...because my husband, about whom I waxed rhapsodic in this post, whisked me off for a romantic weekend in NASHVILLE! I woke up yesterday not knowing where we were going and woke up this morning in the luxurious sheets of the Vanderbilt Marriott.
And no, I wouldn't rather be in the Bahamas, St. Thomas or Paris...because I've never been to Nashville, I've wanted to come here and let's face it, our boots are walking on the hallowed ground that Loretta Lynn's did back in the day.
We had a beer or two at the very place where Johnny Cash threw back a shot or two between performances at the Grand Ole Opry...and we're talking the REAL Grand Ole Opry...not the 21st century Disney-esque Opryland. I took pictures of what was probably the nastiest ladies' room I've ever seen (betcha can't wait for those pictures!), but come on, Patsy Cline might have peed there!
We watched a band at Legends Corner while looking at all the album covers on the wall. Remember Mac Davis? Well, neither did I...but back in the 70's, someone actually CHOSE that blue jumpsuit he's wearing on the cover of his album. Hurley took a picture of me in front of Johnny Cash's guitar. The bartender looked like Loretta Lynn in her middle years, complete with teased beehive over long brown hair. The band was so good that it made you really appreciate what it must take to make it in this business. Next time you turn your nose up at some one-hit wonder, keep in mind that there but for the grace of Patsy Cline's ghost, he/she might still be playing for tips collected in an empty mayonnaise jar at Legends or Tootsie's.
Well, you'll have to wait until Monday for more...because right now I'm going to focus the next 24 hours on enjoying these luxurious sheets, reveling in some good country music and loving my husband!
Di
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