Spring

Thursday was 65 degrees, sunny, and warm. It had that I'm about ready to be spring smell to the day.

This morning it's 25 degrees, windy, and cold. Oh yes, it's also snowing on top of the fresh three inches of powder already on the ground. Today has that man look at my utility bills climb kind of smell to it.

I'm finding Puxatony Phil and whipping his furry brown behind. The rodent is mine people.

I'm Sorry

Little guy’s been having some trouble staying asleep. He assumes when he wakes up, we should all be up. Parenting moments. Good times.

This morning he came into the bedroom before the alarm went off. I shoo’ed him away, telling him to go back to bed quietly until we wake up. Not long after, he came back. When I “instructed” him what to do this time, he started to object. I cut him off and “may” have used a “tone” that was a little harsher than normal. Enough so that when he went back to his room I could hear crying.

Now fully awake I took a look at the alarm clock. Power went out yesterday and the spousal unit did not re-set the time properly. Turns out the little guy wasn’t coming in to bother us, but to save us. The alarm never would have gone off.

I am a bad dad…I will pay for this someday. Hopefully, not in my sleep at the end of baseball bat.

I Will See It all The Way Through...

I choked up watching the trailer. The trailer. I'm going to be a mess people.

Dow Ka-Pow

My 401(k) called today.  It said, "Listen, about your retirement...sorry, I'm out.  That's it.  I quit." and then hung up.  

You guys been watching the Dow?  I know, right. Wow!  Wait...what do you mean you haven't been watching?  Kidding me?  Well, suffice it to say it's not nearly as high as Michael Phelps.  

Family, career, finances, aspirations, lot of balls in the air gentle readers.  That look on my face isn't a bad burrito coming back to haunt me.  Just me concentrating, trying not to drop one.

Sing a Song Happy Hearted, Someday It Might Get Charted

Here is is people. He made the chart...

http://www.musicrow.com/charts/chart/

There'll be no living with him now. Have to call him Mr. Filer.

Buffett Bits

Walking on the beach in St. Maarten and there it was. I could totally see where Mr. Jimmy, king of Island cool, got the lyric.

So Awesome.

I personally just barely missed stepping on a pop top while walking in flip-flops.

Tourists covered in oil, booze in the blender, smell of the shrimp, all of it. The song wrote itself. He just found a lounger in the shade and people watched for an afternoon.

Bigger Surprise?

Back.  No chance of anyone sticking their tongues to the flag pole that is frozen Missouri. Almost a fifty degree differential in temps from where we started and finished the day. Still below freezing here.  Blach...

Let's play a game shall we.  You there at home, and all those in the studio audience, get your fingers ready and buzz in with the answer to the following question:

Which was a bigger surprise for Billy-Boy this evening when he made it back to the Casa de Oomp-Pah-Loompa Pow Pow?:

A) Arriving home to find that his wife had turned the thermostat all the way down to 50 degrees before leaving on vacation.  We're not currently licensed to conduct hypothermia experiments here that I'm aware of, yet if you listen close you can actually hear my organs shutting down one by one.

or

B) Finding a letter from Nashville in the stack of mail with an actual royalties statement inside. No-No. Not a typo.  Not a check, mind you, but a statement.  Not quite big enough to warrant a check.  In truth, balance out the amount on the statement versus the labor involved with the staff member preparing it, add in the the cost of the stamp and envelope, and I'm pretty sure they just lost money on that deal.  But...

Yes, if you answered "B" you'd be correct.  Good answer.  Tell them what they've won Don.

That's the first one of those things I've ever seen. Not sure how to read it exactly, but I'm going to hold it in my blue-numb fingers close to my already failing eyes showering it with a white fog of crystallized CO2 coming from my wheezing lungs every time I exhale until I succumb to the icy blackness that is so, so immanent.

    

Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho, Back Home I Go

Well gentle readers, last cruise day. On the high seas somewhere between Barbados and Puerto Rico. Home tomorrow. Sad to see it end.

Two days ago in St Lucia we took in whale watching and a great, great beach. As an extra added bonus, we also got to tour the ship's sick bay. Little fella developed an ear infection. The doctor and nurse were from Romania. His English and my Romanian were about on par with each other. No worries. I'm sure he was board certified, and after all, Romania is known the world over for it's quality medical schools. So no way I'm going to let little things like a language barrier and no obvious qualifications stand in the way of giving my only son prescription medications.

Little guy's not screaming anymore, has seen pirates and whales, and has a shells and bits of coral from some really great places, Momma has read all her books and is still getting some sun, and I found more Hawaiian shirts to buy. Good times, gentle readers. Good times.

More later on Brother Chris when I get home. He cracked the top 75 people on the Music Row Country Break Out chart. The new one's not posted yet, but I'll post the link when he shows up.

Good night Mr. and Mrs. America and all the ships at sea.

Shipping Out

That's it, gentle readers. I'm out.



Unless Rascal Flatts decides to cut one of our songs or Jennifer Garner gets a divorce, please don't bother me. Not checking E-mail. I am forbade to pick up a phone of any type. This I swear, as of 5:00 today, I'm on island time.



No blogs for a little while, so blog amongst yourselves whilst I'm away.



And remember, climbing utility poles is really dumb...



From me to you on this Valentine's day holiday:



Peace!!

Grammy Whammy

OK Kids, I know the Grammy's are over and done. Based on the speed Bloggers run, the Grammy's are ancient history. Channelling Steve Martin here: Well Excuuuuuuuuse me. I've been busy. Deal with it.

How is it that Cold Play wins for Best Rock Album? I just envision Robert Plant, when he finally stopped staring at Alison Krause's cleavage, going "what in the bloody hell..."

Somewhere on Mount Fender the gods of rock wept.

If I were Cold Play, and based on those ridiculous jackets they wore I'm glad I'm not, I'd be on the lookout. It's like a moral imperative that Keith Richards, Jon Bon Jovi, The Boss, Steven Tyler, Axl Rose, the little guy in the shorts from AC/DC named after a cow, and quite possibly the dude from Dokken if he can pry himself loose from his leather pants, find them and beat them to a mashy, sullen pulp.

That's it.

Happy V-Day People

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Good Read

If you get the chance, read Charles Krauthammer's Op/Ed piece titled "Gorging at the Trough." 

He writes for the Washington Post.  Not a Democrat, not Republican.  Just a tax payer.  Loved it.

Peace.

I'm So Old

I went to sleep.  Can you believe it?  There so going to revoke my fan-dom. 

I had to read about the the game, about the last second game winning shot against our arch rival, in the paper the next morning.

38 going on 83 people....

I'm sorry Mizzou.

Nadya Suleman had octuplets. She brings the babies home to six other siblings. Nadya is single, unemployed, and currently receiving disability income. She claims there will be no trouble providing for every one of her family’s needs once she completes her education and begins work in the counseling field.

Moreover, Nadya has stated publicly that she had the babies because of a deep desire to have a large family, not for fame, fortune, or to rely on the kindness and largess of the State of California. She’s a private person and has no need for the spotlight.

Here are some quotes from the very private mother’s publicist. Yes, her publicist:

Suleman's publicist, Mike Furtney, told The Associated Press that she was staying at “an undisclosed location” where she was confident she could avoid reporters and photographers.

(Goes on to say that “later that same day she appeared on the today show”)

More from the private, only interested in the babies, Nadya’s publicist:

”There are lots of potential opportunities out there and she's looking at them carefully,” he said.

Joann Killeen, Furtney’s partner, told TODAY earlier this week that her client is being deluged with offers for book deals, TV shows and other business proposals, but has not decided what she might do other than care for her children, her newly hired spokeswoman said Monday.

“She's the most sought-after mom in the world right now,” Killeen said. “Everyone wants to talk to her.”

Color me skeptical, gentle readers. Skeptical indeed

Mean Ole Uncle Bill

Chris, family, et all are packed in an RV right now.  1,400 miles on just this trip alone. As of the last update, they're still headed away from home.  Three kids with homework, roadside burger joints, late night bleary-eyed driving, fiercely crowded schedules, working diligently to balance income and expenses, tension, nerves, hopes, regrets.

One thing is certain: every one of them will be glad to get back to the creature comforts of home, to the familiar, to the things they love and have missed terribly.

At what point upon their arrival should I mention that I "may" have ran over Oreo, the family cat and that she went on to where ever cats go when you squash all nine lives out of them at once? 

Not even kidding...

Seriously...

George Strait must have access to the widest array of music possible.  Any writer would give their eye teeth to get a Strait cut.  So please explain to me why George had to cut "River of Love."  Who listened to that and said "Yes, that is it, that's the one?"  How did it make it to him in the first place?

I got a paddle, I got a boat, I know she'll float...Are you kidding me?  

Seriously if this goes to number one, I'll know for certain this was a test performed by his label to prove, once and for all, that it doesn't matter what the man cuts.

Tomlin & News

Saw Tomlin last night. Haven't seen him for two years or so. I like seeing him in concert. He reminds me that you don't have to be a guitar virtuoso to write well. I dig it that he plays with a Capo for most everything. Plus his instrumentation is so simple on stage yet it works. I realize that sometimes it takes a lot of work to make things appear simple, but still, he gives me hope.

News from Nashville today. Always, always fun to get something from that town. Another step in the right direction gentle readers. Another step. True to my New Year's resolution, I've got some people to thank.

Brother Chris was in Pulaski, TN today working the radio circuit. Where's that you ask? Exactly. We're setting up a series that I hope to audio blog on, maybe in an interview format. The topic: You want to be an artist? Really?? I can't keep up in terms of topics to cover. Fertile ground. Going to be fun. Glad he's doing it. Proud of him. Equally glad it's not me. Wait until we cover tanning. Good times. Good times indeed.

Today's Public Service Announcement.

Due to the recent economic crisis, stock market crash, budget cuts and the rising cost of insurance, electricity, petroleum, housing, and taxes of all kinds, The Light at the End of the Tunnel has been officially turned off until further notice.

We apologize for the inconvenience. We now return you to regularly scheduled programming...

Cardinal Problem: Name It

OK, I'm no football expert, but I think I figured out the problem with the Super Bowl runner up Arizona Cardinals.  

The Steeler's defensive coordinator is Dick LeBeau.  With a name like that, you'd expect the defense to play tough.  See Dick LeBeau screams I've run booze during the early 30's down in the Big Easy.  Dick LeBeau hollers out I picked up that blitz package during my second tour in Nam. Dick LeBeau means I don't drink with my pinky finger extended in French.  Look it up.

Arizona's defensive coordinator is Clancy Pendergast.  A Clancy Pendergast looks down his nose at the Rockefellers calling them "New Money".  A Clancy Pendergast did his dissertation on ancient Peruvian architecture-come on-you know the type that rides to his teaching gig on a beater ten speed and has a pony tail that hasn't been washed in like three months.  A Clancy Pendergast still wears a popped collar, for the love of all things holy.

I'm just saying...