Kris and Sarah!!! VOTE! LA Highlights

 

I’ve never watched American Idol

Or

America’s Got Talent….skills…..dance moves – YOU NAME IT.

I just never get into it.

Until now.

Weeks ago my boss asked if I would handle our Action News 5 VOICE coverage.

Sounded simple, but boy, this has been an adventure. If you haven’t watched it, it’s a hit NBC show that this season features two Memphians. We started with 4 Memphians on the show, but Grace Askew and Patrick Dodd went home during the earlier rounds.

These are our amazing 2 remaining :

- Kris Thomas

A 28 year old who grew up singing in his dad’s Memphis church. He later attended The Stax Music Academy, was actually one of the first graduating classes from the academy. He has a crazy diverse range. If you heard him sing without looking, you might think he was a female. Wildly impressive.

He has a huge smile. When I met him in LA (the station sent me there two weeks ago to cover all the action LIVE outside the studio) I was so impressed with his genuine kindness and fun spirit.

 

- Sarah Simmons

She may have grown up in Birmingham, but she PICKED Memphis as her school home; she’s been here four years. She attends the Visible Music College downtown Memphis. Her friends there just love her and I do, too. When I first heard her version of  “One of Us” I was stunned into silence. Just wonderful.

Tonight both of these singers will take to the stage again to ask Americans to vote them into the top eight. Voting starts at 8:55 central, that’s when the two hour show is over.  The results will be announced tomorrow at 8pm. I’m so impressed that Memphis has two contestants in the top 10 – can you imagine if they both make it into the top 8. Fingers crossed…….

It’s funny how into this show/story I’ve gotten. I guess that happens when you cover something for over a month, interview their family, church members, school mates, neighbors EVERYONE! If they had pets I could find,  I’d try to include them in the stories.

Anyhow, if you haven’t watched give it a try. Cheer on our Kris and Sarah. They really are special talents thrown into such an insane situation. Win or lose they have huge futures ahead of them.

ps

I never wrote about the LA trip.

It was so thrilling and exhausting that I came home and slept for like 36 straight hours. I finally came back into the world with my cat, Bridget, staring at me. I think I was within hours of being eaten. (we’ve all heard the stories)

We were live in LA out of an NBC live truck.

WATCH VOICE COVERAGE

On the red carpet after Kris & Sarah moved on

 

I worked with some very talented news folks from producers, talent to photographers. I learned a lot and had the time of my life. I went with Action News 5 photographer Matt Youmans who had never been out there. I had been to LA, but didn’t do any of the studio tours or even drive through Universal City, which is where the show is shot. Driving into Universal Studios every day was surreal. Movies and television shows were being filmed there. Golf carts zoomed in every direction, but it seems all the big names were driven around in dark mysterious suv’s. I’ve never been into the famous types or celebrities, so I considered the whole process hilarious and entertaining. It’s like watching how the other half lives.

 

 

Plus, I forgot how beautiful Los Angeles is – when can I go back? Well, maybe soon if Kris and/or Sarah keep wowing Americans!!! Can’t wait to see Kris and Sarah and all that amazing bougainvillea. Loved my room and the view.

 

Time Travel, Scary Historical Dreams, Shady Spots

back home

It’s as if Friday just doesn’t exist.

We got home from LA for our fantastic voice coverage Friday morning around midnight. I immediately went to sleep. Only woke during the day friday to eat something around noon and then went back to sleep. This magical unconsciousness lasted until this morning (saturday) at 11:30.

I had a lot of dreams during my slumber. I think that’s why I just kept sleeping. It was an amazing story line. I only remember two of the dreams that sort of blended into each other.

Dream

After the Voice house of blues party, as part of the big group of reporters and photographers, we found ourselves in the middle of a death investigation at a house next to the house of blues. We did our own bit of investigating and found it it was a suicide. An older man had shot himself. His widow came home to find him. ( I told you it was sad.) He had been in Germany post WW 11. His widow and I, together, went through some of his stored boxes. She had no desire to keep his boxes and I discovered he was in possession of some very special log books from the Stasi. Yes, my history was totally out of order. Still I was in total disbelief at the find. Next thing I knew, I was in my house in Memphis looking through the book. It was early in the morning and I heard something. Turns out it was a scary female in my house with plans to kidnap me. I told her she really didn’t want me. She told me she knew more about me than I would ever imagine. Then I woke. Wonder what she was talking about. Probably that I let Bridget drink out of the faucet.

Now that I’m a part of the world again I’ve been so thrilled at my yard. It rained a lot in Memphis while I was gone. It rained a lot in LA, too. No escape.

I’ve loved watching my yard develop in stages. I’ve lived in my house almost two years now. That’s two summers of planting perennials in hopes they would grow into a full bed. Honestly, I forget year to year what I planted and now just watch the beds get thicker and thicker with amazement. My roses are finally in bloom. Some black eyed susans I forgot all about will be blooming in just days. In the backyard the light pink climbing roses (that I can’t claim as mine) are starting to look just beautiful. Everything is a couple of weeks behind this year, so I’m never sure day to day what to expect.

I don’t mind spending money on plants but, since I rent, I hate to buy a bunch of yard furniture for it to just get nasty and then I feel compelled to move it one day, if I ever change houses. Can’t imagine why I ever would. I love it here.

Still, I grew up with a mom who created yard atmosphere out of every shady corner and brick she could find. We were outside livers in Long Beach and now she’s done the same with her new house in Stone County, MS. She’s never one to pay someone to develop a yard. With her it’s just organic. I don’t have the gift she does, but definitely have the desire she has.

This spring/summer I’m creating a secret garden in my backyard. It’s a bunch of found items. A cheap hammock with coastal stripes, a $3 side table, an old chair and LOTS of plants I plan to put everywhere. It’s really nothing special, but I love to sit out here. I’m writing in my chair right now. No one really knows I’m out here. My house was built in the 20′s and I like to think people walked around while it was being built and hoped someone would find a way to make all the corners and shady spots special. That they would really love it and I do.

As my facebook/twitter friends remind me – I’m always going somewhere. Having a long distance boyfriend and parents who live 7 hours away will do that! However, I’m so happy to have the rest of the day and Sunday here at home. I keep singing The Cure song, Home. I can’t find an actual video or song version to share but it’s beautiful. Worth looking up on itunes.

http://www.amazon.com/Mint-Car-Home-Cure/dp/B000002HYD

Self Described Pale Girl Does Caribbean

{ blogging on iPhone leads to funny mistakes and pictures posted twice. Fixing it is hard without messing up the whole post. Please forgive }

::

I think I thought if I imported the pictures and put my thoughts about the trip in a blog it would feel distant.

Less than a week ago I went with my best girl friend’s family to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic.

It was a last minute invite. Of course, I don’t turn down adventure, regardless of inflated airfare. Hey, they can get away with it. I’d pay a pretty hefty sum to return.

I’d never been tropical. As far south as I’d been was key West. When my high school peers were planning Cancun trips I was scheming my way to Europe. I’d always said – look – a beach is a beach. Heck, I grew up on a beach. ( I hope you aren’t cracking MS coast jokes right now )

Cue skipping record sounds….
A beach is not a beach.
I’m glad I didn’t join the other 17 year olds for a mindless booze fest because walking into our open air house, through the back pool/hot tub and onto the rocky cliff overlooking the Caribbean Sea was a dose of shock, euphoria, and kid-like fascination that grown ups fight hard to get.

For the first time in 10 years I ran into the water and swam. Real swimming where I put my head under water, then floated on my back to the point that sound is blocked and you imagine you are a sea creature. Standing up I saw straight through to my pink toenail polish.

That connection to true beauty and treat of nature honestly made me emotional. Then I heard Rihanna and some hypnotic club music playing in the distance and remembered I wanted another mojito.

Back inside you still felt the breeze and heard the wind swaying the palms. The house was essentially two structures. The bedrooms, which were each secured, also had generous balconies and showers that looked over the sea. Often in resort housing or lets say, house hunters international, you see a budget friendly choice of cream tile across the property, cheesy furniture and exposed grout. Not our house. Every detail was planned and selected with care. Hardwoods throughout. Warm smelling cedar shelves in the closets and no Miami Vice borrowed decorations. It was done in such a glamorous yet rustic way that I walked around snapping shots of every corner, serving piece and roof thatching. Throw in some cocktails and I thought I was a photog with Anthony Bordain. It drives Camille, BF, crazy, but I can’t help it. If that’s one of my biggest character flaws I’ll make it.

The common area was like nothing I’ve seen before, but exactly what a beach house should be – the outside in. It rains, you smell it. You forget your book inside, you run from the pool without opening a door.

The staff at the resort/our house prepared local meals with fresh produce and meat. Even the pig that the head cook ( I call him a chef ) told me….was just snoozing. The lobster sizzled on the grill and later left us eating in a trance with butter running down our arms and faces. The men on the staff every night walked the grounds and gathered bright flowers and foliage to decorate the dinner table. Hibiscus and bouganvilla mixed with the brightest flowers we couldn’t identify.

I don’t ever want to forget these things. That’s what travel does. It gives us moments to remember when say, I don’t want to wake up at 2:30 am, getting up to make your own coffee feels laborious or the simple pace is replaced with worry for loved ones and our futures. I am thankful the Breland family treats me as one of their own, not just on this trip, but at Christmas and other times where my family is far away.

- Full disclosure. Spring vacation 2013 is still happening. As I write, I’m on the train to meet mom in NOLA where tomorrow we will board the Norwegian Star for Mexico, Honduras and Belize. Yes, I know, cruises are selling about as much as hummers right now, but this is a result of me drinking two glasses too much wine and bidding on the cruise at a benefit back in Sept. So, here it goes- bring on fanny packs, overweight bikini wearers, overpriced excursions and cheesy souvenirs. Actually, though, the way I look at it, if cruises are out of my authenticity loving character then going on a cruise is actually authentic and adventurous for me. It’s all about spin, baby.

Tags | Cap Cana, Dominican Republic, Punta Cana, Villa Calaton

U.S. Airways Attacking My Happiness

 

I threw my bags down after the U.S. Airways gate rep told me I’d missed the flight. With my breathing more strained than when I finished both full marathons, I sat down for a good four minutes. The rep continued looking at me waiting for the expected rant. Breathing under control, but with sweat still running down my body, I finally stood and approached her. I’d used my four minutes to chill, really chill. The reason I’d missed my 7:49 pm flight back to Memphis started way before she’d entered my airport drama.

It started 4 hours earlier when my flight from beautiful, paradise-like, Punta Cana, Dominican Republic was an hour late taking off. Who knows why, I don’t.

From there it went about as you’d expect. There were no airline reps when we landed in Charlotte to help those with immediate connection flights make their way to the front of the meandering Ellis Island styled line to hand over my deceleration form to a customs employee.

As you already know I didn’t make my flight, but what I did do was a culmination of life lessons learned the hard way. You see, I had to anchor the news Monday morning requiring a 2:30 a.m. alarm. If I wanted to get enough sleep I was going to have to fight for it, in the calmest “I don’t want to get arrested in an airport” kind of way I could manage, in the middle of holding in a full rage, fit for a death metal soundtrack.

I stood in that unreasonable line for about ten minutes, all the while trying to have a reasonable conversation with the only airline rep I could find. It didn’t matter what I said, all she repeated to me was that, “Mam, I can’t create a line just for you.” Despite the fact that I was more than willing to invite other unfortunates like me into the special ” I’m about to miss my flight” line, she didn’t find it reasonable.

Then I saw my next move like a glistening oasis.

To the far left of the Ellis Island room hung a sign:

Special needs, dignitaries, and flight crew only – HERE

I did a very successful limbo performance under 15 ropes entertaining the other unfortunates, and got in my new line. Within seconds the flight crew was eying me. They didn’t agree that my U.S. Airways responsible anxiety constituted special needs but they did finally do the reasonable thing and walk me to the front of the 250 person line. With all their eyes burning through my still sun block lathered hair, I barked at the customs man that, “yes, I went to an exotic island alone.”

With that I was off on a mile long, doomed from the beginning, sprint to the gate, which would inevitably leave me getting only three hours of sleep Sunday night, despite my best planning.

During those four minutes of missed flight chilling, I repeated several new mantras. Including but not limited to:

- be happy now
- life isn’t fair
- make your own reality
- don’t worry over what you can’t control
- I hate U.S airways ( joking, but it felt good to write)

In the airport before I flew to the DR I bought “the happiness project.” I love self help books and want as much happy as I can get, plus I thought my typical read about Stalin could put a damper on the beachside vibe.

It’s a sweet little read that clearly came at the right time. Instead of yelling, crying and falling on the ground, like I wanted to….. I analyzed, acted and accepted.

No one was going to help me. In life, if we sit back quietly, we not only miss our flights, but shoulder some of the blame. So what if I was “that woman”? If I hadn’t done what I did, chances are someone would have said, ” why didn’t you just tell someone you were going to miss your flight?” You know that’s how it works and then you say to yourself, “Next time I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Now, my classifying this as a personal growth opportunity doesn’t mean I’m not going to harass the airline until they give me a free flight voucher and refund my nasty airport dinner, but I did giggle all the way home, much better than sulking with resentment.

I think that Punta Cana sun was good for me. Another note, thank goodness I never check my bags!

Tags | Complaints, U.S. Airways, U.S. Airways complaints

U.S. Airways Attacking My Happiness

I threw my bags down after the U.S. Airways gate rep told me I’d missed the flight. With my breathing more strained than when I finished both full marathons, I sat down for a good four minutes. The rep continued looking at me waiting for the expected rant. Breathing under control, but with sweat still running down my body, I finally stood and approached her. I’d used my four minutes to chill, really chill. The reason I’d missed my 7:49 pm flight back to Memphis started way before she’d entered my airport drama.

It started 4 hours earlier when my flight from beautiful, paradise-like, Punta Cana, Dominican Republic was an hour late taking off. Who knows why, I don’t.

From there it went about as you’d expect. There were no airline reps when we landed in Charlotte to help those with immediate connection flights make their way to the front of the meandering Ellis Island styled line to hand over my declaration form to a customs employee.

As you already know I didn’t make my flight, but what I did do was a culmination of life lessons learned the hard way. You see, I had to anchor the news Monday morning requiring a 2:30 a.m. alarm. If I wanted to get enough sleep I was going to have to fight for it, in the calmest “I don’t want to get arrested in an airport” kind of way I could manage, in the middle of holding in a full rage, fit for a death metal soundtrack.

I stood in that unreasonable line for about ten minutes, all the while trying to have a reasonable conversation with the only airline rep I could find. It didn’t matter what I said, all she repeated to me was that, “Mam, I can’t create a line just for you.” Despite the fact that I was more than willing to invite other unfortunates like me into the special ” I’m about to miss my flight” line, she didn’t find it reasonable.

Then I saw my next move like a glistening oasis.

To the far left of the Ellis Island room hung a sign:

Special needs, dignitaries, and flight crew only – HERE

I did a very successful limbo performance under 15 ropes entertaining the other unfortunates, and got in my new line. Within seconds the flight crew was eying me. They didn’t agree that my U.S. Airways responsible anxiety constituted special needs but they did finally do the reasonable thing and walk me to the front of the 250 person line. With all their eyes burning through my still sun block lathered hair, I barked at the customs man that, “yes, I went to an exotic island alone.”

With that I was off on a mile long, doomed from the beginning, sprint to the gate, which would inevitably leave me getting only three hours of sleep Sunday night, despite my best planning.

During those four minutes of missed flight chilling, I repeated several new mantras. Including but not limited to:

- be happy now
- life isn’t fair
- make your own reality
- don’t worry over what you can’t control
- I hate U.S airways ( joking, but it felt good to write)

In the airport before I flew to the DR I bought “the happiness project.” I love self help books and want as much happy as I can get, plus I thought my typical read about Stalin could put a damper on the beachside vibe.

It’s a sweet little read that clearly came at the right time. Instead of yelling, crying and falling on the ground, like I wanted to….. I analyzed, acted and accepted.

No one was going to help me. In life, if we sit back quietly, we not only miss our flights, but shoulder some of the blame. So what if I was “that woman”? If I hadn’t done what I did, chances are someone would have said, ” why didn’t you just tell someone you were going to miss your flight?” You know that’s how it works and then you say to yourself, “Next time I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Now, my classifying this as a personal growth opportunity doesn’t mean I’m not going to harass the airline until they give me a free flight voucher and refund my nasty airport dinner, but I did giggle all the way home, much better than sulking with resentment.

I think that Punta Cana sun was good for me. Another note, thank goodness I never check my bags!