I call this one “Hanging With the Great Ones at the Grand Ole Opry!”
From left: Roy Acuff, Minnie Pearl, Saint Helen, and Daughter Ashley
Tag: Nashville
I’m too Fat for my Ukulele (and Other Stories from the Road)
No bull! 
Apart from the skirt pulled up way too high–Erkel style under my boobs and the dainty sandals on my pretty feet I look like a real life bull rider. Right? Right? Why do I hear crickets?
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I own a ukulele now, purchased from a shop in Amarillo. So far, I know two notes, but the ukulele is small and my body is bulky. Together we look odd, like the instrument is being absorbed into my flesh. Like Jabba the Hut swallowing a little invertebrate whole. Gulp.
I’m not going to let appearances prevent me from learning to play the ukulele. Nossirree. But I might need to purchase a muumu just to complete the whole vibe.
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Each day, the tattoo my nephew Russell bestowed upon me becomes prettier. I’ve tried to explain my feelings about it which go above and beyond anything I expected.
Having never been a particularly attractive woman, it pleases me more than I can say to have such a beautiful piece of art adorning my body. It makes me feel happy. And just a little bit special. I only regret not having it done sooner.
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One friend asked what I’d listened to during my adventure. If I were to try and list my choices in some kind of order, it might look like this:
I also listened and sang along to the Classic Vinyl station, as well as the 60’s and 70’s stations on Sirius/XM. The comedy stations helped me cover many miles as well.
And then there were great distances without any sound other than that of my tires on pavement. Driving through the cities of Nashville, Kansas City, Dallas, and Houston required a great deal of concentration, and radio silence was a balm for my soul and a boost for my driving skills.
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Being home feels good. Today is a day for tackling mountains of laundry and snuggling cats, and for reading blog posts. I’ve been a terrible follower these past two weeks, clicking through blogs with nary a comment.
Thanks for all your positive vibes and support during my journey. Here’s a little Simon and Garfunkel to tie things up.
Peace, people!
On The Road My Friends
At some point this morning I will have departed from Doright Manor to take a trip of epic, dare I say Odyssean, proportions. Having packed my bags with everything from winter boots and a parka to capris pants and flip flops I should surely be prepared for any eventuality.
My first destination is a point north of Nashville, Tennessee, for an overnight stay. From there I’m bound for our daughter’s home in Rapids City, Illinois, where I will be baby sitter-in-chief for my daughter’s three children while the parents go to cavort in the bright sun of a Mexican beach.
After a week in Illinois I’ll head south to the Texas panhandle, the place that no matter where on earth I roam will always be home. I’ll stay with the lovely Saint Helen who gave birth to Studly Doright and hopefully get to commune with the rest of the panhandle-dwelling Noyes bunch.
Once they’ve chased me out of town with torches and pitchforks I’m off to Dallas to spend a night with our son if we can get our schedules to sync. Then it’s on to Houston, that most intimidating city, for a couple of nights with the oldest of my two younger brothers and his wife. They’re taking me and Studly’s eldest (she’d say prettiest) sister to a big event. I’m sure I’ll blog about it afterwards. If I’m still capable, that is.
I have another event in mind for the Houston stay, but I’ll save that for another post, as well.
When my brother finally kicks me out of his home I’ll begin working my way back to Doright Manor. Somewhere on that stretch of road is a wonderful little outlet mall that’s been calling my name for awhile now.
I’ve been writing like a mad woman to stock my blog with pieces to post daily during my trip. I’m sure there will be times I can post something from the road, but just in case I can’t, the blog must, and will, go on!
Any prayers, blessings, positive thoughts, etc., offered up for my safe travels will be greatly appreciated. And as always, peace, people.
When You Gotta Go…
I let my 12 year old grandson help write my blog post for today. He picked out this meme:
I picked out this one:
Both are fitting for the start of my long journey home, because this
Is so very true.
It’s been such a fun week with the grandkids. We went bowling, played laser tag, and video games, feasted on junk foods, and acted out scenes from Frozen until I had ice shards shooting out of my nose.
My plan is to reach the southeast side of Nashville on Monday afternoon and maybe relax in the pool for a few minutes. A bit of relaxation might be in order after all the fun. I’ll miss these guys, but Studly Doright is ready to see me.
The Great Non-escape
I’ve always thought myself a capable problem solver. Recently, during our Family Christmas Rendezvous to Nashville, I had the opportunity to test my capabilities.
My son-in-love, Stephen, found a website for a place called, The Escape Game (www.nashvilleescapegame.com), a place where participants are locked in a room for 60 minutes. To escape the room before time runs out, a series of puzzles must be solved. Correct solutions to each puzzle result in the group’s being given a key or code to exit the room.
There were ten of us in our family group: Studly, Stephen, our daughter Ashley, our son Jason, granddaughters Dominique (12), McKayla (10), and Harper (2), and grandsons Garrett (12) and Jackson (8), and me.
Going in, I was pretty confident that we could solve the puzzles in the 60 minute time frame, even though the percentage of escapes from this particular room was 46%. The room resembled a pre-k classroom complete with slides, a chalkboard, and colorful carpeting.
The game started with an employee explaining the rules. Once he left, the timer started and we got down to business. Now we signed an agreement to not divulge anything that went on in our room, that is, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, but I will say our group would have been better served by holding a brief organizational meeting before we began problem solving. Instead, we scattered and began working on puzzles that appealed to us.
I found one and quickly figured out the way to solve it netting us three components of the code. We needed 50 total. No problem, we were on a roll. Only 47 to go, right? Unfortunately after finding those three I was pretty much a zero–the kind of woman who gets eaten by zombies on day one of the apocalypse.
The biggest assets of the day were the grandsons. They each solved two tough puzzles garnering 20 or so components each. The rest of us made small contributions. Mine came mainly in the form of making sure the two-year old didn’t scatter the ones we’d uncovered.
With three minutes left on the big clock we had all the components necessary to solve the puzzle. Pure panic mode set in as we attempted to arrange them correctly before time ran out. We came so close. Alas, no escape!
But what fun! I certainly recommend The Escape Game if you find yourself in the Nashville area. I’d go again, but I’m not sure anyone in my family would want me as a teammate.
Praying for Eyebrowz 