed with panic ensued as we began to throw things into suitcases. As far as I was concerned, all I needed was my camera and a photo ID. I was calculating centimeters and averages of first baby labor hours as I was shoving my third suitcase in the trunk, when Drew ran out to the driveway with his cell phone and said, “6 lbs, 2 oz? Congratulations, son! Here’s Mom!”
It happened. The moment I thought I wouldn’t survive was playing out before me and all I could think of was, “Is he okay?”
“He’s more than okay, Mom...he’s perfect! And he can’t wait to meet his Grams and Papa this afternoon.”
I paused to see if the world was still turning, and it was. In a way, it was a little easier getting on the plane and not worrying if we would make it to the hospital in time. The baby was here. They were okay. We had tickets. We were okay.
The 2 ½ hour flight also gave me time to get a grip and realize that this was not all about me. When I start to whine about having to be a long distance grandmother, Carla Holland comes to mind. She wins. Every time. She’s my hero.
God has been so sweet to give me friends at this church who ask to see baby pictures. Again. Little friends at church who call me Miss. Texas. (Long story...Pageant officials across the state are horrified!) Girlfriends who pray with me and encourage me to take care of myself spiritually and physically. And He’s given me one especially special friend who sits on the 2nd row at church with a camera in her purse and loves on someone else’s kids. I celebrate that!
I am so thankful. Right now that’s about all my heart can feel. I know the days will come when it will feel like that baby is as far away as Africa, but for now, it’s all good. I think he’ll call me Grams.
Or, Miss Texas!
Monday, February 11, 2008
To Tattoo or Not To
I cannot believe the tattoos around here. Males and females of every age and stage of life sport some kind of permanent ink on their skin.
THESE ARE MY PEOPLE!
We credit our friends who blazed the parenting trails years ahead of us for helping us navigate the teenage waters. The mistakes we didn't make were due in part to their words of wisdom as they honestly shared their mistakes and victories in raising good kids.
One family was blindsided when their son came home from a rock concert with his ear pierced and a tattoo. They had warned him not to take candy/drugs/rides from strangers. But when they asked him why he got his ear pierced from some guy on a Harley, the reply was, "You didn't tell me not to."
So at every parting, we lovingly told our two sons to be safe, have fun and be in by curfew. AND DON'T GET ANYTHING PIERCED OR TATTOO'D.
A few years ago, my cousin Janet began to confess that she was 'having a little work done'. I had heard of permanent eyeliner, but didn't like the idea of having my eyelids stuck with needles. I'm funny that way. Not only had she done her eyeliner, she had permanent lipstick, cheek color and eyebrows. Eyebrows! That got my attention.
I began tweezing in the 70's and stopped when I saw a close-up of Brooke Shields. By then, it was too late. I had overdone it, and there was no going back. And none growing back. There were barely enough hairs there to trace with an eyebrow pencil, and if I happened to rub the wrong spot, I frightened small children with my one brow.
"If you ever have a coupon for 'buy one brow, get the other one free', call me." I half joked. The next time we were together, she surprised me with a gift certificate and an appointment for later that day. She assured me the procedure was professional and painless.
It was a comfort to see the technicians in white lab coats. And the fact that they did not also sell bail bonds was a plus. I was a little confused as to why they said I had to alert the blood bank before donating in the future, and I might not want to have an MRI anytime soon. I looked back and forth between the waiver and Janet's eyebrows. Those two, beautiful permanent eyebrows. I was in!
After the before photo, I was assisted in selecting a shape and color that complimented my face. The lines were drawn. Literally. As I reclined in the chair with a warm blanket, the humming of the tattoo tool was about to put me to sleep when suddenly I yelled for her to stop.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes. But this is too funny. I have to call my boys!"
Matt and Scott were both untattoo'd students at Abilene Christian University. They were not going to believe what I was about to do. I left messages on both of their cell phones. "Hi, this is Mom. I just wanted you to know that I am in San Antonio for the weekend getting a tattoo. Love you!"
"Okay. You may continue." Minutes later one of the boys called back. His voice was tentative as he said, "Mom?"
"Hi, sweetheart. I can't talk right now. I'm getting a tattoo."
"I'm not kidding, Mom. What are you doing?"
"I'm not kidding either. Well, actually I am getting two tattoos. But she's not finished yet, so I need to go."
"Mom. Seriously. Are you getting a tattoo?"
"Yes, I am. Seriously."
Then he turned to the crowd and yelled, "My mom is totally getting tattoo'd!" Cheers rang out from the dorm as their friends yelled, "Way to go, Mrs. McBryde! You rock!"
Finally. I rocked.
Those two weeks of itchy, vaselined eyebrows were a little uncomfortable. And I don't even use my eyebrows that often. But lips? Eyelids? OUCH! I cannot imagine how painful and expensive it must be to have an entire arm or leg done. Not to mention the places I'm not going to mention.
I'm still glad I did it. The results were worth it. And except for that unfortunate experience of having to get out of line at the church blood drive, it was all positive. I probably didn't have to yell to the crowd on the way out, "It's not because I had sex with a strangers in Africa!" But they were my friends and I thought I owed them an explanation.
Those are my people, too.
THESE ARE MY PEOPLE!
We credit our friends who blazed the parenting trails years ahead of us for helping us navigate the teenage waters. The mistakes we didn't make were due in part to their words of wisdom as they honestly shared their mistakes and victories in raising good kids.
One family was blindsided when their son came home from a rock concert with his ear pierced and a tattoo. They had warned him not to take candy/drugs/rides from strangers. But when they asked him why he got his ear pierced from some guy on a Harley, the reply was, "You didn't tell me not to."
So at every parting, we lovingly told our two sons to be safe, have fun and be in by curfew. AND DON'T GET ANYTHING PIERCED OR TATTOO'D.
A few years ago, my cousin Janet began to confess that she was 'having a little work done'. I had heard of permanent eyeliner, but didn't like the idea of having my eyelids stuck with needles. I'm funny that way. Not only had she done her eyeliner, she had permanent lipstick, cheek color and eyebrows. Eyebrows! That got my attention.
I began tweezing in the 70's and stopped when I saw a close-up of Brooke Shields. By then, it was too late. I had overdone it, and there was no going back. And none growing back. There were barely enough hairs there to trace with an eyebrow pencil, and if I happened to rub the wrong spot, I frightened small children with my one brow.
"If you ever have a coupon for 'buy one brow, get the other one free', call me." I half joked. The next time we were together, she surprised me with a gift certificate and an appointment for later that day. She assured me the procedure was professional and painless.
It was a comfort to see the technicians in white lab coats. And the fact that they did not also sell bail bonds was a plus. I was a little confused as to why they said I had to alert the blood bank before donating in the future, and I might not want to have an MRI anytime soon. I looked back and forth between the waiver and Janet's eyebrows. Those two, beautiful permanent eyebrows. I was in!
After the before photo, I was assisted in selecting a shape and color that complimented my face. The lines were drawn. Literally. As I reclined in the chair with a warm blanket, the humming of the tattoo tool was about to put me to sleep when suddenly I yelled for her to stop.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes. But this is too funny. I have to call my boys!"
Matt and Scott were both untattoo'd students at Abilene Christian University. They were not going to believe what I was about to do. I left messages on both of their cell phones. "Hi, this is Mom. I just wanted you to know that I am in San Antonio for the weekend getting a tattoo. Love you!"
"Okay. You may continue." Minutes later one of the boys called back. His voice was tentative as he said, "Mom?"
"Hi, sweetheart. I can't talk right now. I'm getting a tattoo."
"I'm not kidding, Mom. What are you doing?"
"I'm not kidding either. Well, actually I am getting two tattoos. But she's not finished yet, so I need to go."
"Mom. Seriously. Are you getting a tattoo?"
"Yes, I am. Seriously."
Then he turned to the crowd and yelled, "My mom is totally getting tattoo'd!" Cheers rang out from the dorm as their friends yelled, "Way to go, Mrs. McBryde! You rock!"
Finally. I rocked.
Those two weeks of itchy, vaselined eyebrows were a little uncomfortable. And I don't even use my eyebrows that often. But lips? Eyelids? OUCH! I cannot imagine how painful and expensive it must be to have an entire arm or leg done. Not to mention the places I'm not going to mention.
I'm still glad I did it. The results were worth it. And except for that unfortunate experience of having to get out of line at the church blood drive, it was all positive. I probably didn't have to yell to the crowd on the way out, "It's not because I had sex with a strangers in Africa!" But they were my friends and I thought I owed them an explanation.
Those are my people, too.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Man (not so far) From Atlantis
(This blog entry is dedicated to Karen H, whose apartment was destroyed by flaming pieces of the shuttle that dropped down her chimney. No one will actually admit it. I think it was covered up by the FBI.)
Today was a good day in Florida.
I got to watch Drew watch the space shuttle Atlantis take off! This has been a dream of his since the program began. And if he had his way, he would be on it. Or in it.
Probably the most devastating day of his childhood was when he found out he had to have glasses and his hopes of becoming an astronaut were dashed.
The only time I've seen him tear up in a movie, was the lift-off scene from Apollo 13.
We don't have passes to Disney World, but he has one to the Kennedy Space Center.
There was only a 30% chance of take off due to a thunderstorm headed that way. Since he had already cleared his calendar, we decided to go for it, and made the 2 1/2 hour drive. We watched from Titusville on the Atlantic shore. He's in front of the TV now, watching the NASA channel and reruns of the launch that he tivo'd.
Friends who have seen both say the daytime lift off is great, but it's nothing compared to seeing one at night. Tickets go on sale Monday for the Endeavour launch at 2:45 Tuesday morning.
One of the packages offers dinner with a real astronaut! (as opposed to...)
p.s. If Drew does manage to get a ride aboard the shuttle, will he be on it ot in it?
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