Wednesday, August 27, 2014


  I did it, Barrelassers! I said I was going to get on a plane for the first time this year (my 40th year) and I did it! Thanks to my son for joining the Air National Guard and having a graduation seventeen hours driving time from home- I had no other real choice but to get on a plane. I mean I suppose I could have driven it, but I would never risk driving that distance with my teenage daughter being as miserable as teenage daughters are when they are stuck in a car with their parents.

Did I mention that I also managed to make it through eight and a half weeks with my son being away at BMT at Lackland Air Force Base? What about making it through my other son's high school graduation and then moving him into his dorm to start his first year of college? How about the fact that my daughter got her learner's permit and is slowly but surely taking over the driver's seat in our car? I'm not an expert on anything except being right and sometimes being a smart ass, but even I know when enough is enough. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that my children are trying to push me over the edge. The edge of what I do not know, but I am certain there is an edge because I have been teetering on it all year long.

I've had a roller coaster of a year, and the year is still not over. But I have made it so far and I plan to kick and scream my way through what's left of it. Hide and watch me. Actually, do not hide and watch me; that would be weird as hell.

Armed with a permit and not afraid to use it!

After a very long, stressful eight and a half weeks, I finally got my hands on my Airman!
Armed with a bright future and not afraid to use it!

Armed with a diploma and not afraid to use it!
Armed with hugs and not afraid to use them! Leaving him at college :(

Enjoy, Barrelassers ;)

Saturday, July 5, 2014


Most everyone is aware that my husband regularly calls me Lucy, as in Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball) and most of my pals know why. I often unintentionally conduct myself the same as Lucy would. There's never a shortage of oddball behavior on my part. I tend to be clumsy, and almost everything I try to do starts off as a simple task yet, somehow turns into an entire sitcom worth of material.

I've been hiking my hind-end down to my mailbox and back each day hoping today will be the day that I get my first piece of mail from my barrelassin' son who is currently away at boot camp. Today was my lucky day! All of the mothers in the Airmen's Wingmom group have been posting daily about receiving their first piece of mail which contains all of the graduation information needed to attend the ceremony. Well, my friends, today was my lucky day!! I got the letter. I was so excited and I couldn't wait to tear it open! I was sure to take a photo of it first for his scrapbook, and then I snatched it up-along with two more letters that for a few seconds, made me even more excited when I saw the address. For a fleeting moment I thought he had also written me other letters as well. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks! I wrote this child a letter and mailed it to myself. And if that's not bad enough, my husband did the same thing!!

Now, I've been to school, and I've sent and received mail for many years. I'm 100% familiar with this process and how it all works. The only thing I can figure is that because I've been so busy the last couple of months sending out invitations to my other son's high school graduation, and most recently have been mailing out thank you cards to everyone, my mind must have been playing tricks on me and I was likely a wreck and crying when I addressed the envelope, too, that for some reason I put all of his mailing information on the sender's designated space of the envelope and my name and address in the receiving party's designated space. In this particular case, I am the sender and the receiver. I just can't wait to see what I said. As far as my husband goes, he has a much better excuse. When he told me he had a letter to mail to our son, I showed him my letter on the table so that he could copy the address onto a separate envelope because mine was already sealed and stamped. Naturally, without any thought he has simply copied it the way I had it written out, but you would think between the two of us, one of us would've caught this mistake. I guess now I can start calling him Ricky! Luuuuucy!...I'm home!

Have a good one, Barrelassers :)

Thursday, June 26, 2014


When your first born leaves on a plane for boot camp:
 You get your butt out of the bed, cry because you haven't heard from him since you let that big bad plane take him away yesterday,  eat two Swiss Cake Rolls for breakfast, four Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for lunch, pull yourself together and open the Captain Morgan's for a little day-drinking!!

Reading the bottle now, I see that it is Caribbean Rum with Spice & other Natural flavors. "Other natural flavors" being the salt of my tears I presume. I do not feel the Caribbean vibe yet, but I'm still on my first drink- please be patient. I'm perfecting my island accent as you read this and I may very well become a pirate before dinnertime. So ha!
 I realize I do not possess the only child to ever leave home for boot camp, I do however, possess the only child to ever leave MY home for boot camp and, for that, I deserve a reward. Maybe I'm too sensitive or I'm just a big baby but, I was not built for this. It takes a special kind of strength to send a child away and willingly allow someone to yell at them night and day and I do not possess  this super power. My super power is beating people up who yell at my babies, not cheering them on. He is a fine young man and while they might make him stronger and tougher during the next eight weeks, what exactly is their plan for me? Freakin' know-it alls forgot about lil ole me! I know I should have planned better for this moment, and sure, I plan for the future. But my idea of planning for the future is asking my teenage daughter how many more years she plans to be in the shower so I know whether to try and hold it or go ahead and pee in the woods.
So on that note, as Matchbox Twenty once said "reach down your hand in your pocket, pull out some hope for me; it's been a long day." And no need to sworry bout me, I can handwle my wicker. Slow long fer now.
I'm going to do some lite to moderate day drinking, so if you need me, I'll be lite to moderately drunk. It's five o'clock Rum-where. Arrrgg!!

Special thanks to my nephew for texting my phone to make sure it's working properly in case my baby calls home! Keep up the good work!

This one's on me, Barrelassers :)

Monday, March 31, 2014


I recently went "walkin' in Memphis" or more like a run for fun and several car rides all over Memphis. So here's what ya need to know before ya go.

1) DO visit Stax Records Museum. This place is amazing and has a plethora of information on the history and early days of soul music.
DON'T try to walk around with a beer. I was at a private function where the beer was served to me. I didn't take my own and I'm sure they will not let you walk in off the street carrying one :).

2) DO visit Graceland. The famous home of Elvis Presley. It is very interesting and has tons of information on the King of Rock n' Roll.
DON'T try to go upstairs. They won't let you ;)

3)  DO visit the Memphis Zoo! It's a really nice Zoo and has some great animals exhibits.
DON'T think you're gonna feed a Giraffe without possibly getting french- kissed.

4) DO visit the Loraine Motel- the site of Dr. Martin Luther King's assassination. You can learn a lot, and even if you don't learn anything- it's a gigantic piece of history and worth seeing in person. DO prepare yourself for the overwhelming emotion that will build up inside of you as you approach the site. You may have to hold back a tear.
DON'T go in the pouring rain if you want to take pictures outside (and you will definitely want to)- DON'T let your husband try to take a picture with his phone as you drive by the Loraine Motel in the rain and almost run a stop sign and nearly cause an accident that could kill his wife and then blame it on you for freaking him out when you scream AAAHHH! so that he will pay attention and stop the car so you (the wife) don't die.

There's lots of DO's when visiting Memphis. Go to Beale Street, eat at B.B. King's, go somewhere and listen to some live blues music, ride the trolley, and buy a BIG ASS BEER on the street. (I didn't do that this trip, but I did it on an earlier trip to Memphis.) 
With all the DO's in Memphis, try to remember a few more things not to do if you want your trip to run a little smoother. Don't step on your husband's big toe with your high heel when he's in his bare feet; it will hurt him. Don't be overly confident with your comforter on your hotel bed, if you tug hard and your hand slips off, you will punch yourself in the nose really hard. And if you must do that, don't do it while you're on the phone with the school counselor because you can't scream or cry until you hang up.

And last but not least, expect your kids to do the exact opposite of the list you left for them before you left town. Expect everyone to be late for school, get hit in the face with a soccer ball and almost break their nose, expect them to need way more gas money than you thought, expect them to melt the red solo cups sitting too close to the stove instead of drinking from them so they didn't have to dirty all the glasses, and definitely expect them to want more pizza.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Monday, March 24, 2014


My barrelassin' husband is a huge fan of the Waffle House. I like it okay, but it's definitely somewhere I have to visit in moderation. It has basically become the tradition that we eat at a Waffle House on our way out of town. We take care of everything in need of our attention, e.g., car rental, gas, going over a long list with the kids of what NOT to do while we're away; it just seems more realistic and specific than what "to do."

Anyway, our oldest son took us to pick up the rental car we had arranged to take to Memphis, TN. The three of stopped off at the Waffle House to get our usual. It was very busy, which is typical for a Waffle House, but for the first time, they jotted our last name down on a list they were compiling of customers waiting to be seated. It didn't take an unacceptable amount of time before we were seated, and we all knew exactly what we wanted. I ate and, in a sense, people watched and kept up with conversation while I pretty much thought the same thoughts that I have every time I visit one of their establishments: this place is loud.

This is what I want for the Waffle House; peace. Just peace. If for no other reason than simply for the health of the employees. It has occurred to me that more often than not; that place has the potential to be a complete disaster; a hot mess if you will ,(that should definitely be the name of at least one of their plates.)

As we were preparing to leave I stood in the doorway, watching with my son as my husband paid the bill. We stood there silently, looking around; our eyes darting around from one near catastrophic event to the next. It was then that my son turned to me and announced with not even a hint of sadness, "I could never work here." It was then that I realized I was not alone in my thoughts. I responded to him with excitement, knowing that he was having the exact same experience as I was. Please do not misunderstand what I am saying. We enjoy the food and the atmosphere at the Waffle House; it is a one of a kind experience. No matter what city or town we happen to be in when we dine in one, we have always encountered kind, helpful staff and good food. We will continue to visit Waffle Houses all over the place- I'm certain. But like I explained to my son:
  This place makes me a nervous wreck, sometimes. All of the hollering, and screaming from the minute I enter the building; everyone on the staff greeting me with a screaming HELLO!!! The only quiet words spoken are the ones spoken when we're actually ordering our meal. And although our waitress has written our order down on a tiny green notepad- from that moment on, she screams everything we just said to a cook close enough to have probably heard us when we ordered  it had it not been for all the clinging and clanging, the banging and slamming of glasses and plates in the over-crowded restaurant. Silverware seems to always be flying everywhere, yet I never actually see it; I know it's there, because I hear it being thrown together the entire time I'm there. It sounds like all the dishes are being thrown and broken, but they're not- they're obviously very durable. At any given moment you can hear children speaking, a group of men and women laughing loudly, see one coffee-drinking man at the counter telling everyone around him his story, and all while listening to either a country or rock song from 1985. It makes me wonder, son, what would happen if I walked into a Waffle House one day and shouted- 'ALRIGHT! EVERYBODY JUST CALM THE F@#* DOWN! EVERYBODY FREAKIN' RELAX!' And then trail off with something like- 'today everyone is just gonna sit back and enjoy their coffee. We're all gonna sit back and take in the sites and some of us are gonna quietly read the newspaper and ponder about some things.'

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Saturday, March 22, 2014


I've been far too busy to post lately, but you can be sure it wasn't due to taking care of myself or my looks. I made a trip to the grocery store so that I could be sure my teenage/adult children would have plenty of food to eat while I'm out of town, which is probably just a big waste of time since they'll likely eat out the entire time I'm gone. I'm leaving for Memphis tomorrow, and apparently only half of me was prepared to leave the house, because I just dug the other half of me out of the bottom of a grocery bag. I mean I knew all along I would probably need to grab something for my trip, as I usually do, but after returning home and opening this particular bag, I had to ask myself...what in the hell must I look like? I better get my act together, and quick! It would appear that I was missing the color of my hair, my eyelashes, my fingernails, the color of my toenails, and the scent and feel of my soft, cocoa radiant, non-greasy skin. It seems the only thing I was prepared to leave my house with was the hair on my legs and beneath my underarms!

                                                                    It takes all of this...

 to equal this...

And a good pair of heels. Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Sunday, February 23, 2014


I just read an article, or actually a blog post about proper airplane attire and it got me thinking...I realize that a long time ago people dressed up to get on a plane. This was also  a time when people dressed up to go to the gas station, but that's beside the point. And even though I've never been on a plane, I do still think people should, at the very least, dress casual and decent. I don't know why I have that opinion, but I do. It's based on absolutely nothing and no previous experience at all. That being said, I noticed a reoccurring position seemed to be held by a lot of the people commenting on the post. Aside from the ones who declared comfort is the most important thing, there seemed to be many who scoffed at the idea of comfort on a plane, and firmly expressed their opinion on the air-traveler's attire.

The word "professional" was used an awful lot. "People should look professional when flying on a plane"  some demanded. "I always dress like a professional when traveling by plane!" said a few more. So while it left me questioning the proper airplane attire, I was left with what I believe is a much more appropriate question. Professional what? Why is it important to look professional on an airplane, and does this even make any sense? Should your chosen outfit for the flight be based on your actual profession? I mean if we're trying to be professional here, should Joe Blow from McDonalds wear his McDonalds' uniform? Should a Yoga Instructor wear their Yoga clothes? If you work in maintenance, should you wear a maintenance uniform, complete with name badge and a ring of keys clipped to your belt loop?

I suppose people with desk jobs, or any profession that requires a dress or suit and tie would look pretentious and they would scoff and look down their noses at the other passengers- or wait, that's what First Class is for, right?

All I can say is, should the need arise for you to fly from one place to another, Heaven help you if you're a hooker!

Sooooo. DO or DO NOT wear this on a plane? ;)

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)