opry observations

Observations from an evening backstage at the Opry:

*Keith Urban is a petite man.

*"Petite" doesn't even begin to describe Little Jimmy Dickens, who might just be two feet tall. He could stand on his own shoulders, and I think I would still be taller than he is.

*If I had worn rhinestones, I would have fit in much better. Sparkle was definitely the uniform for the evening.

*I don't think fans realize how crazy they look. There was a girl in the third row, holding up a big poster of Keith Urban towards the stage, and singing along very passionately to every song he performed. I don't quite understand the point of showing someone a poster of himself. I could understand if she was holding up a sign that said "I love you Keith!", but what kind of message was she trying to send by holding up the poster? "Hey, look Keith, I just bought some of your swag!" or "I pulled this off my ceiling and brought it with me tonight just to show you what a big fan I am!" or maybe "I'm totally going to stalk you after the concert to get you to sign this thing for me!" If I had been Keith, I definitely would have pointed her out to my bodyguards and said, "Ummm, keep an eye on that one for me, will ya?"

*I don't do the celebrity ga-ga thing very well. I met Marty Stuart, and I was standing less than 2 feet from Keith Urban and Dierks Bentley, and I met a lot of the other Opry legends. I had my camera in my purse the whole time, and how many pictures did I get? Zero. I feel like the biggest cheeseball in the entire world asking someone like that for his/her picture. Honestly, I'd rather just ask the girl in the third row if I could photograph her poster...

why i love working in a school

Because kids are very entertaining, particularly when they don't even mean to be.

Now that my office is at the high school, I miss out on a lot of the adorable, funny antics of the little ones, but fortunately I have co-workers that are willing to share some of the gems.

For example, a second grade class was asked to write thank you letters to a couple of musicians that had performed a concert for them. They took great care to decorate their construction paper cards, and one little boy decided to draw a guitar on the front of his card.

To see his drawing of the guitar, click here.

I think it's a perfectly lovely picture of a, ummm...guitar, don't you?

gas-x

Aaaarrrrrggh.

I realize that I am a little late for Talk Like a Pirate Day, but aaarrrgh. I'm frustrated.

Why? Because I am tired of talking about gas, thinking about gas, hearing about gas, watching stories about gas on tv, driving by insane lines at the gas station and watching people freak out over gas, and worrying about how much gas I have left in the car, because once it's gone, I have to join those insane lines of gas-crazy people.

It. is. ridiculous.

People, chill. Stop acting crazy and hoarding gas like there's no tomorrow. If you have a half tank of gas or more, you should not be sitting in those lines. If you are taking time to fill up multiple gas cans at the pump, I hope that you intend to go out and help stranded motorists with your stockpile and that you aren't just hoarding it for the gas apocalypse that you seem to think is happening.

If you're so worried, stop contributing to the problem and think about ways not to use gas. Ride your bike. Take a bus (yes, I realize that public transit in Nashville is terribly sub-par, but it's there). Carpool. Eliminate unnecessary trips. Walk.

Just don't go idling your half-full SUV in the middle of Harding Pike because you're waiting in line to get into the gas station a mile down the street, so you can fill up your car and three extra gas cans "just in case". Because if that's you, you're an idiot, and you totally deserve to have the gas pump run dry while the guy in front of you is using it.

Please.

not unfounded

Not long ago, I blogged about some habits I have that could be filed under the heading of "Signs that Tiffany is a Slightly Neurotic Scaredy-Cat".

My fears are not totally unfounded, though. Today, I went to the restroom, and hanging out by the wall, not even 12 inches from the toilet, was a very alive, very scary-looking brown recluse spider. I kid you not. And he looked hungry for flesh. Not that I could blame him, because it was about three in the afternoon, and I always feel the need to snack around that time, too. But still. That's waaaay too close to comfort for me.

So yes, I will continue to check under the toilet seat every time I use the restroom at work. And I won't feel the slightest bit silly for doing it.

a matter of tayst

What I should have said to the snobbish waiter at tayst the other night:"Just so you know, your simultaneously patronizing and dismissive attitude has sufficiently tainted my experience to the point that I will likely--almost certainly--not be returning. I would think that during a time like Restaurant Week, you would attempt to put your best foot forward, as you are wooing many new customers in the hopes that they will become repeat customers, but you have instead accomplished quite the opposite. Our group of friends would normally tip in the 25%+ range for good service, but we are struggling even to justify 15%. So here's your tip--how about you do yourself, the restaurant, and future diners a favor and find a job that doesn't require you to engage in customer service."

What I actually said to the snobbish waiter at tayst:
"Thank you."

Sigh. I'm a wuss.

I would write about our entire experience at tayst, but one of my friends has already penned a much better review than I could even hope to write, so I will defer to her.

The verdict, I believe, for most of our group: tayst left a slightly bitter taste in our mouths.

balance

Things that make me smile on a Friday morning: Watching two old bearded guys roll by in a convertible Chrysler...with a pink license tag on the front that says "NANA".

Things that make me not smile on a Friday morning: Watching the weather forecast and seeing rain predicted for Monday, meaning that this could be the third year in a row that our golf tournament gets rained out. Sigh.

too many, too soon

Death has been far too familiar around these parts.

First, my uncle George died unexpectedly of a heart attack. Then, Grandmother Bratton succumbed to old age. Not long after, it was Clifford. And then Uncle Don passed on. And today, I received word that cancer took Uncle Gene. They had given him a year to live, but just one month later, he is gone.

It's too much. And even for those that were expected, it's still too soon.

So, Death...how 'bout you just hang up your hoodie and scythe, and take the rest of the year off, mkay?

You've reaped enough this year.

the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad puppy owners

I like to be nice. I do.

And I try not to say hateful things about others, or call other people out publicly on my blog, because that's just not my style.

But I'm angry.

I have lived in my home for just over three years, and in that time, I have watched three puppies die under the care (or carelessness) of my neighbors. Three lovely little dogs who never had a chance, because they were adopted by people who think it is perfectly acceptable to leave a dog chained in the yard all day, regardless of the weather, with little or no access to water or shade.

One of their puppies--a sweet, pure-bred yellow labrador--died of Parvo within just a few months of moving into their home. The other two dogs died of mysterious "poisonings". The only dog that has managed to live longer than a couple of years there spends most of his time trying to escape their backyard, where he is a penned up prisoner.

I was hoping, praying even, that after the death of the aptly named Underdog, they might realize that they weren't cut out to be dog owners--that maybe they just needed to focus on keeping their four little children alive. But then, a couple of months ago, they adopted another puppy, Buster. My heart sank when I saw him, because I knew that giving a dog to the Tanners was as good as issuing a death sentence to the dog.

But for Buster's sake, I hoped for the best. And when they asked us to watch Buster over the recent holiday weekend, we agreed--only after Todd confirmed with them that Buster was current on his vaccinations. They said yes. I'm afraid they lied.

Because this morning, we get news from our neighbors that Buster is sick. He is lethargic, he is losing weight quickly--both potential signs of Parvo. A highly contagious, deadly disease. And even though I know that Levi is current on his vaccinations, I worry, because he is still a puppy, and for some reason, black and tan breeds are more susceptible to the virus.

So help me God, if anything happens to Levi because of our idiotic, negligent dog owners next door, I will be beyond livid. I honestly don't know what I will do, but I can promise it won't be pretty.

Some people should not be allowed to own dogs. Period.

These people should be required to walk around with warning labels on their heads.

Danger: Puppy Killers.

toss. turn. repeat.

Welcome to day 3 of insomnia. I just wrote that sentence, and then stared at the computer screen for about 10 minutes before continuing, because I couldn't think of what to write next--that's how well my mind is working at this point. I have reverted to operating off of artificial energy, in the form of quadruple lattes (and the fact that a quadruple latte is actually listed on the regular menu at Portland Brew makes me think that I'm not the only one with a problem). I'm pretty sure that I could be mistaken as one of the extras in Shaun of the Dead. I'm just proud that I managed to pull together an outfit that matched this morning.

as a bee

Life is busy right now. Hyper-busy. The kind of busy where you're so busy that you feel guilty sleeping, because it seems like you're wasting time in which you could otherwise be productive. Things should slow down around the end of October, and I'm very much looking forward to that.

In the meantime, I probably won't be blogging too much, unless it's one of those nights where it is 3am and I can't sleep, or the stress builds up to a point where a public catharsis is necessary.

But, I have updated the other blog, and I figure that is probably enough soul baring to cover the next month and a half, anyway.

And now, back to work...

mourning the end of summer

Events of the day so far:

*woke up at 3 a.m. and couldn't fall back to sleep because I was too busy worrying about all of the things that need to be accomplished this week
*finally got out of bed at 6 a.m., showered quickly, begrudgingly put on dressy clothes and heels, and scarfed down a piece of pizza on my way out the door, in order to make it to work by 7 a.m. and prep for a morning meeting
*got stuck in terrible traffic between campuses
*had 190 emails that I had to process and respond to (due to my previous week off)
*scheduled three more meetings for the week, bringing the weekly total to 7 meetings
*was informed that scheduling has changed, and now things that I thought I had at least 6 weeks to finish now have to be done in 2 to 3 weeks
*realized that I triple-booked myself on Wednesday, without figuring out how to be 3 places at once

Yep, school is definitely back in session, and I can already tell it's gonna be an interesting year...

out of office auto reply

If I should seem particularly absent from blogging this week, it's because my friend Mary and I have escaped to the beach for a week of sleeping in, lounging on the white sands with good books and gossip mags, eating lots of fresh seafood, drinking fruity cocktails we would never order at the Edge, dancing to steel drum bands, outlet shopping, and sipping wine by the pool as the sun goes down.

We just finished our first balmy, 80-degree morning sitting by the pier and watching the waves roll in and are now off to a lunch of fresh, briny Apalachicola oysters.

As my niece would say, "Yay beach!"

next up

My first race since the half-marathon. Hopefully, it won't already be hotter than hades by 7:30am on Saturday.

And yes, I am totally going to wear all red for the run. Maybe I can even find a tomato-print bandana...

magnificent seven

This post is a little belated, because I don't have any of my good pictures on the home computer, so I couldn't post over the weekend.

On Saturday, one of my most favoritest people in the world turned seven. Yes, she's so cool that I have to be completely grammatically incorrect and make up words just to express how fantabulous she is.

She is a beautiful, fun, silly princess:


She is a cheerleader and encourager to others around her:


She is a fearless adventurer:


She is the walrus, goo goo g'joob:


And she is, most certainly, the apple of her Aunt TT's eye:


Happiest of birthdays, sweet one--you have brought so much joy and laughter into this girl's life that it's hard to imagine what the world was like before you were here. May this new year of your life be your best one yet. I love you dearly.

revenge of the cheese

I love cheese, but cheese does not always love me. So, I have to be careful. I've found that it's best if I limit my cheese consumption to small portions. But sometimes, I can't help myself.

Today, the lunchroom served up pizza, salad, and fried mozzarella sticks. I'm not a big fan of the flat, rectangular school-cafeteria-style pizza, so I supplemented my salad with a half-dozen golden delicious mozzarella sticks.

Oh yum.

And then, oh god.

Let's just say it's been a rough afternoon. But, it has inspired a haiku:

ate six fried cheese sticks
now I'm a salad shooter-
lactose intolerance

Hey, it's Friday-- goofy inappropriateness is totally allowed.

it's official

Yep, it is now completely official...my parents have hit the mid-life crisis stage. The term "mid-life crisis" is often used to describe a person, usually in his 40's or 50's, who suddenly engages in uncharacteristic behavior that seems like an attempt to reclaim some of his youth. Examples of such behavior might be: leaving one's family for a fling, quitting one's job and running off to the islands, buying a fancy sports car or boat, or undergoing extensive plastic surgery.

So why do I think my parents have hit this stage? Well, they just emailed me pictures of their most recent purchase:





So, Mom and Bob, all I can say is, if you decide to run off to the islands next, please take me with you!

4 x 4

So I got one of those forwarded e-mail surveys from a friend today, but rather than filling in my answers and sending it along, I thought I would post it here instead. Why? Well, a) because it is lunch time and I am taking a break from work as I am chowing on my Calypso tuna salad, b) I haven't been inspired to write about anything in over a week, so the blog has been looking a little stale, and c) a lot of my friends hate receiving forwarded e-mails.

The "4 things you may or may not have known about me" survey:

Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. HR assistant at the bus company in Chattanooga (CARTA)
2. waitressing at Olive Garden (which is why I never eat there anymore)
3. copy editing intern at Miller Freeman Publishing in NYC--for Insurance & Technology magazine (riveting stuff to read, I tell ya)
4. sales clerk at Brookstone--and yes, we totally played with all of the gadgets after closing

Four movies I've watched more than once:
1. Princess Bride (anybody wanna peanut?)
2. Life is Beautiful
3. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
4. Breakfast at Tiffany's

Four places I have lived:
1. Chattanooga, TN
2. Franklin, TN
3. NYC
4. Nashville, TN
wow...maybe I should aim for moving out of TN next...

Four TV Shows I watch
1. How I Met Your Mother
2. Hell's Kitchen
3. House
4. Dexter

Four places I have been:
1. Italy
2. France
3. Australia
4. Jamaica

Four of my favorite foods
1. Sushi
2. Thai
3. Potatoes
4. Hummus
(ok, so I realize that 2 of those are foods and 2 are types of food...but whatever, it's my list)

Four Places I love to shop:
1. TJ Maxx
2. Katwalk Shoes
3. Fabu
4. Woodland Wine Merchant

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. At a beach
2. Out west visiting friends (either in CO or CA)
3. Backpacking through Europe
4. On a boat

And now, my salad is done, and it's time for me to get back to event-planning. Hopefully, I can come up with something a tad more original for my next post...

recipe for fun

Ingredients of the weekend: girlfriends, laughter, wine, bright red shoes with 4-inch heels, the greatest cab ride ever, jello shots, Elvis sunglasses, honky-tonks, funny pictures with statues on 2nd Avenue, dancing, a blinking red necklace, 2 a.m. french onion dip, facials, Nashville's Most Wanted Pizza, pajamas and funky footwear, sparkle nail polish, a slightly modified version of pin the tail on the donkey, a pink caboodle, quizzes from a teen magazine, a documentary on a certain type of body puppetry that was disturbing on so many levels, make-your-own sundaes, a scary cactus, a dvd trivia game with a surprise video appearance by Todd, Pop Rocks, staying up late, sleeping in, mimosas, porch-sitting, and incredible amounts of food.

Put them all together, and what do you get? One of the best weekends ever, with some of the most fabulous friends a girl could ever ask for. Thank you, Mary V., for the extraordinary amount of time and heart you put into making it such a special weekend, and thank you to all of my friends who contributed to the celebration. You all, quite simply, rock my world.

sometimes

Sometimes, life throws you a curve ball.

And then sometimes, life throws 100-mile-per-hour fast pitch straight at your head.

What a game.

what's left

Every now and then, I go through periods where I contemplate my place in life. I think about the things I have already accomplished, and I think about the goals and dreams that I would like to realize before I leave this earth. The questions that most often siege my soul are: "What have I contributed? Have I had a positive effect on the lives of those around me? How have I improved the community, and the world, that I live in? And what have I given or accomplished that will remain after I am gone?"

At 31, I hope to have many more years to answer these questions, but the reality is that we never know how many years, or days, we have left in this life. It is a slightly morbid consideration, but it's something that I think about--perhaps because I work in development, and we talk a lot about "leaving a legacy." In that context, we are generally referring to a financial gift/bequest, but since I know that I will likely never have the ability to leave a monetary legacy, I ponder the other ways of leaving behind something meaningful.

During these times of contemplation, I enjoy reading verses and quotations that inspire me in my endeavors to make a positive mark on the world. One such piece follows:

To laugh often and much;
to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;
to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition;
to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.
-(often attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, but originally penned by Bessie Stanley)