New Year's Resolutions

It's that time again. There are so many things I could improve upon, it was really hard to narrow it down to a manageable list. But after much soul-searching, here it is:

1. I resolve to ignore Ron's cooking methods (read about them here). I may have to drink heavily to do so, but I'll give it a shot (pun intended).
2. I resolve not to dog-cuss anybody at Comcast, no matter how "inconvenient" it happens to be when the Internet goes out (read about my Internet woes here). There's no question I'll have to drink heavily when it happens.
3. I resolve to clean out the garage (read about my procrastination here). To go along with that, I will absolutely, positively finish the "living room" job. I may have to pre-drink to get geared up for one or both of these chores.
4. I resolve to make an effort to stay in touch with old friends (read about that here). The drinking, and plenty of it ( judging from our last rendezvous) will take place after we get together.
5. I resolve to actually have people over for dinner and/or poker parties in 2008. I will do my best imitation of the queen of all hostesses (read about her here). I will definitely have to be drunk for this.
6. I resolve to keep the liquor cabinet and the beer fridge well-stocked so that I can keep all of my resolutions.

Movie Review

Saw the movie, "Charlie Wilson's War" yesterday...a must-see. Tom Hanks - his usual fabulous acting. Oscar material. And I must say, he looked really good. Philip Seymour Hoffman - my favorite character in the movie. You really want him to be in every scene, just to hear what he has to say. Julia Roberts - she plays a likable character (when doesn't she?). She was charming and beautiful and for some reason, in every movie she's in, she plays the person that I want to be. Coincidence? I think not. Amy Adams - I didn't know who she was, but she was perfectly cast as Charlie Wilson's sharp tongued administrative assistant. There are some really funny moments and some very sobering ones. And a lot of tits and ass, ( no, I'm not gay, but I'll look if they want to show it) and a whole lot of fucks and g.d.'s. My kinda movie. Go see it.

Felis Navidad

As far as Christmas's go, this was one of the better ones. We went to Dandridge for Christmas Eve with NumberOne and the grandkids. We had an excellent meal and lots of fun and laughs. We went home late and on Christmas day we got up early and had a nice breakfast, opened presents with PhillyTwo and then we all watched Jerry on t.v. with Lee "GodBlessTheUSA" Greenwood. Jerry is our nephew/cousin, who's the band director/piantist (for Lee) and he's also a husband/father. I could think of more slashes, but I won't. Anyhoo, Lee did a Christmas special from the Rhyman Auditorium in Nashville and it was on GAC several times during the holidays. I thought Christmas morning was an excellent time to watch it...and we did...and it was. And there was little Jerry playing away like he knew the notes. Bless his heart. We swelled with pride. Or was it just all those pancakes we ate?
Later in the day, I made some deviled eggs that turned out a little runnier than usual, some scalloped potatoes that turned out perfect, and because we noticed there was nothing green, a salad. We popped a ham in the oven, PhillyTwo made some baked beans, Ron threw some frozen yeast rolls in the oven and wala! We had a feast. Or at least a pretty good meal. Then everyone headed to their favorite spot on a couch and we all slept like babies for the rest of the afternoon.
"Haleluja everybody say Cheese, Merry Christmas from the family!"

Good News and Bad News

Dateline: Saturday, December 22nd, West Town Mall
My Christmas shopping complete, I was relaxed and enjoying myself, picking through the sale racks in Belk when my cell phone rang. It was NumberOne.

Me: Hello.
Her: I just got off the phone with Mabel. She said she has a lot of money for me.
Me: Wonderful!
Her: She also said that she's giving me Eva's house. And, she kept all of Ma's antique furniture for me.
Me: Thank God! When do you get it?
Her: She told me to bring a big truck to her house next week to get the furniture. I don't know about the house.
Me: I'm so happy. What did you say to her?
Her: I just started crying.
Me: Well, I hope it all comes true.
Her: Me too.
Me: I'll call you later.
Her: Okay. Bye.

So, I continued happily shopping...for about three more minutes. My cell phone rang again. This time it was PhillyTwo.

Me: Hello
Her: (frantically) Something's wrong with Missy. She's struggling to breathe. Her mouth is open and her tongue is out. I don't know what to do.
Me: Well, maybe it's her time to go.
Her: Will you come over here?
Me: No. I don't want to see her like that.
Her: I'm gonna call the emergency vet.
Me: It's gonna cost you a lot of money.
Her: I don't care, Mom. I can't stand to see her suffer like this.
Me: Okay.
Her: I'll call you back.

Then I continued shopping. Not quite as happily, but nevertheless.
And shortly my cell phone rang again. It was PhillyTwo.

Me: Hello.
Her: I have to take her to the vet. Will you at least meet me there?
Me: Right now?
Her: Yes.
Me: (relunctantly) Okay. Where is it?
Her: In front of Ft. Sanders, near the DMV.
Me: Okay.

My happy shopping trip abruptly ended.

It was a very sad ( and long) visit to the emergency vet. Missy (her cat of twelve years) had to be put to sleep. PhillyTwo cried and cried. She was inconsolable. So, like any good mother, I suggested that we go play in the poker tournament that we had planned to play in. She couldn't believe I would even think she could do that after what she had just been through. I told her it would take her mind off of things. "Besides," I said, "I'm starving and we can eat there." So she dried her eyes and powdered her nose, and let me drag her to the card game. She won the tournament. I think that helped to ease the pain, but only temporarily. The tears turned on and off all evening and probably will for days to come.
And contrary to popular (among the fam) belief, I'm sad, too. But we adpoted Missy at the animal shelter and gave her a good life with someone who loved her very, very much. I think she was a lucky cat.

Reason #23 of Why I Need To Be Rich

I've been on the 24-on, 24-off schedule this week. One night I go to bed at a normal time and I can't sleep. I can't turn my brain off. I'm inundated with thoughts about the stupidest things. But sleep or no, I still have to drag my sorry ass up to go to work. By 5 p.m. I am exhausted. So, I go home, lay down on the couch and I am gone. Dead asleep until 5:00 the next morning. So I'm getting something like twelve hours sleep on those days. The next night, it's wide awake time again. And so on, and so forth. I need to STOP THE INSANITY! I mean on those mornings that I've had the marathon sleep, I feel LIKE A MILLION DOLLARS! But, on those other mornings, I FEEL LIKE SHIT! I think it's a seasonal thing. The lack of sunshine makes me want to sleep. But then I get too much and so on, and so forth. It's a vicious cycle and this week-end I'm climbing off. I'll stay up late every night get the routine back in order.
Did I mention that I hate winter? And that I need to be a person of means? Then, I could winter in Key West and summer in Knoxville. AND NEVER HAVE TO GET UP FOR WORK AGAIN!

Worth More Than $3.99

My favorite magazine, Esquire, has a yearly "What I've Learned" edition that's a definite keeper. I still have one from a few years ago that I can't let go of. I hope I'm not breaking any rules by sharing a few gems from the 10th anniversary (Jan. '08) copy that I picked up at the grocery store yesterday.
Enjoy.

"When you write a good song, it will be good even if it's sung by somebody with a bad voice." - Ray Charles

"I like songs that should only be sung at night when your heart is breaking." - Carrie Fisher

"Everyone at a party is uncomfortable. Knowing that makes me more comfortable." - Gary Shandling

"Wisdom is knowing when to shut the fuck up." - Adam West

"Normal is a cycle on a washing machine." - Emmylou Harris

"If you're not nervous, you're either a liar or a fool. But you're not a professional." - Jerry Lewis

"Addiction doesn't negotiate." - Eric Clapton

"I can tell a young person where the mines are, but he's probably going to have to step on them anyway." - Burt Reynolds

"The day your curiosity dies, your life is over." - Rod Steiger

Bah Humbug

Everybody ('cept me) is getting "tagged" (as in, you're it) with a series of pretty boring Christmas questions. Examples: Gifts - wrapped or bagged. Trees - real or artificial. Ho hum. So I came up with my own group of questions - 'cause that's what people who aren't in the in-crowd do.

1. Go to the mall or hunt around the house for a re-gift? Re-gift, for sure.
2.Make Christmas candy or eat peanuts and drink beer? Beer and peanuts.
3. Address Christmas cards or play poker online? Poker.
4. Wrap presents or fall asleep on the couch watching t.v.? Couch.

Well, alrighty then. That's as Christmas-y as I wanna get today. Feel free to copy and paste these questions onto your own blog. I'm sure your answers will be just as fascinating as "likes eggnog" - yes or no. But I'm not bitter.

My Hero

Eat your heart out Martha Stewart. You will never be as good as Arlene Francis. She was the ultimate goddess...the picture of perfection. And a valium-taker for sure.

This pineapple structure made her very happy. She was also famous for her dips, which she served along side a platter of Long Island Teas..and obviously sucked down one or two before the guests arrived.

The woman was a friggin' genius with an hors d'oeuvres tray. And green paint.

I Had No Idea...

that Mayor Haslam was even on Law and Order.

On the First Day of Christmas My Daughter Gave to Me...Four of a Kind!

PhillyTwo chose an interesting theme for her Christmas tree.

From Back in the Holler

When my mother left the hills of southwest Virginia, to move to the not-so-big city, she brought with her a suitcase full of backwoods words and expressions which we all involuntarily regurgitated regularly because...well because she did. We didn't know they were "different". We had heard them all our lives.

No one in our house ever had diarrhea. We had the back-door-trots.
If we ever asked her what was for dinner, the answer was always the same - bread and suet, nothing to it.
If we didn't act right, there was the impending threat of getting the dough-jabbins slapped out of us. To my knowledge we all still have our dough-jabbins.
If we were walking around in our bare feet, we were told "get your shoes on Lucy, dontcha know you're in the city" Not one of us was named Lucy.
Other people wore bedroom slippers. We wore house shoes.
If it was cold outside, she made sure we had toboggans on our heads.
If we couldn't find something, we were told to look in yinder for it - meaning, somewhere else in the house.

There were so many more that I can't quite recollect right now. But when I least expect it, one will slip out of my mouth. I've started a list so that when that happens, I can write them down. We don't want these gems to slip away.

Play It Forward

It's so hard to get started on Monday mornings. I always wake up in plenty of time, but I find myself doing the I'll-get-up-in-a-few-minutes routine more and more. When I do finally drag myself out of bed, I like to find a chore to do in addition to getting ready for work. For instance, this morning I washed a load of laundry. And when I finished getting ready, the laundry was finished and ready for me to hang (it was all the non-dryer sort). So I hung it on my trusty ol' drying rack and left. I felt a little like my grandmother, but only because it was Monday and she did the laundry every Monday morning, come hell or high water. Of course it was a process that took her most of the day, but I digress. I know it's no big deal to do a load of laundry before I go to work, but it's important to me because I need to accomplish a task (even a small one) and here's why: I know myself. When I get home, it'll be dark and I won't feel like doing a damned thing. So by doing that one load of laundry before I leave the house in the morning, I'm giving myself a free pass to play or watch t.v. or just veg when I get home. It's a small investment (a little effort in the morning) that pays good dividends (a lazy, guilt-free evening).

The Queen

Sweet! A nice win at the Texas Hold 'Em table last night. Always an eclectic group. Four women. Thirteen men. The youngest was probably twenty-eight. The oldest, in his sixties. The game started promptly at 7:30. Gabby and I split the money at 11:45. I had the chip lead, but not by a lot. I was exhausted and Gabby's significant other had been in the car for an hour by then. She went out of the game earlier, and for reasons I can't fathom, went outside in the cold-ass car to wait on him. He was in no hurry. It was my idea to chop. I needed to go home and go to bed ( 6 a.m. can be rough) and I was content with taking my half of the money. Did I mention how exhilarating it is to win? First I called Ron to tell him my good news...he was just leaving work. He was happy for me. Then I called PhillyTwo...I knew she'd still be up. She said, "Were you afraid you were gonna lose your status as the best poker player in the family?" She had made the final table at Mitchell's the previous night. I was out in record time. Actually, she's been outlasting me a bunch lately. So, damn right. Gotta protect my position as the Queen of Poker....at least in our family.

Money Woes

PhillyTwo is trying to figure out how to make some extra money because her student loan payment is a pretty hefty sum and she has to dish it out every month along with rent and a car payment. So, she's thinking about getting a second job just to cover the loan payment. She asked me for suggestions on what she could do. So I have come up with a few ideas.
1. Bartender. You spend a lot of time in bars anyway, so why not get paid for being there?
2. Take a long lunch every day and take a shift waiting tables at O.C.I. It's obvious to me (guess why) that they need all the help they can get.
3. Instead of playing poker, start dealing at some cash games. Not that there are any cash games around here, 'cause we all know it's perfectly illegal .
4. Teach a class. There's always a need for a poker-playing lawyer who knows her way around a bar and never misses an episode of Dexter, to shape a young, impressionable mind.

It's not necessary to thank me. Seeing my litigious daughter serving drinks, carrying a tray or counting out chips is all the thanks I might need.

A Kodak Moment

Christmas came early at our house this year - we got three new commodes, a new sink and a couple of new faucets. A plumber installed them, but personally, I think we should have brought the toilets in, tied big red bows around them and put them under the tree until Christmas morning. We missed a great opportunity for a Christmas card picture...me and Ron sitting on the thrones in front of the Christmas tree. He'll be kicking himself when he reads this.

The Never-Ending Battle For Truth, Justice and Cooking the Right Way

At our house the fight begins when Ron starts to cook. First, let me explain that we have an electric cooktop. It's not gas. Never has been. So when I (or any normal, sane person) want to cook something, I turn the burner to the temperature at which I plan to cook that food. Not Ron. He turns the burner all the way to high, adds whatever oil or butter he plans to cook with and once it gets red hot and starts smoking and/or flaming, he turns it down to what he perceives is the correct temp ( which is also usually too high). He does this because he has no patience. He cannot wait until the pan reaches the correct temp and then just leave it at that. He's always in a hurry and he thinks by starting it at the absolute highest temperature possible, it will heat up faster and get the job done faster. Well, he's right that it will heat up faster, but once it gets that fucking hot, even if you turn it down, it's still on fire! His routine includes removing the "burning" pan from the heat when it starts to flame or if the smoke gets too thick. Never mind the smell that permeates the house. It's all about getting it done as fast as possible. And he says it comes from years of working in restaurants....and cooking with gas. Well, newsflash Ronmeril. You're not in a restaurant, and we don't have gas! You're in our kitchen, your method is ridiculous and you're driving me crazy!
I've bitched and complained about this for fifteen years. It's not in me to give up, even though I know he's not gonna change. Where there's smoke, there's fire....and Ron's probably cooking.

Double First Cousins

It sounded way too much like our family tree didn't branch, but while there were some intertwining relationships between my grandparents' families many years ago, that ambiguous term - double first cousins - didn't come about as a result of incest. No, it was actually a legitimate description of how my mother was related to a few of her cousins. It went something like this:
My great grandfather, Squire Johnson (his actual name) was married to my great grandmother and, as was the usual practice back then, they had a house full of kids, one being my grandfather, Charlie, and another being Aunt Ruth. Then my grandmother died. After that, my grandfather married a woman who allegedly was a Cherokee Indian. No actual proof of her heritage exists, only stories handed down through the family, and there were no children from that marriage. I don't know how long he was married to her, but eventually she died, too. By that time, Charlie and Ruth were adults. Apparently they had gotten friendly with some neighbors, the Thompsons, and conveniently, each of them found their love interest there. So, Charlie married Maxie Thompson and Ruth married Elbert Thompson. Maybe it was at one of their weddings, I don't know, but somehow, the newly-widowed Squire Johnson spotted what he hoped was his future bride...you guessed it...another Thompson daughter. Imagine how that conversation went.

Squire: Say, Charlie. Maxie's sister...is she single? Cause I'm likin' what I'm seein'. How 'bout hookin' your ol' man up?
Charlie: Aw, come on, Dad, you gotta be kidding. Can't you find somebody your own age...who's not a Thompson?

Not a chance. Turns out she was newly divorced, so they were soon married. So now we had three Johnsons married to three Thompsons. How cozy. And what interesting Sunday dinners they must have had. Anyway, Charlie and Maxie had children, and Ruth and Elbert had children, and walla! Double first cousins.
The end.