radio hound

I have a stuffed dog that’s an AM radio. No joke. I got it when I was very small, and it runs on a 9 volt battery. The last time I tried (a couple of years ago), it still worked and still picked up a good, strong signal. Its just a small, brown stuffed dog. Nothing special. Except that it has a radio in its belly. πŸ˜€

christmas memory

I was telling Thomas this one on the phone the other night, and we laughed ourselves silly.

Christmas 1993, I drove down to pick Thomas and Tayler up for their two weeks of Christmas with me. We stopped at the brand new Danville Wal-Mart Supercenter to poke around, pick up a few more things for them for Christmas and things they needed while they were with me. They were little then; Thomas had just turned 4, and Tayler had turned 2 in the Spring. So, I’d dumped them into a shopping cart – no way was I walking across the lot with those two hooligans – Thomas was in the basket, Tayler in the “kiddie seat”. We crossed the way and went up on the sidewalk.

Now the way this Wal-Mart and it’s “out front” was designed, there was like 20′ of side walk between the roadway and the building. We’re walking down through there toward the doors, and a woman is walking a bit behind us, and Tayler goes, “Mommy, are those great big alligators going to eat us?” I was like, “What honey?” I looked at Thomas and he looked at me like, ‘I dunno’. Tayler said, “Mommy, are those great big alligators going to eat us?” The lady behind us almost burst out laughing and caught herself. “What alligators, Tayler?” And he pointed to the wall. To these tall, green pointy things wrapped in wire and propped against the wall. “Phillip Tayler, those are Christmas trees!” “Oh.”

We all four were :lmao: :lmao: :lmao:


let’s drink a toast to catastrophe

From an article I wrote in June 1998:

I’ve gone from ‘Why me, Lady’ to ‘What do I do?’ And I realize I’m still close to the breaking point – but all the growth I’ve had, I can control my emotions better. But that doesn’t stop the pain.

[– journal entry, Mari]

Twelve years ago today, I attended a wedding between two people I’d never met along with people I didn’t know and some I’d just come to know. Talk about misery. I hadn’t even been in Harlan County a full week yet, and here I was, attending a wedding. Who gets married on Saturday the Fourteenth anyway? (god what a horrible movie! :lmao:) But I had to go. The entire household was going. Preston was the best man. I had no choice. I even had to run around like a complete idiot to find something to wear, which in the end wasn’t appropriate for a wedding, but it was all I had – emerald green sweater, cream rayon skirt. I was miserable.

But fun times were had as Preston pretended to carry a taser in his tux jacket – to encourage the groom to the ‘altar’ (as it were, as we were in the conference room at what used to be the Best Western). The “Dewy Twins” (although they’re not twins and I always (even now) call them Huey, Dewey, and Louie) were there (or at least I think they were there? if they weren’t, they should have been!) as were the “Two Christies” (even though they’re not related and their names were spelled different); W was there (thank the gods!); Art, Jan, Elmer, and most of the Loyall Volunteer Fire Department (seemed like anyway), Travis, Joey and his parents, his sister Melissa and her family (gods bless you, Jimmy Lee); and likely a ton of other people I’m forgetting, and how we all fit into that tiny room I have no idea. “Conference Room of Holding” – I’d believe that!

The Two Christies, W, Elmer and I all sat together. And at one point, we looked up and through the windows – the conference room was poolside – and saw that something on one of the reception tables was on fire. Kristy said, “Oooh, pretty!” And we’re all just sitting there watching the fire through the window – even the fire fighters. :lmao:

I think the highlight of the entire afternoon was the bride shoving someone into the pool. In Midnight, I related this as being the bridesmaid; in reality, I have no idea who the girl/young woman was – it even may have been the bridesmaid! (and no, it didn’t pour the rain that day as I said in Midnight; I just made that up – because I can!)

And this was just the beginning of the adventure…

We cheerfully assume that in some mystic way love conquers all, that good outweighs evil in the just balance of the universe and that at the eleventh hour something gloriously triumphant will prevent the worst before it happens – Brooks Atkinson


[x-posted from Louise Bohmer’s Forest]

I had the best dream this morning.

[blockquote]* Each year in early August, Corbin hosts a festival called NIBROC (Corbin spelled backwards) featuring open-air concerts, carnival attractions, a beauty pageant, parade, and other events. The festival is featured, if anachronistically, in the play Last Train to Nibroc by Arlene Hutton. (Though the play is set in the 1940s, the festival itself only dates to 1952.)[/blockquote]

:hack: What Wikipedia fails to mention is that Nibroc was also a Jeopardy question — that made it into the Genus IV Trivial Pursuit game.

Anyway. Back to my dream.

I dreamed that a bunch of my friends and I from high school (and I’m sure I’m dreaming this because it’s time for Nibroc and becuase my reunion is in a month) were walking in downtown Lexington. We crossed Broadway from the Hyatt to the Central Bank building. I looked up and saw a sign for “Nibroc Treats”. “Oh, we have to go in there!” I was almost jumping up and down. My friends thought I’d flipped. Then again, they always have – they knows me well. So we go in, and it’s a smallish place, but there’s like tons of carnival food and down the middle there are some simple carnival games — like a ring toss, a duck race, you know the easy stuff. But in the corner by the door, a booth. Complete with the usual fire-engine red, silver, and white colors everything in Corbin “must be” – it’s Nibroc PopCorn. So I had to try some. I asked for a sample. It WAS Nibroc PopCorn! So I bought one of those ginormous buckets, and we all stood there in the shop munching and drinking ice cold Pepsis — from real glass bottles, like the kind you can’t get anymore.

There’s nothing in life like a real, ice cold Pepsi in a real, glass bottle. :swoons:

amazing grace

So the other night we were getting ready for bed. Preston was in the bedroom, and I was in the bathroom, and we were talking back and forth, which since the two rooms share a wall is difficult. Well, we were tired, and the slapstick set in. Preston was more going through one of the junk drawers in the spare chest of drawers than getting ready to bed. I wish I could remember what I said at one point, but I said it, and left the room. Seconds later, I hear harmonica strains, Amazing Grace slow and peaceful floating through the upstairs. I flew back into the bedroom. Preston started giggling and hardly couldn’t play because of it. And then I said, “Don’t do that! I thought you’d done gone home!” Have you ever heard someone laugh while playing harmonica?

family trees

Because stuff like this fascinates me to no end (could explain my fascination with telephone books)…I realized tonight looking at what little family tree I have that Michael Devon I’s father Randall Devon very well could have known my great-grandfather, George Barton. George was from Virginia and moved to Whitley Co, Kentucky, at some point in his life. That’s about all I know about him…George was born in 1882, five years before Randall…

my valentine

Totally insane.

Late August 1992, I was in the computer lab in the student union at my university chatting away with this guy on IRC. We talked all morning. Until I said I was hungry and needed to go find lunch. This lead us to discussing where we were. Turned out, we were on the same campus. In the same computer lab. We looked up and straight into each other’s eyes. He bought me lunch.

We didn’t start dating until three years later, though, but the rest, as they say is history. πŸ˜‰