Good Bug, Dead Bug...Big Bug, Flat Bug...

(Posted by Paula)

Since I was a little girl, I've been frightened to death of certain bugs. Bugs really creep me out, and roaches (especially cockroaches and those huge water bugs), centipedes, silverfish and SPIDERS top my list of creepy crawlies to stay away from. With this being a life-long phobia, my hysterics were certainly understandable when I had a close encounter of the bug type in my office yesterday.

This was no ordinary bug. No, at Sewanee, all the bugs are super-huge...almost as if they're growing them special over in the science lab JUST to intimidate poor Sewanee staff members like me. Since I've moved to my nice, corner office in Thompson Union, I've seen no less than five of the hugest roaches I've ever encountered. These even rival those I witnessed in the dormitories at the University of Kentucky when I worked there, so...I'm here to tell you...these suckers are BIG.

Yesterday, I was sitting in my office, typing at my computer, minding my own business, when I felt a "tickle" on my calve. I had on cropped pants, so I just thought it was the cuff on my pants brushing against my leg...so I changed positions. But I still felt it. I sat back away from my desk, looked down, and saw it. On my leg, centimeters from going up under the cuff on my crop pants was the GRANDDADDY of all roaches.

Needless to say, I screamed. I jumped up out of my seat. I stomped my legs. I did a little dance. I swatted at my clothes. I screamed some more. The roach, not quite sure what to make of this display, decided the best thing to do was skedaddle back down my leg and up under the corner of my desk. My hysterics brought a crowd of onlookers wondering what in the world was going on at the end of the hall.

By the time backup arrived, I was standing on the other side of the room. Not quite sure that there weren't even more roaches on me, I was still swatting and dancing. Jennifer, one of my coworkers who inhabits the desk down the hall from me, was the bravest. She, having lived for a while in Florida, had encountered the horrific palmetto bugs, so she was willing to look under the desk to see if she could find Mr. Roach hiding, standing, waiting for me to come back. He was nowhere to be seen. She tried to ensure me that he was probably long gone, but I wasn't so sure. For the rest of the day, I tried not to put my legs all the way under the desk. Do you know how hard it is to type when you're sitting three feet away from the computer?!?

Michael had no sympathy for me whatsoever. When I called him later to tell him about it, his only reply was, "Sweeeeeeeeet..." He thought it was "awesome" (his word, not mine) that a roach almost invaded my pants.

This wasn't the first time I've had such a close encounter with one of my greatest fears. What I hate even more than roaches are SPIDERS. I have been known to stay locked outside my house for more than two hours because a spider had built a web near the door, and I was afraid to go that close to it. I had to wait for someone who wasn't scared of spiders to knock down the web and make sure that it was dead before I'd go near the door.

One of my most frightening experiences was when I was about six years old. I'll never forget it. In fact, when I think about it today, it seems as though it just happened yesterday. Now THAT is the sign of a huge impact on one's life. I was visitingmy Mama Bruce, my great-grandmother, at her house in Cawood, Kentucky one Sunday after church. Most Sunday's a lot of my cousins would come to visit her, too, and we'd all play out in the yard...games like Red Light/Green Light and Simon Says. This particular Sunday, my oldest cousin, Valerie, suggested Hide-and-Go-Seek. I loved that game! As one of the youngest cousins, I was always trying to look "bigger" to the others. I wanted them to think I was a cool kid and not afraid to do anything. I wanted to be considered one of them...not one of the babies.

When Valerie started to count, we all ran to hide. I remember thinking I had to pick someplace really, really good. That's when the old "out-house" came to mind. I knew we weren't allowed to go inside it. Our parents were afraid that we'd fall in, or the floor boards would break, or there would be snakes in there. I wasn't afraid of snakes, and I didn't believe I'd fall in, so I thought this would be the best place to hide. All my older cousins would think me brave if I was willing to go in there with snakes against our parents' wishes!

I remember that the old weathered, wooden door creaked when I slowly pulled it open and peered inside. It was dusty and dark, but I didn't see any snakes. I pulled the door open a little wider and stepped inside. The door swung shut behind me. I looked around as I turned in a slow circle. Sunshine was coming through the spaces between the wooden walls, and I could see dust floating through the air in the sunbeams. The two-seater out-house had a little space between the "holes," a perfect place to sit while I waited. I knew I'd need to sit down, because it would take them FOREVER to find me in this place! I sat down and looked up toward the ceiling. That's when I noticed all the large cobwebs. There were even some in the corners near the "seats." Webs could only mean one thing. Spiders. And I hated spiders. I suddenly realized that the entire out-house was full of webs, and I thought I better rethink my hiding place! I jumped up to walk toward the door, and that's when I saw it: the biggest spider I've ever seen. He was on the wall to the right of the door. And boy, was he BIG. In fact, he was so large, I remember thinking that if I spread all five of my fingers out as far as they'd go, my palm and fingers would still not be as big as this gargantuan spider! He was a TARANTULA...I just KNEW it (yeah, I'm well aware there are not supposed to be tarantulas in Eastern Kentucky, but you tell HIM that!)!!!!!

I remember it clearly. I did the dance. The same dance I did in my office yesterday when I realized that it was a roach that was playing with my leg. I remember stomping and shaking my clothes. And then it dawned on me that I was in an outhouse with probably THOUSANDS of spiders. That's when I panicked! I remember thinking that I'd have to get closer to the big spider to actually get out of the out house...but I didn't know if I could do it. But I HAD to do it! I closed my eyes, gathered my strength and ran toward the door as fast as I could. I'd be like lightening, and he wouldn't even have the chance to jump on me! So, I hit the door with both hands going full speed. And then I stopped. The door wouldn't open, and I was standing RIGHT NEXT to the spider. I freaked out. That's when the screaming started. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. I flung myself against the door again, but it was still stuck. Again. Nothing. More screams. Finally, I backed up toward the seats to get a good running start, and flung myself one more time against the door. It flew open and I went sailing out the door into the sunlight. I remember coming to a stop flat on my stomach in the green grass, my arms straight out in front of me.

Once I could take a breath, I looked up to see my dad and two of my uncles running toward the out-house as fast as they could. My mother and aunt were close behind them. That's when I knew how much trouble I was in. My dad got to me first, and as he picked me up off the grass and I began explaining what happened, I saw my cousins, huddled together near the garage, laughing. Gina had her hand over her mouth as if she was trying to hide the fact that she was finding great pleasure in my situation. But I knew her laughter was meant for me to see...I was meant to see that they were ALL laughing. Sheila pointed to me and hit her knees with her hands as she doubled over in laughter. This was NOT what was supposed to have happened!

I remember that my uncle went inside the outhouse to look for the giant spider, but he couldn't find it. I made my dad go look, but he didn't see it either. What about the other spiders, I remember asking...are they all gone?!?! Only a few "babies" left, my uncle said. I remember him saying that must have scared most of them away with all my screaming.

I don't remember much about my punishment, although I know I got one. What I DO remember is that about two weeks after that, my great-grandmother had that old out-house torn down and the big hole filled in. But even though the out-house was no longer there, I knew that giant spider was still hiding around her house SOMEwhere...maybe he had moved to the garage or to the furnace room of the house...but he was definitely there.

Ever since that encounter, I've dreamed about spiders a few times a year. Most of the time, I see them falling from the ceiling, lowering themselves by that little rope of web, down onto my face. I jump out bed, do my dance and shake the bed covers. I never find anything, though. Those spiders are really, really sneaky.

I've read that a person, on average, eats at least four spiders a year in their sleep. Now, my family says that these spider encounters I have in the middle of the night are dreams...but if we eat four spiders a year...I don't think I'm dreaming, do you!?!?

Now that I live in Fayetteville in an old house, spiders are nearly an everyday sighting. And I still won't go near them. Michael has been dubbed the official spider-killer in the family. No matter the size, spiders creep me out. Just last week, we contracted with a bug patrol to spray our house monthly for spiders...and centipedes and silverfish and all those other bugs I hate so much.

In my opinion, the only good bug is a dead bug.

The WORLD comes to Fayetteville

(Posted by Paula)

You know, at first glance Fayetteville may not seem like a hot-bed of activity. And it may not seem like a town where people would visit on a whim like they do bigger cities such as New York, Los Angeles, and Atlanta. But, believe it or not, many travelers from all over the world venture to Fayetteville and stay at our bed and breakfast, the Little Young House. In fact, we don't believe those big cities have anything over Fayetteville!!

Michael and I feel honored to host people from so many different walks of life and so many different cultures. We have kind of dubbed ourselves "Ambassadors of Fayetteville!" Just this past year, we had travelers from Japan, New Zealand, Germany, Belgium and Canada. One of the things we always enjoy is gathering around our kitchen table in the evenings with a pot of coffee or hot tea and a fresh batch of Michael's homemade brownies as we talk to our guests. We have enjoyed hearing about people's lives and travels and what brings them to our little town of Fayetteville. The stories are all different, but all our visitors say the same thing...they love our beautiful town where the people are so friendly.

One of our guests from Japan told us that he felt as if he were staying on the movie set of "Gone with the Wind." We were, naturally, flattered! It made us feel great to know that we had helped to provide him with a memorable visit to our home and to our town.

Not only do we have guests from other countries, but we have people from all over the United States. This past year, we had people from Washington State to Florida, from California to New England. We have some guests who return every year who become more like good friends than paying guests. Others return every couple of years, and it is always so nice to catch up with them and where their travels have taken them since their last visit to Fayetteville.

Needless to say, Michael and I love our bed and breakfast and the people who come to stay with us year after year. And even though it is sometimes difficult to work full-time jobs in addition to running the B&B, we can't imagine not doing it. It brings joy to our lives each time a guest thanks us and tell us what a nice time they've had. And we hope that, if even for only about 24 hours, we helped bring a little joy to their lives, as well.

So, New York, L.A. and Atlanta can have their big buildings, international airports and traffic jams. We've found that the world comes to visit us in Fayetteville, and we're not missing a thing!

RAIN (and may I have another, please?)

(Posted by Paula)

I can't believe how long we've gone without any significant rainfall in Fayetteville. My yard has taken on the look of burnt brush...a waste land, really. The only exception is the rim of grass around our front flower beds. It benefits from the sprinklers every evening. We try to keep the front beds watered...as we've spent WAY too much money trying to landscape them over the past two years...but still, our flowers are fading in the heat and dust.

Each night, we pray...."Lord, won't you please send us just a small rain shower? We won't even get picky and ask for a lot of rain. Even a little will help..." So far, no answer. But we're hoping that he'll see the need to send some much needed storms our way soon.

The farmers must be in a panic. I think many of the crops down in northern Alabama are already lost. The corn looks much too small for this time of year, and even my poor tomatoe plants are struggling to produce anything. They just look scrawny and sad. In fact, all our plants look scrawny and sad.

I remember some of my very best times growing up in Kentucky were spent outside during or immediately following some of those glorious, soaking rain showers. I knew where all the best mud puddles were, and I'd head outside, shoeless, and wade in them. These best were always the ones that came up over my ankles. I was always careful, however, to only walk in the puddles that had concrete bottoms. I absolutely HATED the feel of mud squishing between my toes. Dardy, one of my best friends, liked the ones with the squishiest mud. I just couldn't understand it. She'd stand there with the mud oozing up between her toes and call me over to look. I remember telling her that I only liked the "clean" mud puddles!

While wading, I would look to the sky for signs of a rainbow, and often I would catch a glimpse of one over a mountain ridge. Sometimes I managed to find gutters or drain pipes that would wash the water down quickly off the side of a building or a house. These were heaven! I'd walk underneath allowing myself to get soaked from head to toe.

You know, it's been a long time since I've been walking barefoot after a rain storm. I wonder if I could talk Michael into wading in puddles with me the next time the Lord see's fit to send us some more of that beautiful, drenching rain? If I talk him into it, I'll be sure to get pictures!

Nature at its sweetest

(Posted by Paula)

My office at Sewanee in the Thompson Union looks over onto a wooded area at the back of the building. My view is extraordinary...the wildlife, the large trees, the beautiful walking trail that curls through the woods and disappears into the trees and growth a little way from the building. In the winter, the snow clings to the trees in an enchantment of white, and in the summer, wildflowers bloom along the path and the side of the old stone building that houses my department. It's common for me to see chipmunks, squirrels, and deer on a daily basis.

I've noticed a doe hanging outside my window for several days, and today as I was watching her, a baby stepped out from the foliage into the clearing beside her. Still a little wobbly on his legs, he allowed his mama to clean him a bit while he nursed, but mama was very aware of me in the window and kept a close eye on me as she went about her motherly duties. I called my assistant, Diane, on the telephone to come see, and soon enough word got around the office about the baby. My office hosted a parade of onlookers come to see him, and he's attracted quite a fan base. We've decided we need to name him. Diane wants to name him "Freckles." Shelly votes for "Union" while David wants to call him 'Joel." Despite what we end up calling him, we just hope that his mama will keep him around Thompson Union long enough for us to see him grow a little! We already feel like surrogate parents to the little guy!

On Turning Forty. Yes, I said it. Forty.

(Posted by Paula)


Saturday was the big day. A whole new decade of life. I'm no longer thirty-something. I've gone over the line. I've traveled over the hill.

On Saturday evening after the birthday celebration, my husband and I were driving in the car. It's a family car. A four door sedan. Yes. I own a sedan. And what's even worse...it's a Buick. Argh. Anyway, we were driving in the sedan, and we stopped at Sonic. For my birthday splurge (I'm on an eternal diet), I picked the meal of...sweet tea from McDonald's, french fries from Krystal's and a coney from Sonic. Sitting in the parking lot of Sonic, listening to eighties music on the "Golden Oldies" show, I was REALLY feeling my age. The music of my generation is now considered "golden oldies." I opened the sunroof and turned the music up louder. Michael looked at me out of the corner of his eye. He knew something was up. He's beginning to know when one of my moods are coming on. As I was listening to the music, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself being 17 again. We pulled out onto the road, and the breeze blew through my hair, and I was listening to something by Culture Club on the radio, and I almost could feel it....I was 17, I was skinny, I had big hair, I was young again! Michael braked hard for a traffic light, my eyes flew open, and there I sat. Middle aged woman at a traffic light with three bags of fast food on her over-abundant lap.

I could imagine the conversation the 17 year old me would have with the forty-year old me. It hurt to think about it.

"Yew...what happened to YOU!" said the 17 year old me.

"Life happened, you little twit!" Ha. Good comeback.

Well, you sure didn't age well, did you? And WHAT are you wearing?!"

"Hey, they were on sale at Lane Bryant. Give me a break!"

"Lane Bryant!!! No WAY! What SIZE are you wearing, anyway?!?!?! HOW could you let me get this way!!"

It got worse from there so, I stopped imagining. I glanced out the window at the Walmart parking lot. There were a bunch of teens standing by cars at the back of the lot. I thought to myself, I was cute once like them. I was young like that with the size 5 jeans and the cool hair cut and the designer clothes. I wanted to yell at them out the car window, "Hey, I was VERY cool in 1985!!!"

But it struck me as I watched them how unaware they were of anything other than themselves at that moment. I remember being like that. I thought my parents were complete dorks! And I just knew they were clueless about life and what it meant to be young and really awesome, which I was certain I was at that time. I suddenly realized that, when I was 17, my parents were 37 and 39. Younger than me right now. It was deflating to know that I could have a child old enough to be in college.

I remembered how I used to make fun of my parents....how my dad hiccuped when he drank diet coke, how my mom wore shoes that were totally uncool. I remember thinking to myself that I hope I never get old like my parents. I knew it would have to be a drag. Besides, my dad was way too concerned with how much money everything cost, and my mother was obsessed with how her dark hair was turning gray. Now, I have a gray streak of hair going up the right side of my forehead that would rival the Bride of Frankenstein's!! Isn't that always what happens??!!!? The very things over which I made fun of my parents are now the things that I live with every day. I get the hiccups when I drink diet coke, and I'm forced to wear shoes with the cushy soles so that my feet don't kill me after the first couple of hours. You have NO IDEA how difficult those things are to admit.

Anyway, back to our trip home on birthday night.

As we drove home that evening of my 40th birthday, I continued to compare my 40 year old self with my 17 year old self. It was quite the competition. And just when I thought my 17 year old self had won, we drove around the curve on Main & Bright streets and our house came into view. Nice house, I thought, as I saw the banners we'd hung out front of the historic home to celebrate Independence Day. Hey, the 17 year old me didn't even OWN a house I told myself, and a little bit of satisfaction in knowing that felt good. SHE had no idea how to work a job, pay bills, do laundry. In fact, she was kind of .... well... dumb when it comes to living in the real world. "Take THAT, you 17 year old brat!" Ha. That SO much felt better.

I took a lot of pleasure in walking into the house telling myself all the things I didn't know at 17 that I know now. How superficial I was at 17 and how I'm TOTALLY not that way now (did you catch the 80's word there?!?!). I'm a better person now, I believe. And I know how to grow my very own tomatoes. That 17 year old would have never even got her hands dirty.

At the end of the evening, after I'd surveyed my life the way it is now, after Michael and I had spent a lovely day together and came back to our home that we love so much, I decided that I'd done pretty well. Forty really isn't so bad. I've got a wonderful husband and a great job and a beautiful B&B. I've done a lot for my 40 years, and I'm actually kind of proud. I went to bed that night with a different feeling than I'd had when I had awakened that morning.

It was contentment in knowing what a lovely life I have and a feeling of satisfaction in knowing the type of person I've become.

And it was knowing that the next time I have a conversation with the 17 year old, it's going to go very differently.

(Photos: Top 3, me at 17 in 1984 & 1985. Bottom, me at 39.)

Prayers & Protests

It's difficult to comprehend the events of April 16th on the campus of Virginia Tech. I simply can't fathom what makes someone do something so terribly brutal and heinous to innocent people. I can't IMAGINE what the families, friends and survivors of the incident must be experiencing. All I can do is offer up simple prayers that our Lord will wrap his arms around them, comfort them, and help them through this sad, sad time.

It could happen anywhere, and I find myself asking, "Why Virginia Tech? Why not Sewanee or the University of Kentucky or Union College or Samford?" What is frightening is that something like this REALLY COULD happen anywhere, and until our government enacts tighter regulations on the purchase of firearms, I'm afraid we'll see it again. And again. It's unfortunate that something like this horrific act has to happen when it could be prevented with a tightening of gun laws.

PLEEEEEEEEEASE write your congressmen, the president, WHO EVER will listen...something has to be done to gain control over the sale of weapons before another Virginia Tech or Columbine or University of Texas happens again!! Enough is enough!

Swingtime in Alabama!

(Posted by Michael)

In order to fully explain the contents of this entry, we have to go back in time. In the spring of 1991, I was sitting in my psychology class at Samford when my friend, Andy Underwood, turned around and simply said, "Harry Connick Jr." I had heard this name several times in the previous month, but I was at a loss for who he was or what he did. I asked Andy, "Who is he?". The only response I received was "He is bad" (bad meaning good in this instance). So, I went home to Huntsville that weekend and while visiting my Grandmother, I notice that she has a little extra glint in her eye and some more spring to her step (she was a tap dancer in her younger days). She told me that she had just seen on television the "next" Frank Sinatra. I knew that this "next Sinatra" must be somebody special for her to make that kind of statement. She had seen Sinatra when he was at his peak-- from the bobbysoxer days to the the Rat Pack era. Naturally, I inquired the name of this person. Harry Connick Jr. The pieces of the puzzle started coming together.

I drove to the music store (Camelot for all the Huntsville readers) and purchased his new CD. The bonus was that he was touring and came to Birmingham that May. After that concert (which was fantastic), I proceeded to tell my friends to never miss the chance to see Harry Connick Jr. in person. With Harry, not only do you have the singer, but he is also the conductor and the piano player. Not just the piano player, but one of the best in the world. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to see Harry three more times over the years and was very excited to surprise Paula with a Valentine's present of tickets to see Harry in Birmingham. For those of you who read our blog on a routine basis, you already know that plan was thrown out the window when dates were added to the tour and Huntsville became a venue. Miss fancypants had to get her front row seats (which were actually the fourth row because SOMEbody did not take into account the orchestra pit area). Hindsight being 20/20, it all worked out in the end. Being so close almost felt like being onstage with the band.

Mardi Gras came to Huntsville that night. Harry brought New Orleans and the French Quarter to us. The people who attend concerts in Huntsville know and appreciate their music. You do not have to ask the crowd to get out of their seats. This kind of appreciation always brings out better performances from the artists. It was entertaining me to notice that most of the front row was occupied by women....ladies of all ages who came all dolled up, convinced that they had a chance to steal Harry from his lovely wife, Jill. Poor ladies. Harry is a family man.

The little extra for me this time was that I held onto those seats in Birmingham and actually saw Harry two nights in a row. Trust me, this man gets better every time you see him. At age 39, there is a lot of music left in his soul that has not been tapped. I look forward to enjoying his music with Paula for a very long time.

Wherever life takes you, have a happy heart and a little swing in your step.

With a Wink and a Smile,

Michael

Real Men DO Drink Tea

(Posted by Paula)

Michael and I have been married for a year and a half. I knew it was time to confront our little problem. Our little drinking problem. Michael and I were sitting at the kitchen table one night after dinner, and the time seemed right for me to bring it up.

"Michael, we have a problem that really needs to be addressed," I said. He looked at me puzzled. I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking he was perfect, and there's no way he had a problem! (do I know my husband, or what?)

I continued. "You see, Michael, my love, I enjoy a glass of wine on occasion with dinner. And sometimes I enjoy visiting a winery and participating in a wine tasting, but you HATE wine...won't even let a drop touch your tongue."

"Yea?" was his response.

"And I LOVE to go to tea rooms and order wonderful teas or make pots of tea at home, but I can never drink an entire pot of tea along....but you? You won't even THINK about drinking a cup of tea and helping me out, and you HATE going to tea rooms!."

"Yea..." he said, the worry beginning to creep into his voice.

"Well, don't you see Michael?! We have a drinking problem!" I said. "I like to drink tea and an occasional glass of wine....and you DON'T! Can we remedy this?!?!"

He thought that was funny, not realizing that I was serious about coming up with a plan to get him to go to tea rooms with me.

It was at that point that I developed a plan to make him like tea. I was going to have a tea party in his honor and make him the BEST cup of tea he ever tasted! He laughed at first, until he realized I was serious. It was then that he stood up and walked quickly toward the door. But there's no escaping me when I have my mind set. I pleaded with him to let me just TRY to make a cup of tea that he would like. Reluctantly, he sat down with the look of a man who was none too excited about what was about to happen. In fact, he looked down-right miserable. I could see that the wheels were still turning in his mind to come up with a way to get out of this. I was persistent, though. I reminded him that we've only been married for a short time, and that it is important for us to expand our horizons and respect the interests of the other. His look didn't change one bit. But he sat there. At least he wasn't running for the door again.

I proceeded to grab the coffee pot and fill it up with water. "I'm not drinking HOT tea!" Michael yelled.

"Why not?!?!"

"Because it's HOT...and it's TEA." He replied.

I knew I could change his mind. I busied myself with making the tea. I grabbed a teapot, two matching cups, two of my cute sterling spoons, and the kitty creamer. It was then that I realized Michael had sneaked out of the room when I wasn't looking.

I called to him. No answer. I called again and again. Finally, he answered me. I begged him to come to the kitchen...that I had a surprise for him. He walked in the door, took one look at my little tea setting and turned around to leave. "Noooooooooo," I begged. "Just TRY it."

I poured a cup, added the creamer and sugar and sat it in front of him. I waited. He looked at it. He didn't try it. "Come on, Michael. Just one taste."

He looked at me as if he couldn't believe he was about to do, and he picked up the cup and stuck his tongue down in the hot tea. He sort of resembled a dog lapping at his water dish. "You know, Michael, you do actually have to get some of the liquid in your mouth to be able to taste it," I said.

So, he sipped it. He put it down. He said it was hot. He watched it cool. Finally, with a bit more begging from me, he picked it up and took a drink. He sat it down on the table, scooted back in his chair and put his hands on his knees, as if to say (without really saying the words), "I did it, now can I go?!?!?"

"Is that all you're going to drink?!?!" I asked.

"Uh..." He picked up the cup and drank more. Finally, as I sat watching him, he drank the rest of the cup.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I asked. I knew that I had turned my husband into a tea drinker with my EXCELLENT cup of strawberry tea.

But, he told me that it probably wouldn't be on his daily menu. I did get him to later confess, however, that the strawberry tea wasn't so bad. That's a start, right?

But for now, I guess I'm doomed to drink tea alone at night...and visit the tea rooms without my husband. He actually said, "Don't you have some GIRLfriends who'll go to the tea rooms with you?" I told him that it would be more fun to go with him. He thought that was funny, too. I could just picture him lapping at the cup of tea while sitting in my favorite tea room, The English Rose. He'd be a lot of fun to watch!

So, since turning him into a tea drinker didn't work so well, I'll have to work on getting him to drink a glass of wine with dinner. That will probably be less successful than the tea experiment, but I'm willing to take a chance.

By the way, Michael says that by writing this, I've made him sound like a "pansy." I'm not sure what that means, but I've assured him that only REAL men, real MANLY men, drink tea. Please don't tell him anything different.

A Possum Tale

(Posted by Paula)

You know, our adorable little puppy, Molly, who grew into an adorable HUGE puppy, is always full of energy. In fact, she's about to drive Michael and me crazy. She's at this new stage where she likes to ignore us, so when she goes outside, no matter how long and how loud Michael and I call for her, she does her own thing. Michael came in the house the other morning absolutely fit to be tied. You have to understand...Michael NEVER gets upset, but that morning he was mad. He told me that he'd been trying to get Molly in the house for the past half hour, but she was totally enamored with a possum that had wandered into the yard.

Mr. Possum waddled around the yard for a while but never played dead, according to Michael. I thought that was something they did when a big ferocious puppy wanted to play! Molly was out to make him her best friend, but he really didn't want to have anything to do with her. He was more interested in the big ole fish he had in his mouth.

"WHERE did the fish come from?!?!" I cried, to which Michael replied nonchalantly, "From the creek." He said it as if I was supposed to have known that.

Now, granted, I've only lived in this house for about a year and a half, but NEVER in that time did I ever notice our little creek being deep enough or clean enough to have fish in it. Especially a big ole fish like that. I may be wrong, but I think Michael was pulling my leg...or he just wanted to impress me that he knows everything, including where that possum found that big ole fish.

Well, finally, we herded Molly into the house. I think she was a little hurt that Mr. Possum didn't like her very much. She quickly got over it, though, because the next day when she found that Mr. Possum had left her a lil present -- a dead fish carcass in the yard.

Now, I didn't notice the fish carcass until Molly wouldn't come in when I called her, and I found her in the yard playing with something. She kept sniffing it and chewing on it, and then, she...and I'm not lying...turned on her back in the yard, laid on the fish, and rolled all over it. I still didn't know it was a fish at that point. No, I found that out when she decided to come in and jump on me and try to give me fishy kisses. Needless to say, I TOTALLY freaked out. Michael, of course, thought the entire thing funny. So much so that instead of picking up the fish, he leaves it out there another 8 hours so that Molly could go play with it again and do the same thing to me later that evening. Upon witnessing my display of hysterics mixed with a bit of anger, Michael has now seen to it that the fish is no longer on the property. Very smart move.

So, Mr. Possum is no longer allowed in our yard or in our creek if he's going to catch the fish and leave them for Molly to play with. No, there will be no more presents of fish remains. Molly is disappointed, but I'm sure she'll find something else just as smelly to play with.

Anyone with any tips on how to keep possums away (that does not include using an illegal firearm, poison, or any other devices or chemicals that could bring long-term harm or death to the possum), please let me know!!

An Evening to Remember...

(Posted by Paula)

Well, Harry, Harry, Harry...what can I say? The man didn't disappoint. We attended the Harry Connick, Jr. Concert in Huntsville with friends, Missy and Kevin, and my parents, and we all were impressed with show!! It was definitely one of the best concerts I've ever attended, and Michael (who has seen Harry in concert about five times) said that this was the best concert he's seen Harry do. It was a great night! My seat was wonderful, and he was so close that I didn't even have to use my little opera glasses that I took. The band was amazing and so close that the sound nearly blew me away. The most amazing musician of the night, in my opinion, was Lucian Barber, who nearly ran away with the show!

If you've read my earlier blogs, you know that I bought Michael a ticket that was sixteen seats away from me on the front row. Well, the two girls who were sitting beside me left and went to the orchestra pit section (illegally, of course), so that freed up the two seats beside me, and about halfway through the concert, Michael was actually able to sit beside me! What a relief! Of course, that signified to Harry that I was taken.

One of the highlights of the evening was that Kevin caught a strand of beads that Harry threw out into the audience, and he was kind enough to give them to me! (BIG HUGE HARRY THANKS TO KEVIN!!!) I guess they didn't go with his outfit, so he didn't mind giving them away. *smile* I told Michael that I want to be buried in my Harry beads...and I wore them the rest of the night. They are now preserved, along with my ticket and my illegal Harry pictures from my cell phone (that I'm not going to sell or otherwise distribute in any way) in my personal archives with my most cherished possessions and memorabilia!!

Ah, Harry, my Harry. *sigh*

New Orleans Bound!

I've just discovered that I'll be going to New Orleans to attend a conference for my work in the Spring. I've always wanted to go to New Orleans, and I almost made it there in September of 2005, but Katrina interfered with those plans. Michael and I had planned to spend our honeymoon in NOLA, and we were so looking forward to it. Since both of us are great lovers of jazz, it seemed like the perfect destination and a great location to begin our marriage. Little did we know at the time we made those arrangements what horrific circumstances would keep us from journeying there.

But now, we have a second chance. Since I'll be attending a conference for three days right in the middle of the French Quarter, I'll be able to spend time visiting the jazz clubs and places I've always dreamed of seeing in person. But Michael and I have a bigger goal in mind. We will be taking a few extra days off of work to stay in New Orleans and will be volunteering with Habitat for Humanity to work on the Musicians' Village located in the Upper Ninth Ward. Like so many others, we fear that Katrina has scattered the musical greats of the jazz world to the winds. With the unknown fate of so many, the chances of that culture being diluted and so much knowledge lost is frightening. We feel that there's no option here...that culture MUST be preserved, and that is why the Musicians' Village is so important. It will bring back the geniuses of the jazz genre into a setting so that the culture, the music, may be taught, preserved and studied for decades to come. It gives that hope a leg on which to stand. Our hope is that it will do more than that.

So, for part of our visit, we will be working as much as possible on this crucial project. In reality, we know that we can only be there for a few days, and that in the grand scheme of things, our contribution is such a small one. But a lot of steps eventually build to a mile, to two, to ten. Perhaps if all of us contributed one or two or three days, we would reach our ultimate goal.

If you would like more information on volunteering with Habitat for Humanity in New Orleans or other locations, please visit their website at www.habitat.org.

If you'd like information about specifically helping with the Musicians' Village in New Orleans, you'll find information at http://www.habitat-nola.org/projects/musicians_village.php.

A HARRY SITUATION

(Posted by Paula)

Since the late 1980's, I have had a crush. It's never been one of those totally obsessive crushes that made me do completely stupid things. At least that USED to be true......until now. You see, my crush happens to be on Harry Connick, Jr. --- the talented, the beautiful, the INCREDIBLE, Harry. And Harry is on tour. An upcoming tour date in Huntsville, Alabama, is the thing that has driven me over the edge. But I'll explain that later. Just bear with me for a moment...or fifty...while I talk about Harry...my Harry.

I remember the first time I ever heard him sing. It was probably around 1988, and there I was in my dorm room at Union College, taking a much-needed break from studying (very hard), I'm sure. I remember vividly sitting on the edge of my horrible twin-size dorm bed as I was flipping through channels on the television. This is significant, because it was the VERY first year that cable television came to Union College. We were all in heaven. This is also the place and time I developed my addiction to CNN, but that's another story for another blog. Anyhoooo, back to Harry. There he was...a guy...a piano...a voice. And while, obviously enough, this man was drop-dead gorgeous, the voice was the best thing I'd ever heard! He reminded me of Frank Sinatra, and I had ALWAYS been a Frank Sinatra fan. I was a closet "Frank Listener" in the 80's when it wasn't so cool. Anyway... there Harry was, and I knew it right then. That was the man I was going to marry. But if marriage, for whatever reason, didn't work out, Harry would AT THE VERY LEAST, be the man to whom all other men would forevermore be measured.

So...years went by, and, needless to say, no man ever quite measured up. So I waited. I searched. And waited. And waited. FIIIIINALLY, in 2004, the ONLY man who could EVER change my mind about marrying Harry entered my life. IN FACT, the only man I know who is even more incredible than Harry...the man who TOTALLY measured up...is the man that I married...my husband, Michael. And, believe me, I KNOW that Jill Goodacre, Harry's 'Victoria's-Secret-Model-With-The-Perfect-EV'rything' Wife, breathed a sign of relief the day I married Michael. Her competition had found a better man. But Harry is still my number two guy. Michael understands this and accepts it.

Just to prove what kind of GREAT man I married... when Michael heard that Harry was going to be in Birmingham, Alabama in concert, he quickly and secretly bought tickets as a Valentine's Day present for me. On January 31st, Michael had not yet told me about the tickets. First of all, it was still January, and secondly, he was going to surprise me with them!. A couple of weeks after Michael had bought the tickets, I was driving in my car on my way to work. I have a routine. I listen to WAHR, Star 99.1 out of Huntsville EVERY morning on my long drive from Fayetteville to Sewanee, and Chris and DeeDee keep me company during this trek. So...I'm driving along, singing along with the radio, minding my own business. And then it happened. Chris and DeeDee make an announcement. "HARRY CONNICK, JR. IN CONCERT ... IN HUNTSVILLE!" I nearly ran my car off the road trying to get to the cell phone to call Michael (and I happened to be halfway up Sewanee Mountain at the time of this earth-shattering news!). I am not sure Michael understood me the first fifty times I screamed into his ear that "Harry is coming to Huntsville!!! Harry is coming to Huntsville!!!" But finally, the message got through. After I calmed down enough to listen to him, he was forced to reveal his little Valentine surprise so that I wouldn't go crazy and order more tickets. Of course, I was ecstatic! I already HAD tickets to Harry, and I hadn't even known it!

Michael said that it would be nice to see Harry closer to home. Well, sure...but what I was thinking was that I could now see Harry TWICE...once in Birmingham and once in Huntsville. I suddenly wondered if he'd be playing in Nashville...in Memphis? I could go to EVERY show in the South! But Michael, being the practical guy he is, felt as though we should sell the B'ham tickets if we were able to get better tickets in H'ville. So, that was the plan we (he) decided upon.
Tickets were to go on sale February 2nd, and for three days, I thought about NOTHING except how to get FRONT ROW tickets to see HARRY. It occupied my daily thoughts. I logged onto Ticket Master and created an account, entered all my billing information so that the MINUTE Harry tickets went on sale, I could get them and wouldn't have to worry with payment details. I memorized the seating chart of the Von Braun Center's Concert Hall so that, when presented with tickets to purchase, I would know EXACTLY what I was getting. I had to get as close to row A as possible, AND as close to Seat 19 as possible. THAT was PRECISELY Front Row Center. And it was MINE. I also checked and double-checked the websites to ensure that the tickets would go on sale PRECISELY at 10:00 a.m. CST on Friday. I was ready. I had prepared. I had done my homework.

On Friday, I arrived at work and IMMEDIATELY logged onto the Ticket Master Website. I went straight to the Harry page and the link to purchase tickets. It was 8:33 a.m. I was one hour and 27 minutes early. I kept an eye on the computer, ensuring that it didn't lose power, lose internet connection. There was NO WAY I was going to miss this! At exactly three minutes before 10:00 a.m., I began continuously refreshing the page so that as soon as the link was active, I could purchase the tickets. It took them until 10:02 to activate the link.

The next few minutes went fast, and suddenly, my hands felt as if they couldn't move quickly enough! It's as if they were moving in slow motion! Yaaaah! I put in my number of tickets, agreed to pay the highest price/most expensive price, and hit "Best Available." ROW J came up immediately. "WHAT!!!! ROW J!!!"??????? ALL of this preparation and waiting and planning for ROW J! That was ten rows back! But I was afraid not to take them. If I hit the "back" button or tried to get better tickets, I might lose these...and what if these were the best available?!?!?! I had to think quick. I was uncertain what to do. I hit purchase. They were mine. I had tickets...albeit row TEN tickets...but they were tickets. But I wasn't done...oh no. I had to try again.

So, I hit reset. I entered that I wanted 2 tickets, just as before. I told them I was willing to pay the Highest Price (if you've ever ordered tickets online, you know what I'm talking about here), and, this time, I hit "Center Orchestra" instead of "Best Available." I held my breath. A window popped up... waiting... waiting... ROW D!!!!!! YAAAAH! But those were closer than Row J! I paid for them. Whew. Fourth Row. Another $185.00. I'd spent $400 in less than three minutes, but Harry...Harry was worth it.

I've never been one to give up while I'm ahead...not as long as there may be a better opportunity out there. There HAD to be better tickets!!! I was trying to get a ROW A, Seat 19 ticket! HOW COULD I MISS IT?!?!?! Okay, one last try. I decided this time to put in that I needed only 1 ticket. Perhaps that would get me closer. I didn't hesitate. I pressed the send button and held my breath. When I saw it, I couldn't believe it. ROW A, SEAT 22!!!!!!!!!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAH! That was nearly perfect!! I'd take it! And I'd be happy!!! I paid for it. $100 bucks. I had my ticket!!!

After I leapt from my chair yelling, danced around my desk, jumped over my work study and the papers she was working on in the floor of my office, and ran screaming through the building telling everyone my good fortune, a thought suddenly came into my head. Uh oh. I hate when that happens. WHAT about Michael?!? He didn't have a ticket on Row A!! Suddenly I felt pangs of guilt, and I ran back into the office, reset my request, and did the exact same thing again. I entered 1 ticket. Center Section. Hit Enter. I waited. Row B. Not good enough. Reset. Try again. Row B. Still not good enough. Reset. Try again one last time. As I hit the enter button, I held my breath again..this was my last try. "Pleeeeeeease..." I thought. My eyes were closed, and I was afraid to look. But I had to...I only had two minutes to complete the transaction if Row A came up! So, I opened one eye...just to peek. There it was... ROW A...Seat 38. I'D TAKE IT! WOOHOOOOO!!

The trouble with having 16 seats between Michael and me was that I'd eventually have to tell him that I'd deserted him to get closer to Harry. But, hey. At least I didn't leave him back on Row J! Surely he would forgive me and understand. I didn't know if I should tell him now or wait until we got to the concert. But I decided to tell him. I was too excited to lie or leave out details. I wasn't good at either of those, anyway. Plus, there was an even bigger problem. I now had eight tickets and had spent $800 on Harry Connick, Jr. tickets. WHAT would I tell Michael?!?! WHAT would I do with that many tickets!?!?! Okay, it's obvious that I had gotten just a little teensy weensy bit caught up in the moment and got carried away. *gulp*

Now, here's the situation caused by my overzealous nature. I have have half a dozen extra tickets to see Harry Connick, Jr...... A HALF DOZEN!

This crush was totally under control until....well, until today. Now I have the task of explaining to my wonderfully sweet, compassionate, handsome, intelligent, forgiving husband how I ended up spending so much money... and he isn't even going to sit next to me at the concert.

But all in all...today has been a good day. AND I am Row A, Seat 22...just in case you're wondering. :-)

Oh, and if you happen to wander onto EBay, I know a place where you can buy six tickets to see Harry Connick, Jr. in Concert.

NOW...about those back stage passes.......hmmmm.....

(to be continued...)