When I stumbled upon the Road Widows blog and started contributing, I briefly wondered why CMT doesn’t do a “Real Road Widows of Music City” or something. That could be really cool, I thought. Heck, I’d be happy to contribute to it!

I’ve chewed on this idea a few times. How would that work? I guess you’d probably focus on the wives of the artists for the biggest ratings, but what about us wives of the side guys?  I know some great women that could be featured. It could be pretty cool.

Then, as I lay in bed one night, trying to turn the brain off so I could sleep (husband snoring softly beside me… dammit, I thought, I want to sleep, too!) it hit me. It would probably be one a boring show in comparison to its reality tv peers.

See, us road widows… we aren’t generally an outlandish bunch. Many of us have regular ol’ day jobs. Others of us are your typical stay at home moms (albeit part time single-parents.) We are all more focused on putting food on the table than shopping for designer dresses and shoes. We live a life a lot closer to reality than those typical “reality” TV shows portray. It is within that that it really wouldn’t be exciting. It might pass more as educational. Recipes for one. Budgeting. How to fly solo to events. Building your own support system outside of your marriage. Balancing the craziness of “the life” with “the normal world.”

Oh sure, there would be your cool out-of-the ordinary moments. The occasional awards show. CD release parties. A glimpse at hanging backstage before a concert. (Newsflash: Soundcheck is usually pretty boring, and you do a whole lot of hurry up and waiting. Though my personal favorite drama tends to deal with security guards on a power trip.) You could spice it all up here and there!

But, quite frankly, we’re a pretty normal bunch living pretty normal lives… and quite frankly, I am VERY thankful for that.

This was the case this morning. I wanted an extra hour of sleep, and he wanted to play. So I booted the cats from the bedroom and closed the door.

I got up later, blurry eyed, and came out of the bedroom to find the older cat watching me from my desk chair. I pet him, and then I shoo’d him off the chair so I could sit down and check my email. I noticed my dark blue hoodie was still piled on the seat. The cats love to sleep on blankets, clothes, whatever, so I wasn’t surprised he’d been curled up on the chair.

I plopped down on the chair and… it moved. I don’t mean it rolled. The whole seat moved under me.

I HAD SAT ON THE OTHER CAT!

I never saw him sleeping on the hoodie. He blended in with it, especially with my only being half-awake. Why he didn’t scurry off with the other cat is beyond me. But boy did he squirm! He got out from under me and BOLTED.

I felt bad. I worried about having hurt him. In the end, I laughed. For about ten minutes. He got a rude awakening and, really, so did I!

Poor guy hasn’t had a good day since then, as he decided later to pass me in the hallway by going THROUGH my feet (didn’t go well for him) and his brother has been in play mode. So any time he emerges from a nap, he gets playfully tackled. That could be why, when I went to take the photo of him for this post, he got up and turned his back on me.

Oh he’s fine. No injuries except maybe some bruised pride. And I suspect he’ll not be napping in my desk chair again any time soon.

For example, at my wedding the DJ was less that stellar. Oh I take some of the blame for perhaps not being clear enough with him about what was expected. But past that, how many times does a bridesmaid have to come tell you what kind of music to play before you figure out you’re doing it wrong?

My point is, I’ll say my wedding was perfect… but even in that, we had our hiccups.

So, going into the wedding this last weekend — especially as MOH,  not knowing the other bridesmaids very well — I was prepared for almost anything. I even came armed with leopard print duck tape.

Flat iron? Check.

Hairspray? Check.

Lip gloss and perfume? Check.

Band aids? Check.

Extra shoe insoles? Check.

Safety pins, nail clippers, wet wipes, Pepto, Advil, extra colors of lipstick? Check, check, check, check, check and check.

Scissors? Damn.

Well, so I forgot something. Again, not perfect. But I tried.

The ceremony was beautiful. The reception was a blast. No, things didn’t go 100% according to plan, but  you know… it still went great. The bride and groom were named man and wife. Toasts were made. Dances were danced. The cake was cut and the bouquet tossed. It was beautiful.

Oh I have a million stories I dare not share to the world. What happens in the bride’s room, stays in the bride’s room, after all! Though no promises that they won’t find their way into a novel some day…

Let’s just say that leopard print duck tape came to some interesting uses…

My husband is on his way to a few shows in Canada… something that is always an extra challenge due to cell phone rates going sky-high when there. But apparently, I decided to make it an extra level of stress today.

We got a new kitten this week. Our cats’ liter boxes are on a back porch, with a little cat door for them to go through. Keeps the smell down in the house and it gives them privacy. However, the little kitten had yet to figure out how to use the cat door, so I decided to take on the task of getting him to “get” it today.

I walked out into the porch, closed the door, and started trying to coax the kitten through the door to me. After trying for close to half an hour, I gave up. We’d try again another time. I reached for the door handle and… it wouldn’t budge.

THE DOOR LOCKED BEHIND ME. I wanted to cry. I fought with the door. I tried kicking it in. I tried to pick the lock (which I’ve never done before but seemed to think I could do it this time). Nothing worked. I reached for my cell phone. Only. It wasn’t in my back pocket where I keep it all the time. Then I remembered… I’d left it on the couch. My mind raced for ideas on what to do.

The back door is off that porch, so I could at least get OUT. Just as I got that door open, as if the situation needed a splash of humor, the cat door swung open and the kitten came out onto the porch with me. I guess on the bright side, the kitten figured out the door!

But once I got outside, I had to ask myself, “Now what?” I started trying windows. None would budge. I was starting to realize that breaking into my own house is a lot harder than I ever thought it would be. A good thing, of course, but it didn’t help me in that moment! My husband has spare keys to the house and our truck, but he is hundreds of miles away.

I looked around and decided it was time to start knocking on doors. I tried four doors before I found someone home. I asked to use the phone, and they let me! So I called my husband, since his number is the only one I know (and left a voicemail) asking if he’d call our landlords to come let me in the house. I visited with the neighbor — a single mother who is my age! A new friend, perhaps! — and then I said I’d just wait on my front porch until help arrived.

As I left her house, another neighbor drove up and asked if they could help me. I explained my situation, and this couple invited me to visit on their back porch until my landlord got there with a key. I told them all about myself and my husband, and I left their house with their phone numbers should I ever need help again. The wife said, “With you home alone so much, you NEED someone close by that you can call for help!” So true!

At one point, the neighbor asked me, “What did we learn from this?” and I laughed and said, “Never leave my phone on the couch?” but in reality, I learned that I live in a great neighborhood. I am the most cautious person in the world. I don’t like people really knowing when I am home or when I’m not… when I’m alone and when my husband is home. But it felt so good to find good people nearby who were willing to help out a “stranger” and end up with a new friendship.  Maybe I need to know my neighbors and let them help look out for me, especially when I am here alone so much.

Today’s challenge is to Take 5 minutes to learn about the quality of your tap water. As I read people’s posts, it sparked a memory for me that made me laugh out loud all over again…

When I was in junior high (or possibly Freshmen year of high school — time has blurred the edges of those years) we had a slight break out of girls getting pregnant. It just seemed like every day, another girl was revealed as expecting.

A friend’s dad made the comment, “Must be something in the water!”

The next day, my friend’s little sister very seriously made her promise to not drink from the water fountains at school.

“Why?” my friend asked.

“Because I don’t want you to come home pregnant, too!!”

Ahhhh… we laughed about that for weeks, and here it is, around 15 years later, and I still got a nice belly laugh from that memory. Something in the water, indeed…

I need food. I want a new shirt. That sort of thing.

Well, today, I ran some errands, and then ended up at the store for a few groceries. As I walked into the store I thought to myself, “I haven’t bought myself something as a ‘treat’ in a long time. I think I’ll treat myself.”

But you know what? I couldn’t do it. Everything I picked up, I found myself going, “But I don’t NEED it.” and I’d put it back. I did this countless times  until I finally decided to go home. I did get myself a bottle of wine and a 98 cent bottle of nail polish. WOO. Those two items were the extent of my “want” purchases.

And really, don’t all my ladies agree… the bottle of wine is just right there at the edge of that “need” category.

Right?

And its warming up, and cute toes are a need if I’m to wear flip flops.

Right?

Oh in all seriousness, I know they’re technically wants, but when my “want” purchases only total about $5, I feel like I’ve truly been successful in remembering that the “needs” always trump the “wants.” I walked out of the store patting myself on the back for my self-restraint. Go me!

Then I stopped for an iced coffee on my way home. Because, after all, I needed it.

In the last few weeks, though, I’ve had TWO instances of having lived years clueless and FINALLY figuring something out. Moments when the light bulb clicked on and I went, “Ohhhh!” to no one but myself.

The first was listening to the song, “Song of the South” by Alabama. I’ve lived in Nashville for over four years now. I’ve heard the song countless times in life and since I moved there.

I only JUST last week figured out what the line, “Papa got a job with the TVA” means. I’ll be honest, as a kid, I thought maybe it was, “Papa got a job with the TV, hey!” because TVA meant nothing to me. Then it hit me. Out of the blue. Ironically while I was laying on my bed in Texas. TVA… Tennessee Valley Authority. Where I get my electricity! DUH!

Then, when I was going through things to throw out in our move, I stumbled upon old journals from when I was a teenager. My journalism class in high school started, every day, with writing in a  journal. It was fun to go back and read what was important to me back then!

I stumbled upon the entry from when OJ Simpson trial finally ended. “The juice is loose.” I wrote. Because everyone else was saying it. I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand that line. All I knew was that was what headlines and reporters were using to kick off reports of his acquittal.

Yeah, about two days ago, when I wasn’t even thinking about anything other than if I had time to flatiron my hair, suddenly I said to my reflection, “Oh duh. OJ. Juice. The juice is loose. I’m slow.”

Please someone reassure me that I am not the only person who puts things together years later for NO REASON. Its like my subconscious mind was chewing on it. Like a piece of old gum. And suddenly it went, “Oh hey, this gum is peppermint flavored! Time to spit out and get a new piece.”

Yeah, its a cheesy analogy but its all I’ve got right now. I’m still exhausted from all these moments of sudden understanding. I’m a little slow sometimes. I admit it. But, hey, at least I entertain myself with it.

And I laughed at it.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not against doing my civic duty and all that jazz. (Even though its not really high on my list of “things to do.”)  It’s because it came to my parent’s house.

In my hometown.

Where I do not live.

Oh I am here working, sure. But home is Nashville, TN. I have the driver’s license, voters registration, and even Social Security statements to prove it! Vehicle registration, too. Tax return. Legal documents. Insurance documents. Everything! Heck, I can’t even go to the doctor here and expect insurance to do much of anything, because I DO NOT live here.

And I haven’t lived here for four and a half years!

On top of it, they sent it to me with my maiden name on it. Which I changed over four years ago as well!

Needless to say, we all got a good laugh from this court mix-up, and I filled out the card explaining I don’t live here and that they even had my name wrong. I dropped it back in the mail to the court clerk; I’m pretty sure I’m safely exempt from it. Heck, chances are I’ll not even be here working on the date of the summons… they’d literally have to fly to Tennessee to find me. At home in my bed. With my husband and cat.

However, it was also rather disconcerting. I know I’m from a small town and all that, but you’d think after four years the system would have caught up to them. Literally, the only thing that was still coming here for me under my maiden name was a couple credit card statements… and those are currently in the process of being discharged.

I wonder if they ever send out jury summons to people who have passed away? How do you arrest someone for not appearing at court because they are dead?

Anyway,  mistakes happen and I got a good laugh from it. But it did make me question what kind of database they use for juror selection, and why is it so far out of date? Anything like this ever happen to anyone else?

We got up this morning, and headed for the kitchen. My husband started the coffee, and I started digging for clean bowls to pour us some cereal. After finally uprooting the bowls from the dishwasher (which meant putting other clean dishes away in the process), I headed to grab the box of cereal.

My husband was blocking the cabinet door, so I asked him to move and watch out so I wouldn’t hit him..

Instead, he spun around to hug me, and… I smacked him right in the side of the head with the cabinet door. It wasn’t exactly gentle, and it was with that ever-so-painful corner of the door. I felt TERRIBLE! I actually felt tears spring to my eyes when he said, “OW!” I started apologizing and trying to explain what happened.

He retreated from the kitchen saying he was, “in the way” and I sat down at the table and… burst into tears. Big, fat tears fell, and I found myself fighting them back knowing it was silly. He was okay! And… I had told him to move, after all!

My husband came back to find me sniffling . I wouldn’t even look at him. He finally asked me why I was crying.

“I don’t know!!!” I responded, still fighting not to sob all over again.

He started to laugh as he hugged me… which ended up making ME laugh. I asked him if I am like this when I’m just PMSing, what would I be like when we were pregnant? He found that amusing as well…

I’m glad he puts up with me and finds some of my more bizarre moments amusing. Even when the result in his having a nice bop to the head.

Then, one day, in church we were challenged to really sit and think about those prayers. What were we really saying as we said our prayers at night, and did we mean them?

So I did just that. I sat down that night and really thought about the prayers I was praying… I couldn’t get past the first line. I was stuck. If I didn’t say them in the same rhythm and speed as I always said them, I couldn’t remember them. I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t think about it. I had to just do it.

Yesterday, I was brought back to that moment as I wrote up the steps to do one of the jobs I do at work. I’m going back to Nashville for the next week, and I wanted to make sure that anyone who sat down to do this one task could do it right. So I sat down to type up directions.

And I promptly got stuck. It’s so automatic for me today that I don’t think too hard about what I am doing. I just do it. I wasn’t sure if I should find it funny or alarming! Its often in doing things without thinking that mistakes are made.

So, I did the task one step at a time, stopping after each move to type up in detail what I did.

It was nerve wracking! As I’d finish typing up the last step, I’d go back to the task and go, “Okay, now what do I do?”  What’s the next step???

I got through it. A normal 15 minute job took me closer to an hour, but I’m quite proud of my little 12-step process now taped to the side of my desktop computer. I even peppered it with humor like, “Just do it right the first time, because I don’t feel like typing up the steps of how to fix it if things go wrong.” and my second to last step is, “Throw your hands in the air and yell, ‘DONE!’”

No reason to not find humor in my challenge of typing up the directions, right?

But, this isn’t a bad idea to do of any number of things, simply because it makes me stop and think about what I am doing. Heck, I might find I’ve been doing something wrong all along! Or I might find a BETTER way to do things, simply by taking the time to think about it more.

So, is there any tasks YOU would find it beneficial to write out the steps to?  Laundry? Dishes? How to give your cat a bath?