Friday Night Lights

It's that time of year again...

The summer is making it's final attempt to cook us all to death with searing heat, the kids are dreading the return school, AND....we are one short month away from the first high school football game of the season. Awwwww yeah!

I LOVE FOOTBALL. Since I was a little girl, I can remember what happened every Monday night at my house. Everyone had to get their baths and 'jammers on. There was a pallet in the floor for us younger ones, and momma would pop a couple of HUGE tubs of popcorn, ya know, the ole timey kind made in a skillet. Man it was good.
Then you would hear it...BA-BA-BA-BAAAAAAAAA! The opener for Monday night football would blare across the television, and it was officially ON. Everyone watched football at our house. Yeah, we only had ONE TV, but we watched because we all loved it...dad in his recliner, momma on the couch (probably knitting), and the rest of us locked in on all the glory that was the NFL. I remember Joe Namath, Mean Joe Green...

When my bro Bob was in high school, the tradition continued. The Hamburg Lions were a tuff bunch of good ole country boys, and they made it to the playoffs the year I turned 7. I remember crying my eyes out after we lost in the second round playoffs to Camden. We had won all the other games, so why did we lose this one? I was devastated.

Now, I am lucky enough to relive my childhood love of football as an adult.


As part of my job, I am a sideline reporter for Crossett football games. Above, l to r, me, Crossett head coach Teodis Ingram, my boss Dennis Maxwell who does play-by-play, and our color man, former Crossett coach Jeff Senn.

This is one part of my job that I have come to LOVE...being right up in the middle of the action is like pure adrenaline. Eaves dropping on the refs, seeing the plays up close, it's gotta be more addictive than a crack pipe.

What is your favorite memory of sports? Holla...and by the way....

WE'RE BAAAAAACK!

Caption This

Okay, boys and girls! Time to drag out your collective opinions and tell me...

What thoughts come to mind when you see this picture?



This was sent to me via email with a group of photos (photographer unknown). There were a slew of great photos, some hilarious, some shocking, some, well....just gross. But this, ah.....this is provocative, and not by way of T & A.

Nowadays, you get some many differing opinions on how women are viewed, how they are treated, blah-blah-blah. What do YOU think?

Here's my take in a nutshell. Many people claim that women are overlooked, overworked, under paid and under appreciated. This IS a man's world...but aren't we all responsible for whom and what we are? Some women choose to use 'what God gave them' to make a living. And therein lies the controversy. The fact is, when most men are faced with a good looking woman, they will dissolve into jelly. Their resolve is linked to something so primal, that it literally disintegrates when they get an eye full. So some smart person, somewhere decided to capitalize on the female form. And guess what? Willing females from ALL WALKS OF LIFE came running...they aren't stupid, they know they will make hella money.

I figure if a smart, self possessed female capitalizes on her looks as a means to extort money from gawking successful males, SO WHAT? Sounds to me like she's using her head for something besides a hat rack, and getting paid in the process. I don't believe in the exploitation of women on ANY level, but I think it's time for us gals to realize just how smart and well-armed we really are. And for all working girls out there, whether you are shaking that money maker, or running a corporation, be happy and love yourself. You have all the power of the universe at your disposal...just ask that guy sitting next to you.

Ginger the Great

After having perused my newly revamped blog, I thought I should pay homage to the one who made it all happen, Ginger.


The first time I met Ginger was here...at a little ole place called Chelsey's.

Anybody else out there miss going there?

Anyway, our friend J was having a birthday, but she was mighty pregnant at the time. So we went to a place in which the extremely bad/good entertainment would make up for her inability to drink.

So we had a great big, fun, loud, hot, giggly, smokey, raucous birthday party right there...in the midst of about 150 rednecks.

Muuuuuuch later in life, I met Miss G right here, again, on the web. And I'm so glad I did...because now, due to her savvy, I have a fabulous blog AND a new buddy.

Thanks for restoring some of the faith I had lost in human kind, G-Dawg. You are smart, self-possessed, honest, talented, generous, beautiful and a dam hard worker...something I rarely if ever encounter in my daily life. So consider yourself 'snapped' today! You sure as hell deserve it.

MY BLOG LOOKS GREAT!!!

Now...who can name all the peeps in the pic? Tick-tock...





Where's G-dawg?

Where can I get some samples??????????? 

WTF? Friday

It's impossible to compose my thoughts when all that keeps running through my mind is bulls***.

I'm mad. Angry, disillusioned, disappointed...hell I'm furious. There are so many reasons for my anger that I can't pinpoint just one.

London is under attack....AGAIN. When will this madness stop???? Every day driving to work, I'm afraid to turn on the radio for fear of hearing about more bombings. If I could get my hands on the ones responsible, I would make them beg for death.

My job has never been as hectic as it is right now. And in just a short month or so, it's gonna get worse. I used to look forward to summer as being our 'off season'...but those days are gone. My life has become a cycle of sleep, wake, work, sleep, wake, work. The work actually continues after my paying job, as I never seem to get to stop moving and sit down until after 9 p.m. each day. WTF?

Men. I do not understand men. I don't know how to deal with them, communicate with them, or please them. I'm sick of trying. My friend has a book entitled 'Why Men Love Bitches'. I need to read that one, maybe then I would begin to understand why I'm so unlikeable to the opposite sex. It just doesn't pay to be nice anymore...being nice nowadays is interpreted as a sign of weakness. When did THAT happen?

Still waiting for that 'break' that I ranted about earlier this month. No breaks, no help, no reprieve. And you know what? I don't expect I'll ever get one. I've heard it said, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Hell, I would love to get a whopping truck load of lemons! They are a dam sight more palatable than bulls***.

I Can't Stand No Mow

Got some family coming in this weekend for a visit, so I plan to do a little mowing tomorrow and spiff the place up.

I have been in negotiations with Boo to work on my beloved high-wheeled trimmer...it is under the weather right now and I neeeeeed it. It will cut hella weeds and even some saplings, and unlike a hand-held trimmer, it won't break my back

Dad's front ditch is a jungle, as is the pond bank in front of my house. SO I GOTS TA HAVE DAT TRIMMA! *sigh*

My only other option is this...



Now I've used kaiser blades, swing blades and the like...but this is ridiculous. And don't anyone say a dang thing about me being from Ark-in-saw. I gotta git er dun.

HAVE A FREAKIN' GREAT WEEKEND, YO!

My Hero

Had a nice visit with my dad yesterday. That's him, sitting on his 88 Harley Wide Glide...it's getting a new electrical system right now, so we haven't ridden together in quite a while. I'm ready for another ride with my dad, after all, he is why I love bikes in the first place. Although he doens't burn rubber as much he used to, if I'm riding passenger, he will nail it to the road on takeoff just to remind me he still can. That is my FAVORITE part...



I always learn something when I go visit dad, usually about myself and why I am the way I am. And such was the case yesterday. I definitely am my father's daughter, and I count this a blessing. The only thing I hope NOT to inherit from him is his hairdo...you can't tell fromt the pic, but dad is bald.

As we talked yesterday, the conversation never lagged or became repetitive. We talked about family, and upbringing and good and bad. That is why I love my dad so much...he never sugar coated one thing while teaching me right from wrong. He laid it all out, and let me decide for myself.

Looking forward to a good time this weekend. My brother and his family are coming for a visit, and there will surely be a "pickin''. I'm not referring to vegetables, I'm talking about guitars! I'll take lots of pics to post next week of the jam session.

Oh...btw...my dad, my uncle and some friends played at a local "club" in town last night. I wonder if they brought the house down? I'd better call and be sure I don't need to bail him out of jail....LOL...JUST KIDDING, DAD.

Go with me to Milo...

Last week, as you all know, was a tough week for me. One of the first things I do when I get off-center is get grounded again...I go home.

I did just that last Friday evening. As I headed north toward Milo, my car seemed to switch to auto-pilot, and I seemed to start breathing a little easier. The day was lovely, cooler but still a bit hazey. As I drove past all of the home places that have been indelibly etched into my mind, I recalled fond memories of the people who live, or in some cases, lived there once upon a time. I saw Shorty in his garden...Mamaw and Papaw's old house place...my great grandmother's old home place, too.

As I approached my first destination, my aunt's home, I remember all the times my cousins and I would play in that front yard. They had the only trampoline in the family, so of course we wore the springs off it. Games like "King Cobra" and "D. Faye" come to mind. One of our favorite things to do was spin 45's on the portable record player, under the concrete carport, and roller skate through an "obstacle course" created entirely of work and gum boots. My skates were electric blue with bright yellow/gold stripes, gold wheels, and glitter gold laces. I was the shiznit.

My grandmother now lives behind my aunt's house. I stopped to see her, and she greeted me at the door, fly swatter in hand. It reminded me of how her husband, my papaw, would spend most of the spring and summer months with a fly swatter permanently attached to his hand. He would suck his teeth in frustration, and kill flies. He hated them with a fury, and killed them non-stop. I told mamaw, "Walcie lives!" She just laughed, and we visited about this and that for the next hour or so.

We then made our way to the back yard to check out Nanie's vegetable garden. She has everything you can imagine in a tiny garden...squash, tomatoes, peppers, rosemary, sage, cucumbers, zuchini. She managed to load me up with some of everything before I left, man I love being country. Mamaw and I hadn't been outside very long when up drove my aunt. I helped her get the groceries inside, and said hi to Uncle James.

Now, James M., as we call him, promptly got up, put on his boots and came outside. He motioned for me to speak to him, so I walked over and he said, "Baby, you wanna go fer a buggy ride?" Well, naturally, I did. Now, a buggy is what most people would call a surrey, or a one-horse drawn open carriage. We walked to the barn, and Uncle caught his 8 year old horse, Bob. We geared ole' Bob up with all his tack, hitched him to the buggy, and off we went. Bob knows his business, probably because Uncle worked for hours with him, in the round pen, then letting him practice pullng a skid. Either way, the ride was smooth as silk.

We made our way up Springhill Road, and then turned south onto my dad's road. We waved and hollered at lots of neighbors, something you could never do from the seat of your car, or a motorcycle. Everything....just...slowed....down....it was amazing the things I saw that I was going too fast to notice before. Wildflowers in the road ditch, the neighbors yards filled with summer color, the perfectly kept vegetable gardens. I soaked it all in as we clip-clopped up the road. Stopped at dad's house for a minute, just to hack him off (he couldn't go, buggies a two-seater), then turned around at Mr. Ed's house. Of course he came boiling out the front door to chat, moving all of 2 miles per hour. We chatted for a moment, then headed back.

Saw Boo on the road, and he wound up back at my Aunt's house. Then we visited with dad and Hank for a bit, then I stopped by to see my sister for a much needed loooooong catch-up talk. I needed to touch base, recharge, get grounded.....heck, I needed to go home. And indeed, there is no place exactly like it.

A mother like mine...

Today is the day...a day I won't ever forget.

It's the 3rd anniversary of the day you went away.

I remember how hot it was when we got you in the vehicle and took you to the hospital. I knew what the trip meant, but I could do nothing to stop what was happening. We were helpless, as your life took it's ultimate course. That was the biggest part of the pain for me, not having the ability to take away your illness, to heal you, to help you. I kept thinking, what else can I do to stop this?

I remember how tiny you looked, so fragile. I wanted to hold you and make it better, but I didn't have the power. All I could do was hold your hand and tell you "I'm here."

My mind kept wandering over the past, the memories of you that were the most poignant...little things about you that your child could find comfort in. The fragrance your wore, your polished nails, your little gleeful smile, the way you would stand with your hand on your hip, the way you could fall asleep on the couch in the middle of knitting then wake up and resume, never missing a beat. I remembered every detail, like the sun-drenched pages of my favorite story book. Even now, I can see you, sitting at the kitchen table, an arrangement on display with flowers you cut from your yard. You might be talking on the phone, or writing, or doing your nails, or cooking. I remember how helpless and lonely I felt, and how I longed to take your place. I remembered the time I had a high fever, and you sat all night by my bed, holding my hand till I got better.

I could never repay you for your love, nor could I fathom it's depths. And today, the love remains. The mere memory of your love is enough to sustain me, because I know that you are whole now. Perhaps you are cutting flowers from some heavenly garden, or sharing your smile with another. I want you to know I will always remember your sacrifices, and I will never forget my mother's love, ever. And if I am ever blessed with a child, I will pray that God will help me become a mother like mine.

Thank you, momma. I miss you so much.

Gimme three steps...

Busy just doesn't do justice in describing this week. Two words? Little League. Nuff said.

We have a state baseball tournament coming to our town tomorrow, with a whopping 32 teams in attendance. Southeast ark-in-saw ain't never seen nuthin' like it.

When things are busy like this, I want to run away. Honestly, I do...run from the chaos. Although I have recovered from my previous rant, I'm squirrelly beyond words. I'm just waiting for a break in the action, then WWOOOOSH! I'm gonna jet. Perhaps if I word on my resolve, I'll make it one more day.

Me and Boo are looking to escape the rat race soon...maybe take a long weekend and stay in a houseboat on Lake Hamilton. No phones, no tractors, just me and thee.

Gimme three, and I'm gone yo.

Cynic's Corner

I know I have been seriously delinquent with my posts of late, and for that I apologize. I have not been following the good rules of blog etiquette. I should be ashamed of myself.

But I'm not. Why? Because my new motto of late is 'devil may care'.

That's right, friends. I officially don't give a crap about anything, period.

I have spent the majority of my life trying to be the best damn person possible. I have been big-hearted, generous and truly concerned for others, and I have tried to help. Really, I have done my dead-level best to make this world a better place to be. I am not bragging, I'm simply telling what I truly thought was my lot in life, and, somehow I have endeavored to be a bright cheerful person in spite of it all.

My jaded point of view, however, has been attempting to rear it's cynical head for quite some time now. But, somehow, I have managed to hang on to my positivity through sheer grit and determination.

Well, I am now tired...I mean fed-up-with-everything weary. I'm not trying to blame anyone or anything for how I feel, unlike the majority of people on the planet. Although the rich get richer, the poor get poorer, nobody seems to mind a bit. Bad people live in relative comfort and seem to thrive, and we honest people with good hearts and even better intentions? We get jerked around, lied to, used up, taken for granted. How did things get so twisted?

I don't want to sue anyone for money I don't deserve.
I don't expect to win the lottery anytime soon.
I don't blame my parents, teachers, or a minister for my failures.
I don't want to be placated or patronized.

I...just...want...a...break.

I just want to see a little bit of turn-around from all the good things I've tried to contribute throughout my life. I thought, if I was patient enough, that some of that good would come back to me. So far? Nada...zip....nought. Lately, my life has become a series of disappointments. Boo-hoo, I know. Poooooor me.

So, all you happy people out there? Rejoice. Enjoy your fleeting comfort, because it won't last. Do you think I'm being mean? Not at all. I'm just giving you fair warning. Because sooner than later, your life is gonna fall off in the ditch. I suggest you go buy a sweet chain, you're gonna need it.