From the 7th Row...

Almost Out of Time

2011-08-14T08:41:00.002-06:00

Just a few more days till the crowd-source campaign is finished. It's been a very excellent and humbling journey. Go check it out before it is gone!

Things I Would Like Today

2011-05-30T11:53:00.003-06:00

Things I Would Like Today

1. A ticket to see Adele here in Nashville. (How did I not know she was coming?)
2. The post office to open specifically for me so I can send these shoes back.
3. A genie who would make the flower boxes already be painted.
4. A leprechaun to do the grocery shopping today. Don't you think that would be fun for everyone?
5. A hummingbird to show up at my feeder.
6. A ticket to see Adele here in Nashville.
7. For my pug's stomach to settle down. (Let's just say that when Bernice suffers, we all suffer.)
8. For my 30 minutes of cardio to be over.
9. A ticket to see Adele here in Nashville.
10. For this lyric I'm turning over and over in my head to just present itself already.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled holiday.
-b

You Could Be...

2011-05-17T18:13:00.003-06:00

...a comedian. Wow. If I had a dollar for every time someone has said that to me, I'd already be retired. Well, I'd at least have a second home in an exotic location. I'm not exaggerating (this time.)

So, I'm reading Tina Fey's book, "Bossypants," and I'm reminded that no matter how off-the-cuff-amusing I might be in the moment, I have no comedial (is that a word?--should I say 'comedic'? Because 'comedial' kind of sounds like 'remedial' and that doesn't work--wait, maybe it does here) talent.

In case you haven't noticed, I've entered my fourth mid-life crisis. I'm trying to decide what I'm supposed to do next, if anything. Maybe I should just keep on doing the same thing. I don't know. What I do know, though, is that I may as well just do it. Whatever it is. Because I'm not getting younger (contrary to the lies I tell you), and I know you're shocked by that. And, if I want to write my blog in run-on sentences, so be it. You should also know I'm running with scissors as I write this. Take that.

But, I suppose the first thing I'm going to mark off the list of "Things To Do Next" is be a comedian. (For the record, I still haven't crossed off "Be a Broadway Singer." Stop rushing me.) If nothing else, it feels nice to have made one decision about my future. However much of it there is left.

-b

This Recipe Made Me a Rockstar

2011-02-09T20:55:00.002-06:00

Chicken with Mustard Mascarpone Marsala Sauce
Recipe courtesy Giada De Laurentiis

Prep Time:
20 min Inactive
Cook Time:30 min
Level: Easy
Serves:4 to 6 servings.

Ingredients
•1 1/2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts, each breast cut crosswise into 3 pieces
•Salt and freshly ground black pepper
•2 tablespoons olive oil
•5 tablespoons butter, divided
•3/4 cup chopped onion
•1 pound cremini mushrooms, sliced
•2 tablespoons minced garlic
•1 cup dry Marsala wine
•1 cup (8 ounces) mascarpone cheese
•2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
•2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley leaves, plus whole sprigs, for garnish
•12 ounces dried fettuccine

Directions
Sprinkle the chicken with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a heavy large skillet over high heat. Add the chicken and cook just until brown, about 4 minutes per side. Transfer the chicken to a plate and cool slightly.

While the chicken cools, melt 2 tablespoons of butter to the same skillet over medium-high heat, then add the onion and saute until tender, about 2 minutes. Add the mushrooms and garlic and saute until the mushrooms are tender and the juices evaporate, about 12 minutes. Add the wine and simmer until it is reduced by half, about 4 minutes. Stir in the mascarpone and mustard. Cut the chicken breasts crosswise into 1/3-inch-thick slices. Return the chicken and any accumulated juices to the skillet. Simmer, uncovered, over medium-low heat until the chicken is just cooked through and the sauce thickens slightly, about 2 minutes. Stir in the chopped parsley. Season the sauce, to taste, with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the fettuccine and cook until al dente, stirring occasionally, about 8 minutes. Drain. Toss the fettuccine with 3 tablespoons of butter and season, to taste, with salt and pepper. Swirl the fettuccine onto serving plates. Spoon the chicken mixture over top. Garnish with parsley sprigs and serve.

.Printed from FoodNetwork.com on Wed Feb 9 2011

Cooking with Giada De Laurentiis

2011-02-08T19:37:00.003-06:00

Dear Giada De Laurentiis:

Your recipes are giving me a false sense of confidence. Well, except for that awkward foray into the turkey meatloaf. I'm not going to bring that one up. Other than that, I am a non-cook on the top of the world. I haven't even set myself on fire, and that in and of itself is quite an accomplishment. To more good recipes!

Best,

Belinda

What I told my brother a few days ago...

2011-01-01T20:36:00.002-06:00

You know what makes me truly happy? When a fancy recipe I try tastes fantastic. When a flower blooms in my flower garden. That's how little it takes to make me happy.

Happy New Year-

-b

Golf Digest Magazine

2010-11-17T17:16:00.004-06:00

Dear Golf Digest Magazine,

Thank you so much for your sending the October, November and December issues over the past few days. I appreciate you being so conscientious about getting my subscription caught up.

Interestingly enough, however, I in fact did not subscribe to your magazine. While I'm sure it is a lovely publication filled with glossy yumminess, (my magazine addiction speaks for me at times), I am actually not a golfer. I neither play nor watch golf. The last time I played golf, if we can even call it that, I was in Estes Park, Colorado, holding the iron (insert: lighting rod) while a terrible thunder and lightening storm rolled in right on top of us over the Rocky Mountains. I lived, thank you for wondering.

I'm not sure how it is that I subscribed to Vanity Fair Magazine and received 3 issues of Golf Digest Magazine, but I think we can all agree that a gross error has taken place. I look forward to your assistance in this matter.

Best,
Belinda

As long as we're talking about music...

2010-11-15T20:42:00.003-06:00

I'm wondering what you think of the new Taylor Swift record. I'm not going to discuss the merits of her singing with you, but I will say, the chic can write a song. She's writing such appropriate songs for her personal experience, and for that, I bought the record. Yes, kids, I'm one of the million or so who bought the record in the first week. As a songwriter, I wasn't disappointed. While I'm not trying to wish her life away, or mine for that matter, I do look forward to hearing what she writes at 28...and at 35...and so on.
-b

Beating the Homeless, Killing their Dogs, and Staying Silent...or Not

2010-10-14T11:26:00.005-06:00

Try as I may, and believe me I try, there is a part of me that just cannot keep silent about certain injustices. There are times in which every moral fiber of my entire being demand that I say something, speak up, lest my silence be misconstrued as apathy. Here is the first in a series of letters I've written this week. Will they make a difference? Maybe not. Will I sleep better knowing I said something? Absolutely.

Dear Kroger:

I have been following with great interest and disgust the story regarding your Madison, TN, location. Your armed guard shot and killed a dog and beat his homeless owner because the homeless individual stole some firewood.

Frankly, the entire story is appalling. This type of behavior by a gun-weilding officer is completely opposite of what your customers not only expect, but demand of you. I propose there is a basic code of human conduct and in no account have I found justification whatsoever for a firearm to be pulled out of its holster in reaction to the events which took place.

You have a security guard who fired his weapon four times on your behalf. He beat an individual to the ground and killed his dog to "defend" your merchandise. I'm mortified that you condone this type of behavior.

My information indicates that you have refused to take any responsibility for the incident. No apologies, no remorse, and perhaps that is the part of this that compells me to write. Your success or failure as a corporation is directly correlational to your community support. Let there be no question that we, your customers, do you the favor by choosing to spend our money at your store when we are being courted all the while by Publix, Wal-Mart, and Food Lion to name just a few.

I am calling for you to make this right. An apology that the situation got so out of control and a dismissing of the 'guard' would be a great start.

Sincerely,
Belinda L. Smith

p.s. The next time you're deciding between killing a guy's dog and beating him to the ground over a bit of stolen firewood, give me a call. I'll cover the bill.

Rewards and Opportunities

2010-09-20T21:09:00.003-06:00

It is time, entrepreneurs. Invent a single rewards card that will hold all my other rewards cards.

Are you all having to sign up for all kinds of credit-card-like thingys in order to NOT have to pay a stupid inflated price for things you want? I get it: they want my information for research purposes. What I don't think they understand is that I become some random personality with each "application." At this point, I'm a doctor, a lawyer, an entertainment executive and a construction worker. Now GIVE ME MY REWARDS!

I've turned down what feels like a million rewards card, but these are the ones which are in my wallet as of tonight:

1. A drug store
2. Bookstore
3. Grocery
4. Coffee/Pastry house
5. Clothing place
6. Pet store
7. Art Supply Store

Gang, I have SEVEN rewards cards in my wallet right now. As far as I'm concerned, this is seven too many. How on Earth am I supposed to keep up with all these? Much less the ones I've turned down because my purse is too big. Hence, it is time for one of you business savvy programmers to develop a card which holds all my other rewards. Hurry before someone beats you to it.

-b

I cannot do another rewards card. This is absurd.

You Don't Bring Me Flowers...

2010-09-17T21:52:00.008-06:00

A few months ago, I was standing in Kroger near the floral section thinking, "Wow, I would love to justify some fresh flowers today." They all looked so happy and bright and awake. I wanted that in my home. But, really, flowers are things other people give to you, or for special events, right? You don't just buy flowers for yourself. How lame.

But, in the time it takes to push your cart from the soda aisle to the frozen foods aisle, I stopped waiting for people to give me flowers and started getting my own. And that's a tiny bit of the weekly budget that I'd fight for now. Why? Because we really should be kinder to ourselves.

-b

Someone Asked Me Questions

2010-09-03T13:08:00.002-06:00

A little bit of background. Thanks for the electronic press, Mr. Mount.

http://www.southerngospelblog.com/archives/8001

-b

Muses and Fruit

2010-08-26T13:29:00.001-06:00

Sometimes writing a song is just copying down the words and music that something greater is giving me freely.

Sometimes writing a song a like birthing a watermelon.

Guess which one this is?

-b

Cliches and Records

2010-08-18T15:37:00.007-06:00

I would like to go on record that the movie which made me want see Italy in person was a terrible movie from 1994 called, "Only You." It was really bad. Don't even rent it. However, because is was so bad, I was forced to look around the scenes for something--anything--interesting. And, that is when I decided I had to see Italy in person. It became a fat-free obsession.

It was NOT the book or the movie, "Under the Tuscan Sun."

It was NOT the book or the movie, "Eat. Pray. Love."

And I have signed up for a converstional Italian class because a) I will be going back to Italy soon and b) learning a new language helps to stimlate the brain, and I think my need for that goes without saying. I've been talking about signing up for a class for four years now mostly because I got lost in Montacatini and no one spoke English. It was kind of scary and I'd like to address that, post-trip even.

NOT because Elizabeth Gilbert likes Italian, too.

So there.

-b

Huge Announement

2010-08-17T16:14:00.003-06:00

Today, Tuesday, August 17th, 2010, I, Belinda Smith, was EARLY for a writing appointment. Ten minutes early. Mr. Bourke captured the occasion video. I am not showing said video because the camera adds ten pounds. Still, it is documented.

And totally blogworthy.

-b

Birds

2010-07-30T11:49:00.003-06:00

We went to dinner with my cousin, Darnell Arnoult and her husband, William Brock, last night.

The last time I visited Darnell and William at their home down I-40, there sat an extremely large bird in the yard. I had to walk past it to get around to the front door, but I really didn't want to disturb it. I knew William was making birds, but I didn't realize he was also displaying them in the yard. So, I crept down the sidewalk, fascinated by the huge bird, thinking, "Wow, this is what you get when you live in the country." Just about then, the sun hit it just right and I realized it was one of William's creations. Duh.

William makes each bird out of copper or tin and cuts each 'feather' by hand. Isn't that insane? I mean, in a really good way. You can see more images and get some information at www.rustedbirdstudio.com.

And to the lady who told him she could buy one of these at Wal-Mart: a double duh.

-b

Blue

2010-07-26T09:25:00.008-06:00

Where have I been? Ugh. Has it really been a month since I've updated? Judge me. Go ahead.

The good news is the bad neighbor is gone. I'm guessing he abandoned the house since it appears to have been the landlord who removed the 100 or so tires that said bad neighbor had stacked up against my back fence. I haven't seen anyone over there for a few weeks. HOORAY! There is still a blue tarp over the roof of the house, but we'll take what we can get.

I played a show with Benton Stokes the other night. Benton makes me want to write different kinds of songs--a huge compliment to him. I think I've mentioned his record to you before, but if you don't have it, I would recommend it. He has a song on his CD called, "Blue."

I also spent a week at the TN Young Writers Workshop. We lived on the campus of Austin Peay University. My, how I'm missing that ridiculous plastic mattress. Yeah. Anyway, the young writers were really inspiring this year. I gave the kids a title prompt with the word "blue" in it, and the blue songs were some of my faves from the week.

And, in what is probably the most important news, for first time in my entire life, I've painted a room in my house blue. I know. Who have I become? Well, it's actually called, "Deep Ocean," and that's exactly what it looks like to me, and I LOVE it. And, if you're looking for a good paint, try Benjamin Moore's Aura line. It took one coat of paint to make a white wall blue. Stunning.

When Do You Care About a Book?

2010-06-27T08:36:00.007-06:00

I've been reading a lot more since Jim got me my Kindle for Christmas. Have I mentioned how much I love this thing?

As I look back over my book list for 2010, I have to admit I'm a little underwhelmed. I listened to the audio book The Help by Kathryn Stockett and didn't want it to end, but since then I've been on a run of books that I just don't care about.

First, I read "Three Junes" by Julia Glass. I can say that it was well written, sure. But did I care about any of these characters? Nope. Not at all. Well, maybe the guy who died early on who had moved to Greece, but he wasn't around long enough to really mean anything. I kind of didn't even like the book and I definitely wouldn't recommend it. But that's just me.

Now, because my brother pleaded with me, I'm 25% into, "The Passage," by Justin Cronin.

This is apparently a 600 page horror novel, I found out today. All I know is that at 25% in, according to my fabulous Kindle, I don't care. I kind of care about one person, but I could give him up tomorrow for a better book.

I am interested in reading, "The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake," because, well, it's a great title. As one who has equated food with love her whole life, I could weep over the title if I thought about it too long. Oh, wait...that's too much information for you, isn't it?

Anyway, with that, dear friends, I'm asking: what books have you read that you really cared about? What's your favorite book that you've read in the past year that you are glad you did?

I'm in need, gang!

-b

Irons, Fires and Custom Decorative Mirrors, Oh My!

2010-06-26T11:58:00.009-06:00

I have a million irons in the fire. At least it feels like it, anyway. As a true Scorpio, I'm really great at getting something started, but finishing takes a little more discipline. No, all that glitters isn't gold, but it still glitters, and I like glitter, darn it.

One iron of late has been making decorative mirrors. Anytime I'd see one, I'd think, "How did they do that?" and when I start asking that question, you can pretty much bet that I'm seeing "glitter." I found everything I needed to know about getting started on the internet, read everything I could, and went to it. Here is one of my first tries:

So, while this is a bit time consuming, it's a nice creative thing to do while I'm trying to come up with new lyrics or melodies. You can imagine how excited I was when the owner of the brand new James Gang Company in Nashville offered to sell some of my work. We've already gotten a few mirrors hung in the "not so general general store," and I'm working on some others. This is so much fun!

Here's one of my favorites so far:

There are some cool green splashes throughout that are hard to photograph. I love it.

Here's one I made as a gift for owner, John Grimes:

And, yes, I forgot about photographing it till I was loading it in the car. Oops. Trust me, it looks amazing over the antique upright piano at the The James Gang Company store.

I'll let you know when John is officially open for business and maybe you can pop in sometime. Thanks for indulging me, friends.

-b

$20

2010-06-22T20:24:00.005-06:00

Seems like a small price to pay to get rid of a yucky neighbor, I suppose.

About four weeks ago, Jim and I were working on cutting down some extraneous foilage around the front fence when I heard this voice. "Sir? Sir?" he called from the side of the front yard. "I'm really sorry to bother you."

And the story went. His name is John, he lives behind me, but he had walked around to the side of my front yard to call to us. He works at the garage perpendicular to my street. John weaved an elaborate story about how he was out of gas just down the road and he couldn't get hold of his boss to get any help. He even faked a cell phone call in the middle of the explanation. "See?" he pleaded. Could he just borrow $10 for 20 minutes. "I'll bring it right back."

As a test, Jim brought him a container of gas from the garage.

"Uh, I don't think that's going to do it. It's a really big truck." Okay, big fat liar. Would you like my paycheck, too? Because I'm just here to give away my hard earned money.

Still, I wondered if this might be the ultimate gesture, the be-all end-all opportunity to do a 'right thing.' The gesture which either proved that there is still some good in humanity or the gesture that cemented the word "awkward" between us henceforth. He and I have already had some, er, "quality time" regarding some of his backyard behavior. And, so I handed him $20 in cash. Just gave it to him.

My Dad taught me early to never loan someone money. I either give it to them or I don't, but I never expect it back. I clearly thought this guy was a liar, and so I didn't expect to get the money back.

That was on Sunday. On the following Tuesday I came home to the following note on my front door: I'll be by at 6 P.M to return the money. $20. I'm sorry it has taken a few days longer to get it back to you. Please call me at (insert fake number here.) John

At 5:50 PM on Wednesday, John revved up his truck and pulled out. I haven't seen him since. That was four weeks ago.

My friend Patty says the best way to get rid of somebody is to loan them money. Seems like it is working.

-b

Freaks and Weirdos Welcome, but Blogged About

2010-06-21T11:38:00.003-06:00

I haven't been to a public pool in the summer aside from the ones at the beach hotels in years. I'd guess I was in the 3rd or 4th grade the last time. You can imagine my apprehension over my recent visit. Granted the pool was part of a member's only type place, but still.

As I sat uncomfortably in my white plastic chair peering over the top of my Kindle, I categorized my fellow pool goers as one of four groups.

First, we had the Normals. These are the people who came quietly, snagged a chair, and lost themselves in a great summer read. They may have gotten up and taken a quick dip in the cool water, but they mostly stayed in their chosen seats. These people felt no need to leave a big impression. I guess you could say they were my kind of people.

Next, we had the Paraders. My, my, my. Some of these people should just grab a baton and get on with it. Oh, for just a thimble of the self-confidence Flower-Trunk-Guy possessed. I heard a lady a few chairs down from me heckle to another particularly proud middle-aged man, "We get it already. Now sit down!"

Then you had the Lappers. Why use the mostly vacant indoor pool to swim your laps at 2 o'clock in the afternoon on the weekend when you can go outdoors and make everybody move so you can have one whole length of the pool to yourself? And, then, go ahead and yell at the innocent ladies who dared to float into your path. Because you're every bit the Michael Phelps you think you are, Coach.

The final category, and I suppose my most favorite, was the SCUBA diver. Granted there was only one participant in this group, he made the biggest impression by far. By far. With a heat index of 104 degrees, Dude walked out to the crowded pool with a full wetsuit (long pants and long sleeves), full head cover, goggles, flippers and oxygen tank. Little kids actually ran screaming to their mothers. He walked to the pool steps, lowered himself into the 3 foot water, and disappeared.

Makes you think, doesn't it?

-b

Dear Heidi and Spencer:

2010-05-15T08:26:00.003-06:00

I actually don't know what show you come from. Some reality show, I gather. I do recall David Letterman ripping you to shreds, Spencer, some time ago on his show. It was vintage David, actually. So funny that I saw it replayed on the little TV in the NYC taxi I was riding in probably a week later.

Anyway, I digress. Now, aren't the two of you the ones who went on some other reality show and you went to the jungle or something and decided to come to Jesus? I think there was a baptism in the water or something. Was that you?

Anyway, what I'm finding with your public personas isn't the kind of disdain I have for the whole Gosslein 'celebrity' circus. It's a new kind of feeling that I haven't been able to put a word on. It's nothing short of yuck, but that's not quite it.

I think it is tragic that a beautiful young girl has such a low self esteem that she had ten plastic surgeries in one day. That she is at the legal limit for plastic surgeries in CALIFORNIA? Really? I think it is criminal that the guy who says he loves her actually encouraged this. I saw a clip of Heidi's mother saying, "Enough." She was so, so right.

And so I sit here wondering, yet again, how we will explain you two to the next generations. When they ask, "Now why were these people on TV?" we will have no good explanation.

Maybe you should've stuck with Jesus.

-b

Wrong Place at the Right Time

2010-04-12T10:59:00.003-06:00

You know how sometimes you're just sitting around minding your own business, reading and such, and then a blind person walks by and whacks you in the shin as hard as she can with her walking stick?

Wait...

You don't?

So, it's just me, eh?

Right.

-b

Beautiful, Even on Tuesdays in the Sam's Parking Lot

2010-04-07T14:14:00.005-06:00

I feel like everyone knows this about me already. I forget that I don't really offer it up and just assume that you figured it out. And, frankly, doing a blog post about it is as weird and freeing as the day I put on a skirt that hit above my knee (for the first time) and made myself walk from one end of New York City to the next. Let the stares come. Let my knee shoot pain through my body. Come hell or high water, I was finishing that one.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I chose a pink skirt and sensible black shoes, because that's the only kind I can wear. I would walk through the busiest city I frequented and reveal my physical weirdness and see how it went. If I could make it through NYC, then I could soooo make it through Nashville, because everybody knows if NYC thinks you're weird, then you really are. If not, then you're good.

Before I was born, while I was in the womb, I caught what they later termed a "temporary virus." I was born in Chicago and the Chicago Children's Clinic had no explanation and certainly nothing to which my case could compare. When I was born, my Mom describes these places all over my body that looked like cigarette burns. They were red, roundish and some were deeper than others. I still have the faded scars today in some places.

On the back of my left leg, one was particularly deep, even now. Whatever it was, it damaged the nervous system in my left foot. Most of my foot is paralyzed and I have no motor ability in the foot at all. I can't move it, I can't feel it, and it really doesn't do much else except give me a place on which to land. It is just there.

I remember moving to Nashville and thinking I needed another operation, and so I thought I would visit the head of orthopaedic surgery at Vanderbilt University. He took one look at the X-ray and said, "Amputation is your only option." I never saw him again because I don't respect surgeons who aren't creative. Then, I flew to Cleveland Clinic and saw the head of foot and ankle orthopaedics there. He said, "There's not much we can do, and we could try, but I can't make any promises." Regarding surgery he said, "Your foot is in amazing condition. I'm stunned. But, you'll know when it is time. Here's a friend of mine's number in Nashville. Go see him."

And, so, I visited Baptist in Nashville and had the routine X-ray. The surgeon said, and I quote, "What a mess." I laughed. Finally, some honesty. Then he said, "I'll do the surgery, but you probably only have one surgery left based the number you've had, and I just don't know. I won't fight for your foot, though, because you would get along so much better with a prosthetic." More honesty. I didn't like it, but I respected it. That was ten years ago. I'm still not interested in a prosthetic.

When I was little, I wore a metal brace from the knee down. My ankle leaned and it took what they called a t-strap (get it?) to hold it up in place. The brace attached to one pair of brown leather shoes, because that was all we could afford. One pair. I wore the same pair of shoes every day until I outgrew them, and then I would go and be fitted for another pair. Every few years I'd get saddle shoes, but mostly I chose the brown leather ones. All I ever wanted, though, was to wear a pair of tennis shoes. Really.

Finally, as I was entering my freshman year in high school, Dr. Jack Pushkin (RIP) did a little creative surgery and fused my ankle. It has been fused in that walking position ever since. I wore my first pair of tennis shoes, which were fashionably Keds, in the 9th grade. They were followed with Reeboks. (Randomly, I remember Donell Henthorne smiling and holding the door open for me my first week of high school while I was still on crutches. She was a God-send in that Annex building that moment. I never thanked her for that.)

And life goes on. Imagine having no feeling in your left foot and it is fused in walking position, and that's life as I know it. I cannot wear heels nor will I ever be able to. I cannot run, which is FINE by me. I have ongoing knee issues, but whatever. I just don't know any different. This is all I've ever known and so it is just not a big deal to me. I will say that I am very adept at compensating. I'm a master at covering it up. People I cherish even now are probably surprised at this. "I knew she limped sometimes, but I had no idea it wasn't from a sprained ankle." I love that.

I love that the people in my life, those who hold that title for more than a few weeks, are looking inside. Those are the people who are just not so concerned with what society tells them is most important, the way you look on the outside. You, my friends reading this, are the ones who didn't even think to judge me for the matter in which I had no choice.

Thank. You.

In case you were wondering, New York City didn't give me a second glance, either. I mean, not one person looked down and got 'the look.' It was amazing. Even in Times Square. Nobody. Seven years ago, New York City gave me a gift I can never repay. NYC reminded me that we are all a lot more concerned about ourselves than anybody else is. Such a hard lesson to take to heart.

We were talking yesterday in my writing session about songs that we felt were more Divine than anything. Those songs that were in the room, that we got to put our names on, and those songs that we really didn't have too much to do with. They were already there waiting to be written and all we had to do was not mess them up. Here's the lyric to the one that came to my mind first. It was my privilege to write it with Tony Wood.

Beautiful

There's a feeling deep inside me
Like I never measure up
When I look at those around me
I'm just not good enough
But there's a truth that cuts through all my doubts
and insecurites
it's like a song from Heaven
my Creator sings to me

All your scars and imperfections
All the things you hide
All the hurts and broken pieces
All the things you've locked inside
You don't have to be afraid
to open up and let Me see
I'm the One who made you.
You're beautiful to Me.

Just as He has formed you
and you're wonderfully made
the same hand is still working
in the story of your days
And in those hands your failures
somehow become a part
of what goes into making
the masterpiece you are

All your scars and imperfections
All the things you hide
All the hurts and broken pieces
All the things you've locked inside
You don't have to be afraid
to open up and let Him see
He says, I'm the one who made you
You're beautiful to me

When at last we see Him
Oh, how we'll understand
When we bow before our Saviour
Touch His feet
Take His hands

All our scars and imperfections
All the things we hide
All the hurts and broken pieces
All the things we've locked inside
We don't have to to be afraid
to open up and let Him see
He says, "I'm the One who made you.
You're beautiful to me."

Facebook: Deletion Day and Other Principles

2010-03-22T12:44:00.001-06:00

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. I mostly hate it until I connect with someone interesting or re-connect with someone I miss, and then I love it. It really has helped me stay in touch, even minimally, with people I deeply enjoy but don’t get to see often.

I can’t help but wonder, though, is it just me or do you all have to purge some “friends” periodically? For me, I find that I purge about every three months. Usually someone will post some comment that makes me no longer want to be associated with them, for either personal or professional reasons, and I’ll end the cyber relationship. One deletion always leads to a few more—“Oh, that’s the person who posted THAT nasty comment that one night I was too sleepy to figure out how to delete them”—and away they go, too. Granted a few innocent bystanders, or alphabetically close names, have accidentally gone in my haste, but overall, my general purging schedule seems to get the job done.

Today, we’ve come upon another deletion day. I don’t want hate comments or hate language on my news feed, bottom line. There’s enough negativity in my daily life that I will not allow a cyber acquaintance to perpetuate even more.

Oh, but that’s not the point of this post.

This is probably just me, but if you’re going to use Facebook as the ultra-marketing tool for your business, then sending me daily “become a fan of” emails is a good way to make me hate your business. Why? Because I don’t want to have to clear out your stupid email every day. So, I’m going to delete you from the entire friend list instead of becoming a fan of your business. It is a matter of principle.

-b

20 Things About the Cable Guy

2010-03-12T11:18:00.004-06:00

I've been dealing with a lot of service people during this move. I must seem friendly. Here are just a few things I learned about the cable guy while he was at my house installing my lines (and he did a good job, I'll add.)

1. He moved here from Orlando a year ago.
2. He has been married twice.
3. He has a thirteen year old son.
4. His thirteen year old son sees ghosts.
5. The lady who lives across the street from him spies on him.
6. He threw away a couch.
7. He threw away an old green chair.
8. He moved to Nashville to sing.
9. He used to be roof installer and roof cleaner.
10. His first wife gives his son back some, but not through the courts, and so he is still liable for child support during those times.
11. His second wife was from Denmark.
12. He speaks a little Danish.
13. He lives 20 miles out of town in a condo.
14. He would like me to fix him up with one of my hot friends--any of them will do.
15. He makes $20 for installing three lines in my house. The cable company gets the rest.
16. He works 60 hours per week.
17. He has no time for a social life.
18. He would like to make a demo of himself singing.
19. He is afraid it is too late for him to get into the music business.
20. He gives his Mom money.

Kindness

2010-02-23T20:12:00.002-06:00

It goes a long, long way.

I'm not a big crier. Or, maybe I'm in an age-defined denial. The older I get, the more I get weepy on someone's behalf. Regardless, my friend T. got me today with this quote: No one has ever said they will handle something FOR me. Can I give you a hug to thank you?

She had big crocodile tears streaming down her face. I had recommended two people to her to help her realize her "one dream." "Call them," I said. "Stop being intimidated by your unknowns."

She is beautiful, and she has been dealt a much more difficult deck of cards than I. And, two of my friends, one old and one new, showed a beautiful kindness today. I called them both to tell them so, and to thank them. "You made a difference in someone's life today," I said to both of them.

Kindness matters.

We should be more conscious of that.

-b

Here's One for the Songwriters

2010-02-08T14:58:00.005-06:00

When I'm included on the faculty at songwriting worshops and seminars, the one thing I've noticed over and over that the registrants want is access. They want a few minutes of time from someone is who doing what they want to do. People just want to talk, some people just want you to listen to their songs, some people really want honest feedback, and then some people just want you tell them how great they are (whether they are or not.)

My awesome friend and songwriter J.P. Williams called me several months back and invited me in on a writing session with someone who I think most any writer worth their salt would love to be in the room with. Since then, I've written many times with Rory Bourke. Here's just the first paragraph of his bio:

During a career of more than thirty years, Rory Michael Bourke has had songs recorded by Anne Murray, Elvis Presley, Bonnie Raitt, Cher, Phil Vassar, Dolly Parton, Tom Jones, The Oak Ridge Boys, Ronnie Milsap, Julio Iglesias, Tim McGraw, and many others. He was inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1989 and has been named ASCAP Writer of the Year three times: 1976, 1979, and 1983. He is a four-time Grammy nominee and the recipient of two CMA triple play awards. He served on the Board of Directors of the Nashville Songwriters Foundation for many years.

It's been such a pleasure getting to know Rory and Rita. He's not even billing me for hanging around so much (yet.)

I say all of this to say that if you're interested in writing songs, and truly writing those songs that last a lifetime, Rory is an expert proven time and time again. While I can't offer you access, I can get you the stories. Well, actually, you'll have to get those yourselves, too. Check out Rory's blog:

www.rorybourke.com

Enjoy-
-b

Satisfaction

2010-02-02T12:53:00.004-06:00

I've been looking over my tax returns. Fun stuff. I just put down the tax return for 2003, actually. Looking back over the years of self-employment, the up's and the down's, has gotten me to thinking.

Over the past ten years, I've turned down two big-salary job offers outside my creative field, and I've basically done everything I can to keep my time focused on my creative passions. I've passed on the kind of security many people work their whole lives for. I've chosen my dreams over common sense options time and time again.

I'm not saying that my life choices would be for everyone. Certainly not. But, I can say that I'm okay with how I've done what I've done. I may never own my personal island in the tropics, but I've made a good life, with good friends and a good family. I can pay my bills, I have food on my table and I get to travel a little. Most of my dreams have already come true. That's a big thing to be able to say.

So, no, I wouldn't change how I've done things. I definitely would not.
I'm satisfied.

-b

The Winter White Wool Coat

2010-01-31T18:42:00.003-06:00

I don't remember how I old I was, but there was one year in high school that I decided I wanted a full length winter white wool coat. Since it was going to cost a little more than our standard issue, Dad had to make the final approval.

I went to Dad and asked, explained the do-or-die necessity of this grand investment, and he finally agreed with the following stipulation: it had to be made in America.

So, off to the Charleston Town Center mall we went. After searching the racks of the various stores, I walked in to the final place and the clear blue sky rolled back giving way to the Heavenly choir's "Hallelujah Chorus," and there hung the perfect--PERFECT--winter white wool coat. It was floor length, lined with silk, pleated in the back from the collar down, with flawless subtle tan buttons. Oh, it was a glorious find, and I was going to look like a million bucks.

I bought it right there and we drove the hour home. As I unwrapped this brilliant piece of fashion iconism and carefully placed it out on my bed, my brother looked over my shoulder and asked, "Is it made in the USA?"

I'm not saying it was right or it was wrong, but sometimes a girl's just got to have her 80's winter white wool coat. When you know it is right, sometimes you just have to do what you have to do and figure the rest out later. I said, "Well, if it's not, then I'll cut the tag out."

I checked tag there was it was: Made in the USA.

Life lesson learned.

-b

p.s. I had never planned to mention the whole thing to Dad until my brother so helpfully retold the story at Christmas. And, the truth is, I had been so overcome with perfection that I'd totally forgotten to look. I'm really not a bad person, Dad.

Convenience

2010-01-17T17:00:00.004-06:00

I've had a slight toe in the real estate market this weekend. Let us not get carried away, it was just a toe, and a pinky toe, at that.

Nonetheless, I called and made an appointment to view a home in a "transitional" neighborhood. Because, you know, I'm cool...I'm hip. Er...right. Anyway, I made Jim go, too, mostly because he just loves that kind of stuff...er...right.

Anyway, so we made the left turn onto the street of what could be my brand new home and we both started laughing out loud. Not an "lol," which we all know really means "chuckle out loud," (col), but an actual audible laugh.

Jim looked over and said, "Well, the good thing about this neighborhood is that if it's eleven o'clock at night and you need some crack, all you have to do is go out on the porch and say so. All the dealers will be able to hear you."

...I do like me some convenience...

-b

Thick and Luxurious

2010-01-09T18:48:00.004-06:00

I looked in the cabinet where I keep my towels and washcloths a few weeks ago and noted not one, not two, but several towels and washcloths I bought the mid-90's. Yes, there, I said it. The mid-90's. I specifically thought, "Hmmm, these things are losing their steam." Then, I realized that they have been in use for 15 years or so.

FIFTEEN YEARS for a towel and washcloth???? How did this happen? When did I become that person? I guess the flipside is that they have actually survived for fifteen years, but still...that amount of time is equivalent to the amount of time between when I was born until my junior year in high school.

Indeed.

So, I asked for some new towels for Christmas and then I headed to the J.C. Penny white sale today. I don't even know who am I anymore through this fog of glorious grown-up bliss. Did you all know that towels can be thick and luxurious? Did everyone know this but me?

-b

Virtual Friends: What the Internet Can Do

2010-01-08T23:17:00.004-06:00

Early last year I sent an email to Ohio-K. I didn't know her, but I felt like I had something snarky to say and that she would appreciate it. After a few exchanges, she introduced me to the email commune. Within the email commune, we then had Ohio-K, New Jersey-P, Nebraska-R, California-P, California-A and Oregon-H. Then we voted in North Carolina-G.

So, now, the commune consists of G, P, K, R, P, A, H and me, B. We've been emailing back and forth for months now. I love these people. We are all so different and so the same that the Commune makes perfect sense. We've been through bankruptcies, religions, buying new homes, trying to find work, angry times, bitter times, family crisis', great celebrations, and pure, unadulterated support of each other. I know things about these guys that I don't even know about my closest in-person friends.

The beauty of the internet is that I'm allowed to have friends that I otherwise wouldn't have had. I call them friends. How can I not? They know too much about me as it is.

I remember when I purchased my first computer. I was a sucker for the "chat room" commercials. I just wanted to be in touch with people from around the world. Well, years later, when the 'being in touch with strangers' thing came to fruition, it was with this particular group of strangers. And, it far surpassed what the commercials promised.

California P is brilliantly clever and talented. He has a way a seeing through the forest straight to the tree. I adore him and his sense of humor.

New Jersey P has a generous spirit. It shows through in so much of her work and her murals. And, though we've never met in person, she sent me an amazing pottery piece for Christmas. Why? Because she has a generous spirit. I'd hire her to do a mural for me in a heartbeat.

California A is a constant surprise. I never know what to expect from her. I do know that regardless of the specifics, she will be clever and passionate, and that is inspiring every single time. And I'm so proud of her for buying a house this past year.

Oregon H is the one who chimes in with what I call the last sentence. She's clearly clever, and a GREAT Scrabble player. She's the one who wraps up all of the nonsense and gives it a little meaning.

Nebraska R is stupid talented, and on the verge of fantastic new things. We all kind of watch to see where he's going next. He's indeed someone we root for. Plus, he draws these awesome cartoons.

Ohio K is an artist. She is savvy enough to work the system without making it look like work and she has more energy than anyone I know. I have so much great respect for her. She is a true artist, and a darn good hang.

And North Carolina G. Ridiculously talented. She is the one who goes beyond the call to make sure everything is okay. Someone I would want to be friends with if I wasn't already. Just a neat person.

Actually, I'd want to be friends with all the members of the virtual commune if I knew them in their daily lives. Which, brings us back to the internet and what it can do for you.

I feel lucky.

These are my virtual people. I've given them parts of me that my real-life people don't have.

And, I don't want to move on without them.

Here's to internet friends. Thank you for enriching my life and for, quite simply, making me better.

-b

Happy 2010 and Signs

2010-01-04T18:45:00.004-06:00

Oh dear, gang. Can you believe it's 2010? It seems like yesterday that we were hoarding bottles of water wondering if the world was coming to a sure end, doesn't it? Good times. Can you believe it was ten years ago?

I started the new decade today with a writing session I was very much looking forward to. J.P. Williams and Mark Narmore are two of my favorite human beings on top of being two of my favorite writers, so I was glad to start the year on a good note.

The past several months in my creative industry have been filled with up's and down's. I know that the music industry is certainly feeling the effects of the current economic climate, but I'm hopeful. How can I not be? Regardless, on the way to the session today, I said a prayer. It was kind of a response to the past year as well as to the new one--God, I need this to be good today.

And it was.

Yay.

Then, when I got home and looked at my brand spanking new bedspread, I noticed a small wet spot down on the corner near the floor. Just a small one. Upon further inspection, it became clear that Pete, the 11 1/2 year old min pin, had hiked his leg. A statement of his own, I suppose.

I've chosen to let him live, and I've decided not to let him steal my optimism. Clearly, animals pray, too.

-b

What to do in a Car Accident

2009-12-23T08:23:00.003-06:00

I'm sitting here collecting my treasures as I'll be doing a little driving today--okay, a lot. And, I-65 is a miserable freeway to travel during crowded times. I was wrapping a final present to load into the car and I looked up to the "Today" show. Ann's segment is called, "What to do in a Car Accident."

So, now I'm a bit freaked out wondering if this is an omen. Great.

Merry Christmas to you, too, Ann Curry. Thanks.A.Lot. ;-)

-b

Observations

2009-12-11T19:18:00.003-06:00

I'm quite certain at this point in my life that the people who do the most talking in the mandatory meetings of life are the only ones who really think the meeting is important. Everybody else is mostly thinking about what they're going to do when the meeting is over.

Getting your hair cut in a timely manner is important. I should be nicer to myself more often and budget for this. John Grimes is the best hair guy ever. I'm looking forward to seeing him and coming out 3 inches thinner.

Joel sent the first Christmas card of the season this year. He is such a brat.

I could never, ever live in Brentwood.

Tiger Woods' public humiliation is his own public humiliation, not his wife's. She should hold her head high.

My pork tenderloin is going to burn if I don't go tend to it.

-b

Encouragement Just When You Need It Most

2009-11-28T20:18:00.002-06:00

My little brother just walked into the room, brand new spinning yo-yo in hand. He is an English professor.

He said, "I was just thinking. You should become a college professor, too."

I said, "Yeah?"

He finished, "Yeah, 'cause you don't have anything to look forward to."

Helpful, isn't he? lol

-b

Dear Adam Lambert:

2009-11-24T15:13:00.002-06:00

I'm writing to give you my two cents, not that you asked.

I looked up from my laptop just long enough during your AMA performance to see you "plant the big one." I don't have a comment about that, mostly because I thought at the time that the person you kissed was a petite girl with short hair and lots of make up. So, I don't think I can go back later and say I was "shocked" or anything else, when the truth is, I just didn't see it as "dramatic" or "cutting edge" or anything else. It seems to me that you and your keyboard player have some things to talk about, though.

I just wanted to drop you a line, however, to say that I hope you don't stop concentrating on your singing. I thought you sang pretty well on the few American Idol shows I did see, while I admit that I'm not really an AI watcher. Your singing wasn't there the other night. The theatrics, yes. The drama, yes--moreso than I even noticed, apparently. But your voice? Yeah, not so much.

Here's hoping you don't get lots of publicity for all this other junk and feel like that's reward enough. Most anybody can do a sexually explicit dance on a stage. Not just anybody can actually sing.

-b

An Important Commercial Message

2009-11-22T19:52:00.004-06:00

If you're trying to set off a bug bomb in your bedroom and the chemicals in the can spring forth like a perfect water fountain instead of spraying like hairspray, it's probably not working right.

This message has been brought to you by Those of Us Who Do Everything the Hard Way!!!!!!!!!

-b

Backpacking In, Around--and way outside of--Tennessee

2009-11-20T16:46:00.004-06:00

www.tennesseebackpacker.com

There are some great photos at the above site, and I just happen to know these two clowns pretty darn well. My person is one of them--I'm too old to call him my boyfriend. The other is one of his best friends. If you're similar to me and you like to camp vicariously through other people, then you might like what they're doing over at their brand new site.

-b

What Have You Got to Lose

2009-11-12T13:05:00.003-06:00

My brother visited back in June and stayed for a few weeks.

While he was here, he challenged me to take three risks by the end of the month. "Do three things that make you uncomfortable," he said. "What have you got to lose?"

'Makes you think, doesn't it?

-b

p.s. As it turns out, this was one of the best dares ever.

Everyone Has a Story

2009-11-07T11:00:00.004-06:00

So, I was sitting at lunch the other day with five women I'd never met before this week. Each one was accomplished in her field and that was only side of them I'd seen until lunch.

I sat there on the end and took in the conversation. One woman has been married for 16 years and is raising two small children. Another has been divorced for eight. Her husband made a series of bad choices and she had to pick up the pieces and start over without him. The woman at the end of the table was a cancer survivor. The woman next to me has been in her second marriage for two years and may not choose to have kids. The other woman talked about how she and her husband opened their home to an exchange student, who as it turned out, really needed a 'second' family.

I couldn't help but think that if we could all see each other's scars and know each other's stories, we might be kinder to each other.

-b

Repercussions

2009-10-29T16:17:00.001-06:00

Someone made fun of me for having a slinky today.

You know who you are.

You are dead to me.

-b

Worth Day

2009-10-28T21:30:00.002-06:00

My friend Rory told me today that they don't call them birthdays in their family. They call them "Worth Days." He said that he always wanted his children to know they were worth something.

I like that.

Today is my Worth Day. And, when I look at the volume of friends and acquaintances who took a second to send a good wish, I have to assume that I'm worth something to a few people (outside my family), at least.

That's a nice feeling.
Being worth something to somebody.

-b

Hint

2009-10-25T19:50:00.000-06:00

My mother makes the best pumpkin bread.
I'll be home in a few weeks.

Hi, Mom.

-b

Jane Doe

2009-10-12T18:59:00.002-06:00

Jim took Bernice for a walk around the block tonight. He came back with Bernice AND Jane Doe:

Looks like Dave's getting a dog!!!!! WooHoo!!!

-b

Elk and Dad and Jim

2009-10-09T23:09:00.000-06:00

My Dad is a serious and avid bowhunter. He hunts with a longbow. A lifelong passion, Dad has many animals on the wall at home, all of which he got with a bow and arrow. There's a kudu, a wildebeest, a caribou. A couple of gemsbok and a really ugly wild boar, amongst a plethora of other things. There's even an antelope. Antelopes can run 40-50 miles per hour, and Dad got one with a bow and arrow.

He can't seem to get an elk, though.

Dad went to Colorado three weeks ago for another elk hunt and came back empty handed. He said it was a good hunt, but still, no elk.

Jim went to Colorado last week. Unlike Dad who has been unable to get one elk, Jim shot two. Here are the shots he got.

Shots #1 and #2:

-b

Elvis and Me and Springsteen and Jackson Browne and Tony and Gold City

2009-10-06T20:27:00.003-06:00

When I was little, I thought my Mother knew Elvis. My Mom told me that my brother was named after Elvis because she had an affair with Elvis, but she loved my Dad more. So, she broke Elvis' heart but told him she would name her first-born son after him.

As a four year old, this made complete sense to me. As a five year old, I told it to my kindergarten class during show-and-tell. As a grown up, well, let's just say that whatever Mom needs to tell herself is just fine with me.

I got an invitation to a house concert by Jackson Browne. Do you know what I would pay to go to something like that????? Apparently, not $750. But, goodness, how amazing would that be?!?!?! I'm salivating just thinking about it. I shall use the, "Oh, I'll be out of town," excuse for the official record. Since I will be.

Tony and I were talking about the house concert today. And, then we starting talking about Springsteen who Tony will be seeing in the near future. And then about the crazy things people do to meet celebrities (should we pretend to be caterer's at the Browne concert? Is it worth a night in jail? Maybe. Aren't I too old to worry about a record?) And then he told me about Springsteen jumping the wall at Graceland to meet Elvis. And, then I Googled that story and here it is:

[Perhaps] the most famous incident of wall jumping occurred one night in 1976. Bruce Springsteen, who was enjoying the first rush of great fame and had just played Memphis on his Born to Run tour, decided to catch a cab to Graceland. Noticing a light on up at the house, he climbed the wall and ran to the front door. As he was about to knock, Security interceded. He recalls asking, “Is Elvis home?.” Answer: “No, Elvis isn’t home, he’s in Lake Tahoe.” (It was true.) Springsteen attempted to impress the guards by telling all about his being a recording star and his having recently made the covers of Time and Newsweek, as he was politely escorted to the street. (Perhaps they didn’t believe him or hadn’t heard of him yet.) Years later in a concert, he told the story and commented:

"Later on, I used to wonder what I would have said if I had knocked on the door and if Elvis had come to the door. Because it really wasn’t Elvis I was goin’ to see, but it was like he came along and whispered some dream in everybody’s ear and somehow we all dreamed it. And maybe that’s why we’re here tonight, I don’t know. I remember later when a friend of mine called to tell me that he’d died. It was so hard to understand how somebody whose music came in and took away so many people’s loneliness and gave so many people a reason and a sense of all the possibilities of living could have in the end died so tragically. And I guess when you’re alone, you ain’t nothin’ but alone. So anyway, I’d like to do this song for yous [sic] tonight, wishing you all the longest life with best of absolutely everything."

I did something adventurous once, too. My first cut after I moved to Nashville was in the late 90's with a southern gospel group called Gold City. They were singing at a concert at the Municipal Auditorium in Nashville. My brother was visiting and we wanted to hear them do the song live (I'd not heard their version yet.) We were too poor to pay the concert ticket fee (what? $15?), so we went down, found the freight entrance to the Auditorium, and walked in with the stage deliveries. We were so rebellious.

Because I'm Just.That.Cool.
Sigh...

-b

Postcards to Me

2009-10-02T18:54:00.004-06:00

Italy was my dream place. I booked a ticket there a few years ago when I made the "List of Things I'd Regret if I Died Tomorrow." Not visiting Italy was #1.

I remember the moment I booked the trip. I put my credit card information in and pressed, "Confirm."
I looked up to my friend Pat who was sitting there working quietly and said, a little flushed, "I just did it." I was a little shocked at myself.
"What did you do this time," she asked, knowing how I am.
"I booked the trip to Italy. I just did it."
She smiled and said, "Good for you. It's about time."

I went alone by choice, and for those weeks I did anything and everything I wanted. It was the only few weeks of my life that have ever been strictly about me, and it was glorious. Every last minute of it.

I have been reliving the trip through my scrapbook this evening. I'm having myself a blast over here. :-) The couple years of life that led up to the trip had really left me with just a few friends who I was in touch with. I had been kind of isolated, to understate (yes, Joel, I know.) So, when I got to Italy, I didn't really have many people I felt like I could send postcards to. Not that they wouldn't have welcomed a postcard, it's just that one might have come out of left field.

So, I sent them to me. I told myself what I was doing, how I was feeling, and how proud I was of myself for going alone and being 'fabulous.' haha. They started showing up at my house about a week after I got back.

These little postcards have been some of the best gifts I've ever given myself.

-b

The Incident and The Person and The Thing

2009-10-01T20:17:00.004-06:00

Several weeks ago I was unwillingly involved in what we'll call the "incident." I won't talk about it so don't bother asking. The incident isn't the point of the post. However, it's background that you need to know.

Last night I walked across the street and got my mail for the first time in a week, which is typical for me. I was going through the junk, the flyers and the bills when I came upon an envelope with a handwritten return address and a name at the top which, frankly, made me kind of want to vomit. I don't know The Person very well at all, and the fact that The Person was (directly and indirectly at the same time) involved in the 'incident', AND that The Person had my home address--well, all I could think was, "Oh, dear. I'm going to have to leave town now. This is my 'get out' notice."

A handwritten envelope? Does this happen in 2009? I put the envelope on the counter and stared at it. Gang, you can't imagine the profound sorrow and the anger and the disappointment and the embarrassment this incident caused me. The lost sleep. The worrying about every possible implication and the playing over of my (firm) reaction to said incident in my head. My OCD had so many field trips over this one. To be honest, I shut down for a few weeks, and I said to my closest people on more than one occasion, "This isn't what I signed up for. If this is how it's going to be, if this is how it really feels, I don't know that I want to be involved anymore." Relationships are everything in what I do, and I'd put some stuff on the line for what I deeply felt was just and right. No, for what I deeply feel is just and right.

And here was this envelope, from this person I don't really know, in my house on my kitchen counter. We hadn't spoken, and I didn't even know the role The Person had played in the mess. I had a few scenarios, but only guesses.

After about ten minutes of walking in and out of the kitchen, picking the envelope up and putting it back down, and doing it all again, and again, I finally tore it open. The Person had handwritten a note to me about the incident. The Person went so far as to offer an apology that The Person didn't really seem to owe me.

It was pure class. The Person actually wrote out a note and mailed it to me. Not an email, not a text, but a real note in black ink. In 2009. I'm impressed beyond words.

We shouldn't be so afraid to talk to each other.
We should all be reminded how powerful the pen and the page really is.
We should write notes when something compels us.

We should all be that classy.

-b

If a Tree Falls in the Forest...

2009-09-29T17:59:00.003-06:00

I can't help but wonder, if you go to the movies looking like complete butt and you go alone, and your boyfriend is in Colorado so he doesn't actually see you like this, do you still look like complete butt?

Does the Prada bag help?

-b

I Don't Like Milk Chocolate Candy Bars

2009-09-27T09:09:00.004-06:00

We call it Scary Chinese. I have no idea what the real name of the place is, nor would it matter. It's, quite frankly, a real dumpy hole in the middle of an equally dumpy strip mall not too far from here. They usually have a Health Department score of 98 or better, though, so I don't judge them by their surroundings. We get take out from there because it is cheap and good and the worker's are lovely.

The thing is the parking lot in this little strip mall is stupid crowded on the weekends, but there just aren't any business open except Scary Chinese. I can assure you that all the people are NOT in Scary Chinese. So begs the question, where are all the people? And so begs my one gene of common sense left, "Let it go."

I don't look around, I don't make eye contact and I most certainly don't ask question of the few random people I'll see in the parking lot driving up in their expensive black SUV's complete with pounding bass music, shiny chrome wheels and heavily tinted windows. I don't need to know. I just want my eggroll.

So, last night I broke the rule and decided I wanted Scary Chinese on a Saturday night. I'm not going to lie to you. I was a little unnerved about going over. Yet, it's an adventure and it was, after all, a Saturday night.

I joined the slow moving line of cars on the street and put my right blinker on. We inched our way in through the back up of vehicles trying to find spaces and I kept my eyes on the lot in front of me. The restaurant is at the far end of the lot and as I was about there, a woman appeared in front of my car. She was waving me into an empty spot. It was clear to me that she was selling something that really wasn't marketed to me. Oh dear.

I pulled into the space, pulled the keys out of the ignition and heard a rap on my window. I looked up expecting to see the woman asking for money and instead there was a little boy holding a box of candy bars. I rolled down the window and he asked if I would like to buy one for a dollar.

Gang, I looked around the parking lot, looked up at what I now know to be his mother, and just took it in. This is what his life looks like. I'm trying to keep my head down to avoid seeing anything that could get me shot later and this little guy's mother has brought him down here, of all places, to peddle chocolate bars.

"Yes," I said. "I'll take one. You pick out your favorite kind and that's what I want." He dug through the box of bars, which all looked alike and pulled out one from the bottom and handed it to me. Then, he took the money and gave it to his mother, who put it in her bra.

-b

The Fish

2009-09-23T19:08:00.003-06:00

And, for those of you who prefer the lighter side of the blog, or the usual side (like me), I'd just like to report that I was driving home on Briley Parkway today driving 55 mph. That's the speed limit there and I'd just passed two State troopers on my way to where I had been.

A man in a black Volvo tailgated me to the point that I started slowing waaayyy down so that he would get my non-verbal cue. He responded likewise with his own non-verbal: a big fat middle finger as he flew past me, once he finally decided to pass, that is.

Completing the picture of the middle-aged guy in the black Volvo wearing a wrinkled white dress shirt with his entire left arm out the driver's side window, middle finger waving in full upright position was the silver Jesus fish magnet on his left bumper.

Nice.

-b

The Health Care Reform Debate

2009-09-23T18:29:00.003-06:00

I was having a conversation about health care reform with one of my most conservative acquaintances. I was curious to hear his take on why some are vehemently against reforming the system in America. I kept asking a question for every answer he gave because I didn't feel like I was getting the guts of it, you know? So I kept pushing.

Finally, he said, "If someone can't afford health care and they get a life threatening illness, then, yes, they may have to die." He went on to say that health care is privilege and not a right, and described a kind of 'survival of the fittest' thing.

And that was the answer I was looking for. The core belief, if you will. Because, at your core, if you believe something, then changing your mind in the context of a few hours of debate likely isn't going to happen.

So, maybe it's a question of core beliefs at this point.

-b

Is Cursive Writing Leaving?

2009-09-21T21:49:00.004-06:00

I posted this on facebook and it has facilitated a nice discussion, not to mention that I've been writing in cursive all week just to make sure I can still do it.

-b

Cursive writing may be a fading skill, but so what?

by TOM BREEN, Associated Press Writer Tom Breen, Associated Press Writer – Sat Sep 19, 9:44 am ET

CHARLESTON, W.Va. – Charleston resident Kelli Davis was in for a surprise when her daughter brought home some routine paperwork at the start of school this fall. Davis signed the form and then handed it to her daughter for the eighth-grader's signature.

"I just assumed she knew how to do it, but I have a piece of paper with her signature on it and it looks like a little kid's signature," Davis said.

Her daughter was apologetic, but explained that she hadn't been required to make the graceful loops and joined letters of cursive writing in years. That prompted a call to the school and another surprise.

West Virginia's largest school system teaches cursive, but only in the 3rd grade.

"It doesn't get quite the emphasis it did years ago, primarily because of all the technology skills we now teach," said Jane Roberts, assistant superintendent for elementary education in Kanawha County schools.

Davis' experience gets repeated every time parents, who recall their own hours of laborious cursive practice, learn that what used to be called "penmanship" is being shunted aside at schools across the country in favor of 21st century skills.

The decline of cursive is happening as students are doing more and more work on computers, including writing. In 2011, the writing test of the National Assessment of Educational Progress will require 8th and 11th graders to compose on computers, with 4th graders following in 2019.

"We need to make sure they'll be ready for what's going to happen in 2020 or 2030," said Katie Van Sluys, a professor at DePaul University and the president of the Whole Language Umbrella, a conference of the National Council of Teachers of English.

Handwriting is increasingly something people do only when they need to make a note to themselves rather than communicate with others, she said. Students accustomed to using computers to write at home have a hard time seeing the relevance of hours of practicing cursive handwriting.

"They're writing, they're composing with these tools at home, and to have school look so different from that set of experiences is not the best idea," she said.

Text messaging, e-mail, and word processing have replaced handwriting outside the classroom, said Cheryl Jeffers, a professor at Marshall University's College of Education and Human Services, and she worries they'll replace it entirely before long.

"I am not sure students have a sense of any reason why they should vest their time and effort in writing a message out manually when it can be sent electronically in seconds."

For Jeffers, cursive writing is a lifelong skill, one she fears could become lost to the culture, making many historic records hard to decipher and robbing people of "a gift."

That fear is not new, said Kathleen Wright, national product manager for handwriting at Zaner-Bloser, a Columbus, Ohio-based company that produces a variety of instructional material for schools.

"If you go back, you can see the same conversations came up with the advent of the typewriter," she said.

Every year, Zaner-Bloser sponsors a national handwriting competition for schools, and this year saw more than 200,000 entries, a record.

"Everybody talks about how sometime in the future every kid's going to have a keyboard, but that isn't really true."

Few schools make keyboards available for day-to-day writing. The majority of school work, from taking notes to essay tests, is still done by hand.

At Mountaineer Montessori in Charleston, teacher Sharon Spencer stresses cursive to her first- through third-graders. By the time her students are in the third grade, they are writing book reports and their spelling words in cursive.

To Spencer, cursive writing is an art that helps teach them muscle control and hand-eye coordination.

"In the age of computers, I just tell the children, what if we are on an island and don't have electricity? One of the ways we communicate is through writing," she said.

But cursive is favored by fewer college-bound students. In 2005, the SAT began including a written essay portion, and a 2007 report by the College Board found that about 15 percent of test-takers chose to write in cursive, while the others wrote in print.

That was probably smart, according to Vanderbilt University professor Steve Graham, who cites multiple studies showing that sloppy writing routinely leads to lower grades, even in papers with the same wording as those written in a neater hand.

Graham argues that fears over the decline of handwriting in general and cursive in particular are distractions from the goal of improving students' overall writing skills. The important thing is to have students proficient enough to focus on their ideas and the composition of their writing rather than how they form the letters.

Data from the National Center for Education Statistics show that 26 percent of 12th graders lack basic proficiency in writing, while two percent were sufficiently skilled writers to be classified as "advanced."

"Handwriting is really the tail wagging the dog," Graham said.

Besides, it isn't as if all those adults who learned cursive years ago are doing their writing with the fluent grace of John Hancock.

Most people peak in terms of legibility in 4th grade, Graham said, and Wright said it's common for adults to write in a cursive-print hybrid.

"People still have to write, even if it's just scribbling," said Paula Sassi, a certified master graphologist and a member of the American Handwriting Analysis Foundation.

"Just like when we went from quill pen to fountain pen to ball point, now we're going from the art of handwriting to handwriting purely as communication," she said.

Forgiving

2009-09-20T17:36:00.002-06:00

When someone hurts my feelings in a profound way, I'm very slow to forgive. I don't know how to be a different person, but in this case, I wish I were someone who had more of that capacity.

-b

To the Better Angels of our Nature

2009-09-18T21:29:00.003-06:00

I'm now officially one removed from someone who has the H1N1 virus, formerly known as the Swine Flu, still known to me as Pig Flu.
Sigh.
I'm troubled.

Gang, I just implore you, if there is any good left whatsoever in all of humankind, on the sad and tragic chance that I contract this flu, please--PLEASE--don't dwell on the irony that I would get a flu that actually comes from pigs and that I live my life on a diet. Just let it be unspoken. Just let it be.

To good health-
-b

Questions about Bathwater and What People Do with It

2009-09-16T21:14:00.002-06:00

I think about things. It's just what I do.
So, this morning, in the dark stillness while the rain was pounding on the roof, I thought, "Why would anyone throw a baby out with bathwater?"

I mean, why in any circumstance or situation was that phrase a) necessary to say and then b) popular enough of a said phrase to live on as a life lesson.

Did people actually throw out infants with dirty water at some point in time?

-b

Ernestine

2009-08-31T13:19:00.003-06:00

Twitter had to go.
Granted, I really didn't tweet very much, but I still thought I would hold the address just in case I ever decided I wanted to be that accessible. And, yes, we all know that I just wasn't being honest with myself. I'll never want to be that accessible.

Then, over the past few weeks, the amount of 'adult' followers (and yes, I mean 'adult') had increased to the point that deleting these people had become a job in and of itself. So, this morning, when "Ernestine" announced that she was now following me on twitter, all I could say was, "Not without your pants on, Skankpot." And, frankly, that's a rule I plan to carry over into my daily life: you may not follow me without your pants on, ever.

So, it's gone. I deleted the whole thing. And if you find a belindaleesmith on there, it's not me. But Ernestine is probably wandering around lost in the general vicinity of where I was.

-b

Picture of the Guy Stealing Matt's Car

2009-08-28T21:29:00.003-06:00

My friend Matt paid off his car, a BMW, a few weeks back and took it into the dealership for routine servicing the same week. While his car was in the care of Pacific BMW in Glendale (California), this I'm-entitled-to-your-stuff-even-though-I'm-too-much-of-a-drain-on-society-to-get-an-honest-job-jerk-hat-hotshot-came up and stole it. Yes, this is a surveillance shot of the actual person stealing the actual car.

Now for the kicker: the dealership told Matt that it wasn't their responsibility, that insurance would handle it, BUT they would be glad to sell him a new car at a discounted price.

CAN.YOU.EVEN.IMAGINE??????? They didn't bother to verify that the guy picking the car up was the owner, and yet, somehow, it's not their problem. Stunning. Matt still doesn't have a replacement car. They are STILL trying to get out of it.

Sometimes I just don't know who I am in relation to this world anymore.

-b

p.s. That was PACIFIC BMW OF GLENDALE, CALIFORNIA. Tell your friends, neighbors and acquaintances.

An Interesting Perspective on Funding for the Arts

2009-08-28T15:33:00.000-06:00

Could've Been

2009-08-25T12:17:00.002-06:00

This is a headline on MSNBC.com today:

"Family feud turns into riot in small Ala. town
Up to 150 people brawl with tire irons, baseball bats; 8 arrested"

And on behalf of all the people from the State of West Virginia, I say, "Thank God for Alabama."

-b

White Water Rafting and Being Correct

2009-08-23T15:53:00.003-06:00

I've always been afraid to do it.
I grew up in West Virginia and the "thing" to do was go white water rafting on the Gauley River. If you look up footage on youtube, you'll understand why I had no desire to get into that kind of mess. I do not know a single soul who had done the Gauley and come out without cuts or bruises, and I know of one person who died on it. So, when I moved to Nashville and people started mentioning rafting on the Ocoee, you can imagine why my answer was, "Absolutely not. No thank you."

And then I started kind of wanting to face a few fears. I don't know why. Maybe I'm just scared of too many things and I'm tired of being owned by my fears. I mean, really, we're all going to die anyway, right?

First up was the snake fear. I decided I was going to touch one. However, when I went into the reptile store on Nolensville Road and got light-headed because I was literally so scared I was going to pass out at the point of realizing I was surrounded by snakes in little tupperware containers, and I had to leave...well, I decided to leave that fear intact.

Next up, white water rafting.

And, so, yesterday was the day. We loaded into the raft at Ocoee Outdoors with our guide-of-eleven-years, Jeremy (or Fraser, depending on who you ask) and we were off. Kids, I was nervous. I'm not even going to pretend otherwise. We had ten miles of river to go and all I knew was if anyone was going to die in our group, it would definitely be me.

And, boy, don't I look happy about it.

Needless to say, they don't set up the photo-ops at the...er...exciting places.

Several hours into the trip, Jeremy says, "Oh, we're going to surf here." I don't know what that means, but I assume from watching the boat before us do it that we're going to get a little stuck at the bottom of the waterfall and the boat will rock from side to side. I was wrong. We paddled over like lambs to the slaughter, we 'surfed' for a few seconds, Jeremy turned the boat to where I was on the side with the waterfall, and it wasn't ten seconds before I was just gone. I fell out, went under, panicked a little and started kicking, till I opened my eyes and couldn't see any light. That's when I remembered to let the life jacket do it's job and rode it out. First, I came up and hit my head on the raft. I went back down and came up on the other side of the raft, and floated on down the river.

I know they say you're floating, but the truth is, you're trying to get a breath, you're coughing the water out of your lungs, waves are still going over your head and taking you under, and you're trying to remember everything they told you in the safety briefing (and what you've learned from watching movies.) "Don't panic," I told myself. Someone yelled to me, "Get your paddle," and I wanted to say, "I CAN AFFORD TO BUY YOU A NEW ONE, MORON. I'M BUSY TRYING TO LIVE!!" But, I couldn't really talk. Aside from the "floating," I was trying to use my feet in front of me to avoid hitting the unseen underwater rocks. My left cheek can attest to you today that I failed that mission, though. Ouch.

Finally, they pulled me into the boat, and we went back to get Jim, who, unbeknownst to me, had fallen in right after me and taken two lungs full of water. I only hit the raft once trying to get up, but he hit it several times. Not good. And, probably best that I didn't know he was in a little trouble, or the 'don't panic' mantra wouldn't have worked.

We got situated, coughed it out, and started paddling again. A few rapids later, I was back in the water, 'floating.' When you don't have any idea that you're going in the water, though, you just don't know to take a big breath. And, so, I panicked a little more this time and had to worry about drowning for even more yards. I could see Jim had fallen out and he had floated down in front of me, but I just couldn't breathe. The waves kept coming over my head and I just couldn't get it together. (But, I had that ever important paddle in my hand this time, somehow. Isn't that ridiculous?) When I finally got out of that rough water and was maybe ten yards from Jim, I was able to say to him, "This part isn't fun."

Okay, now back in, and David is the only person who hadn't been out of the boat. Kids, I knew Jeremy was going to put him in and I was just trying to be ready. Sure enough, when it came time, I was flying through the air again. This time I had enough wit about me to take a big breath and hold my nose. Ahhh...much better. I went under and was back up in no time. And, aside from the fact that I landed on Dave who was underwater, and I might have stood on him a second too long, we were all okay. I felt like that was my Olympic fall. (Great form.)

This time, Jim and Jeremy pulled me back onto the raft. I thought it was maybe time to hedge my bets and I said to Jeremy, with my body half-in and half-out of the raft, "I'd like for us to be friends. All the things I've said and done to make you mad at me, I'd like to apologize for." He promised I wouldn't go in again after that. (Note to self.)

And, with that, Eric 'rode the bull' on the final rapid and didn't fall off, and we ended ten miles on the Ocoee, life and lungs intact.

And, I'm not going to lie to you, it was scary a few times. And, I was totally right for being a little nervous about it.
But, at the end of the day, I did it. I stepped waaaaaaaayyy out of a comfort zone and ended up alive.
That feels pretty good.

-b

p.s. You still couldn't pay me to do the Gauley.

Serendipity

2009-08-20T22:04:00.003-06:00

My brother bought me a book and mailed it to me today. I'm so excited to have it, as I've shown much restraint with not buying it for myself. I actually read the first 14 pages at Davis Kidd last week because I just couldn't stand it.

Multiple people have emailed me about this book and told me that the writing style reminded them of mine.

So, I was teaching at the Tennessee Young Writer's Workshop in July and I looked at Darnell, my famous fiction-writer cousin with the book out, and I say, "Hey, do you know any thing about this book about finding salvation at the Dairy Queen?" She points over to Schuyler, who is a ray-of-light talented student in the camp and said, "Susan Gilmore is Schuyler's aunt.

Such a small world.
And so now I'm really, really looking foward to reading the book.
Thanks, Aaron.

-b

I'm not saying it's right or it's wrong...

2009-08-19T17:12:00.000-06:00

Because I'm the Absolute Coolest

2009-08-18T09:22:00.003-06:00

I have a mosquito bite right smack in the middle of my forehead.

Niiice.

-b

The Lady in the Maroon Buick

2009-08-17T15:45:00.002-06:00

I pass by a grocery store parking lot on my daily routine several days per week. There are three rows of parking spaces at this grocery store with trees planted at the ends of the rows. Everyday, office workers who prefer the solitude of eating lunch in their cars vie for the shade under one of these trees. There are usually different kinds of cars and different kinds of people, depending on the day and time. It's oddly fascinating to me. (I know, I need a hobby.)

The interesting part of this is that there is one lady who is there in the parking lot every single time I drive by during the work day. She is there if I go by at 9:00AM, she is there if I go by at noon, she is there if I go by at 2:-30 P.M. Every time. She sits in her car with all the windows rolled down and her left foot out on the ground most days.

A few weeks ago I started needing to know her story. Today, I almost just asked, but I didn't. I don't think I can ask her without her thinking I'm stalking her or something. Can you stalk someone who is sitting still? Anyway, I don't want to take away her solitude. I know how much people need it sometimes.

However, because I make things up for money anyway, I've taken to writing her a new story every time I pass her. Yesterday, I decided she has been fired from her job and she doesn't want her husband to know because he is mean and controlling, so she gets up every day and goes to the grocery store parking lot to make it look like she is working. Today, though, that story felt too "Lifetime" and so I made her a novelist. She is writing a tween series and she's going to be rich, and then in her interview on Oprah she will say that she wrote the whole book in longhand in a parking lot under a tree.

…I know.

But now you're wondering, too, aren't you?
-b

Gosselin

2009-08-15T18:41:00.003-06:00

I have never watched this reality show about Jon and Kate and their eight children. I just started catching bits about these people in news bites online here and there, and I guess I know their overall stories by now.

Any time I see anything about Jon and Kate, I can't help but wonder if they would say that all the money and "celebrity" has been worth what (and who) they've become?

At the end of the day, there are eight little people who didn't ask for any of this, whose family has been ruined because of it, and they'll be able to read and see photos of it online for the rest of their lives. Tragic. I'd like for Jon and Kate to go away, for their kids' sakes.

I'm going to do my part by not clicking on any more links about Jon or Kate. And, frankly, I think that's a win-win for all of us.

-b

World Market

2009-08-11T13:02:00.002-06:00

My mom and brother are visiting and so I've been carting them around town all day to see the sights. We've stopped in for just a minute before heading off to a different shopping area, but I did need to say that I've decided to sell my house and all my belongings and physically move into World Market.

I could not love a store more.

-b

and the winner is...

2009-08-11T09:06:00.004-06:00

I did it. I've polled you all for nearly a year--blackberry vs. iphone? In the end, the votes came out to be pretty even. I've grilled you about features and services, wants needs, coverage, etc. You iPhone people are a devoted group (Sue, Jason...), but then so are the Blackberry people (Anthony, Rory...).

I present to you my winner:

-b

Bourne Ultimatum: Fact vs. Fiction

2009-07-30T13:23:00.003-06:00

We watched this movie (finally) the other night.

All I can say is that making Jason Bourne be an assassin wasn't a good thing. But, you have to give them a few props for the all encompassing, highly skilled level of training he received. The guy was prepared for absolutely everything.

And, that's how we also know that the movie is a complete work of fiction. There is no possible way the federal government could ever train anybody that well. :-p

-b

Betrayal

2009-07-28T18:35:00.003-06:00

I just came across an article about Judas Iscariot in the New Yorker. You know, the guy who betrayed Jesus in the Bible? It's a long article, but it was interesting to me. It was about how some scholars seem to be trying to 'rehabilitate his image.'

Here's a quote that stuck out to me: For two thousand years, Judas has therefore been Christianity’s primary image of human evil.

I have to say that for whatever reason, be it not paying attention in church all those Sunday morning-Sunday night-Wednesday night-plus revival-plus special activities or just plain missing the boat, I've never thought of Judas that way. I was a little taken by that statement because I've always thought of Judas as the Bible's most tragic character. I've always thought it was just devastatingly sad that anybody had to betray Jesus for the whole story to play out, and I've always felt a little sorry for him in the fact that it was, for whatever reason, him. Always. And, he even kind of tried to undo it, but of course he couldn't. And it was so much on him that he killed himself.

I don't know.
I've just always thought it was sad.

And,I just thought that was interesting.
And it's on my mind since I just finished reading the article.
And it's my blog so I can say what I want.

-b

p.s. Here's the link if you're inclined: http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/atlarge/2009/08/03/090803crat_atlarge_acocella?currentPage=1

Our Daily Reflection

2009-07-27T13:24:00.002-06:00

My friend Kelley sent this to me just now. It's a quote she read somewhere along the way.

"Never argue with a fool. Those who are listening will not be able to tell which of you is which."

-b

Tammy

2009-07-24T20:04:00.004-06:00

I went to Kroger after working to get some dinner.

I chose to use the self check-out option. You know, where you scan your own items, and then you bag your own items, and then you start wondering why you're not getting a discount for doing this? Yeah, that one.

Well, Kroger seems to have updated their self check-out machines. Tonight I walked up with my items, dug my keys out from the bottom of my purse and scanned that ridiculous little card that I keep on my keychain as Kroger insists on this stupid rite of passage to give me a fair price, and began the check-out process. I guess I was hoping for one less conversation for the day. One less confrontation. Maybe just a minute to myself.

Instead, the 'woman' in the machine decided to make our exchange ugly. Very rude, actually. "PLEASE SCAN YOUR FIRST ITEM," she shouted. I actually looked back over my shoulder to make sure she wasn't yelling at someone behind me.

No. It was me she was gunning for. I scanned my Carnation coffee creamer as quickly as I could and she shouted, "PLEASE PLACE THE ITEM IN THE BAG." "Okay, slut," I thought. I'm not going to pretend it has been a great day here at the ranch, and so this deal of telling me what to do as I'm already doing it rubbed me the wrong way.

I wrestled with the bag which was still attached to the little silver arms in the bagging area. You know, the little plastic ones (yes, I recycle them) that are made specifically difficult to open so that we all take a minute to decide if we really want to use that moment to loose our witness or find a new testimony? Yeah, those. I couldn't get it open without a little doing, and at the exact moment I was able to roll the sticky plastic opening apart, Tammy (that's what I named her) yelled again, "PLEASE PLACE YOUR ITEM IN THE BAG. "

"I.AM.YOU.STUPID.TRAMP." I said back...too loud.

And so for the next 6 items, I raced against Tammy, trying to scan and put my item in the bag before she TOLD me to DO what I was ALREADY DOING!!!!

Score:
Tammy - 4
Me - 2

Game on, witch.

-b

Safety First

2009-07-02T07:42:00.003-06:00

So, I'm at home in West Virginia. It was the longest drive of all time yesterday to get here, next to the Christmas ice storm. So, okay, the second longest drive. I was a little spent.

Dad and I were sitting there last night and we heard what sounded like something hit the outside of the house beside him. We ignored it the first time, but got up to check the second. They've been having break-ins around here now that so many people are losing their jobs at the plant. Dad went out the back door and I went out the front.

Mom and Dad have a huge piece of property which my Grandpa bought and built the house on when my Mom was little. Mom and Dad have added this terrific long, covered front porch. I stepped out on the front porch, looked out through the darkness and turned to the left. From just off the porch, pointing straight at me was a little red dot.

I.HIT.THE.DECK!!!!!!! I'm about to be shot. You've seen those rifles with laser scopes in the movies, right? Well, I wasn't going to be a standing target, at the very least. I.WAS.DOWN.

I looked up in my panic and noticed that the light had now turned purple. That's odd. Okay, and now blue. And now back to red.

And now my head starts to clear: the light was from the firefly lawn ornament that Mom has over there in her flowerbed.

-b

The Twenty Year Check In

2009-06-28T21:31:00.005-06:00

I'm wondering what it's going to be like Friday to be faced with twenty years of decisions all in one night. I'm wondering how that's going to look and feel. And if it will, indeed, freak me out as I'm suspecting it will. Lot's can go wrong in twenty years...and lots can go right. Here's hoping my rights outweigh my wrongs.

The one thing I know for sure is that my high school years weren't the best years of my life. It seems like I'm always looking around and thinking, "Oh, so these must be the best days of my life." And then, a few months later, it's, "Oh, THESE must be the best days," and then a few months later I do it again. Funny, I feel like I'll be saying the same thing in just another few months. I'm lucky in that the best days of my life keep happening. ...seems like that's probably the most I could've hoped for, huh?

To the future--

-b

Getting Around

2009-06-27T14:14:00.001-06:00

It seems like wherever there is a TV camera, there is Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton.

-b

...and Fifty.

2009-06-25T09:19:00.003-06:00

Me: I'd like to mail this package.
Post Office Lady (with snotty attitude): I can't read that. It's too light.
Me: Oh. Well, if I could borrow your marker, I'll trace over it so it will be darker.
Post Office Lady (with more attitude, pointing with her ruby red 7 inch fingernail to the State abbreviation): What's this? Is that W? What's that state?
Me: WV. It's the State of West Virginia. It's the State beside Virginia.

I couldn't help but wonder, is there any job in which knowing all fifty states would be more important? These are the people who deliver MAIL! Seems like knowing all fifty should be a requirement.

Just sayin'--

-b

The Perils of Summer

2009-06-22T20:37:00.002-06:00

The birds ate the tomatoes from the garden overnight. They weren't ready to pick, but we had been very much looking forward to the first bites. Instead, the blasted birds waited till it was dark and big fat ate them.

Birds are jerks.

-b

How Much I Make--Not

2009-06-19T08:18:00.001-06:00

Today I met someone who works part time and earns $27,000 per month. Yes, I said twenty-seven thousand dollars per month.

He is not a songwriter.

-b

The Guest Bathroom

2009-06-12T13:54:00.003-06:00

It went something like this: It was dark red, then I troweled paint on in black and white (which also created gray, of course) and I hated it for a bathroom. So then I primed in white, thinking I'd do a light color. Then I changed my mind and decided on charred olive. So, I started painting over the stark white primer with olive. Four times. I still need to do another pass or two (this is why you should use a primer close to your paint color, boys and girls--I'm your cautionary tale.) I would've never done that in a client's house, but since it was my own, I thought I'd try to save some money. I did. Then I lost weeks of time in the process. (I'm cool. I'm wise. It's true.)

So, now, probably a month later, I look at the poorly painted walls, the switchplates on the sink and the ladder in the bathtub and think, "Maybe I should do this in sandstone instead?"

Someone stop me.

-b

Soapbox Alert

2009-06-08T19:36:00.002-06:00

The dog park is a park for dogs.
Not unsupervised kids. And definitely not toddlers.
I saw a kid get bit last year. He was unsupervised and he'd shown up to play--er, harrass--the dogs. One dog just turned on a dime and bit him. Hard.

Dogs are dogs, and when they're in a situation where there are lots of dogs, you really can't predict what they'll do. You can assume, but you don't really know.

So, no, I don't think it's appropriate to bring your toddler to the dog park to play with the dogs.

And thank you for asking.

-b

Answers to People I Haven't Gotten Back to Yet This Week

2009-06-05T22:58:00.003-06:00

1. B--go to Madison. I don't do that for people I know. You will wait MUCH less time in Madison.

2. J--I haven't heard. I'm assuming that it will be fine if we don't show up, since we didn't.

3. C--Really, 1/4 for a few weeks and then 1/8 for a few weeks and then off. It's miserable. I'm sorry you have to do it.

4. L--Please send the license request to seventh row music. I realize you have a ministry, and I'm sure you'll understand that I do, too. Mine pays the electric bill and buys groceries. Thanks.

5. M--are you a weeknight writer only? I'm looking forward to writing with you. We'll get it nailed down.

6. E--you are one of my favorite human beings. Thanks for slumming with us Saturday. Love your new rolling pin.

7. T--the fact that we would have to know where all the hospitals are between here and there is precisely why I heart you. Not in spite of that.

8. I--lunch on Wednesday will be like a much needed drink of cool, refreshing water. Next time, bargain shopping.

-b

my new diagnosis

2009-06-04T16:17:00.000-06:00

I'm not a phone person. I'm just not.

So, you can only imagine how over it I am that I've been phoning my doctor for three full days and I've gotten either the message that says, "Please call back during business hours,"--THESE ARE YOUR BUSINESS HOURS, WOMAN!--or a busy signal, which I've gotten all day today.

I would just stop by tomorrow, but she's only open MONDAY THROUGH THURSDAY!!!!!!!

(I'm not shouting at you, gang. I'm just shouting at her in my head. )

And, now, my needing to ask her a simple question has turned me into an obsessive-compulsive, borderline psychotic SHOUTER!!!!! WHO OVER-USES EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!

Sigh...

-b

When Factory Just Isn't Enough

2009-06-03T09:30:00.002-06:00

We were at the Wal-Mart grocery in East Nashville. This minivan was parked in front of me.

You know, sometimes, you just get sick of being hot.

-b

Hello? Is this thing on?

2009-06-02T15:16:00.005-06:00

Well, apparently, there is something wrong with my counter on here. I've had exactly zero visits on here for about 3 months. Goose Egg. So, I quit blogging. I mean, I can keep a journal privately, you know?

As it turns out, there is something wrong with the code for counting visitors. I thought it wasn't adding up considering I've gotten lots of emails asking about the blog.

I thought you just didn't care.

Well, I assumed you didn't care before, but I accepted your pity. :-)

To those of you who are still checking in every few weeks, I pledge to show up. For those of you who gave up on me, well, you won't read this anyway, so I won't waste your time telling you anything.

Cheers!

-b

Choices

2009-04-29T08:56:00.002-06:00

So, really, who thought it would be a good idea, an acceptable idea, even, to fly a Boeing low on the skyline in NYC for an Air Force One photo-op?

Because every single person who agreed and who could've stopped it should have to wear sign on his or her head that reads, "STUPID," for the rest of the year.

-b

Delivery

2009-04-25T09:07:00.002-06:00

Brian Copeland told me the other night that I could have his convertible Smart Car. I can't help noticing that it STILL hasn't been delivered.

Just saying...

-b

What's Left

2009-04-18T12:44:00.002-06:00

I am pretty sure that I don't actually have a blade of grass in my front yard. It's all dandelions, crab grass and other unidentifiable weedage. And, now that I've sprayed chemicals on the lawn to get rid of all the weeds, I'm guessing my front yard will now be dirt.

Nice.

strange and unbelievable

2009-04-17T12:29:00.002-06:00

The email I received today reads:

I wish to notify you that late Engr. Jurgen Krugger made youa beneficiary to his WILL. He left the sum of Thirty Million, One Hundred Thousand Dollars (USD$30,100.000.00) to you in theCodicil and last testament to his WILL. This may sound strange and unbelievable to you, but it is real and true. Being a widely traveled man, he must have been in contact with you in the past or simply you were nominated to him by one of his numerous friends abroad who wished you good.

Someone "wished" me "good."
I'm very, very lucky.

-b

Stinky Tramps

2009-04-13T16:09:00.003-06:00

You know what stinks?

It's when you starve yourself for 6 weeks, eat stuff that has no real taste, count every calorie, exercise and, because your metabolism is clearly at a near standstill, you REJOICE with trumpets and the clanging of cymbals when you lose even .2 pounds in a week. "Any progress is progress, " you tell yourself, and you kind of do believe it. And then you eat at Bob Evans with your parents and AFTER the meal you find out that stupid little SALAD clocks in at 1250 calories (more than you're allowed in a day--what was IN that stupid thing? Grilled chicken, lettuce, dried cranberries? LARD?) But, that's okay, you've saved your 'extra calories' for the week and you'll just use them on the stupid salad...instead of the fabulous meal you were planning to use it on...but whatever. And you're losing, but it is slower than a snails pace...but you're losing.

Wait, no, that's not the 'stinks' part.

What stinks is that you're going through all of that and, unbeknownst to you, the woman that you see on a fairly regular basis who probably weighed about 230 in January snuck off without telling and had the belly band surgery, and so in almost the same amount of time that you've manage to drop 8.4 pounds (give or take three weeks) she's dropped "a little over FIFTY!!!" and says she's lost the weight by "just eating less."

She's such a tramp. ;-p

-b

Camping, the Aftermath

2009-04-08T17:22:00.003-06:00

A group of us went camping over the weekend. Tent camping, as Jim calls it. We had great weather, a beautiful lake to look at and wonderful food (thank you, Jim.) The dogs had so much fun that they're just starting to wake up, and it's Wednesday.

I have been in a panic trying to get all the ticks off the dogs. I don't want them to get sick. I'm not even going to tell you how many have been removed. Still, the question begs:

HOW do find ticks on pug????? In that stupidly thick hair????

-b

How to Change Your Mind

2009-03-30T15:49:00.002-06:00

Sometimes I think I'll get a new house at some point. Then, I look around my little place and think of how nice it is to not have to deal with cleaning a larger space and mowing a larger yard and how I don't sink all my income into a house, and I drop it. That doesn't stop me from looking, though. I've become quite a little snoop with houses for sale, and with some that I'd just like to buy even though they're not for sale.

Yesterday was a snoop day. And I was snooping in on the rich people and their multi-million dollar homes that they no longer want.

That's when I found the house that has the pool I'm going to have when I do move (let me dream, okay?) The pool had the requisite waterfall, of course, the hot tub, the rock wall landscaping with both the deep and shallow ends, and all the privacy of a home sitting on a hill on an exclusive boulevard in Brentwood. I admit that in my heart of hearts and deep within the fibers of my being, I'm so not a Brentwood person. I am, however, a cool pool person. And, this, gang, is the pool.

As I took the virtual tour of this house, I kept wondering what type of person gets to have this house. Who was born into this, or what correct decisions were made to allow for this, or who worked themselves so hard day in and day out so that they could live in this house and raise their family here with this pool?

After a few more clicks, I found that the place was built in 2005. Okay, so there are no fond family memories. A few more clicks, and I was able to see that the place wasn't decorated all that well. It was okay, but clearly the money went into the house itself rather than the decorating. Hmmm…

Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. A few more clicks and a google later, I'd found the name of the person who is selling this place AND his profession. No, he's not a doctor or a lawyer, he's not a finance guy and he's not in the medical field or in insurance (lots of old money in Nashville from insurance.) No, gang, our guy with the $2+ million dollar home on the exclusive boulevard in the haughty neighborhood with the amazing pool gets to have all this because he owns, all across Tennessee, Adult Video Bookstores.

I'm not even kidding.

It's the house that naked built. And now I don't want it. Or its pool…ESPECIALLY its pool, ever.

-b

Wednesday, March 25th, 2009

2009-03-25T21:19:00.003-06:00

I wrote at a new place today. There were 'roach traps' in the room. Nice. We still managed to write an up-tempo, positive song. Go figure.

Then, a lovely woman from the YMCA communications department called me personally to apologize for yesterday's Zumba camera debacle. Yes, I sent an email. I know. I'm becoming that person. I accept it, but there comes a time in life when it's not okay to let things go. Sometimes you just have to take people to task. Hat's off, though, to the woman for making the phone call. She had NO idea if I were going to yell and scream or be accepting of her apology. (Yes, I made it easy on her. I'm not a monster...most days.)

Later, an artist/friend of mine of mine called me on his way home from the studio after recording a song I wrote with Tony and Barry. He was ecstatic about the cut. Gang, that just so rarely happens. I think the only other artist to call me personally about how much they loved a cut of a song was Jeff Easter when he finished, "Over and Over." I guess artists just don't think about that stuff, but I can remember most every detail of that conversation, and today's. Funny.

And, this evening, I had my first experience with designer foils. They are for walls and furniture, and I'd never played around with them. Gang, now that I can do this to walls, I don't know how I'll ever stay humble.

There's your snapshot.

-b

I Can't Talk About It: My Worst Fear

2009-03-24T13:18:00.002-06:00

My worst fear: me, in my Zumba class, being filmed and then put on TV. I would've rather had touched a snake. I would've rather HELD the snake, and that makes me short of breath even typing it.

Today, the camera crew came into the Zumba class. They were filming some guy and some girl--wanna-be reality TV stars, I find out later. (Shoot, they could BE reality TV stars--I wouldn't know.) It took me a few minutes to realize that this wasn't for a quick TV news segment which I could stay safely out of. I left the class early, of course.

But, yeah. There were cameras, there were cameramen crowding me and there were some pretty angry people who left even before I figured out how bad it could really get. Someone put a sign on the classroom door advising that the class was being filmed AFTER the class started. That was helpful.

...and yeah, I can't talk about it anymore. It's just that...no...I really can't discuss this right now...

-b

Regrets

2009-03-23T18:10:00.003-06:00

A reminder from a yahoo! news story:

"The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated," [Ted] Hughes wrote to his son, who committed suicide at 47 last week at his home in Fairbanks, Alaska, 46 years after Nicholas' mother, poet Sylvia Plath, killed herself.

"And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all."

No, you didn't listen to that hard enough, so I'm repeating it:

"And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all."

-b

Streaking

2009-03-22T14:37:00.001-06:00

Today, I took Pete and Bernice to the dog park. We were having a perfectly lovely time of running and playing, and they were interacting with other dogs (hooray), when I noticed an odd streak down Bernice's side.

Upon closer inspection, it was dog poo.

Well, great. Stinking great.

-b

Calculator

2009-03-20T20:58:00.001-06:00

Every time I use my desktop computer and type for a bit, the calculator application opens up. Sometimes I have two or three calculator windows open throughout my work. Right now I have two.

I could not carry this secret in my soul any longer.

-b

Boundaries--The Dark Post

2009-03-20T20:35:00.004-06:00

Today someone who has a history of clinical depression and dumping it in my lap told me that they spent an entire day just crying. This is so far from the first time that I've been handed this burden that I cannot even begin to recall the day it started.

I said to them, "If you're unwilling to do the work which depression requires, then stop asking me to do it for you."

Sounds a little harsh when I read it back, but I'm tired. As one who fully understands the toll depression can take on your deepest soul, I'm learning to impose boundaries as I grow up, even when it's hard. There are professionals, there is medication, and there are options. There is not, however, a dumping ground at my feet, and I cannot fix you. (I submit my incredibly flawed self as proof.)

Be forewarned now. I'm getting tired of holding my opinions back so that other people don't have to feel uncomfortable. No one seems to mind in the least what their words do to me and in return I'm caring less and less about keeping the peace these days.

To quote a friend who I'm finally really starting to understand: Don't go there unless you really, really, REALLY want to. You may not like how either one of us look after we get back.

-b

Ironic Selflessness

2009-03-19T20:52:00.005-06:00

I told Jim tonight at dinner that I've written two songs in two days that I especially love. This is unheard of. Magic twice in one week? And then two days back to back? One is slow and one is fast. Again, unheard of to get BOTH that I love.

Jim pointed out that I "seem to write the best when I don't think I can write anymore." He then very generously offered to beat me down mentally as needed.

I declined, but I thought the offer was selfless on his part, nonetheless.

-b