Oh! I AM MY MOTHER!!

In honor of Mother's Day, I'm posting the article I wrote last year that appeared in HER magazine, May 2009:


Oh, yes! I definitely am! And that’s perfectly okay with me.

People have always considered me a “chip off the ol’ block.” Some women would have flames bursting from their eyes if anyone told them this, but not me. Growing up with “Carol Burnett meets Elizabeth Taylor” (minus the Richard Burton element), was never dull. My mom is funny, beautiful, and doesn’t take a lot of crap from anybody. I for sure got the funny part, because if I can make people laugh, I’ve done my good deed for the day. I’m still working on the beautiful part. That always took some work, because my mother couldn’t get me to wear a dress or makeup without great gnashing of teeth. She’s been accused of dressing up to clean house. I’m accused of having too many dresses and not wearing any of them.

When I got married, I instantly became the mother of four. I helped raised two of them on an everyday basis: girls, age six and nine at the time. I skipped colic, diapers, and potty training and went straight to slumber parties and tubes of lipstick left in the pocket of a pair of pants that got put into the dryer.

After a month went by, I called my mother and said, “I apologize for everything I’ve ever done.” I was in my late twenties, so that covered a lot of ground.

All four of these children are grown now; three have children of their own. This made me a grandmother at 31. (I could insert one of those online, IM-speak acronyms of shock here, but I’ll refrain.) It wasn’t until I started hanging with the grandkids that I really noticed how much I was saying things like, “Scat, Tom!” when someone sneezed. I haven’t started calling everyone “shug” yet, but that might be a future endeavor.

I was standing in line at the local discount shopping mecca and glanced through an article about something rather unmentionable in one of those women’s magazines that likes to broadcast things that most women really don’t want to see broadcast in the checkout line, and thought, “Gee! I knew that in the fifth grade!” Because my mother told me. She knows everything, like the names of obscure actors all the way back to the 1930s. My children now ask me, “Who’s that?” when old black and white films turn up on TCM. Nine times out of ten, I know exactly who they are, thanks to excellent maternal guidance.

My mom and I definitely have different musical tastes, although she did think Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me” was kinda catchy. Without her, I wouldn’t have Frankie Laine and Andy Williams on my mp3 player, right alongside Black Sabbath and Nickelback. “The Theme for Rawhide” coming on right after “Iron Man” upsets the passengers in my car somewhat, but you know what? I really don’t care. “Rollin’, rollin’, rollin…”

My mother loves to read, and I remember frequent trips to the library as a child. She introduced me to Stephen King, and we both had extreme fears of Plymouth automobiles for a while. (Remember Christine?) I don’t know if that explains my sister’s avid interest in the film version of Cujo, but oh, well. If I had time, I’d follow Mom’s lead and join a book club, but I don’t think “Building Online Communities: Effective Strategies for the Virtual Classroom” is on Oprah’s reading list.

Mother-daughter relationships are complicated. Every woman knows this. Especially if they survived their teenage years and still have both arms and legs. Several films have captured the dynamic: Terms of Endearment, Postcards from the Edge, Steel Magnolias, and Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. (Hmm…three of those starred Shirley MacLaine. Wonder what that means?) Some women strive to be like their mothers, others…not so much. I really doubt Amy Winehouse’s future children will still be telling her to go to rehab when they become adults. We won’t even mention Joan Crawford or that woman who had the octuplets. Maybe Shirley MacLaine could step in and line up everybody’s chakras.

Regardless of whatever may have happened between birth and the day we looked at a stray digital photo and said, “Oh, wait! That’s a picture of ME! I thought it was my mom!,” one thing is certain: We are all shaped into who we are as woman because of our mothers, no matter what the relationship may be. Some of us have spent every day of our lives with our mothers. Other were adopted, or separated from their mothers due to divorce or death or other circumstances. Be proud of those traits you’ve picked up, either consciously or unconsciously, and remember those special women on their day this month. Without them, you wouldn’t be reading this column, and I wouldn’t be writing it!

THANKS TO ALL THOSE MOTHERS OUT THERE!! YOU ARE LOVED!!

Another School Year Comes to An End

Well…where do I start then?

The year was relatively uneventful.  I didn’t have to drive to Nashville in the fall but I had to this spring.  And that sucked, as usual.  I hate that campus.  I drove all that way and no one ever showed up for Spanish class. There were only three students, but still. I even scheduled a “fun” day for Cinco de mayo and no one came to the restaurant. Huh. So I ate a taco and went home.

That was just this week though.  The previous months were nothing out of the ordinary, as I said before.  I spent my first months at the Hut, which is a cool place to stay during the week.  It’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and I have Internet service.  What more could I need?  I kept plugging away at my PhD classes.  I made my first B in Stats class, but I’m still a genius according to recent grades.  I’m into the research classes which are boring as hell.  My current mentor has a name that sounds like a snack cake. Unfortunately, she won’t be staying at NCU and will leave after my course is over in June.  Too bad-she seemed fair.  I would have liked to have had her on my dissertation committee.

The two new classes I developed have been added to the schedule for next year.  Music Fundamentals in the fall and American Popular Music in the spring.  This gives me more teaching hours, and will solve my Nashville problem and I will never have to go over there again.  Spanish students will just have to come to the language lab in DeQueen (where they should be) or settle for online.  Here’s the other cool thing though: The new program I’m using for Spanish is totally cool and will breathe new life into the classes.  Maybe I’ll be able to schedule more upper level classes.  They’ll have native speakers to talk to any time and the computer will even tell them if they’re completely botching the pronunciation, which happens a lot. My job just got a lot easier, and the students may actually enjoy taking a foreign language.  Of course, if they get slammed too often, I guess they wouldn’t enjoy it.

I “wrote” my own textbook for the music class.  I created a custom book through the publisher and cut about $100 off the price.  I added what I liked and ditched what stunk.  I’ve got a whole new idea for making sound files available.  YouTube has helped a lot, too.  They can watch performances instead of just listening to them.  Hopefully I can engage them more and they won’t have to listen to me drone on and on.

So-my job should be more interesting next fall.  I don’t know if anyone will be able to stand those recorders squeaking and squawking but, oh well. It will be fun to teach people how to play again.

The band was busy.  And will keep being busy.  We’ve learned some new songs. We tossed out “My Sharona” the other night on the fly and it sounded pretty good.  That made up for ME squeaking and squawking the other night with my latest cold.  It has finally cleared up and I should be back in top form Friday.  I hate not being able to sing.  I’m always scared my voice is gone and won’t ever come back.

I’m having surgery done in July and will be down for two weeks.  They’re going to straighten out my deviated septum, so I might be able to breathe for the first time in 40+ years.  That will be interesting.  We plan on working on an original album during that time.  I’ll blog about how tough songwriting is some other time.

Let’s see. What else crosses my brain this evening? While a big yellow cat sits on the back of my couch and stares blankly into space?  Oh, yeah, the battle of the Homeless Commune across the street from the loft. My view:  Go away.  Take your freaky, untrained, moo-ma, touchy-feely wacko shelter some place else.  I’m tired of dirty bums wandering around my neighborhood.  God helps those who help themselves, not those who enable people to continue to waste away the life God gave them.  People with mental health issues and drug problems need real professional help and safe boundaries, not a free rock show and an ice cream cone. Those things are nice, but not a solution.  And NO ORGANIZATION OF ANY KIND SHOULD PUT OTHERS’ LIVES IN DANGER.  Especially those who WORK in their organization.  Have they thought about that at all?  It’s a mess.  They’re misinformed and irresponsible.

I’ll stop there, because I’d rather end on a positive note.

The summer is almost here and I will get to be in my own home for awhile, hanging out with my favorite person in the whole world.  And the shopping will be much better.

"We Are the World"

Either I'm completely hormonal or whatever, but I was almost in tears when 95.1 played "We Are the World" this morning. On this day in 1985, radio stations across the country, all at the same time, shared a moment to play this USA for Africa recording in observance of Good Friday. So...DJ Pat O'Brian played it today.

I remember the week when "We Are the World" was recorded. It was after the broadcast of the American Music Awards in winter 1985. It was a big deal. I still have my 45 record of this...somewhere. I remember the video-it aired all the time. (Now, granted we didn't have MTV in Mena at that time, so I saw it on "Night Tracks" on WTBS.)

I think what choked me up was hearing the line-up of artists, no, legends, who appeared on that record. Legends from all genres: Pop, Rock, R & B, country, appearing in this order:

Lionel Richie, Stevie Wonder, Paul Simon, Kenny Rogers(pre-facelift),
James Ingram, Tina Turner, Billy Joel, Michael Jackson(when he still really looked like the Michael Jackson I knew), Diana Ross, Dionna Warwick, Willie Nelson, Al Jarreau, Bruce Springsteen, Kenny Loggins, Steve Perry, Daryl Hall, Huey Lewis, Cyndi Lauper, Kim Carnes(who I always felt kinda bad for because she only got to sing two words by herself), Bob Dylan, and final soloist Ray Charles. (I think that's what hit me hardest. It's Ray Charles for Chrissakes.)

(Isn't it sad, too, that both he and MJ are gone now?)

Various choir members, of course, included some other Jacksons(even LaToya!), the Pointer Sisters, Sheila E., Smoky Robinson, Jeffrey Osbourne, Bette Midler, a rather big-haired Lindsey Buckingham, Harry Belafonte, and Blues Brother Dan Aykroyd. And there's Quincey Jones in the conductor's seat.

Watch and tell me you don't feel nostalgic!



I used to know EVERYONE who sang solos, but when I listened this morning, I'd forgotten Paul Simon and Billy Joel. Oops. Age sucks.

Now, I know about the big re-make for Haiti Earthquake relief, and the "controversy" that surrounds it. What was it Jay-Z said, that "We Are the World" is "untouchable?" I'm inclined to agree. I hadn't heard the re-make until I YouTubed it today. It's okay, I guess, and I actually did recognize most of the artists, which really surprised me. At least they did call on the talents of Josh Groban, Jennifer Hudson, and other more recent singers I admire like Mary J. Blige, Toni Braxton, and Pink. It was also nice to see veteran divas Barbra Striesand and Celine Dion. (Celine got Cyndi Lauper's part. And in the video she looks confused about how to pull it off. Weird.) Tony Bennett was there, too. I spotted Gladys Knight, but am disappointed she didn't get a solo. Or maybe she did and I just missed it. And was that Richie Havens?? Singing in French??

I noticed the Beach Boys were in attendance, WITH Brian Wilson. Jeff Bridges. Carlos Santana. My dear Wilson sisters, Ann and Nancy, way in the back. Jamie Foxx, who I guess could be considered Ray's stand-in. They kept MJ's performance in there, with Janet "superimposed" in the video? I found that a little strange.

I enjoyed seeing Will I. Am, but I can do without Fergie. Ever since I saw that "Barracuda" debaucle years ago... And did I see Snoop? And why, why, why, would you even ask Kanye West to appear? I'm surprised he didn't jump in and complain that he was the only person allowed to redo the entire song himself. And I've liked Wyclef Jean ever since I saw him on a Johnny Cash tribute show years ago. He just seems cool.

There were a few "rockers" there, if that's what you can call them nowadays. Adam Levine from Maroon 5 and...uh...I didn't know that bald guy. Or the kid who sang the first line? I'm pretty sure he's not a Jonas Brother. And I have no idea who some of the rappers are.

(I'm OLD, okay?? I'm white, too, so I have no frame of reference here, unless I'd seen Grand Master Flash or Run DMC there. They weren't, were they?)

Anyway, here's the 2010 version:



I still prefer the original version. I'm with ya, Jay Z. And the message is still the same, and I do hope that aid for both hunger in Africa and re-building in Haiti goes exactly where it's supposed to go. And it's nice to know that artists are still willing to set their egos aside and do something good for others.

Or at least, I hope that's their intention.

So, when's the next "Hands Across America" going to happen?? :)

It Follows Us Everywhere...13 Years Later

Okay. Everyone pretty much knows I'm married to a former member of the Coral Reefers, right?

So I'm sitting here on a really dreary afternoon listening to the “Holiday Music” channel because there’s absolutely nothing worth watching on TV this time of day, and “Jingle Bells” comes on. Not just any “Jingle Bells,” but the version by the guy who just seems to “be” everywhere.

Jimmy Buffett.

Thirteen years earlier….

Don and I have been dating for about 8 months or so, and it didn’t matter where we what, or what radio station we turned on in the car…Buffett was always playing. “A Pirate Looks at 40.” “Come Monday.” We’re in a Burger King at 1 in the morning in Sedalia, Missouri, and “Son of a Son of a Sailor” comes on the PA. We’re walking past a bar on Bourbon Street on our first trip to New Orleans together and there’s a guy doing a single act, singing “Why Don’t We Get Drunk.” We’ve heard countless butchering of “Margaritaville.”

(Who hasn’t?)

What kind of omen is that?? Even during the holidays, he’s THERE.

Quick!!! Where’s my Andy Williams album???

(By the way, if you’re wondering why we were in a Burger King at 1 in the morning in Sedalia, Missouri, we were on our way to Indiana to pick up Number One Son Danny. It was 1997, around Spring Break time, I think.)

Z-mas Comes Early

A while back I made a major complaint about my most favorite electronic buddy being viciously abducted from my automobile, in the parking lot of my own residence. And it didn't even happen on a night when Perot Theater attendees were illegally using it. Sooooo...what to do??

Around that same time the new Zune HD was about to hit the shelves. But did I really want one of those? It only has 32 gigs.

Just 32? My "vintage" Zune had 30, and I'd only used 17 of those before it was kidnapped. Zune HD has a touch screen and all the latest bells and whistles-games and apps and bears, oh my. Eh....maybe. There's those little ones-the 4, the 8, the Zune HD 16.

Nah.

I wanted lots of storage, like the Zune 120. It comes in red. And it's ON SALE!!!

The Arkansas side Wal-Mart has a passel of them, at $229. Then it went down to $179. Hmm...get it now? No, I'll wait. More important things to buy. Christmas was coming soon. But trying to hook up a CD player to check the PA at shows was getting to be a real pain in the arse. Who still keeps a CD player in their rack these days?? Especially when it's so funny to watch the faces of karaoke "divas" trying to pass themselves off as real singers at festivals and they're told we don't have one.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!!! It's even better when we tell them we don't have a CASSETTE PLAYER!!!!

Sorry...musical snob moment. They're rare. It'll pass.

Anyway, we're walking into Wal-Mart last Friday. Do I want to go ahead and buy my new Zune? Uh, yeah...well, no...maybe. I'll see when we get back to electronics. It's not like 120 gig Zunes are flying off the shelves. They'd had about ten of them locked in the display case since last summer. I knew I'd probably get one at home because DeQueen and Ashdown still had them at full price. (I thought about layaway, but Wal-Mart ditched layaway years ago. I'd heard K-Mart had brought it back because of the bad economy. They only had Zune accessories, not the Zune itself. At least, that was what was on their website. Target didn't have layaway either.)

Well, whadya know. They're marked down to $125. Who needs Thanksgiving dinner? When I can have Christmas now!!!

So I flag down an unsuspecting Wally-World employee, and ask if she actually does work in electronics, and she replies with one of those Inspector Clouseau-inspired answers, "No, I just wander around in here." Or something kinda like it. (Well, you never know. Every time you see someone with a navy blue shirt and khaki pants meandering through the aisles and ask them for help, they will always say, "I don't work in this department." Tell me I'm wrong! I dare you!)

Well, she managed, somehow, to plop herself all the way down onto the floor to unlock the display case, and I wondered if Don and I would need to call 911 to help her get back up. (Wasn't there a commercial about that once??) She rang us up, all the while jabbering about wanting to go home. We declined the yearly replacement plan, then she answered a phone call inquiring about Rolling Stones albums. Forty Licks and...and...she couldn't remember the other one two seconds later, so we tried to help her out. I can't remember myself now. I think she was due for another dose of Aricept, being a little on the batty side. Too bad the purchase of this Zune couldn't have been more like that of my first one, with this particular associate's behavior. I guess luck like that happens once every three years.

So, yippee!!! I have a brand new, bright red 120 gig Zune. I can put even more songs on it that I will probably never listen to. I'll put it on shuffle like I always do and every fifth song will prompt a "What the hell is that?" response. My Zune is like a box of chocolates: You never know what you're gonna get. Maybe I should call it a "Gump." Or a "Gune."

From Blogger Pictures

At home, while waiting for the ravioli to bake, I fired up the laptop and pried open the box while Don turned on DVR'd episodes of "Stargate Universe" and "The Mentalist." It would take a while for the battery to charge, and my software needed updating for the new player. Microsoft finally added a step that says, "If you want to delete something from your computer and keep it on the Zune, please choose "Manual" sync." Finally!! Stuff would not mysteriously disappear anymore!! Yay!!!

That, and the fact that there were times when the damn thing just didn't want to turn on, were usually the two biggest complaints about the Zune. It used to bug the crap out of me. And album information turning up wrong. My Hootie and the Blowfish Greatest Hits CD always showed up as Fleetwood Mac's Rumours. Then it became the Blue Oyster Cult Essential Collection. Weird. But now that you can assign individual tracks (like those from a burned CD) with the correct info, that can easily be remedied.

(Except for last night when the Duets Soundtrack showed up as a Pink Floyd album. Don't know what happened there. I'm ever so anal about these things. You've seen those "Help me, I'm surrounded by nerds!" messages Don's been posting? Yeah, it's kinda like that.)

Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur...

Once the player was charged, I added the playlist that we use between sets, then some other music, and some pictures. I liked how much easier the controls worked, and that there's a clock on the main menu. It didn't some with stupid videos by obscure European artists. There's a longer sync cable and three colors of earbud covers. And you'll never guess the first song I listened to. Song about a fish. Or Sarah Palin.

Chung-chigga-chung, chigga-chung, chigga-chung, chung-daa-daa-daa....weeee-ee-yee-yeeee!!!

I meant to choose "Crazy on You," but I forgot.

Doesn't matter. I'm back to not having to carry around CDs in the car. It was easier to get through my treadmill mile because I could hear music instead of turning up the TV so loud. We were able to check the PA much easier on Saturday at Hopkins. Wonder if I'll be able to fill up all 120 gigs of storage? Granted, that after the last Zune update when HD came out, my entire mp3 purchase history completely disappeared, along with the Zune points I still had. Oh well. I'll still take it over an iPod any day of the week. The funny thing about Zune is that people either love it, or hate it. There's no in-between. I loved my old one and I love this one already. There are times when I am quite easily entertained, even for a nerd.

Thank you, Santa!!

Doctor, Doctor

I used to be afraid to go to the dentist, but I was never afraid to go to the doctor. Back when I was a kid, I had to go often, because I had a cold almost every two weeks. Then I got my tonsils out in the fifth grade and that sorta took care of that.

As I got older, it got to be annoying to go to the doctor. You'd show up at 9:50 for an appointment at 10, then you'd wait 20 minutes in the waiting room, another 20 minutes in the exam room, then you'd see the doctor for about 10 seconds.

That'll be "an exorbitant amount of cash, please."

This last part got to be a real pain in the pocketbook when I was no longer on my parents' insurance. When I finally got benefits with my first teaching job, that wasn't too bad, but Blue Cross-Blue Shield still took a big chunk out of my measly paycheck.

After I got married and got REALLY great health insurance through the VA, going to the doctor got easier. You showed up at 9:50 for an appointment at 10...and you got into your appointment...at 10. You saw the doctor, specialist, or whoever, and they sent you to the pharmacy where you waited 5 minutes or less for your meds, which for me was free. As long as I went to a VA hospital, everything was free.

(I have the Marine Corps to thanks for this, and today is their birthday, by the way. SEMPER FI!!!)

Going to the VA for health care was almost like being cattle-herded. I remember visiting my PCP (primary care physician) at the VA in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where I had a quick exam, got a cat-scan, and then picked up a prescription, all within an hour. I didn't wait for anything. I thought that was great. Albuquerque had, and I assume still has, one of the best VA hospitals in the country. When we moved back to Arkansas, we chose to use the Shreveport VA, and weren't quite as impressed. The quick service was still there, but somehow it just wasn't the same. However, the VA insurance plan that I have is still one I can't complain about.

Here's what I'm getting at, and I'm not about to rant about the big health care plan that's causing such a stir. (I don't get political, because it's not my thing, but I will say that I think we're all about to get screwed.)

A couple of weeks ago, I had to go in to get "THAT" check-up women are supposed to get on occasion. And here's what happened:

I waited about two minutes in the waiting room. I didn't even get to read a magazine article. I didn't wait too long in the exam room either. I liked the doctor instantly. He reminded me of a friend of ours, like he's the Indian version. (And I mean Indian, not Native American.) He was very personable and friendly and not holier-than-thou.

I had to go back today, and right after I sat down, a nurse came out to tell me they were running behind and it would be about 30 minutes before they could get to me, so if we needed to do something else we could come back. We went to get something to drink and returned. About three more minutes went by, and I got called into the exam room. I happened to see the doctor on my way back and he apologized for the wait.

The nurse took my vitals, went out, then came back to say they were still waiting on a procedure room, and wanted to know if she could bring me something to eat or drink while I waited. I just asked for a Coke, and about five minutes later she brought me one. Then the procedure room was available, and again, the doctor apologized for the wait. The procedure took about seven minutes (I had to sing "Crazy on You" in my head to get through it), and still the doctor and the nurses treated me very well.

It's not often someone has a "pleasant" experience at the doctors' office, (the procedure wasn't pleasant at all), but today was one of those better health care moments. Though I had to wait, they told me about the hold-up, and made me comfortable. The staff was so nice, and they seemed to be getting the other patients in and out quickly. And because of today's experience, I wanted to share.

And it only cost me a small co-pay. All the more reason to smile. :)

Old & Nerdy

(Original Draft: October 30, 2009)

Not am I only a nerd, I'm now officially an old nerd.

From Blogger Pictures

Out at the Hut, my rental house in DeQueen, I can't pick up any radio stations. Except for KDQN, of course, but I'm not waking up in the morning to "Cornpone, Country-fried, Grits & Gravy Breakfast Show." I'm not listening to that first thing in the morning. Loren Hinton, he's a nice guy, but no. I'm not doing that.

For a short while, I was able to pick up 98Rocks out of Shreveport, but after my cat knocked down the antennae wire, I haven't been able to hear it since.

So I decide to fish around one night and find something, ANYTHING, besides country music and that awful stuff they call "popular music" now. I found some classical music and thought, okay, I'll stay here. It was a long, long, long orchestral piece with a chorus. It went on for almost an hour. I didn't recognize but thought, "That's got to be Mahler." And I was right. Symphony No. 4, I think. I was proud of myself because I was able to discern the composer without it being a piece I've taught every semester since 2003, (Beethoven's Fifth, Mozart's 40th, and Bach Cantata 140). It turned out to be the Texarkana College station, which is National Public Radio.

The next morning when the "alarm" came on, I heard some regional news and then the commentary on the death of Chick-Lit. (See previous blog post). Then I decided to turn it on in the car on my way to work that day. Since I don't have my Zune anymore, (See previous, previous blog post), and I don't feel like carting around tons of CDs, I have to have something to listen to. I can pick up my rock stations in the car but they're using the same playlists every day. I can guarantee that at 4:30 every weekday afternoon, 106.3 is going to play "Hell's Bells." 98Rocks will be playing a Skynyrd tune. Sunday night is the only interesting night to listen to 106 because of House of Hair and The Tour Bus, when I can listen to some more variety of the hard rock kind. I hadn't heard Helix on the radio since 1987. And I heard a great new (*gasp!* New rock on the radio? By someone besides a one-hit wonder? Holy Cow!)song by Living Color. I don't remember the title but it was pretty good.

Anyway, 91.5 is now programmed into the radio, and I've found myself listening to it more and more. On the way home from a rescue mission to the Winslow EZ Mart Wednesday night, I heard some Faure string quartets. (Lucky I didn't doze off-Faure's pretty mellow). After that they were doing Bruckner, Grieg, and one of my favorites, Rhapsody in Blue. I listened while I ate my smoked almonds and drank my Red Diamond Sweet Tea. I was trying to snack a little bit healthier and passed up another Coke and peanut butter cups. That's when I realized I wasn't just a nerd anymore, I'm an old nerd.

Only old people listened to NPR or talk radio. I used to think that was most boring thing in the world, to listen to mindless jabbering while you're driving. I always had to have music because I was usually practicing, singing along so I could stay awake. I got a lot of work done, vocal-wise, on those tedious trips to the Nashville campus twice a week. Since I haven't had to do that this semester, which is such a blessing, I haven't been in the car as much. When I was though, I still had music on. When we first moved to Texarkana and I was making the drive to DeQueen on Monday mornings, I would listen to Paul Potts and Abba on the Zune. This must be another sign I'm getting old because Judas Priest first thing in the morning is just too much. I didn't think that at the time, but I guess this day was coming. I usually never knew what I wanted to listen to, so I'd do the "Box of Chocolates" thing-put the Zune on shuffle, never knowing what I was gonna get.

Now I'm listening to NPR. I heard an awful story about an incident in Northern California, then they were discussing great monster movies. They mentioned "The Thing," "Frankenstein," and concluded with an e-mail about a teacher who introduced "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" to her students. Now I've got to put in my Netflix queue, between my marathon of Dark Shadows episodes. This morning they discussed how the Municipal Auditorium in Shreveport, where Elvis and Cash played, is haunted. Call GhostHunters! Quick!

I feel more informed now. Maybe I should have done this as a podcast and then I'd sound like I was on talk radio, too.

Then again, maybe not.