Road Trip With Mom! Day Three: Memphis, Tennessee

Today was a full day. My head is swimming.

We started this morning by visiting Graceland, home of Elvis Presley - duh. It was pretty amazing. Mom and I had a great time seeing old movie memorabilia, checking out his fantastically flamboyant wardrobe, and posing in front of his car collection. Oh yes, we absolutely did.




He had a fantastic sense of style, in my opinion. Check out his yellow and navy tv room!


Oh, and The Jungle Room!


Lovely tour of his home. Here's mom and I outside the mansion:


Graceland was really fun, but the tour ended with a lot of emotion. In one room at the end, they played his concert from Hawaii. He did a slow version of "Dixie" in which he included part of "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah." A mix of sweat and tears ran down his face as he sang. (As an aside: In a beautiful Elvis Moment, the cameras caught a fan handing him a hankerchief to wipe the moisture from his face. He accepted it gratefully, used it, and handed it back to the fan, who screamed. Lovely). Although I'm no fan of the song "Dixie," or Dixieland itself, I got very caught up in his rendition of the song, as well as in his emotion while performing. What a beautiful man - his ability to reach his audience is incredible and probably stretched further than I can even imagine.

After this room, we went outside to the meditation garden where his family is buried. Seeing his grave, seeing him buried next to his parents and grandmother, along with a plaque made for his twin brother who was stillborn, was incredibly moving. Personally, I have never felt a strong connection to Elvis - his life or his music or anything. Nothing like Marvin Gaye - I cry every time I think of him dying, and I cry most times I hear his music. If I ever visited his grave, I think I'd lose my mind. With Elvis, it's different - he's one of my mom's favorite musicians, he's pretty much the handsomest man in the world, and he led an amazing life. Definitely. But I've never felt emotional about him. Something happened though, standing in front of his grave. Everybody in the area got a little quieter and slowed their pace a bit. I felt slowed down and, at the same time, caught up in the heavy air outside. There was a wave of sadness and beauty and peace and quiet, all at once. There's some powerful energy there; it really seized me for a few moments...

Later in the day, we went to the National Civil Rights Museum, which is located at the Lorraine Motel on Mulberry St. This is the site of where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. To be standing just 5 feet away from where Dr. King was shot and killed, to imagine the shots being fired and him falling and his life ending on that balcony - it took my breath away. There's an immense sadness in that space, yet an insane surge of a more hopeful energy reflected by a quotation that was posted nearby: You can kill the dreamer, but never the dream.

This wreath hangs outside Room 306 at the Lorraine Motel, where Dr. King was staying.


We also got to read a lot about the history of the civil rights movement. The whole museum made me think about my sister and her coworkers who, by going to work every day in the south, fight harder than I can sometimes ever imagine. To go to your job, your work, your career, your life, and have it be a struggle and an insane uphill battle every single day...And how amazing and humbling to imagine Rosa Parks on the bus, and the people in the Woolworth's lunch counter protests, and what it must have felt like to be doing what they did. And to hear about the non-violent training people carried out: how to not react to people calling you names and harassing you verbally and physically, how to peacefully protest, and, because of what peaceful protesting was met with, how to cover your head when you're being beaten. How to stay alive when people try and hurt you. It is inspiring and sad and amazing and awful, all at once.

After a day like this, it's sort of difficult to decompress and go on and do regular things right away. I definitely felt quiet for the rest of the day. I am so grateful for this down time to write down as much as I can, attempt to sort out the feelings and transform them into words as well as I'm able, and reflect on everything we took in today. And I feel this: I wish for everybody in my life to witness amazing happenings, encounter remarkable individuals, experience life-changing events, be good people, and go through it all with grace and humility.

Road Trip With Mom! Days Two and Four: Memphis and a Bit of Nashville

Welcome to Day Two of Mom and my road trip! It's difficult to top a night at the Grand Ole Opry with all the olds, but Mom and I were determined to do our best! We had a lovely brunch on the riverfront, and bumped into a couple of lovely ladies who you all might recognize...



That's right, it's Reba McIntyre and Wynonna! Such a strange coincidence that we ran into these two superstars at a breakfast advertised as "Breakfast with the Stars" because there they were! It must have been our lucky day...

We (sadly) left Opryland, but our spirits were quickly lifted when we realized that, on our drive to Memphis, we'd be passing right by Loretta Lynn's ranch in Hurricane Mills! We stopped there and saw some fantastic memorabilia (we weren't allowed to take pictures - lame), went inside her tour bus, checked out the Motocross track, and even spied her personal horses. One had "LL" branded on it's butt. Kinda weird.




After our wonderful break, we finished the trip to Memphis. You know what man? I love Memphis. I thank the entire universe for Memphis. I know we only saw a tiny part of it, but really. This is where so much of what I love was born, and I couldn't be more thankful for that.

We spent our first evening in Memphis on Beale St. eating barbecue and fried catfish and listening to a jazz orchestra. Later, we went to B.B. King's club where we saw a blues band. My mom can totally hang! Fantastic night.


Beale St. at night.


Notes to self: On Memphis...Sometimes a city is just a city. And music is just music. And just because you're in a gigantically powerful, passionate city, listening to this beautiful music, it doesn't mean you'd fall back in love. It isn't the music and the city that make you love. It would have to be the person. This is what it means to be thirty and know yourself really well, and be open, but cautious, in affairs of the heart. Taking a cue from Johnny Cash, I'm keeping a close watch on this heart of mine...

Sorry for the cryptic junk - get plenty of vodka in me sometime and maybe I'll explain that one some time...Okay, so on to Day 4. I'm skipping Day 3 for now because I really need to process that entire day a bit more, but I don't want to keep you all waiting too long. I mean, I know it's very difficult to carry on with your regular life when I'm not blogging...sorry dudes!

We woke up in Memphis on Tuesday morning and headed straight to Sun Studio. Sun was a recording studio and record label in Memphis started by Sam Phillips. Okay. Deep breath. Dudes, we were in the room where Elvis, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Louis, Carl Perkins, Howling Wolf, and so many others recorded! Seriously, this was so cool. We heard original recordings of all these artists, including Elvis's first record ever - he'd recorded a song for his mother for her birthday the first time he walked into Sun.

Jerry Lee Louis, Carl Perkins, Elvis, and Johnny Cash.



Later, we went to the Stax Museum of American Soul. This was absolutely the high point of this trip for me. Do you even know how much I love Otis Redding? Ever since the first time I saw Pretty in Pink and Duckie danced to "Try a Little Tenderness," I was in love with Otis Redding. I love every song he sings. I love the way he dances. I love everything about him. Once in awhile, as I walk by Lake Monona in Madison, I feel a surge of anger and sadness - this was the lake that swallowed Otis's plane when he was just 26 years old. To think that he accomplished so much in such a short life, expressed so much amazing music and art - it just blows my mind.


Stax was fantastic. Here's the hall of records - I think it's every single record put out by Stax. It went on forever...


That afternoon, we drove back to Nashville, checked into our hotel, and had a lovely sushi dinner at Ru San's, which is my absolutely favorite sushi restaurant! The Hodi-Totonchi family, plus many of my sister's friends, have spent many hungover lunches and dinners at Ru San's in Atlanta...and there was one in Nashville. Fantastic!

Here's a view of our hotel - it used to be a train station. I'll get more daytime pictures today.



I'm really loving it down here.

Next up! Day Three: Graceland and the National Civil Rights Museum.

Road Trip With Mom! Day One: Glenview to Nashville

Um...have you all ever taken a road trip with your mom? I have. It rules.

We started early Saturday morning - 7 am - and made our way south. We stopped at a Bob Evans for a hearty breakfast. This is how adorable Mom is first thing in the morning:


And THIS is how adorable I am first thing in the morning:


Bob Evans was pretty great. Tasty and affordable breakfasts brought out real quick. Although, they did have this poster hanging in the entrance of the restaurant...I'm not sure what Apple Pie Fries are, but we did not stick around to find out. Barf!


We made amazing time; it took only eight hours from Chicago to Nashville! We arrived at our first hotel - The Grand Ole Opry Convention Center. Why stay there, you ask? Oh, no reason. Maybe just because we had tickets to see Crystal Gayle and Patty Loveless at the Grand Ole Opry that night! Whoa!!! More about that later...The hotel was incredible. It was sort of like Disneyland, minus the rides, and as if it was located inside a greenhouse. Does that make sense? Check it out:




This stuff is all inside the hotel. It's like a giant greenhouse with a billion plants and flowers and a zillion lanais and some nice restaurants. Fantastic.

The reason we went straight to Nashville Saturday night was, as mentioned before, so we could go see The Grand Ole Opry! It was amazing. I'll post a couple of pictures here, but if you want to see the whole mess of them, check out my Picasa album. Mom kept commenting on how it must be Geriatric Night - and she made a good point! At least half of the performers were definitely of the senior persuasion. And damn, were they amazing performers. Check out Little Jimmy Dickens, 88 years old and about 4'10"!


And here are the ladies themselves, Patty Loveless:


And Crystal Gayle. Her hair is still down to her ankles. Mom wondered how she dyes it all. Oh snap! Who said that?!


I loved The Grand Ole Opry - the hotel and the show! It was amazing. Oh, and I even got to play the piano at the Opry!!!!!
..........(hotel)


Coming Up! Day Two: Nashville to Memphis. Where did we stop on our long drive, you ask? Oh, just a little somewhere called Loretta Lynn's Ranch! Wait til you read about it...

Inspired by The Family and Ole Toilet Phone

I write/repost this blog in honor of a couple of things. Number one being the fact that I really need to buy a new phone. I've had Ole Toilet Phone for way too long now, and the buttons are all breaking and the sound is funny and it really doesn't work that well. Plus, it was once in a toilet (read below).

The second reason I write this blog is because I'm sort of obsessed with my family this evening. Not that you need a reminder or anything (oh yes, those are all individual links)...Tonight my parents, Emil, Mladenka, Laith, Layla, Luai, Lameis, Auntie Vicky and Amu Nabeel, and some extras (I'm sure including Josh, Fontaine, and a few others) were all at a White Sox game together. I received a text from Layla saying that my father had called her - from eight seats down - to ask her if she wanted a margarita. At some point there was some kind of impression of my father, done by the one and only Luai. I still have yet to hear it, but I'm sure I'll document it in some way when the time comes. And finally! I received a text from Laith. There were no words to this text; just one magical, magnificent picture:



And so, with that, I repost my blog from a craptacular day a few years ago when my phone got busted up and my family made everything better. And hilarious.

That was my day, friends. Craptacular indeed.

Lots of stupid shitty things happened to make my day craptacular and to make me an absolute crab all day. No thanks to stupid parents (not mine, the ones I work for) and Begonia barfing in 3 different places (he wanted to be like momma today). But the biggest craptacular thing that happened today involved my sparkling, semi-new, pink cellular telephone. I love that phone. I love making calls on it and waking up to my alarm on it and, especially, playing Jewel Quest on it.

But the thing is, I dropped it again today. And this wasn't your regular run of the mill, "I dropped my phone on the hardwood floor" drop which happens about five times a week. Oh no. I dropped it in water.

Any guesses to what kind of water? Well you're probably right. It was toilet water. In the toilet. It was clean, mind you! I mean, nothing was in there except for water, and I'm sure 8 billion germs, but it was mostly acceptable.

I have never in my life stuck my hand down into a toilet faster than I did today. Like, without a second thought. My hand was fully submersed in the toilet. Where people poop. But I had to get my phone, see?

So it was broken for awhile but I think it works mostly now. For awhile though, the main button that leads to all the "features" didn't work, and neither did the 5 and 6 buttons. Want to know the number to call for repairs? 1-800-331-9656. Its true. I could not call.

Anyhow, I took out the battery and let it dry and all, and turned it back on and it seems to be working okay now but its iffy, so sorry to anybody who tried to reach me tonight. On the plus side, I sent an email out to my family listserve, which involves not only myself, my siblings and parents, but all 10 first cousins, 3 sets of aunts and uncles, and two or three random stragglers on the side. Below is the email I sent, followed by the responses I received within less than 2 hours of sending out the email. I have never felt cooler.

Reem wrote:
Hi family.

I'll keep this short and sweet.

I dropped my phone in the toilet today. The only detail I will give at this time is that the toilet was clean and nothing was in there except for water. Clean, clear water.

Anyhow, my phone is now broken and unreliable so if you try to call me in the next few days it most likely will not work. The five and six buttons are broken, and I can't even play Jewel Quest! Totally stupid.

Anyhow, that's where I'm at. Hopefully I'll talk to you all soon some otherway. Oh and I can't text either.

Mom and Dad I will call you from another phone tonight.

xxoo, Reem

Laith wrote:
You're right...totally stupid. Good luck

Sara wrote:
I recently dropped my phone in the tub at the salon while getting a pedicure. The poor Vietnamese ladies practically screamed and kept yelling at me "Get the SIM! Get the SIM!" Their advice worked- I took the SIM card out and let everything dry out and it works fine now. :)

Layla wrote:
I had the same problem when I dropped my pager in the toilet. All I did was open up every area I could and let it air dry for 2 days...then I popped in a battery and happy happy joy joy..it WORKED AGAIN!!!

Good Luck Reem!

Samer (who is a boy) wrote:
you know, this reminds me of all the times I've dropped so many things in the toilet...bracelets, combs, toothbrushes, and other crap (no pun intended)...but never an electronic device..ill work on that for the awesome experience!
Samer

Lameis wrote:
I've dropped it in beer before, it has the same negative effects :)

Emil wrote:
Wow this family is so supportive. let me just add one thing: when were eating at the Brazilian all you can eat meat place, Luai's belt buckle broke off and fell in the urinal

Luai wrote:
Oh yeah I totally remember that, that was hilarious, I couldn't win that day

Oh family, I love you! Thanks for being so hilarious!

Michigan, But Without The Festival

Oh dudes. I got to visit with Sarah the BFF this weekend. There's not much better in life than when we're together. I'm pretty exhausted this week, so I'ma just post the highlights of the trip via pictures. There's about 150 other pictures that you can check out too if you're interested.

It was an amazing weekend. We met up in Michigan at her parents' house to hang out and basically eat food, watch cable, play outside a bit, and bando it up at the dorkestra. You know, the usual.

At Sarah's parent's house, there are always a few things you can expect. One of those things being...PIE! Rhubarb, to be specific:

You can also expect to hang out with a billion animals. I think there were five cats and a dog. They all rule. Bronte cuddled with me the first night, Fred cuddled with me the next morning, Baby sat on my lap a little later, Boobie (who I've known since she was a tiny kitten!) mostly ignored me and fawned over Momma Sarah, and Black and White Boy (who doesn't actually live there - he's a neighbor's cat) snuck inside to eat the other cats' food a couple of times. Also, all the animals lay around and are lazy all the time. It's wonderful.



We saw Valerie!

We played video games! Sarah is doing a skateboard game. She ruled. I tried to play a game in which you "play the drums" and I lost within 7 seconds. Booo!


We were, of course, hilarious. Yes, it says Double Delight. That's us, bitches!

And some of us are cute sometimes. Right?


Press PLAY!



Hannah, Sarah's youngest sister, won a concerto competition that allowed her to play with a professional orchestra! She did the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto in D, which, when first composed, was deemed "unplayable" by performers. And Hannah played it! And she's only 17! Seriously, she's amazing. Watch the video (this is the second half of the performance)! If you're pressed for time, I recommend checking it out right at about 2:30 and watching for a bit. 


I have to say, it was such a pleasure to see Hannah play this weekend. I first met Hannah when she was only 6 or 7. I remember eating dinner at Sarah's parents' house, sitting across from Hannah, who was eating a Chik Patty, and being way impressed that Hannah was a vegetarian by her own choice. I was no less impressed at her performance this weekend, watching a truly professional musician and beautiful and talented young woman. Wow, Hannah. Wow. Good job being amazing!

Okay, enough gushing. One thing Sarah and I like to do is walk the fine line between classy and tacky. I call it "Clacky." Here we are, dressed to the nines, eating some delicious Taco Bell:

Oh, and we stayed in a hotel! These are pictures we took whilst laying in one bed together.

BFFs rule, dudes. I don't even know what else to say.

Carpet Somewhere in the Building?

Okay, this was a tough one. Only because I wasn't sure if I should post it or not, due to the privacy issue. Here's the story: Yesterday, a parent of some of my students whom I've known for about 4 years told me that one of her sons (just turned nine years old) had written his own will. He came up with the idea on his own; nobody pushed, encouraged, or suggested anything. It was all his own doing.

Sort of morbid, right? His mother even agreed with me. But that's that funny part. It's actually way more hilarious than it is morbid. Read on to see why (I took out all names and personal things, but if you all spot anything else I should take out for privacy, let me know asap):


The Last Will And Testament of _____

March 30, 2009
I, ______, hereby declare:

I want to be buried; I do not want to be ashes. I want to be buried in a catholic cemetery. At my funeral mass, I want the hymns to be Amazing Grace and Lift High the Cross.

I want the Bishop of Madison, Wisconsin, United States to be the main celebrant at my funeral mass. I want to be buried next to _________. I want _________to make my casket.

I want them to burry my with my hair dyed purple. I want to be buried with a Wisconsin Badgers blanket and a rosary in my hands. I want to be buried a white cassock with red polka dots.

I want the funeral mass to begin at 3:17 AM, on a Monday. I want the funeral mass to be celebrated in a church with carpet somewhere in the building.

I want ______, ______, and _____ to serve at my funeral mass.

I want Little Creasers Pizza to be served at the luncheon after the funeral mass. And I want all of the people at the luncheon to watch the movie: St. John Bosco – Mission to Love, by Ignatius Press.

I want 100% of my money to go to the Cathedral of St. Raphael in Madison, Wisconsin, United States. I want all my other belongings, including my rubber ducky, to go to _________.

I want to give my batman underwear to my personal secretary, whoever it is.

I am not mentally ill at the time of writing. I want them to read this at my funeral mass. I, ____, is aged 9 at the time of writing.

I feel that I should also point out that this kid's little brother, who is two years old, told his mom the other day that he wanted to get a new dog and name it "Stupid." When the mom told him that this was not a nice way to talk and she didn't want to hear him call anybody that, he told her that he's only say it when she wasn't around.

EVERYBODY RULES.

Poo. Bird Poo, Specifically.

A bird just pooped on my head. Like right smack dab in the middle, right on top. Oh, I'm serious. I was walking from my car to the front door of my home when I felt something hit me. Or land on me. Either way, I knew it was too heavy to be a raindrop. Maybe it was a bud from a tree? Maybe a tiny acorn thrown from a squirrel? Who knows, right?

Well, I had to know, so I put my fingers up to the top of my head to feel around. I felt something sort of wet, and slowly brought my fingers down to examine. Yep...bird poo. Without thinking that I'd later be documenting this episode, I quickly wiped some of it on the side of the house, so this is all I had left on my fingers when I got to my camera:

Hard to see, I realize, but I guarantee you it's bird poo.

Here is where it landed in my hair - also hard to see, but there's a little bit of white right above the upside-down L that's in my scalp for some reason.


You know the best part? After my first initial thought of "GOD FUCKING DAMMIT," and my second thought of "Okay, I better document this for the bloggo," my third thought was "That's pretty hilarious." I mean, I actually laughed out loud. I don't know man, things are just so hilarious to me right now. What a great life. Full of poo. But great, nonetheless.

Busted Up vs. Tricked Out vs. Tightened Up

This is a blog entry I wrote about 16 months ago, when I still wrote mostly on MySpace. I have been thinking about Gary Busey a lot today, for some reason, so I thought I'd repost this blog that is loosely based around him...

I tried to explain to Schabow the other night about "busted up." I came off sounding like a dick. Probably because I was talking about people I know. Which, yes, is shallow and mean. SORRY. God. Whatever. Anyhow, its not as mean if I do it with celebrities, right? Good. So here is how i meant for it to sound:

Sometimes somebody is the busted up somebody else. Like, the busted up person looks like the first person, but maybe a little more raggedy, or like their hair is messy and unkempt...you know? I know it sounds mean, but it really doesn't have to be. Here is an example:

Gary Busey is the busted up Nick Nolte


Nick Nolte


Gary Busey

See? They look alike, but Gary Busey is slightly...well, busted up.

I was talking to Mark tonight, and he mentioned that there should be the possibility of somebody being the "tricked out" somebody else. Like find somebody who is "a natural beauty" and then find somebody who looks like them, but with a shit ton of makeup or giant earrings. Or who has special powers maybe. We couldn't think of any examples at first, but then...


Janice Dickinson


Chynna Doll

To me, it looks like Chynna Doll is the tricked out Janice Dickinson because of all her crazy muscles. Its like you get Janice, but then get all these add-ons, like muscles and a giant neck.

Here's one that I have a hard time with...who's the busted up who in this trio?


Mary Steenbergen


Andie McDowell


Susan Lucci

I mean, in my opinion, they're all busted up. I'd say Andie McDowell is the least busted up (or, as we coined this weekend, the "tightened up"). But that's because I'm biased, because Susan Lucci looks like an animated corpse (not my original thought - sorry!) and Mary Steenbergen, well I don't mind her, but she married Ted Danson! that douchebag!

So. Is that nicer Schabow? It's all for you, my friend. All for you.

I think my writing used to be a lot cruder. Oh, how we grow. I've gone from crude to prude!

JK, dudes, JK.