I am on a Hank Williams kick. I think this is due to the PBS special I saw on him several weeks ago. Whatever the cause, I need some Hank Williams in my life. Only, my library, the one I work in, doesn't appear to own any Hank Williams music. Doesn't that seem like a travesty? I think so. I mean, the man, the legend is from this very state. Why don't we have his music? We do have several biographies on him that perhaps I will look in to. But does that fulfill my desire to hear Hey Good Looking? No it does not. I'm saddened by this.

In other news, I'm recovering from a cold. A cold for which I received a lecture. Apparently, I need to take more vitamins... or so I was told.  Anyway... I'm recovering from a cold. It wasn't a pretty cold either. It was the sort of cold where people look at you and then request that you take twenty steps back from them. It can be sort of hurtful to have people tell you to stay away from them. Anyway, again... like I said I am recovering for a cold. I bring this all up to let you know that I seem to be whistling when I breathe. I don't care for it. I took measures to try and stop the whistling but it doesn't seem to be working. Perhaps I need a netty pot but I sorta think I might drown trying to figure it out. That would be no better than whistling. I guess I'm stuck with whistling for the time being. Aren't you all glad you don't actually have to be around me to hear that? I'd like to think I'm lovable whether I have a nose whistle or not. What do you think? Would it be safe to take a vote?

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On my lunch break today I went and got myself another haircut that I don't think anyone will notice. It had been about 12 weeks since my last haircut and my vanity was suffering. It suffered so bad that right before I left for the beach I took matters into my own hands and got my own scissors out and chopped away at my bangs. Under the circumstances (those circumstances being that my first real hair stylist left my salon in order to get a degree with the goal of eventually opening up a camp for under privileged children.. what was she thinking? She was already helping the world to be a better place by just keeping my wall of bangs in check. But, I guess my id is not as important as the well being of those children. Bah! Anyway, I couldn't get a hair appointment with anyone else until today - hence my drastic measures) I don't think I had any choice but to chop away at my own bangs. A girl must be able to see. After my haircut I'm not sure I was completely sold on my new stylist. My layers are not quite as I'd like them and my bangs are short. There is not enough of them remaining to even pretend to have a swoop to them. They are slightly reminiscent of the old bangs I had... you know, the bangs that were referred to as the wall o' hair. Now, the truth is, I can't really blame the new stylist because she cut my bangs and then asked if she should cut them even shorter... I said yes. Therefore, the fault is mine. Still... remember, when you see me to be kind... because you know, I need a lot of encouragement... and better bangs are only about 10 days away.

And of course, feel free to hum a few bars of “Hey Good Looking” next time you see me

Currently Reading MY LEGENDARY GIRLFRIEND By MIKE GAYLE see related

I went to Destin this past weekend with some friends from church. We had an excellent time. The beach was being invaded by jelly fish the whole time but we only suffered one real attack and it wasn’t me. That’s pretty lucky for the rest of the group because I can be a BIG baby. The girl who was attacked handled it pretty well. She didn’t yell, cuss, throw sand or hit anybody. Clearly, she’s a better person than I am. Most people are. Some of us saw a shark as well. ALJ and I were sitting in our chairs at the shoreline when all of a sudden these surfer like dudes started pointing and wailing, “Shark!” At that same exact moment, our friend L was about thigh deep in the water and making her way out to some friends who were much further out. The shark, which ALJ guesses to have been about 4 ft long, was headed right for L. I tried to do what I could to save her life by panicking and yelling her name but I don’t think I did any good. What I think did help was the surfer dudes diving in as if to catch it. That seemed like an insane thing to do to me.  I don’t know if the shark felt threatened by the surfer dudes or not but it did turn around and leave. I should have bought those boys a drink but then I might have had to go to jail. I’m not sure how old they were. I don’t want to be encouraging any sort of wrong behavior. I’m just very grateful to them that L returned home with all of her limbs.   

The second night there I decided to get a tattoo. It was a spur of the moment decision. Inspired by another friend who also got one. Even as she was having hers done I had no intention of getting one myself but then I saw this devil chick and decided I had to have it.

One of the things I learned on the beach trip is that I am not nice. And what’s sad about it is that I’m often not nice out of stupidity. I don’t pay enough attention to what I am saying. Which is sad because if I was just mean, I probably could make the decision to not be mean… but you can’t really decide not to be stupid. I am asking God to help me anyway. So, I got the devil chick. I wasn’t sure a chick should have a chick on her shoulder but the guy doing them said, "absolutely!" Then later when I spoke to Spunky about it, she said Amy Winehouse had one on her. Fantastic! Cause you know, who doesn’t want to be like Amy Winehouse. No worries though because it was only a temporary tattoo. It was supposed to last for 3 to 5 days. In reality, it lasted about 15 hours. Next time I’ll know. But, I don’t regret it. It was fun while it lasted. Next time maybe I’ll go for the extended stay version.

Currently Listening Les Miserables (1987 Original Broadway Cast) By Alain Boublil, Claude-Michel Schonberg, Frances Rufelle, Colm Wilkinson see related

Today I am pondering the idea of a kiss for the rose on a grave and is it good to be compared to such a thing. I'm not sure I like it. But then it's okay for me not to like it because no one has actually compared me to a kiss from a rose on the grave. So... it really doesn't matter at all.

I've sort of had Seal's song in my head this afternoon. For although I wasn't kissed by a rose... I was wounded by a rose. A friend brought me some roses when my Dad was first put in the hospital. They were beautiful!!!! But then they died. I had to throw them away a couple of nights ago and when I took them out of the vase, one of the thorns hit me right on the edge of my thumbnail and it HURT. It has caused this weird hangnail effect. AND it got all red and puffy. I don't think it is infected or anything but it sure does hurt. This is not good for a girl with hand issues like myself. But, I'm learning to deal with it.  I am by no means turning my back on roses. The Bible says to turn the other cheek... right? I am willing to do that... so please.... send me more flowers if you wish.

My dad had to go back in the hospital last Wednesday because he had some breathing issues. BUT, he got out again on Monday and he is doing great. He is getting around really well. I'm actually very impressed by him and VERY proud. He has even asked his church to find a volunteer job for him to do while he recovers. Of course, in the past he has done a lot of manual labor for them... I assume they let people do other things though... wouldn't you assume that? 

Tomorrow I am off to the beach to spend some quality time with friends and to work on my aging process AKA get a tan.

love ya!!!

I am such a daddy's girl. I'm not embarrassed by it. I don't try to hide it. I love my dad.

I can't watch sad movies that involve parents because I love my parents too much and I just get depressed thinking about what I'd do if anything ever happened to them. They are soooo good to me. I love them. As you know, you probably love your own parents the same.

Last week my dad was out working in his yard building stuff and planting stuff. All his hard works makes me worry a little. You know what they say, "mad dogs and englishmen go out in the midday sun.".. and apparently so does my dad. Summer in the south... it isn't for sissies. But my dad enjoys it. 

My dad is in pretty good shape. He gets exercise, he doesn't smoke, he doesn't eat a lot of junk and he always shuns salt for pepper.

Like I said last week all was grand...until he went in for a routine exam and the doctor heard something abnormal with his heart. This morning they did an angiogram on him and tomorrow he is having open heart surgery. David Letterman claims his quintuple bypass surgery was the best thing that ever happened to him. I hope that's true because you know... now we are talking about my dad. My dad will either be having a triple or quadruple bypass around noon tomorrow. I used to think the higher the number the worse the surgery but now it just all seems scary. No matter what the number is, heart surgery involves someone cutting open your chest and cuttin' on your heart. That just doesn't sound good. At the hospital today, a nurse gave me a book to read about heart surgeries. It was helpful but now I'm freaked out knowing about all the tubes and stuff that will be hooked up to my dad and it involves a ventilator. I think I'd be better if it didn't involve a ventilator. Man, I hate those things.

And my poor mom did something to her back this past weekend. She's made two trips to the emergency room herself. this week. She's been given some excellent drugs but I think she sees purple spaceships when she takes them.  And, she really is supposed to stay off her feet for a while. I'm not even sure she can sit at the hospital tomorrow.  Who knows what'll happen.

So, if you think of my family please say a prayer that everyone will be okay and that my dad will have as quick and easy of a recovery as possible and that when this is all over with that he will be like Letterman and claim that his open heart surgery was the best thing to have ever happened to him.... well, after the birth of his daughter of course.