shoutingforha

4.29.2011

The Coffee Table

Today I would like to share some pictures of my favorite piece of furniture in the entire Ha house... my coffee table. It was handmade by an old friend of ours.

One night, after a lovely meal together, I made an off-handed comment about how much I liked the old library table that his family used as a coffee table. Little did I know that my remark would inspire him to secretly began making me a table of my own.

Several months later, our friend showed up at our house with the table and a card. It read, "It makes me incredibly happy to know you can prop your feet up on a piece of me." I was completely overwhelmed.

To say that the table is beautiful is an understatement. The hand-hewn quarter-sawn oak top is absolutely gorgeous. And the craftsmanship... I would be hard-pressed to find a higher quality piece no matter how much money I was willing to spend.

The hubby and I found the drawers in an old shed behind my dad's house. They were in disrepair and our friend had taken them under the guise of "fixing them up" for us. I love how he incorporated them into the table.

This coffee table is one of the few pieces of furniture that I would deem irreplaceable. In fact, I often joke with the hubby that should a disaster strike our home, I would be found desperately trying to throw the thing through one of our large front windows. How I intend to pick up the behemoth all by myself remains to be seen.

It's your turn, dear readers. What is your favorite piece of furniture?

4.28.2011

Random Thoughts On A Thursday, vol. 2

1. There has been some pretty nasty weather here in Middle Tennessee. It seems like every few days another a line of thunderstorms will make it's way across the region. One particularly wicked batch came through on Tuesday night bringing with it a spectacular lightening show.

Watching the lightening reminded me of the early days of my marriage. Whenever a summer storm would blow into the Front Range of Colorado, the hubby and I would drive up to Horsetooth Reservoir and park so we could look out over Ft. Collins and the eastern plain. From our vantage point, we could watch the lightening flashing as far as the eye could see.

As we sat, we would talk about life and our future hopes and dreams. It became the place to go during our first two years of marriage if we needed to talk about something important. I can still remember sitting there one night and talking about moving to Tennessee. It's hard to believe that it was sixteen years ago...

2. I love digging around in Google Analytics to see exactly what you people are looking at and how you managed to arrive at this chunk of internet real estate. It's quite fascinating.

I am always amazed by the completely random Google searches that result in a new visitor to my blog. Some of my favorites from the past few weeks...

i am a 35 old lady i dont have control on pee
konstruski pesawat (What does this mean?)
crazed lunatics my baby cried and the cat attacked me
slimy thing in my fish
dog is dumb as a brick (This one made me chuckle.)
clothes that torture
head found in dragon park

How ever you arrived, I am so glad that you decided to stop by.

3. I have big plans for tomorrow. And I mean BIG ones.

As soon as the boy is off to school, I'm heading over to my friend's house for a little royal wedding watching party. I realize that most of America could care less about the nuptials, but how often will I get to watch a 30 million dollar wedding while I enjoy a delightful brunch and sip Mimosas.

I have vivid memories of my eight-year-old self, sitting in my nightgown and watching Charles and Diana say their vows.   This time around, through the magic of technology (I'm talking about you, DVR), I won't have to watch all the festivities through sleep encrusted eyes.

What about you, dear readers? Will you be watching?

4.27.2011

As Read Today, vol. 2

Someone is ready for summer vacation.

For more Wordless Wednesday, visit 5 Minutes For Mom.

4.25.2011

One Thousand Gifts (366-381)

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father

of the heavenly lights, who does not change like

shifting shadows." James 1:17 (NIV)

366. The empty tomb.
367. A husband who makes sure I know that I am loved.
368. My neighbor selflessly letting me use her car and chauffeuring me around while my truck was in the shop.
369. Watching my boy (10) teaching our neighbor girl (12) how to shoot a BB gun.
370. My KitchenAid mixer. It makes baking so, so easy.
371. Giant maple trees which blanket the backyard in shade.
372. Car repairs that were less extensive than I expected. Who knew I could be so happy to replace a water pump?
373. Lemon squares. Oh, how I love the buttery shortbread crust.
374. Puffy, sleep filled eyes at the breakfast table.
375. Long conversations with a new friend.
376. The smell of Peppermint & Rosemary soap on a sleepy morning. The clean, fresh scent has the ability to wake me up when all else fails.
377. Bright green blades of wheat grass spilling over the edges of a pot.
378. I never thought I would say it, but I'm thankful for nose spray. The past two weeks would have been unbearable without it.
379. Peonies poking their heads up out of the soil.
380. My hubby coming home with four tubes of my favorite toothpaste because he noticed it was on sale for 50% off the regular price.
381. Staying up late talking with the hubby.

For more lists of gratitude, head over to

4.24.2011

Happy Easter!


One of the many handmade crosses placed along the fence at Christ In the Desert Monastery. © shoutingforha

"The angel said to the women, 'Do not be afraid,

for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.

He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.

Come and see the place where he lay.'"

Matthew 28: 5-6

4.21.2011

The Same Eyes

I have always been fascinated in genetics and the way various traits are passed from generation to generation. Hair color, left or right handedness, attached or dangling ear lobes, the ability to roll one's tongue or wink...

Over the years, I have managed to accumulate some wonderful old family photographs. The picture above is of my great, great, great grandfather on my mother's paternal side. It happens to be one of my favorites. I will freely admit that I have a soft spot when it comes to pictures of little old men, but the real reason I love this photograph is because we have the same eyes.

It's a rare thing to have a genetic trait that is so distinct it can easily be recognized in six or more generations. When I look at this picture, I immediately see my mom in the deep set, icy blue eyes (no offense, Mom). I have no doubt that, as I age, my eyes will more closely resemble the old fellow as well.

My grandpa died when I was only six, but I can still remember the deep blue of his eyes. His four daughters, my mom included, inherited those same eyes, as did my twin sister and I. Of my sister's three children, only one, my oldest niece, has blue eyes.

From a genetic standpoint, it is amazing that those baby blues have been passed down from generation to generation. As you probably know, the gene for blue eyes is recessive and is trumped by all other colors. All I have to do to remind myself of this fact is to gaze into my boy's green eyes, a pesky gene he inherited from the hubby.

For the record, the little guy's eyes didn't morph from blue to green until he was eighteen months old. I was robbed, I tell you!

I would love to hear your stories too, dear readers. What special traits have been passed down through your families?

4.20.2011

How To Make The Perfect Calzone

I'm going to share a really great tip with you today... One that I learned from my favorite pizza maker, Joey. This tidbit of information, dear readers, is the key to making the truly perfect Calzone.

Before you get carried away, I feel I need to let you know up front that I'm not going to share a top secret crust recipe (I do have a great one that I will share in another post). I'm not going to tell you how to make the perfect pizza sauce, although Grandma's Pasta Sauce is a killer substitute. I'm not even going to suggest any fillings.

What I am going to tell you is one incredibly simple thing that you can do to make sure your Calzone comes out of the oven with a perfectly rounded and delicious crust.

Are you ready? Drum roll, please...

It's a little hard to see in this picture, but the key to the perfect Calzone is a tiny ice chip. You can see it there, nestled on top of all that cheese.

According to Joey, as the Calzone bakes, the ice melts, letting off just enough steam to create that perfectly rounded crust. Without the ice, the Calzone would be flat. It's that simple.

One additional tip... If you decide to fill your Calzone with things like fresh tomatoes or banana peppers (foods that already contain a ton of moisture) you can omit the ice chip. As the Calzone cooks, the moisture in the vegetables will create the same effect.

Give it a try. You'll be surprised what a difference a little ice chip can make.

~~~~~

This post is part of Works For Me Wednesday hosted by We Are That Family.

4.19.2011

The Tennessee Salt Map

Fourth grade is a time for learning long division, fractions, the history of our great country and writing book reports. If you happen to live in Tennessee, fourth grade also means making a Tennessee Salt Map.

The map is designed to teach the children the geographic make-up of their home state and the locations of all the major cities and rivers. It is the biggest project of the year and is intended to be worked on over the course of several weeks. From what I can tell, kids love the project but it's one that many parents hate.

Before the boy began work on his map, I decided to get some advice from my neighbor, a mother of three older girls and seasoned salt map maker. I feel so thankful to have friends who have gone before me and are willing to point me in the right direction.

While she had plenty of wisdom to share, her best piece of advise was to ignore the recipe provided by the teachers. It apparently called for too much water which prevented the dough from retaining it's shape. I have no doubt that countless hours of frustration and tears were averted thanks to her handy tip.

With all of the advice and a sheet of foam board in hand, we were ready to get started. My boy, of course, wanted me to whip up a batch of dough so that he could hurl it onto the board and start molding the great state of Tennessee. I knew that he would benefit from a little bit of planning, so I insisted that he slow down and draw things out ahead of time.

To make things a little easier, I pulled out an old Tennessee map and had the boy trace around it onto the foam board (he just pressed really hard with a pencil). Next, he used a Sharpie to go over the lines so that they were clearly visible. The last thing he did was to draw in all of the landforms and rivers.

Once I had mixed up the dough, my boy slowly began building his state map one section at a time. He started in the west with the West Tennessee Plain/Gulf Coastal Basin. He then made his way east, building each land form at the appropriate height and using a toothpick to mark where the three major rivers flowed.

We then set the map aside to dry. This spring has been especially rainy and humid so the map took an eternity to dry. By eternity I mean over a week. Then it was time for the fun part... paint.

Most of the students paint there map three distinct colors marking the three regions of Tennessee, West, Middle and East. The boy had other plans. He wanted to paint his salt map so that it looked more like a satellite image. It took several shades of green, brown and black to get everything just how he wanted it. I think he did a wonderful job.

Leftover fabric paint from the Quiet Book was used to make the rivers. Push pins, hand-numbered with a Sharpie, were used to mark the cities, rivers and landforms. The boy decided to print out his title and map legend so that the project would look nice and neat. I was actually blown away by how great it turned out.

The project was so much fun that I'm a little bummed out I won't get to do this again with another child. Maybe we could make salt maps of other states, just for fun... I'm sure the boy would think that was a great idea.

For those who asked, the recipe for Salt Dough is as follows:

1 c. flour
1 c. salt
1/2 - 2/3 c. water

Combine the flour and salt. Add the water, starting with about 1/2 cup, adding more until the dough just comes together. The dough should be pliable but not sticky or crumbly.

4.18.2011

One Thousand Gifts (355-365)

"As each day comes to us refreshed and anew, so does my gratitude

renew itself daily. The breaking of the sun over the horizon is my

grateful heart dawning upon a blessed world."

~Terri Guillemets

355. Crosses folded from palm leaves (a Palm Sunday tradition).
356. Our beast, Brick, who is convinced that he is a lap dog.
357. Boys leaping out of the giant magnolia tree onto the trampoline. Oh, to be young and reckless again.
358. The sound of rolling thunder on an April night.
359. The boy's fierce love of animals.
360. A horrible cold, which forced me to spend two days just resting. It's funny how I sometimes have to get sick before I will actually be still.
361. How rapidly the landscape of Tennessee changes from brown into a dense, lush green. Even after sixteen years, this Colorado girl is still amazed every spring.
362. The hubby singing silly songs over the phone to my nieces. I loved hearing them shout, "Again! Again!"
363. Helicopter seed pods twirling from the branches of the maple tree.
364. Fresh squeezed limeade with a hint of mint. It's superior to lemonade in every possible way.
365. Throw pillows made from my Grandmother's ancient napkins.

For more lists of gratitude, head over to

4.17.2011

Sunday Links

How to Make Geode Easter Eggs | Crafts Suite 101

My boy will love this.

Dyed, Naturally | Twig and Thistle
How beautiful are these?

Rubber Cement Dyed Eggs | Crap I've Made
Such a simple, fun idea.

Plastic Eggs are 13 Ounces or Less | Giver's Log
I love the idea of dropping an Easter egg in the mail.

4.16.2011

Test Time

It's that time of year again. My boy has reached the half-way point of the Tennessee Comprehensive Achievement Program (TCAP) testing, or as the kiddos like to call it, the Tennessee Child Abuse Program. I, myself, am partial to T-CRAP.

I just happened to be volunteering in the school office when the tests arrived a little over a week ago. From the way the powers that be were acting, you would have thought that the boxes contained information about who shot JFK and the ever mysterious Area 51. Their excited voices declared, "They must remain locked in the vault at ALL times!" at least a dozen times.

Honestly, I am not a big fan of the test. The amount of pressure placed on school districts, principals, teachers and students seems to be a little bit out of control. In addition, I worry that the weeks of test preparation actually take time away from actual learning. My son has been taught far more by doing hands-on projects and reports than by simply memorizing a bunch of facts for a test.

Another problem I have with standardized testing is that I don't believe it is an accurate way to measure a child's comprehension. My son happens to be a great tester. He will dutifully color in the bubbles on his answer sheet with his #2 pencil and will score in the highest percentile with minimal effort. One of his best buddies, by contrast, will have spent countless hours studying and practicing, only to achieve low marks because he struggles with this type of test.

There just has to be a better way... And that, dear readers, is why I would like to announce that I am running for the office of President of the United States. Just kidding.

This year, in addition to the friendly phone call from the principal reminding me to "make sure [my] child gets adequate sleep and a healthy, nutritious breakfast," the boy came home with a list of test rules.

One of them stated that if a child coughed during the test, the entire class would have to start the entire exam over again. I am wondering if the person who came up with this brilliant rule has ever lived in Middle Tennessee during the spring. Allergies are especially terrible this year and at least half the children in the building have a cough. Besides, how many ten-year-old kids are smart enough to orchestrate an elaborate cheating scheme with coughing as the cues.

Another favorite was the one regulating what type of gum is permissible (chewing gum during TCAP is a special treat). Specifically, only pre-approved, sugar-free gum is allowed during testing. The boy and his friends informed me that the principal himself got on the intercom Wednesday afternoon to remind the children that sugary gum such as "Bubba Hubba" would not be tolerated.

I'm so glad that he is focused on the really important things.

According to my boy, the Reading/Language Arts and Math portions of the test were "really easy." After a nice weekend break he will take the Science and Social Studies tests on Monday and Tuesday. I believe that both students and teachers alike will be thrilled to have the standardized testing behind them. I think everyone is ready to get on with the actual task of learning.

4.14.2011

I Lose At Being Sick

My hubby is one of those guys that is good at just about everything. It's really quite ridiculous. While I am superior at a handful of skills, there is no denying the fact that my hubby can trump me at most things. Really.

The man is even better at being sick.

Take Tuesday, for instance. I had spent the morning with some girlfriends and on the way home, I noticed that I was starting to feel a little under the weather. There are a multitude of bugs going around so I decided to play it safe and head home to lie down. After slipping into a coma-like sleep for three hours, I drug my ailing self to the school to pick up the boy and then proceeded to lay on the sofa for the duration of the afternoon.

When the hubby got home from work, he commented that his head felt a little congested. I suggested the possibility that he was suffering from seasonal allergies, but didn't give his ailment any further thought. By that time I was feeling miserable and decided to go to bed at 9:00.

At around 10:30, I was awakened by my hubby, burning up with fever, literally moaning in agony. He informed me that he felt "like he was going to die" and would I mind getting up to find the heating pad. After tucking the pitiful man into bed, I fell into a restless sleep, punctuated by my hubby's violent, feverish shivering and moans of despair.

After ensuring that my boy was fed, dressed and off to school, I climbed back in bed and slept for an extra two-an-a-half hours. I awoke feeling a slight improvement. The hubby, on the other hand, was still on death's doorstep.

For those of you who make think that this is probably just one of those random coincidences, you would be wrong. The hubby and I have an ongoing joke that no matter how sick I am, he will always manage to swoop in and be sicker.

The most glaring example occurred in January of 2005. After thirty-two years of slamming my toes into the legs of furniture, I had finally broken a toe. It was my first fracture and I was going to milk it for all it was worth. After an x-ray confirming the break, the doctor sent me home with an armload of medical tape and detailed instructions on how to bandage my toe in such a way that it would heal and I could walk.

The boy, who was four at the time, spent the majority of his free time wrestling with our new puppy, Brick. Despite the pain, I was looking forward to relaxing evenings sitting on the sofa, foot propped on a pillow, while my hubby managed the wild beast and boy.

Unfortunately, my plans were cut short.

The day after the great toe snapping, my hubby came home from work barely able to walk. The pain in his left big toe was excruciating. While I suspect that my pain threshold is higher than that of my hubby's (I'd like to see him pass a 4 mm kidney stone 36 hours before giving birth.), the man is no wimp.

I had never seen the hubby in such pain. I swear the man would begin moaning if someone in China sneezed. Imagine his wailing when our four-year-old and puppy decided to wrestle on the floor beside him. Wearing a sock was unbearable and the weight of a sheet resting on his foot would nearly bring him to tears.

A visit to his doctor provided the diagnosis of "gout-like symptoms" brought on by the horrible car accident my hubby had been in just a week before. The seat belt, which had literally saved the hubby's life, did significant damage to the muscles in his torso. In fact, the tearing was so sever that my hubby's entire torso, upper arms and hips were the deep color of an eggplant for over a month.

As the doctor explained it, when massive tearing of the muscles occurs, the body releases significant amounts of uric acid. Since our bodies are not designed to process such a high amount of acid, the surplus tends to settle in the lower extremities, particularly the joint of the big toe. The doctor said the acid crystals are like little slivers of glass that settle into the joint. Every time the toe moves, the crystals scratch the snot out of the joint tissue causing excruciating pain.

While I wanted to feel compassionate for my hubby who was clearly suffering, part of me wanted to scream. I had broken a bone, gosh darn-it, and the hubby had managed to out-ail me again. I began to wonder what a girl had to endure to get a little coddling.

In reality, I could at least hobble around with minimal discomfort (thanks to my nifty tape job). The poor hubby was in agony with the slightest movement. As a result, the hubby spent the next two weeks with his foot propped on a pillow while I wrangled the beast and boy.

His superiority at being sick is now a huge joke at our house. Whenever we feel a simultaneous ailment coming on, I ridicule him for being such a wimp while he mocks my puny illness. Not only is it great fun, but it actually makes us feel better, if only for a few moments.

How about you, dear readers? Who is the champion of illness at your house?

4.13.2011

The Toad

My boy found a little toad on the patio the other night. After catching it in a jar, he had to hold it for a while.

For more Wordless Wednesday, visit 5 Minutes For Mom.

4.11.2011

One Thousand Gifts (342-354)

"There is not a more pleasing exercise of the mind than gratitude.

It is accompanied with such an inward satisfaction that the duty

is sufficiently rewarded by the performance."

~Joseph Addison

342. Taking the boy and a friend fishing and watching them catch dozens of sunfish. His friend, who had never caught a fish before, was smiling from ear to ear.
343. Fresh pine needle mulch.
344. A boy talking gibberish in his sleep.
345. Getting ten hours of uninterrupted sleep in one night. I can't remember the last time I felt so rested.
346. A slice of mixed berry pie, fresh out of the oven, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I dare you to find anything better.
347. My boy's love of pie which nearly surpasses my own.
348. Squirt gun fights.
349. A cool breeze on an unusually hot spring day.
350. Flip-flops.
352. Driving with the windows rolled down.
352. The boy vacuuming up a mess he made without even being asked.
353. A tall glass of iced tea.
354. The stillness and quiet of the house at night. It is such a peaceful place.

For more lists of gratitude, head over to

4.10.2011

Sunday Links

Have you been watching the Eagle Cam?

Coke Bottle Watering "Globes" | in words and pictures
What a brilliant idea!

Sponge Ball Tutorial | Party Blog

4.05.2011

When Good Gigs Go Bad

Remember that time I mentioned my boy was going to play his first music gig? Well, it's not gonna' happen. Here's why...

In our initial phone calls, the woman organizing the event gave the hubby and I very little information other than to rattle off a five-song set list. While we both noted that the woman was a little abrupt and somewhat scattered, we made the assumption that everything would be fine because, really, how bad could it be?

Really bad. That's how bad it could be.

The first rehearsal was Sunday afternoon at 2:00. Curious to hear how it was going, I sent the hubby a text message at 2:45. His immediate reply informed me that the boy had yet to pick up a pair of drumsticks. I had to wait until the fellows returned home at 5:30 to hear the whole story.

As the hubby tells it, the woman was literally the most disorganized person he had ever met. Rehearsal was being held in a crumbling, dilapidated shed in the woman's backyard. Not only was the shed her music "studio," it was the home of several cats, one of which was living in the bass drum.

The hubby and all of the kids were forced to sit outside the shed for an hour while they waited for the lady to show up. When the actual rehearsal finally started, the woman suggested that the kids begin by playing "Hey Joe," a song that was not only missing from the original set list, but one that the boy had never even heard.

The hubby quickly gave the boy a little coaching and, by some miracle, he was able to play the song without a problem. The only trouble was that the other musicians had no clue what they were doing and the instructor seemed unable to give them any guidance. It was so bad that, on several occasions, the hubby had to start calling out guitar chords to the struggling kids.

After limping through the remaining songs, my guys made a run for the car. They decided to stop for an ice cream cone on the way home, and according to the hubby, they ate in complete silence, unable to process all the craziness of the afternoon.

As the boy was relaying his version of the day's events, he kept using the word "creepy." At one point, he turned to the hubby and said, "I would have started crying if I had been there by myself. The only reason I felt safe was because you were there to protect me."

Our initial thought was to pull the plug and walk away from the whole fiasco. One thing you should know about the hubby and I is that we are not ones to break our commitments. We are of the if-you-give-someone-your-word-you-darn-well-follow-through-with-it mindset. After much discussion and debate, we decided to put off a decision until morning.

When the boy woke up Monday morning, he had resolved to go through with the creepy gig. The hubby promised to stick with him every step along the way. By Monday evening, all bets were off. The woman had called with yet more changes, even adding songs that had never been mentioned before.

The hubby knew instantly that he had to protect the boy from the utter confusion and chaos. He politely informed the woman that our boy would not be participating.

To be honest, we are all pretty relieved. For now, the boy will just stick to playing with the hubby and all of our musician friends. As for playing with other kids, that will have to wait until July when he attends The JAM.

The best thing to come of this whole fiasco was our boy's renewed sense of gratitude for his cat-free drum gear. It's the little things...

4.04.2011

One Thousand Gifts (329-341)

"Gratitude is a quality similar to electricity: it must be produced and

discharged and used up in order to exist at all."

~William Faulkner

329. Limes. I love the vibrant green color, the way they smell, and their tangy and tart flavor.

330. An entire week of cool temperatures. It is such a treat to be able to bundle up at this time of year.

331. How quickly the landscape of Tennessee changes from the dull grays and browns of winter, into the lush green of spring. It truly is beautiful.
332. Blossoms hanging on the branches of the Weeping Cherry tree.

333. Walking in Warner Park with my dear friend.
334. The mud-caked knees of my boy's jeans, a reminder of the hours spent playing outside with friends.
335. The way Brick's entire body wiggles when the hubby comes home from work.
336. Warm gingerbread with a lemon glaze drizzled on top.
337. Canceled meetings making it possible to spend an evening with friends.
338. Being able to sneak off with my friend who needed a break after a stressful day with her three little ones. I'm so thankful for our husbands who will happily watch the kids at a moment's notice.
339. Bethany's truffles at The Cocoa Tree. They are like little bites of heaven.
340. Dozens of tiny chartreuse leaves appearing on the Spirea bushes.
341. My guy's Saturday ritual. I love how much they look forward to their time together.

For more lists of gratitude, head over to

4.02.2011

Fire

The boy practicing "Fire" for the upcoming gig. There was a measure of 5/4 that was tricky, but he finally had a breakthrough.

4.01.2011

Don't Do Drugs

My boy has been asked to play his first real music gig. And so it begins...

The kind people at The JAM recommended him as a replacement drummer for a local teen band. The kids will be playing a five song set at a local restaurant on April 10. When the hubby got the call, the woman organizing the band seemed shocked to learn that the little guy was only ten.

Just between you and me, I am a little anxious to see how this whole thing goes.

One of the songs that the boy has to learn for the gig is Jimi Hendrix's "Fire." While the boy still has plenty of room to grow as a musician, one of his strengths is his ability to hold a beat. The little fellow is rock-solid. You would be surprised by how many drummers struggle in this area.

As the boy was playing along with a recording of "Fire" last night, he began to get frustrated by the drummers floating tempo. Exasperated, he told the hubby, "Why did that drummer have to do drugs?! He's playing crazy! Stupid druggies." (He had learned all about Jimi's untimely death when we visited the Experience Music Project in Seattle.)

I could tell that the boy was still stressed out about learning the song this morning. When I asked him about it, he said, "The guys tempo is all over the map. Why did he have to go and do drugs. It makes people hate your music."

And with that, a new anti-drug slogan was born. Forget Nancy Regan's "Just Say No" campaign. That's so 1982. What the world needs is a little tidbit of wisdom given by a ten-year-old boy from Tennessee.

Don't do drugs.  

It makes people hate your music.

Well, it may not make them hate your music, but it will frustrate the snot out of them when they try to learn to play your song.

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