Bloggers Without Borders
I stood in the front yard of my hacienda yesterday morning with the knowledge that a contigency of representatives from the newly appointed Bloggers without Borders organization (Nashville-based) would be bringing the town of Dresden a care package for those stranded in rural locations who had just undergone a medical crisis.
Before the arrival of the founding members of Bloggers without Borders, I watched the tree that my mother loved being cut down. The tree has been sick for some time and is one of the biggest things you'd ever see. It was my mother's tree. Yesterday would have been her 63rd birthday, had she lived. My sister and I were in the process of grieving the loss of the tree.
As the looming caravan (hey, this is my story) pulled into the front yard, they were privy to men sitting outside my home who were smoking cigarettes, holding chainsaws and one very limber fellow 60 feet from the ground cutting down the tree.
And then, the faces of Kerry
and the lovely Sista
emerged from their large vehicle with a care package of canned water in Anheuser Busch cans left over from Katrina (courtesy of Kerry), the beloved pinto beans, cole slaw and green beans (never had those, very good) of Mothership BBQ
and the best Paula Deen inspired-Sista lovingly made pumpkin gooey dish ever to be consumed by modern man. (Which my dear, will be made for thanksgiving for at least three households. You've started a trend.)
My funk of losing the tree that was on this little lot of land for 200 years before this house was built was set aside.
As the first recipient of a visit from Bloggers without Borders, the three were greeted by Rodent Queen,
the other sista Homer (she and the original Sista recognized each other. This happens with my family and Sista. We are either reincarnated or we recognized each other from the Country Music Hall of Fame tour guide days as Homer's husband, Squeegee Monkey, used to work there in the gift shop.) Squeegee was there as well as was the pal and friend Tammy Lynette who was very intrigued about the humanitarian efforts of Blogging without Borders.
We talked of many things. The election, of course. The smooth rock star sexiness of Harold Ford Jr. (that was me and sista) and had nothing to do with his loss on Tuesday for Senate. We discussed Edna (her infamy lives on.)
We discussed Artrageous. They saw my niece, Asa Corn's, blinged up cell phone. They saw massive abundance of dog hair lying about vicariously on the floor and heard the cries of one dog (this one goes by the name of Jura and was named lovingly by Squeegee Monkey for his affection for Isle of Jura scotch) that had to be sequestered for the visit because of her total lack of manners.
They got to meet Mabel, who I'm learning has a fan base on the blogosphere. They also got to meet Kirby (the blind dog) and Duff (the skanky dog.)
And Kerry took pictures. Many, many pictures.
Stories were discussed of Ned Ray McWherter's beer distributorship which is less than a quarter of mile from the abode.
Kerry showed us television on a cell phone. (Unheard of in these parts which Rodent Queen was quite smitten with.)
They learned that the removal of the tree is going into my competitor's paper, as it's age and size is a pretty big deal in Hooterville. Yes, the competitor's paper is what I said.
We ate northwest Tennessee bbq and ribs (alas, not from the Mothership but pretty good nonetheless).
Sista made a very astute comment. Blogging gets rid of, for some of us, a couple of layers of getting to know people on the front end. We've gotten to know where we stand on certain issues. They already know my politics, my affection for funny news stories about Bigfoot, that I have a love/hate relationship with my job. I know that Kerry is one of the smartest, kindest men in the blogosphere (Tammy Lynette and Homer are quite smitten with you, Kerry. TL is a fledgling gadgetty person and her new cell phone was discussed. She got it used and apparently there was some erotic text messages left in it from the former owner that she reported to us which Smiley said she needed to blog about.) I know that Sista and I have a lot in common.
We also know that Smiley ate mushrooms with Aunt B. on Election Day, which is probably bigger news than the Democrats taking over the house and senate. We discussed that when someone starts blogging, that their first 100 posts are the best times to find your groove as only tens of people will look at it.
Sista discussed the infamous bunko night at Kat Coble's
, which RQ and I found to be very intriguing. A phone call came in telling us of Donald Rumsfeld's resignation, which of course led to some conversation about Kat thinking that he had a lot of "it
." (Those are my words, no one else's.)
Mabel was deemed very worthy of her limited blogging celebrity although the eating habits of all of our animals came into play and we decided all dogs will eat their own waste (or the cat box's, if available is a fine, exotic treat. As I do not own cats, I will have to take my visitors word on that one.) Wherein my dog, in front of my company, licked me enthusiastically in the mouth.
Of course, as every visit must end, the brave trio (not to be confused with the Treos that Smiley and Kerry were sporting) had to leave. An anniversary dinner with Ruabelle and a furniture delivery from Sarcastro's was scheduled for later in the day for Smiley and Sista and Kerry were eager for their brave driver to take them to the plane crash site of Patsy Cline up the road a piece.
As we are all in the fan club of the lovely Miss Cline (used to show the fans as a tour guide the video of her singing with Owen Bradley in the background during my days at the Hall of Fame), our time had come to an end. (Pictures from their adventure are here, courtesy of Mr. Woo
And, RQ and myself have dates with Smiley and Sista this weekend as we make our own Bloggers without Borders trips to the state's capital.
Later in the day, my sis and I agreed that the Bloggers Northwest Tennessee meet up was actually a gift from beyond.
We looked at the broken tree branches outside the commune, and determined that with every ending, there is a new beginning of wonderful, fine adventures slated for the horizon with new friends whose humanitarian trip was deemed a blinding success.