Dolly Parton's guitar case (sort of)

So yet again, I have a story of something that could only happen to me. My annoyance is starting to wear off, and I'm realizing the humor of it. But oh, what a day.

Or should I say what a couple of days? It all started last week when I stopped by Cate's music to pick up my flight case for Blue (my guitar). I know, I know, I shouldn't have waited until the last minute to get it, but there were so many online that I thought it would just be a matter of going into the store and laying down some cash to get a flight case. Not so lucky, I'm afraid. "No worries," said the guy behind the counter. "Gator Cases ships out of Chattanooga, so it will be here in 1 or 2 days." I breathed a sigh of relief and went on my way.

Well, one or two days somehow turned into 5, and on Friday afternoon the case finally came in. Things were going well. But then when I went to pick up the case, it was the wrong one. It was just a regular flimsy case and not the flight case I needed. Two days away from leaving for Madrid, I had no way to get Blue on the plane without it landing in Spain in 10,000 pieces. It might have been ok, but "might" is a pretty big chance to take with a guitar you love. Of course, the more I thought about it, the flimsier my case started looking to me (not that it had far to go), until I was almost in a blind panic about protecting Blue.

I began calling around that afternoon, starting with every music store in Johnson City, then Kingsport, then Bristol. No such luck. I tried every music store in (1 hour away)Knoxville (there are about 20). Not one had a flight case in stock. Asheville and Boone, North Carolina, the same. I was close to (or maybe past) tears by 5:00, and still no luck. Blue was doomed to either stay here or fly home in a pillowcase. And then I remembered hearing about a little place in Weber City, a 3 stoplight town about 30 minutes from my sister's house. It's called "Lazy Time Pickin' Parlor." Supposedly, it's one of the best bluegrass shops nearby. And believe me, there are tons.

So, with nothing to lose, I picked up the phone. The voice on the other line was....well, it was what you'd expect from the owner of the Lazy Time Pickin' Parlor. I started on my little script, which was memorized by then, asking if they carried flight cases for acoustic guitars. Three separate times the man had to say "Honey, speak up. I can't hear you for nothin'." The third time I shouted back "FLIGHT CASES FOR GUITARS." His reply was not what I was expecting.

"Naw, honey. We ain't got any white cases. They's all dark."

I kid you not.

"NO!" I responded. "FLIGHT! LIKE ON A PLANE!"

"Oh, you mean one a them padded cases? Yeah, we got them."

They were closed for the night, so this morning my dad and I set off for the Pickin' Parlor. We found it with little trouble, and as we got out it felt like we were walking into the set of Deliverance (cue banjos). About 10 or 15 old men (and one woman with a baby) were sitting outside of the shop talking, instrument cases under a few of their seats. The stared unabashedly in silence as a young female with a guitar (me) strode toward them. When I reached the porch, one of them broke into a grin.

"Well, boys, we have us a mandolin and a banjo, now it looks like we got us a guitar player!" (Guitar is pronounced with the emphasis on the first syllable---GITTar)

I made it through and into the store, and the man I had talked to the night before proceeded to show me the two padded gig bags that he had in the back room. That was it. Oh well, no case. But it was worth the trip.

Back on the road, back to the computer to look up guitar case dealers, back on the phone. By this point I was looking in a 100 mile radius of where I'm staying, and still no luck. Almost at the point of desperation, I called some little shop (I've already forgotten the name) on the other side of Asheville, North Carolina--an hour and a half away.

Larry answered the phone, and no, he didn't carry those in the store. "But wait," he said. "I have an Anvil guitar case sitting at home. I don't know if it'll work, but it looks like a dang coffin. I used it back in the 80's when I toured with Dolly Parton, but I don't tour any more. I might be convinced to sell it."

Toured with Dolly Parton? Was this guy serious? But at this point, I was desperate. Feeling like I was running out of choices, I said I would go meet him and see if my guitar fit in the case. Two hours later, there I was in the Food Lion parking lot outside of Asheville, buying a case that really did look like a "dang coffin" from the back of this guy's wife's car.

It's not exactly what I was planning to have. It's a little too---professional? It's huge and square, and incredibly padded--my guitar will travel more comfortably than I will. The outside is pretty beat up, and covered with bumper stickers from Dolly Parton's glory days--all singing the praises of bluegrass music and Martin guitars (which I don't have). Two of the stickers had to go because of offensive content, but I think I'll leave the others. I'll have to get a gig bag or something to carry the thing around in Madrid; there's no way this thing is going on the metro. But if nothing else, it will get to Spain. With a case that has toured with Dolly Parton.

This story is going to get lots of mileage. Pictures soon.

If God is a color....

So evidently I'm making up for my lack of posting this summer in these few days.....I wrote this last fall, and found it as I was cleaning out my documents on my computer. Here's the story: the leaders' community at Mountainview was doing an all-day workshop on prayer (which was fantastic, by the way). At one point in the day, we looked at magnifying God. The literal definition of magnifying something means to make it bigger than it actually is. Well, that's impossible to do with God, but we can try to grasp some of that in our descriptions of Him. We spent some time writing, really trying to magnify God. It's a great thing to do with a group during worship time--when you all read yours, it's amazing to see how God shows Himself to so many people in different ways. Anyway, here's what I wrote. I like it, so I'm posting it:

Imagine the deepest blue you've ever seen in your life. Imagine that 2:00 a.m., dotted with stars,almost black, almost purple, but still blue color. But then imagine that even though the blue is that deep, it is bright, so bright that you can't look at it, like the sun--but infinitely brighter.

Imagine this deep bright blue and splash it with reds and greens and yellow--one of those colors--that one color, actually, which you can't describe except by looking at it--the source of color that pours over and spills out into all the colors of the world, making a million sunsets, no two alike. If I could say that God is a color, that's what color He would be. We see hints of it in the different depth levels of the ocean, the sun's rise and fall, trees in autumn, a billion stars. These are just tiny drops from the source of all color--glimpses of who and how beautiful HE is.

oh my goodness

So if the masseuse had been male, I would have proposed. It was that fantastic. She got out knots that have been there since before I started college. Oh my goodnes, I feel so good right now. Just thought I'd rub it in.

!!!!!!!!!!

ok, so I just want to post and gloat a bit. My sister just gave me my birthday present today (only a month late--usually better than I do for her birthday)---an appointment for a 35 minute deep tissue massage at an awesome spa in Johnson City. I go at 6:15 tonight. That gives me just enough time to shower, shave, and paint my toenails beforehand. Let the pampering begin!!!!!

The Doctor Visit

I was talking to Heather just this morning, and I told her that spending so much time with my sister and her 4 month old preemie twins, Katie and Sam, has made me feel all girly. It's like suddenly there's this biological clock ticking, loud and clear. "Don't worry," I told her. "It will pass quickly." It did.

This afternoon we took the now chubby twins (they weighed in at 9lbs. 13oz. and 9lbs. 10oz.) to see their pediatrician, Dr. Farmer. First of all, there is the hour long ordeal of feeding them, changing them, getting them in their seats, getting them with all of the paraphanalia into the car, remembering we forgot the insurance card, and finally pulling out of the garage, babies content for the moment. The fun started as we turned into the parking lot of the medical center. From the seat behind us, Kim and I heard the dreaded gurgle and splash from the driver's side. We didn't have to see it to know what had happened. Sam had struck again.

You see, Sam doesn't do the cute little baby "spit up" thing. This is pure, unadulterated puke. I think the scientific term is "projectile vomit." Granted, there are no chunks, so it's not as gross, but it's not exactly pleasant. Sure enough, when we stopped the car and opened the door, Sam had not only soaked through his socks, his shorts, his onsie, the outside of his diaper, and the lining of his carseat--he had also covered the seat of the Trailblazer (brand spanking new--all clean and new car smelling--perfect for target practice).

So on we go into the building, Sam content to sit in his own vomit until we get inside so we can change him, and Katie letting us know in no uncertain terms that she didn't appreciate being woken up from her nap. I don't understand how something so small can make so much noise. It defies some scientific law, I'm sure. It's like she has this little internal loudspeaker or something.

So with the loudspeaker blaring, we manage to get the babies naked, weighed, and measured, while nurses who have known them since they were 2 pounders oohed and ahhed at all their newly acquired chins.

Then the first needle came out. They needed to test their crit (I don't know what crit is or what it stands for, so I smiled dumbly when they talked about it), which involves poking a hole in the baby's heel and drawing blood. At the first prick of the needle, tears started to well up, but I held them back. I was going to be a big girl at this visit. Oddly enough, the presence of the blood didn't bother me, even with all my personal blood area issues. Maybe that's because it went straight into the tube and didn't touch anyone. But when Katie's little lip started to quiver and her body tensed with the buildup to the scream, it was all I could do to keep from hitting that mean old nurse. Stupid needle.

The visit went well (other than our own personal little Loudspeaker, which blared sporadically throughout the event)--the babies are catching up to the growth curve and are doing well developmentally, and Dr. Farmer was impressed with Kim that both babies are sleeping through the night. I started to let out a sigh, thinking the worst was over, and beaming at how well the babies did--better than most other babies, I'm sure.

But the 4 month appointment comes with 4 month shots. Immunizations. Two shots--one in each leg. One nurse per needle. As I watched them walk into the room I could see the needle growing in their hands, and for a moment I contemplated making myself a human shield to protect Sam, who was on the table. But alas, that would put Katie (who was in my arms) in their path, so I sat by and watched. Kim had the hard job--she had to hold each baby still for the shot, and I held the other.

I think the tears were already to my chin before the needle even touched Sam's leg. He let out a squeal, followed by a scream, which lasted in his facial expression long after he had run out of air. When he had actually turned blue from lack of oxygen, he took in a quick gasp and started the process all over. I'm tearing up just thinking about it.

Kim, who lived through the nightmare of almost 2 months in the NICU, handled the shots like a pro. Knowing I couldn't go through with holding a baby down so needles could be put in them, she handed Sam (who had now gone back to his normal color, but was still screaming) to me and took charge of the loudspeaker, who didn't fare any better. Katie's screams are shorter than Sams, but loud and intense.

I wiped my tears as quickly as possible while the nurses' backs were turned (who's the baby in the room, after all?), and we got them dressed and ready to go, now sleepy from the shots and from the baby Tylenol. Sam was now on outfit number two. For the next 20 minutes.

For some reason, we thought it would be a good idea to stop at a store to look for an anniversary present for Adam (Kim's husband). Actually, the store is fun. With one baby, people will look and smile as they walk by, but with two in a stroller, everyone has a comment. You want attention? Push a twin stroller. Granted, it's like trying to drive a bus, but the whole world thinks the babies are cute. If you're pushing the stroller, you are cute by association.

But alas, another mishap before we even get to the stroller. Another gurgle and splash from the same seat--Sam is swimming in his carseat once again. What parts of the seat were not soaked before are now dripping. He's out of clothes, but luckily Katie's spare outfit doesn't contain any pink, so we're saved. Again, the diaper is soaked from the outside, but at it's removal we're in for a nasty surprise. In size, liquid-ness, and smell, that was the worst diaper I have ever seen. Actually, it's a new form of matter that we like to call "the atomic diaper." By the way, as we're changing him, he thinks this is funny by now.

Finally in the stroller, the attention began. Some ladies in a van pulled up next to me as I walked them down the sidewalk and said "I bet you don't get any sleep." I turned to them and smiled and said, "They're my niece and nephew. I sleep just fine!" And for now, that situation is OK with me.

We are now home, and the Loudspeaker and Sir Pukesalot are asleep (for the moment). They don't feel well because of the shots, and I almost cried with them again as we sat in the nursery to feed them and get them ready to sleep.


Maybe when I'm 30 I'll be ready to do this full time. That gives me six years to prepare. Ok, maybe when I'm 35. For now, the biological clock is on snooze.

Everything you really didn't need to know about me

So I'm on vacation and want to blog, but my brain won't work----so I'll just do a questionnaire. Y'all wanted to know more about me anyway!

1. How old were you when you had your first kiss?
One month before I turned 15. Too young. The kid looked like Flounder from the Little
Mermaid.
2. What do you think is your best feature?
My smile. And my eyebrows, when they're waxed. I like my feet, too...even though they're
big.
3. What is your favorite breed of dog?
Golden Retriever
4. If you could attend only one Olympic event, which would it be?
Gymnastics or Ice Skating
5. If you could invite any movie star to your home for dinner, who would it be?
Johnny Depp (minus the Willy Wonka creepiness)--and while we're in a fantasy world, this dinner would be after coming home from a family vacation with our four beautiful children.
6. If you were a car what kind would you be?
A volvo. Boxy but cool.
7. What is your favourite number?
Eleventy billion.
8. Which Disney character are you most like?
Dumbo. I can fly.
9. If a movie was made about you, who would play you?
Back in my fantasy world, I would be played by Sandra Bullock.
10. Have you ever been out of the country and, if yes, where? (list all places)
Yes. Assuming "the country" means the USA, here goes: Mexico, Italy, Spain, England,
Holland, Germany, Austria, Morocco.
11. How many times have you flown in an airplane in the last twelve (12) months?
7 or 8. Too many.
12. If you were in a car sinking in a lake, what would you do first?
Unbuckle my seatbelt.
13. If you where stuck at one age for the rest of your life, what age would you want it to be?
I like 24.
14. What is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to you?
That's a wierd question. I don't think I can answer it. I think the problem is that everything is wierd to me. Maybe I'm the wierd thing that happens to other people.....I was pooped on the head by a pigeon once--does that count?
15. What is the “coolest” (or most unique) thing you have ever done?
Again, hard question. Struggling with the thought that maybe I'm not cool OR unique since I can't answer this one. Hmmmm....I did an hour long piano recital from memory once, back in the day. I guess that's unique.
16. What is the scariest thing that has ever happened to you?
My plane flew through a lightning bolt on the way back from Italy when I was 19. I almost peed my pants. The scary part was that I had so little bladder control.
17. Have you ever gone skinny-dipping?
My answer used to be "yes" on this one, but I had so many questions that I decided to go with "no comment." :)
18. What is your favorite restaurant to eat at?
In the U.S.--Cootie Brown's or Johnny Carino's. In Spain--probably Casa Mingo
19. What is your favorite alcoholic drink?
Sangria
20. What is your biggest pet peeve?
People who try to manipulate others through guilt.
21. What is the weirdest thing you have ever eaten?
Oreja. Yup, deep fried ears. It's as gross as it sounds.
22. If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what song would you want it to be?
If you know me, you'll know that this is an impossible question since I change favorite songs every day. Probably something by U2 (Maybe "Grace") or Switchfoot if you asked me this week, which you did.
23. If you had to change your name, what would you change it to?
Kelly Guils.
24. What is the best book you have ever read?
Fiction? "Til We have Faces" by C.S. Lewis is good, as well as "Life of Pi"
I also love "Noises and Mr. Flibbertyjib"
All books? well, the Bible's pretty stinking awesome. Don't think I can beat that.
25. What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex?
Honestly? The jawline. Then height.
Dishonestly? Probably some sentimental words here about his personality, his spiritual leadership, etc. That stuff's REALLY important, but it's not the first thing I notice!
26. What is the one thing you want to do before you die?
Travel around all the world!
27. What is the most outrageous thing you would love to do?
Go skydiving. But I would probably chicken out at the last minute. Maybe pierce my nose??
28. What is your favorite board game?
Trivial Pursuit
29. If you could have any job, what would it be?
I like the one I have, although I think being married to a billionaire could be fun.
30. What, in your opinion, is the worst way to die?
Being burned alive.
31. If a genie granted you three wishes, what would you wish for?
Chocolate, that all my friends would love Jesus, and that I would somehow get all of Van Gogh's talent without his craziness.
31. If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?
I want to see the jungle. Any jungle will do. The amazon would be cool if it weren't for all those snakes.
32. What is one thing you could not go more than a week without?
Ummm...chocolate?
33. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change?
I would love to be more athletic (and by default that would make me thin and muscular, which I'm not), and less prone to let my emotions control me.
34. In the last three years, what is one thing you would have done differently?
I would have quit piano earlier so I could study more stuff. I also probably would have bought a mac instead of the pc I've got now.

Wow, I'm more shallow than I thought! Oh well. Hope you had fun. Let me know what you think!

a cool kid

I met one of the coolest kids ever this week. I've been "the missionary" at a camp I used to work at last week, which means I have a little class with the kids in the morning and then can fat around at the pool all afternoon. Kind of a nice break, actually!

Anyway, some of the kids get to know you really quickly, and some kind of hang around the fringes. That's why it wasn't until Thursday night that I had a conversation with Cody. Cody is 17 or 18, with a long blonde ponytail and lean frame that doesn't quite mesh with his thick southern accent. He's painfully shy, and it takes him a while to look you in the eye, even longer to start talking. But some stories are worth waiting for.

Cody has started a skateboard ministry in the small town of Hazard, KY. He and a few friends started skating before church, more than anything because there's nothing to do in a small town. Before long new people started showing up, and after a few months there are 15-20 skaters. Three people made commitments to follow Jesus and have become actively involved in the church. Many of the skaters leave before church, but Cody, with a shy smile, says, "We don't want to make them come to church or anything. They can come skate, and we figure God can use that."

The youth ministry at Cody's church is starting to grow and come alive, and they're starting to have an impact in the town. City officials told Cody that they have no problem with his group skating on the grounds of the new courthouse, right in the center of town.

Cody tells me all this matter-of-factly, and as if he were listing off what he had for breakfast. Of course he skates. He's always skated. You can love God and skate at the same time, right? The cool thing about him is that he doesn't get caught up in strategy or anything. He hasn't set out to plant a ministry or have a huge community impact. He ust figures people need something to do.

At some point the conversation shifted to Cody's background. His parents split up when he was young, and so began the long cycle of bouncing from state to state, from one relative to another, never really knowing where to call home. Always the kid who was bullied in school, he dropped out halfway through his sophomore year at age 15. After studying carpentry for a while, Cody got his GED (high school equivalency) this year, and has started mending the relationship with his estranged father. He's thinking about college soon, but right now he wants to stay home and skate.

Cody's history was told as matter of factly as his skating stories. He says "It's kinda good--I mean, now I can relate to people who've had a hard time." Simple as that. With quiet assurance, God is using Cody in ways more powerful than I think he realizes.

I wish Cody had been the missionary speaker for the week. I think I could have learned a lot.