"I had no idea what I was in for."

I knew when I went to work for people who are on TV that I would have to deal with some odd requests and, errr...fanatic fans. I had no idea what I was in for.

Crazy calls and emails that I regularly receive:

Can I send them my recipe for ____________?
So you can sue them for not paying you? I don't think so, honey.

Will they come speak at my kid's school?
How about I give you their agent's number and you can call him & see if he's feeling charitable today.

I'm from Boulder, Colorado. Would they sponsor my charity fund-raising dinner?
WTF?

My son wants to go to cooking school. Will they call him to give him some encouragement?
Sure. And then they'll come speak at his school.

We're coming to eat at their restaurant. Will they be there?
My sources say NO.

Will they come to my house to cook for my wife's birthday?
Well sure. They don't really have anything else to do.

I'm bringing my son's baseball team to Memphis for a tournament. Can we all come eat at the restaurant for free?
Absolutely. Because we never had any intentions of the restaurant being an actual money-making endeavor anyway.

Can I send her a pig?
Why not? EVERYONE ELSE DOES!

I [do hair/ am a make-up artist/ am a stylist] and I'd like to work on the show.
Take a number, sweetheart. They've already got hair/ make up/ stylists.

Can I talk to [him/ her]?
Uhh, no. Especially if you're not willing to tell me who you are and what it's regarding.

I left a message for [him/ her] last week but they never called me back.
I'm so sorry. But keep waiting for that call. In fact, hold your breath.

I bought their cookbook. If I [drop off/ send in] my book to you, will they sign it for me?
This probably seems reasonable to you, but just consider for a second that they've already sold more than FORTY THOUSAND cookbooks.

Where did she get her Piggy canisters?
I have no idea. They were a gift. Really. I don't know. OMG STOP CALLING ME ABOUT THE PIGGY CANISTERS!!!!!

I want to have my own restaurant and TV show one day. Will he mentor me?
But of course. He has this one piece of simple advice for you: "WORK YOUR ASS OFF."

I make wonderful ________. Can I send some to them to try?
Sure. We love eating food made by complete strangers who may or may not be deranged fans. We're daring that way.

I [am a great cook/ have an outgoing personality/ am their biggest fan]. How can I be on the show?
YOU CAN'T.

"Because nothing says *over 40* like a TANKINI."

The saga of the swimsuit. Everyone has one this time of year, don't they? Mine's a little different, though.

See last year I bought a swimsuit that I really liked. A solid orange two-piece, halter top, full coverage on the bottom. I liked it because it reminded me of Halle's Bond Girl suit. (Even though I'm sure it didn't remind anyone who SAW ME in it of Halle's Bond Girl suit.) I totally planned on wearing it again this year.

I admit it - I'm a sun worshiper. Ya'll know my most favorite place in all the world is the beach in Destin, Florida. And I wear sun screen (albeit low SPF), but the simple fact of the matter is: I got my mom's great skin and I LOVE the way my skin looks tanned. It turns THE most gorgeous golden caramel color. Plus, I just find laying in the sun extremely relaxing. I can do it for hours on end (assuming I have a pool or beach to cool off in).

As I've mentioned here before once or fourteen times, we aren't going to the beach this year. And I don't have a pool. Or a club membership. So I have had ZERO days in the sun so far this summer. But I had a plan last weekend. The Germantown Athletic Club (like, 5 minutes from my house) was having an open house! They were going to cook out by the pool and it was open to the public. I'm sure I would've had to take a tour and listen to a sales pitch but so what? I could spend the afternoon at their pool! And frankly, I was kind of interested to find out how much it would cost to join, so I could further harass Chip about signing up.

So Saturday morning I start getting all my stuff together - sunscreen, sun visor, towel, swimsuit...wait. Where's my swimsuit? I couldn't find that mug anywhere. Come to find out CHIP GAVE IT TO GOOD WILL. I'm not kidding. I was so totally pissed at him all weekend, completely with drama-queen wails of "You've ruined my whole weekend!!" and "This was the ONLY chance I'll have all summer to lay out!"

He tried to make it up to me. He said, "Let's go to the mall. You can buy a new suit." I said, "It's not that easy!" Because come on, ladies. We all know it's not.

But today, a former co-worker of mine who is now my new BFF emailed me. We were supposed to have lunch on Friday. And she was all, "I'm not even working on Friday. Instead of lunch do you want to go to the pool?" And I was all "OMG you are my new BFF!" Then I realized, shit, I need a suit.

So I went to the mall. God I hate the mall. But I seriously do not know where you're supposed to buy a swimsuit anymore. Chip was all, "Go up to that tanning salon; they have tons of suits in the window." And I'm all, "They have suits for 20-year-old whores. They do not have suits for 40-year-old ladies."

Why do manufacturers not understand that I want a swim suit that A) does not have metal embellishments on it anywhere, and B) does not have ties on the hips and C) is maybe in a solid color? I found a Lauren suit that was decent but I just didn't like the way it looked on me. I'm about 10 pounds heavier than I need to be and had to admit to myself that I have no business wearing a bikini.

But one-pieces are so HOT. And ugly. And blah.

So I sucked it up and started trying on TANKINIS. I've never worn a tankini and it hadn't even occurred to me to wear one now. Because nothing says *over 40* like a TANKINI. But I was out of options. And it's not great, but I can live with it. And I think the people around me will like it a lot better, too. Like my friend who was kind enough to invite me to her club. I figure the least I can do - and my only hope of ever getting a repeat invitation - is not show up looking like I'm wearing my daughter's swimsuit.

Which is how I ended up making deviled eggs at midnight last night.

Last night about 10:30, when Big Daddy & I have just gone to bed, Elijah - who has apparently wandered downstairs to make himself something to eat - comes into our bedroom and asks me, "How do you boil eggs?"

And I'm all, "Huh? What're you doing?"

"Making deviled eggs. I got a recipe off the internet. I know how to do it, I just don't know how to boil eggs."

(Note: Elijah loves deviled eggs. He's only ever had them at other people's parties but he really, really likes them. I think he must've had them recently at his girlfriend's house or something?)

So I tell him how to boil eggs, but I suggest that he just follow the directions in the recipe. He said they say to cover the eggs with cold water, bring it to boil, then remove from heat for 10 minutes.

Later - a little after 11 by now - he comes back in my room and says, "Is the shell supposed to be soft?"

And I'm all, "Huh? The shells should be...shells." I mean, do shells change when you boil eggs? I don't think so.

"They're really soft and they're hard to peel. I don't know how to crack them."

So I tell him how to peel boiled eggs. "Crack them on the counter or the side of the sink. Peel them with your thumb. You can put the shells down the garbage disposal."

After he's gone a few minutes I start to realize that it's probably not going well in the kitchen and if the boy doesn't even know how to boil eggs he probably doesn't exactly know how to troubleshoot whatever problems he's encountering. So I get up out of bed and go down to the kitchen to see if I can help him.

Which is how I ended up making deviled eggs at midnight last night.

I go down there & he's peeled and cut open one egg - and it's barely cooked at all. The yolk is totally runny, yet he's poured it into a bowl, where he plans to mix the filling. The white lay cut in two halves on a plate, looking pretty runny itself.

"Oh honey, no. That egg is soft boiled, that won't work. The yolk has to be cooked - hard and kind of chalky."

I put the remaining eggs back on the stove and boiled them for a few more minutes, but when I crack them open, they're only just soft boiled (but at least now the whites are cooked). I dump it all in the trash.

"Maybe I should just make a sandwich," he says.

But I'm up now and determined. I grab another pan. "Get some more eggs out of the fridge."

I check the recipe and nowhere does it say to take the pan off the burner once it starts boiling. My kid has the reading skills of a fifth grader. It says to boil the eggs for 10 to 15 minutes. So I put the new eggs on the stove and sit down and read this week's Memphis Flyer for 12 and a half minutes.

After cooling them, I show Elijah how to peel the first one, then he does the rest. I cut one open and show him how the cooked yolk pops right out. He mixes up the mayo, mustard, garlic powder and onion salt, then we fill the whites and sprinkle paprika over the top.

Three pans, two bowls, four plates, two spoons, a knife, a cutting board and a set of measuring spoons later, we had deviled eggs.

"There supposed to go in the fridge for an hour, but if you want to eat them now they'll probably taste okay. I'm going to bed."

"Are you kidding? After all this, I'm not eating them until they're perfect." He puts them in the fridge.

"Okay well...I'm going to bed."

"Okay well...thanks, Mom."

"We lost that MJ a long, long time ago."

My antidepressants must be working a little too well, because I am not crying over the loss of my childhood icons. In fact, I think I pissed off a lot of people on facebook yesterday.

Her status: is devastated about Michael Jackson. I'm in tears literally.
My comment: Really? I'm not sure how sad I'm supposed to be that an alleged child molester is gone.

Which of course led to other comments about how some people are so negative although I'm not the one crying so I'm not sure how I'm the one being negative.

Was Michael Jackson a musical genius? You bet. Did his music define my generation? Mos def. Did I drunkenly do the Thriller dance in the TG&Y parking lot with Shelley & Debbie when I was 17? Why yes, yes I did.

But we lost that MJ a long, long time ago.

• The last MJ album I bought: Thriller, 1983
• MJ's last #1 hit: "You Are Not Alone," 1995
• MJ's last Grammy award: "Scream" (Best Short Form Music Video), 1996
• MJ's last Grammy award for a song: "We Are the World," 1986
• MJ's last Grammy award for a song that didn't involve a bunch of other people: "Billie Jean/ Beat It," 1984

You see where I'm going with this.

This guy?

Loved him. Had a huge crush on him. Studied his every dance move in an attempt to emulate.

This guy?

Freakish alleged child molester whose nose was falling off. Losing him, even at age 50, does not make me sad.

"WE KNOW!! IT'S HOT!!"

I know ya'll are all saying, "WE KNOW!! IT'S HOT!!" but just in case you weren't convinced, this would be my car thermometer this afternoon after being parked in the shade at Sonic for 15 minutes:


Related: Please invite me to your pool.

"Whad' Ya Know?"

I have another confession: I am a passionate public radio listener. And supporter! You can't be one without the other! If you are a public radio listener then by god, you damn well better be a supporter, too. Okay, end of the pledge drive. Back to the blog post.

Several months ago, our local station, WKNO, began advertising that one of my FAVORITE public radio shows was coming to Memphis to do a live broadcast. Michael Feldman's Whad' Ya Know is funny and smart and just happens to be on at a time (10-12 Saturday mornings) when I'm almost always listening to the radio - usually either getting ready in the bathroom or driving around in my car running errands. Also I maybe have a bit of a crush on the host.

So I bought three tickets for us to attend the show. At first I thought E & Big Daddy would think it was stupid, but when I told them, they were actually really excited too. And since the show was this weekend, the ticket purchase actually servied double duty. Happy Father's Day, Chip!

The show was supposed to be at Harding auditorium, but as of yesterday they (and 2,200 other customers) were still without power from a storm that hit us over a week ago. So at the last minute, WKNO moved the show to the Germantown Performing Arts Center (GPAC). I'm sure it was a total pain in the ass for all the people associated with putting on the show, but GPAC is a fantastic venue and also happens to be located right around the corner from my house. So bonus.

Before the show - which would air live - began, the band came out to play. This is Jeff Hamann on bass and somebody who was not Clyde Stubblefield on drums. (Clyde was having a kidney transplant or something.) Also pictured is Elvis. Not pictured was John Thulin on piano.


Then host Michael Feldman came out while the band continued to play, and got his table all re-arranged. He carried his notes and his quiz questions (on index cards) in a doctor bag.


Just before it began, Michael gave the audience our instructions. Specifically, the part at the beginning of the show where he asks, "Whad' ya know?" and we all say: "NOT MUCH...YOU?" Only when we actually did it, I didn't know we had really started, and I kind of missed it. Which was a huge disappointment for me.


This is the show's announcer, Jim Packard. Elijah later commented to me how both Jim and Michael's voices sounded so good on the radio. I think maybe what he meant was that he didn't expect them to LOOK like they did.


The show starts with Michael reading "all the news that isn't." It's kind of like his monologue. Mostly, when he's on location like this, he makes a lot of jokes about local news that the audience finds hilarious but the listeners at home don't get.


The first guest was Chris Davis from the Memphis Flyer. He's the guy who broke the Burger King "Global Warming is Baloney" story that was later picked up by CNN and the Guardian in London. He was an excellent guest. Very funny and entertaining.


During a one-minute break when we weren't on the air, Michael gives the mic to Jeff Hamann. He told a story about trying to buy a father's day card (but Jim Packard cut him off).

Then Michael comes out in the audience and answers a couple of questions. We had all written questions for him on index cards before the show. My question was, "Can I put photos of your show on my blog?" but he didn't answer mine. I took that as a "yes."

This lady read the four disclaimers, which I can practically do from memory, but she flubbed them all up and acted like she'd never even heard them before.


This guy played the quiz. He is an investigator for NCIS. Michael said, "Oh, you look different on TV."

The qualifying question for the person calling in was, "Who was the only president to shoot a hole-in-one at Colonial Golf Club?" which everyone in Memphis knows is Gerald Ford because he always used to come play the St. Jude Golf Tournament with Danny Thomas but it took three callers to finally get it right, and the guy who did ended up being from Memphis.

Ruby Wilson sang and talked to Michael. (She was awesome.)

In the second hour, Memphis Magazine's "Vance Lauderdale" came out and explained some of Memphis's oddities, like the clay eaters - the people in 1934 who would sneak up onto the bluffs at night and EAT THEM.


Michael came back out in the audience for a second time to answer questions. This guy - a nurse at St. Jude named Michael - asked him to help him find the guy in the audience who looked like Garrison Keillor.

(Note: if any of my readers from St. Jude know Michael the nurse, please give him my email address. Tell him I have lots of great photos of him and Michael the radio show host.)

This girl got to play the second quiz. She was from West Memphis, Arkansas, and I'm pretty sure she had a bumpits in her hair.


The last guest was from a local soul food restaurant whose name I've forgotten. She didn't have much time.


And then it was over.


And then Michael ate fried catfish and collard greens.

"Today I made my maiden voyage."

Oh. Em. Gee.

So I got this brilliant idea that I should ride my bike. Because I am so not swimsuit-ready yet but running and even walking are kind of off the table with my foot still healing. And I kept reading how Linda got a bike and she LOVES riding it. Of course I forgot the fact that Linda regularly runs 5Ks and climbs like 90 flights of stairs and has long ago mastered the 30-day shred. So you know, what I'm getting at is just because LINDA DOES IT doesn't mean my limbs of jello can handle it.

But I dragged my bike out of the cobwebs of my garage and took it to the bike shop for a tune up ($72). Then I bought a helmet from Target ($21.99) and back to the bike shop for a water bottle ($5.99). Then finally it stopped raining so today I made my maiden voyage.

And Oh. Em. Gee.

My quads were tired before I got to the corner. And then I came up on this hill that frankly I've never even noticed while driving my car but huh. Turns out MY NEIGHBORHOOD IS NOT FLAT AT ALL. I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I had to get off my bike and push it up the hill.

I rode for 25 minutes and the entire time I was either struggling up a hill in like the lowest gear possible or coasting down a hill trying to catch my breath. What I learned is that I have a lot to learn about using gears. And also how to change them.

By the time I made it home, my legs were shaking so badly that I was unable to lift one of them to get off the bike, so I'm just going to walk around my house straddling it for the rest of the night. I might even sleep this way.