NotTheRock Musings

So there we were, in Memphis, Tennessee.

The morning of 12/28, we took our time getting moving and headed over to Graceland at about noon-ish. And the lines were already there. It was like freakin' Disneyland. And Graceland falls into that category I spoke of in my last post of things I would never make a point to go see unless I happened to be passing through town. I mean, seriously... Elvis' home?

To be fair, though, it was definitely a cool experience and I'm glad we did it. Considering that the King died when I was not even two years old, it was interesting to see his incredible legacy and the impact he had on America. I mean, this guy was a true icon and it seemed like everything he touched turned gold (or platinum, to make a pun).

Every album or appearance was gobbled up by the public and he was outrageously famous from the '50s through his death in 1977. And he was only 42 when he died. Granted, he looked like hell, but can you imagine if he'd lived longer? I couldn't help but wonder how he would have altered his act for the '80s. It probably would have been pretty cool to see. Who else transcended music in the '50s, '60s AND '70s, all while kind of reinventing his image each time and adjusting to the times? I think that's what made him as cool as he was -- he was loved by many generations and he didn't just sit on what had made him famous. He kept reinventing himself and I respect that.


The car museum, with a collection of Elvis-related cars, was quite cool. It had his famous pink Cadillac, as well as Priscilla's favorite Mercedes, a gift from Elvis. Very cool stuff.

We also saw his private plane and THAT was nifty. It was, obviously, all customized and gaudy as hell. It was from the '70s so I guess that made sense, but even the seat belts were trimmed in gold.

As we walked through, Watersyne says to me, "Can you even imagine the drugs they were doing while partying in this thing?"

And it's true... I mean, this was like being on an early version of Air Force One. Everything was customized with sofas and tables and private rooms, etc. Elvis could play any music he wanted through the system and, of course, near his favorite chair was the control panel for everything. He had a phone to the cockpit, of course, but he also had a telephone that could call anywhere in the world. I know that sounds simple enough, but think about that for a second. This was in the early-to-mid-1970s. Calling anywhere in the world... from an airplane?? That was truly incredible and all of this plane stuff gives you a rough idea just how rich this guy really was. He couldn't burn through his money if he tried. And it sure seemed like he was trying.

Another cool thing was the fact that Elvis helped so many local Memphis charities. Many of his thousand-dollar donation checks are on the wall in the mansion. The guy continually gave a thousand here, a thousand there and he really spread it around. There were dozens on the wall and apparently that was just a sampling and it was something he did every year with little to no publicity about it. So that's good.

The mansion was pretty neat, too. And it was kind of surprising, honestly, how modest it actually was. Sure, there was a lot of gaudy, '70s shit and parts of it looked like the Brady Bunch house... but it wasn't as extreme of a home as you might expect, especially after seeing his plane.


The kitchen in particular was modest and had those old green sinks and appliances that everybody seemed to have in the '70s. Apparently, Elvis bought the place early on in his career and never wanted to leave. So while he built some additions to it and added many features, the home remained relatively modest, as I said. It's certainly a mansion by 1950s Memphis standards, I'm sure, but you know what I mean. The pic of the yellow room is a shot of Elvis' rec room. This was redesigned in the '70s -- in case you couldn't tell -- and had three or four TVs (also from that era) built into the wall. Back then, even the richest guys had nothing more than 20-inchers. Heh. Suckas.

He also had a stable for his horses and an expansive run of land, which he used to like to race around on golf carts, leading friends and family and acting like a kid. It's kind of cool sounding and it must have been nice to be Elvis.

We also saw the gravesites of his parents, his grandmother and him. It's very sad, of course, because the guy would only be 73 today. He predeceased his father and even his grandmother. And I didn't know this little factoid, but Elvis was actually a twin but his brother died at birth. I'm sure true Elvis fans know all of this but it was news to me.

After leaving Graceland, we headed into downtown Memphis to find a place called Rendezvous, which was recommended to us for really good ribs. We each got an order and, yes indeed, they were good.

So after stuffing ourselves on ribs and getting heartburn (God, we're old), hit the road again, barrelling South into Mississippi and the "deep South." Yee-haw. Good thing we were white. Although I'm sure the Jersey tags wouldn't do us any favors.

Labels: driving to Tejas, Elvis, Graceland, on the road again

I love roadtrips. I'd always love to drive rather than fly anywhere. I don't mind long hours in the car, especially when I'm driving. I love seeing the countryside and seeing more of America. And I've long contended that one of the best things about driving places is that you see things you'd NEVER see unless you drove. Things like, say, Mississippi. I have no earthly idea why anyone would voluntarily go there unless they had to. Or if Mississippi was between them and their destination and they weren't flying. (And, presumably, didn't want to go AROUND Mississippi.) But I'm digressing.

Watersyne and I decided together that driving back to Houston from NJ would be fun. Or, "fun." Most people we told gave us a weird look and some encouraged us with comments like, "Why would you do that?" It was quite nice.

So Christmas came and went and we planned to depart from NJ on the morning of 12/26 and the rough plan was thus:

12/26 - Drive from NJ to Ashville, NC, where my Aunt and Uncle live.
12/27 - Drive to Memphis.
12/28 - See Graceland, then drive South and stop somewhere in Mississippi or Louisiana.
12/29 - Finish the drive to Houston.

So we had a plan. And as my good friend Xtrosity always likes to say (especially when I come up with a plan), "Custer had a plan."

The morning of the 26th, we awoke and loaded the car. My parents kindly made us a nice, greasy breakfast, which, ordinarily, I love. And I scarfed it down, as per usual, and then felt... lousy. I felt sick. But I figured it was because I just was getting old and heavy, greasy breakfasts don't go down as well anymore. So off we went.

Things started out okay, but as we drove South I began to feel more on-and-off queasy. We had Dunkin' Donuts coffee on the way (since we weren't going to be able to get it in TX much - more on that another time) and I intermittenly felt okay... and then queasy again.

We went from Jersey into Pennsylvania and then through a small part of Maryland and into Virginia. By about 3 PM, I couldn't drive anymore. We stopped and I asked my lovely to take over for me because I felt like maybe a nap would help me feel better. Well, it's a good thing we switched when we did because by about 3:30, I was a violently ill, vomiting mess. And it was bad. It was one of those stomach bugs that just overcomes you and you are unable to stop being sick. Every rest stop, we pulled in so I could A) throw out my latest puke bag and B) visit the pooper. Thank God Virginia has nice rest stops -- they're even manned by someone who hangs around just to keep things working seamlessly. And the bathrooms are the cleanest I think I've ever seen on the road. So thank you, Virginia, I am eternally grateful for that.

So after being violently ill for about two hours, we checked our mileage and realized we had at least another two hours until we'd make Asheville. I decided I just couldn't handle it anymore and I needed a bed and so my sweetie found us a Holiday Inn near Roanoke, Va. I was shuddering a shiver I've barely ever felt before. In fact, the last time I felt this way was the last time I was sick and I remember it vividly -- December 2004, almost exactly three years earlier. It was the same kind of overwhelming stomach bug that debilitates you completely. Anyway, I felt like I was dying. My body was shivering SO hard as it tried to stabilize my body temp... it was so bad I could barely talk or get my hotel keycard to swipe through. I was getting a little nervous because we kind of knew where we were, but not real well. What if we needed to go to a hospital or urgent care center?

Anyway, I slept it off for a few hours and by about 10 or 11 that night was beginning to feel better. I watched Purdue win the Motor City Bowl and that, of course, improved how I felt. My sweet Watersyne took care of me all day and night and made sure I had fluids and kept my fever down with Tylenol.

By morning, I was able to eat again and suck down Gatorade and we were off again. However, my Aunt was scared she was going to get sick so she actually begged off having us come by for lunch or whatever. The unfortunate thing is, you know, how often does one actually get to Asheville, NC? Well, I'll tell you... the last time I was there was when Xtrosity and I were passing through town on our way to Florida for Spring Break back in March of 1997. So, by that timeline, I guess we'll next try to visit sometime in 2017.

Regardless, Asheville actually would have been somewhat out of our way so we continued Westward out of Virginia and into Tennessee. We contined heading West and realized, hey, Tennessee is a long-ass frickin' state. We made it to Nashville by dinnertime and decided we'd try to find a good place to eat in Nashville and then continue on to Memphis, which was another 210 miles away.

Ah, yes. We realized how far we really were from Memphis earlier in the day. However, in trying to be proactive, we'd used Watersyne's platinum hotel status to book a room that morning over in Memphis. We figured getting there would be no problem. But when we realized we might not feel like driving the full 650 miles, we tried to call and cancel the reservation. It was, after all, before 6 PM.

Watersyne, however, got the runaround and was told we'd be charged for cancelling. Which is utter bullshit, especially since she's a platinum member for all her hotel stays (insert own joke here), but they stonewalled us and said they couldn't change it. We felt that was ridiculous. But it obviously motivated us to finish the journey.

So we swung into Nashville at around 6 PM and found an awesome steakhouse, the name of which I cannot remember. But we now have favorite steakhouses in places like Nashville and Edmonton, Alberta. You know, just in case.

After our delish meal, we hit the road again, knowing we had 210 miles to cover before we got to rest again. Of course, on the dark, open highways of Tennessee, one can set their cruise at 80 MPH and practically never turn it off. We made it to Memphis in two hours, 45 minutes.

And that was through Day 2.

Labels: driving to Tejas, on the road again, vomiting

Yes, it's that time again. It's kind of hard to believe it's rolled around this fast. Why, just this time last year, I was proposing to my lovely Watersyne and asking her if she's please marry me. Then, poof! A year has gone by, we're married with three kids and a labrador. Okay, well, not quite, but it has been a nutty year and now we're living in Texas!

Happy Holidays to you and yours and check back soon for updates on the drive to Tejas.

Labels: Merry Christmas

Thanks to all my flying back and forth to the great state of Tejas (not to mention my trip to Gay Pair-ee in April) I was able to attain "Silver Elite" status on Continental. What does this get me? Well, I get to go to the priority lines for check-in, security and boarding. Of course, between Houston and New York almost everyone is Elite because it's apparently a very common jump to make... so it doesn't get me much.

It's also supposed to get me complimentary upgrades to first class. That hasn't happened yet and it can't happen for both me AND my lovely wife (she's not Elite and I'd need to be Gold Elite to upgrade my spouse, too) and we're still newlyweds so it's not like I can upgrade and leave her in coach. I've heard that's kind of poor form.

So anyway, this morning was our final flight of 2007. And we had to leave our home at 3:45 AM to get to the airport in time to make our 6:40 AM flight. Delightful. And now I get to work on a day when everyone just wants to goof off because it's the last day before the Christmas holiday.

Me sleepy.

Labels: air travel, sleepy

I've never had a central air system at my disposal before. Oh, sure, I've been in homes that have it, but I've never owned one or really even had an apartment that had one. So our dual-zone system in our new house is pretty nifty to me.

Last night, in fact, we had nothing turned on (no heat or cool) because it had been 75 degrees here and so it wasn't needed. However, as we worked into the night on our house and on unpacking, etc., and all that goes with it, we got warmer and warmer. At one point, I checked the thermostat and it was 76 degrees in the house and feeling stuffy. So I went in to where Watersyne was picking through a huge box of bathroom goodies and I said, "I know this is crazy in December, but I think I'm gonna turn on the A/C." Sweatily, she just nodded. (You know, if you only picked that sentence out of the middle of this post, you might think it was about something else entirely.)

So I switched on the "Cool" setting and set the temp at 74, simply so that some cool air would blow and circulate, etc. You know the drill.

At about midnight we finally quit for the evening and went upstairs to our guest room where we're currently sleeping until we get a bedroom set in our downstairs master bedroom. The upstairs zone was also on and I set that one at 73. Basically, I just wanted the place not to get too hot and to circulate some cool air while we slept. Off to dreamland we went.

When I got up this morning and padded downstairs at 6:45, it was quite an odd experience. First, it felt like, as I went down the stairs, that I was entering a really cold swimming pool. I could literally feel the cold air right at ceiling level as I descended the stairs. I looked around and the windows were all wet with significant condensation moisture. What the hell was going on? It was freezing!

I went to the thermostat and looked and it was.... 57 degrees on the first level of my home.

Times when 57 is nice:

-outside in December
-at night in the summertime
-when it's a Merlot

Times when 57 is not nice:

-when you're in an ocean at that temperature
-if your coffee dips to this temp
-when you're in your boxers and need to shave and are somewhat confused about things

I couldn't figure out what was going on until I checked the setting of the A/C...

What had happened was the upstairs zone had continued to obey my commands and kept the temp at 73. The downstairs one, for some reason, made the unilateral (and unauthorized) decision to switch to it's "program" setting... you know, where you can have it be warmer when you wake up and cooler when you're gone, etc. However, nobody had ever set the program temps. Do you know what the default program temperature is for the air conditioning system?

50 degrees. Yes, fifty. That makes perfect sense, right? The default should be twenty-two degrees below room temp...? I'm sure an engineer decided that.

So for some portion of the night -- most of it, I would assume, judging by the fact that my shaving gel was almost frozen -- the downstairs system was trying to makethe house 50 damn degrees, while it was no lower than 65 outside all night. It's definitely a weird feeling to realize that on December 20, it makes sense to open the front and back doors and let the outside air in so your inside air will be semi-normal again. I'm not even kidding -- I opened the back door and went outside and it felt warmer and much more inviting than my living room. Ridonkulous.

I can see now it's going to be a battle of wills with the thermostat. It better not disobey me again. You know what happens when brainless object disobey me.

Labels: being an idiot starring ME, thermostats

Where was I? Ah, yes, our things were on their way to Tex-ass in a big-ass moving truck. I had selected $200K-$225K on the insurance declaration sheet when asked to assess our possetions, so there was a part of me (most of me, actually) that wasn't at all concerned when an ice storm hit the midwest. Hey, maybe the truck would overturn and destroy all our old crap. I'll take a check for $210,000 and be on my way, thanks. It'd be a shame to lose all those Target dress shirts and $11 khakis, to be sure, but I think we'd survive. And the best part of only being married for six months is that if our crystal or china was broken, well, it's not like it's so old we can't replace it!

Alas, though, there were no problems with the truck and he arrived as scheduled this past Monday, and then proceeded to fill our new house (2700 sq ft) in a way that makes it hard to believe it all fit in our old house (800 sq ft).

Ah, yes, our new house. That brings me to the closing.

We did our walk-through last Monday, 12/10 and during the walk-through they told us how when we got our keys at our closing on Weds, 12/12, to come to the house and use the keys in every door. This would trip something in the lock which would make their "builder's keys" no longer work. This was important since many people had the keys -- painters, laborers, random illegal immigrants, etc. They said after we signed off that everything was cool during the walk-through, that they'd lock the doors up and nobody would be in it again until we came after our closing.

But, wait, with a two-day window between walk-through and closing, what about all those people with the keys to our house then? What if they decide nice stainless steel appliances would be nice at their houses? Or on the black market? Nobody really had an answer to this question. I probably should have declined signing the sheet but they said I couldn't close without it. Had me by the beans there, I guess.

So on Tuesday, 12/11, my plan was to go get our bank check for the closing on Weds morning, which was scheduled for 10 AM. On Monday, I had transferred $5,000 from our ING savings account to our Bank of America checking account to make sure I had more than enough in there to have the closing check drawn from it. Only when I went to get the bank check on Tuesday afternoon, the $5,000 wasn't showing in the BofA account, which left me about $1000 short of what I needed. Ruh-roh.

I went online and confirmed I had made the transfer from ING. I had the confirm number and everything. Now in a panic, I called ING and explained I wanted to know where my effing money was.

"Oh, yes, sir, I see the transfer request, but it takes 1-2 business days to process."

"To process?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," she said, not offering any more help. "It's in Bank of America's hands now."

"But I am looking at my ING account and the $5,000 is gone from there and it's not showing even pending in my BofA account," I tried to point out, and I think I had a legit point here. I mean, if it's not in either account, where the hell is it?

"Yes, sir, it should take 1-2 days to process."

"To process? That's ridiculous. Also, I made the request on Monday at 3 PM and the confirmation says I made it on Tuesday morning. That's not right."

"Yes, sir, the transaction date is always the next day."

"But that's not when I made the transaction. That's incorrect."

"Well, sir, the transaction date is always the next day."

"Okay, thanks, you've been really helpful," I said bitterly.

So now it's about 5 PM on Tuesday and our closing is the next day at 10 AM. Bank of America doesn't open until 9AM and, of course, I'm HOPING that the funds will be showing there at that time. Seems a bit close to call for me. So I call the title company people and, fortunately, they're able to move the closing back to 1 PM.

The next morning, fortunately, the money was showing in my BofA account and so disaster was averted. And I have to say there are few things more frustrating than that -- to have the money you need but not all in one place. Irritating.

So we went to closing at 1 PM and things went reasonably well. We got our keys and after a quick stop at a furniture store where a salesman wouldn't shut the f-ck up about his life that we really didn't care about, we headed to our new home.

We excitedly pulled into our new driveway and went to the front door. I was all ready to carry my bride over the threshold of our new house, so I put the key in the front-door lock.... and the lock wouldn't turn. No problem, we got four keys. I tried the next one.

It didn't work.

Neither did the next one. Or the last one.

At this point, I was about to ease our entry to the home by putting a rock through the front window and I think Watersyne could sense this and so she gently took the keys from me and suggested we try the back door. We mucked our way through the soggy lawn and, fortunately (for the door), it opened. Watersyne ran back around front and I went through the house and we completed the carry-over-the-threshold tradition.

As I mentioned, our things then arrived on Monday and we've been digging out ever since. Although last night, we did dig out our dinky little artificial Christmas tree (supposedly 6 feet, but I don't think it's more than 5 1/2) and strung some lights and a star on it, along with one ornament. We also located our stockings and got the living room pretty much situated as far as furniture goes. So at least that looks good. And if it gets down below 70 degrees again, we might even put on the fire when we exchange our presents.

Labels: movin on up like the Jeffersons

I don't think I can keep disappearing and then coming back with a post that says something like, "Hey, remember when I used to post here?" Because that's reusing my old material and no good comedian does that. ("Oh, this is supposed to be funny?" you're now asking... yes, yes, you're hilarious.)

But I suppose it's fair that I get back on the horse that I was so good about riding in the earlier years of my blog instead of allowing my involvement in our little sports endeavor keep me from horse-riding...um, er... okay, I ruined that metaphor.

So we've pretty much officially moved to the great state of Texas. Or Tejas, as I've begun calling it. I think that's Spanish for "Texas." If it's not, I might be saying something that really offends someone.

Anyway, here's how it's gone...

Almost two weeks ago, two dudes showed up with a full-size moving truck in front of our house in NJ. Never mind that the moving company assessment guy who had come two weeks earlier wrote down clearly that there was no way a semi was gonna fit up my street. And even if it could fit up my street, it most certainly wasn't going to be able to turn around.

A few days before the movers came, however, a guy drove up with a full-size car carrier and picked up Watersyne's SUV. We have many pictures of her being loaded up and sent on her way, as well as pics of said SUV arriving at our home in Texas.

Apparently, word spread across the country that trucks could indeed get up my street. The movers decided to try it. Maybe they just didn't feel like loading things twice -- once into a box truck and then shuttling it to the bigger truck elsewhere and loading it again. I can't say as I blame 'em, but when it came time to leave, there was no way Watersyne and I were going to miss this show.

He began by backing down my street. It's a very narrow, residential street with very low-hanging tree branches. Several of those branches are longer an issue, thanks to the 30,000 pound tree-trimming device provided by North American Van Lines.

He backed up about 20 feet and proceeded to catch a power line on the back of the truck and nearly tear it free from my next-door neighbor's house. (No, it wasn't the neighbor with the criminal children -- I wish it had been.) Once he got untangled from that -- and announced he had no idea who to call and basically left the issue in my lap -- he continued backing down my street towards the semi-busy but also-quite-narrow cross street.

Once there, he made several attempts to back out onto the street, jackknifing the truck in an attempt to not run over anyone's lawns, cars, kids, etc. At one point, it looked like he almost had it and then he suddenly threw it back in forward gear and drove back onto my street. Just as we were wondering why, we heard sirens and saw a firetruck and ambulance race by. Sheesh, as though he wasn't under enough pressure.

Eventually, he got the trailer out onto the street but couldn't get the cab out there. So what did he do? He did what anyone would do in this situation. He uncoupled the cab from the trailer and left the trailer in the middle of the busy road while he drove the cab around the block and then backed it up the street to the trailer. I can't imagine the lunchtime traffic was all that pleased with this.

Then he took off, taking our worldly possetions back to Michigan where he was from and where he had another Texas delivery to pick up. So our things sat in a truck in his driveway for about a week. Nice.

More tomorrow...

Labels: movin on up like the Jeffersons