It's Not A Party 'Til Somebody Does The Hand Bone.

When I was around the age of 4, my parents turned from their wicked ways and became christians. Their lives as they knew them were changed. Except for the occasional smoke behind the clothes line (sorry Mom)- they totally had committed themselves and our family to a new life. I'm grateful for this. In fact, if it weren't for this decision- I'm sure today I would be selling giant brown panda blankets, dream catchers, and my "art pieces" on the side of the road- while balancing a naked baby wearing only a diaper on my hip. Wearing tight short shorts with my muffin top hanging out.

But, I remember the parties. Oh yes I do. Guitars everywhere. Beer. "Oh, here comes Mamaw Hazie- quick put the beer in the wood burning stove." Those parties. Really not much went on except a lot of guitar tuning. I mean, somebody get those people a tuner. Because that's all they did for 3 hours. For 3 hours they'd all try to get their guitars tuned together so they could play- "In The Garden". Later we'd hear some Johnny Cash or maybe Hank Williams, Sr. Which by the way- what's up with Hank Sr.? Was Prozac not invented then? Because he really needed some. Later, I'm sure after a couple alcoholic beverages, Daddy would pull out the "Hand Bone". (You Tube it.)