Life On The Road, and Off...

     It was just another typical Sunday in Nashville, having brunch at Reba's. I know, I named dropped. It's ok, I'm a certified name dropper. Reba, if you didn't know, is one of the artists I'm fortunate enough to work with at The Valory Music Co. She is also one of the classiest people I've ever known, hence inviting us to her home to enjoy brunch. So, somewhere between watching other, luckier people, enjoy mamosa's and staring at the back of her enormous, beautiful home that backs up to an incredible lake, I asked her, randomly about her favorite vacation spot. Without skipping a beat, she answered, "Bora Bora." Interesting, considering I'd just seen some advertisements on Tahiti and fell in love. I want to stay in a hut on the ocean. I want to wake up, walk outside, and jump in the ocean. So, I told Kip that's where we need to honeymoon. Several of my friends and family have pointed out to me that I should pick a wedding date before I plan the honeymoon...Details...

    So, this weekend I flew to Shreveport, LA on Saturday, for Reba/George/LeAnn Womack concert. Shreveport was HOT, no alligator sightings, unfortunately. However, it happened, someone assumed I was pregnant and farther along than I am. The worst part? It was a WOMAN--ladies YOU KNOW BETTER. As Melissa says, you NEVER ASSUME. I don't care if I'm signing the birth certificate--ACT SURPRISED. TO be fair, I was holding my stomach and wearing a shirt that was tight, so she asked, "Do we know what it is?" Of course, it stung, but I smiled, "Not yet, I find out next week." Thinking that was the end of it, I smiled politely. THEN, that hag looks at me, with huge eyes, as if to say, "you're practically crowning and you don't know the sex?" I know something is coming but I didn't know it'd be this, "Are we sure there's only one in there?" I don't know if my face showed my true feelings, which were, "Lady, run, because I am about to cut you." I assured her there was only one, smiled, and walked away before I ended her life prematurely. 

     The next morning I flew to Dallas with my friend Kate, and my "i'm knocked up" announcer, Melissa Peterman--who is my blonde sister. We've decided that. Stay tuned for her upcoming comedy album. Anyway, flights were fine that day, eventually made it to Albuquerque for a show with Justin Moore. I wasn't as lucky the next day, though...I was kicked out of my hotel by 12:30, which was as "late" as they'd give me for late checkout, and after the cleaning women had knocked on my door 309843094 times, I figured I should just leave. My flight wasn't until five pm that night, so I sat in the airport for a LONG time. Right before we were supposed to board, my flight gets cancelled. No problem, I travel a lot and it doesn't happen very often. I wait in line for a while, finally get to the counter, the woman is overwhelmed. She stares at the computer for about six minutes before addressing me. I explain that I'd like to at least get "half-way" home by that night. After about another six minutes she says, "How fast can you run?" She told me to run to another gate, she would call ahead and I would board the plane and make it home sometime around midnight. I held my fat stomach and waddled quickly towards the other gate. When I got there the woman motioned me on the plane. I had no idea where I was going. Of course the flight was almost full so I was smashed between two people sweating like a whore in church, wondering where I was going, East, I hoped, when I heard the flight attendant go, "Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy your short flight to Las Vegas!" At that point, I just laughed, out loud...Once I arrived in Vegas I walked up to the desk and explained to the nice woman that I'd like to make it home, to Nashville, asap...She put me on a flight, and must have had pity on me, because I was one of the first to board. SHOCKINGLY--thank you Southwest Airlines, my bag made it WITH ME. I have no idea how, but it was there. I crawled into bed after 1:30a.m. Life on the road, not always glamorous.