I never understood how people missed flights. Connecting flights, sure, if your initial flight rolls in late and you’ve got to haul ass to get to the gate across the airport in some unreasonable sliver of time. But that first flight? I just always figured you had to be a real slack-ass to not be able to get to the airport two hours early like me, Little Miss Perfectpants. Until this morning, when my eyes…
Me: Want me to bring you a souvenir? Manfred: Yes. Bring me a replica of the space needle. Me: I’m going to Portland, not Seattle! Manfred: Same thing.
There was a point within the first ten minutes of Nick’s and my hike up Lookout Mountain Monday morning where I honest to shit thought I was going to die. This is mostly because I am dismally out of shape and unaccustomed to coaxing my body to do much more than stand, sit, and — if I’m lucky — writhe a little every day. Suddenly I was using obscure leg muscles to propel myself…
My camera and I have a date with several bands and a chunk of muddy farmland. If I can actually get online (last year I couldn’t, really), I’ll check in here and at The Memphis Blog. Of course I will be tweeting. I imagine you are nearly unable to contain your excitement so I will hush up and get going.
On my way through Lakeland a few weeks ago, I got behind the rental car I rode to Chicago in back in very late December. It really threw me to just randomly be riding in traffic behind the very same car that had been my road home for a few days. I mean, how many rental cars are on the road in Memphis at any given second? But I know that was the right car.…
The plan is to stop making NYE plans. Every time I have tried to orchestrate something beyond “go to work and then get misty-eyed in the car later when the clock turns midnight and you’re on your way home to an empty apartment/house,” it has failed with such spectacularity that I’m sure some day I will be able to laugh about my foolishness over this manufactured night of revelry. Right? 2009, the plan: Drive up…
No time for art. Just packing. That container has since been filled to the brim and now I’m trying to see what I’ve left out. One thing I’ve got to pick up is boxed wine. Oh yeah, and food. Tomorrow morning (ugh, well, later today) I leave out for Nashville, where I’ll pick Amber up at the airport and we’ll truck it to Murfreesboro to pick up our tent and other camping goodies from her…
Two trips to Nashville in less than a week is hard on an old woman. [Project 365]
I feel like I’ve been living out of a suitcase for a month. I’m glad to be home and I’m glad that the first thing I did when I got to Memphis was take a shower and then go eat some crazy-ass food (ox tail soup and some technicolor potatoes and some other things I forgot how to describe) with my crazy-ass friends, and watch Psycho Killers in Love. Or at least I think that’s…
I’m in Durham, N.C., at a Comfort Inn near I-40, decompressing before a weekend blitz of multimedia training at UNC — Chapel Hill. I’m pretty excited about it; whatever I learn I’ll be expected to bring back and spread among the designers at the newspaper. So I’m hoping it’ll be chock full of good stuff. I am so so so glad I went ahead and got that shot yesterday. I’ve felt more or less like…
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