I’ve been working from home the past couple days. Penny’s been sick, and Brian’s out of town, so I have to stay home to take care of her. She’s doing much better; in fact she’s being a total brat. Though I’m glad to see her feeling better, giving her food and medicine’s become a bit of an ordeal. A messy, drooly, frustrating ordeal. It’s a battle of wills. And she’s winning, because I hate having to play “mean mommy.” I’m counting my blessings that she’s not hissy and violent like Trish. Please God, never let Trish get sick.

I feel like a jerk saying this — but I’ll feel relieved when I drop Penny off at the vet tomorrow, knowing she’s in good capable, professional hands while I try to return to my normal life of going to the office and interacting with adults who don’t work at the vet’s office. For all the grousing I do about the grind of going to work and all that, sitting at home all day is —pardon my candor — fuckin’ boring. Despite knowing how much Penny needs me and how much I’m doing for her right now the feeling of un-productivity is making me stir-crazy.

So I’ve been doing odd chores around the house, washing bedding (because Penny drooled all over our sheets today), vacuuming, stuff like that. One of the lights in our laundry room has been out for a while, so I decided to walk to the new Ace Hardware a block away and pick up some light bulbs. Of course the bulbs I got didn’t fit the fixture — stupid CFLs — but I digress.

Walking back from the hardware store it occurred to me how lucky I am to have so many amenities within yards of my front door. There’s ACE, Walgreens, Hancock Fabrics, Subway, a dry cleaners and a freaking bowling alley! The shopping center is totally unassuming, just there to serve the neighborhood (and bowlers). And then there are two parks on either side of us.

It was one of the neighborhood’s biggest draws for me not just for the convenience, but because it reminded me so much of my grandma’s neighborhood in New Orleans, which was built around the same time. On one side was a shopping center with a bank,  a little grocery (Mimi’s), a hardware store and a drugstore (which I think was called Crown and B&B at various points). A couple blocks down was a Canal Villere (now Robert’s), Walgreens, A&P (this later became an athletic club), K&B, Baskin Robbins… Now I don’t remember if all of this stuff existed at the same time because it seems a bit ridiculous to have two drugstores and two grocery stores in the same strip mall. There was no reason to drive anywhere. Even when I was older and would visit by myself, my car would stay parked on Sardonyx Street for most of my stay. (Yes, I went downtown…on the bus.)

Anyway, at least here in Memphis, it seems like that notion of “neighborhood places” has fallen by the wayside. For every place like High Point Terrace or certain parts of Midtown there are countless areas where the houses are so isolated from services and amenities that you can’t get anything done without getting in the car. And I’m not just talking about the suburbs here. For all Cooper/Young’s attractions — the restaurants, bars, Burke’s, Java Cabana and even the Mini-Mart — you still have to hike to Ike’s or Rite-Aid to get a prescription filled. Mind you, I’m not saying Cooper/Young needs a Rite-Aid. I’m saying damn near everything is lined up on Poplar and Union so no matter how close you are, walking or biking is neither safe nor convenient.

I just heard today that a company is working on a plan to redevelop Overton Square after an Oklahoma company’s plans fell flat. Here’s hoping it’s full of not just cool hangouts, but “neighborhood places” to accomodate the people who live nearby. I’m not the type to pine for the good ole’ days, but I wouldn’t mind a revival.

You have until 11:59 p.m. Friday to vote in the Memphis Flyer’s annual “Best of Memphis” poll. Yours truly is up for “Best Twitter.” It’s nice to feel like I’m good at something, even if it’s just crafting 140-character internet missives.

Maybe this is a Memphis thing, but somehow I doubt it, as storm drains exist everywhere. Plus, sudden thunderstorms are not exclusive to this region so I am going to go out on a limb and assume this isn’t the only city where the streets flood.

Yesterday a conveniently-timed thunderstorm hit downtown Memphis. I waited about 30 minutes for it to blow over, but eventually decided to just go home. Driving in the rain makes me nervous for a host of reasons, one major one being that I don’t trust other drivers.

My concerns were validated when I carefully pulled out on to Danny Thomas and my car was hit almost instantly with a blinding deluge from a passing suburban assault vehicle. Speeding, of course.

Maybe I’m just extra sensitive to this because I have hydroplaned and it is was a horrifying, frightening experience I’d prefer not to endure again. Maybe my tiny car is just invisible to others, kind of like me at a rock show full of talls. But do people not look over and see the storm drains, taxed to the grates with rainwater, overflowing into the street? Where do you think that water’s going to go when you blow through it?

Speeding through puddles and blinding other drivers is about the rudest thing a driver can do, not to mention the most dangerous.

So people, slow down when it’s raining. Be considerate and be safe. Because I’d really love to be able to drive in the rain without having a mild panic attack someday.

Dish has been closed for about four months now and we’re still coping. At least once every weekend we’ll be out with friends, struggling to plan the next destination because dish was always the default. Just meet us at … shit…ummmm…

On the bright side, we’ve had a chance to check out  a lot of bars we never patronized, a lot of new and new-to-us spots all over town. We’re more inclined to go to a few different places in a night instead of sitting at the same bar for 5-6 hours just because we knew everyone there. Also, we drink a lot less Jägermeister for some reason.

But, while I just lost a favorite hangout/former place of employment, Brian and his DJ brethren lost a place to play records, a place to exercise their creativity and display their talent. There just aren’t that many intimate DJ-friendly spots in Memphis and anyway, house music isn’t really conducive to that big-room fist-pumping glowstick-twirling scene.

So, obviously I don’t need to explain why I’m excited that this is happening Saturday night:

I can’t guarantee any Teddy Graham people, carnival barkers, groups of guys with Afros and graduation caps, human fire hydrants, or screaming babies with Mozart wigs, but it should be a good time.

When the Memphis in May Beale Street Music Festival lineup was announced I felt obligated to apologize for saying the lineup sucked a day prior.

A few of the bands had leaked. As always, none of them appealed to me or anyone else under the age of 40. Sure, despite years of backseat grumbling I do appreciate the music my parents forced me to listen to — but that doesn’t mean I’m going to spend $65 to watch a bunch of middle-aged folks and geriatrics crank out the hits.

So when I found out the Flaming Lips were playing, I had to give the BSMF promoters their due for finally booking a great festival band that people like me and my friends would enjoy. And we actually made plans to attend, for the first time in more than six years.

I was even getting excited … until the announcement came that Steven Drozd is in the hospital and the Lips would not be coming.

I know this is not the Memphis in May people’s fault. I feel terrible for Drozd and the band, and I wish him a speedy recovery from whatever ails him. I’m sure when the news was handed down anyone who’s seen The Fearless Freaks felt a little tinge of panic, fearing the worst. I really, really really hope he’s OK. And I’m sad that all my friends who’ve never been to a Flaming Lips show will have to keep waiting.

But Memphis in May screwed up when they booked a crummy replacement for the Lips. That’s not to say the actual music itself is crummy, just an inadequate replacement for what was supposed to be there.

Derek Trucks and Susan Tedeschi will be filling that timeslot.

So, they replaced an incomparable psychedelic alterna weirdo rock freakout with some blues/Americana. That makes total sense. <- sarcasm

My dad listens to Susan Tedeschi — if memory serves me, he first discovered her music at the festival. I’m sure he would be stoked. But he wasn’t one of my many friends who were going to this event primarily to see Wayne Coyne ZORB on the banks of the Mississippi. He probably would have been OK with the myriad “dad rock” options already available for him at Musicfest. Now, like Blake said yesterday, the lineup looks like a giant casino tour.

I know the whole thing was very last-minute. But they could have — and should have — gotten a replacement act that the Flaming Lips’ fans would enjoy. Now those people just won’t come.

Spotted on my walk back from lunch in sunny downtown Memphis.

Because I like Dave, and books, and deals, and because I thought Lindsey had the right idea pimping Dave’s book sale on her blog, I thought I would do the same.

I intend to stop by this weekend (before my month turns crazy) and buy the hell out of some books. You should too. Because books are good for you.

For the first time since 2005 – the year Darius Washington missed those free throws – the Tigers didn’t make the NCAA tournament. They lost to Houston, for the second time this season, in the first round of the conference tournament. The entire city was heartbroken. Well, the entire city minus the UT fans, and I don’t really care what they think anyway.

We had gotten spoiled. We hadn’t lost a conference game in four years. Even though basketball’s a lot more fun to watch when you don’t know who’s going to win, we had to get used to losing again. When the freakin’ Coogs are in the NCAA tournament, and the mighty Tigers of Memphis aren’t, it stings a little. You have to remind yourself constantly about the number one recruiting class and the first-year coach and try not to let that remind you of how we got into this mess to begin with. *cough* *sneer northward and hope someone in Kentucky felt it*

But if there’s one thing we Memphians excel at, it’s making the most of a situation. And Wednesday night, the FedExForum was a sea of blue, cheering on the Tigers in the NIT.

I can honestly say it was one of the best games I’ve attended. I’m often disappointed by the lack of energy in the crowd at games. I got to sit courtside at a game (against Houston, in fact – the one time we beat them) and the only thing that made it not the Coolest Thing Ever! was the fact that all the millionaires and retirees around me barely even clapped. I felt like I had to restrain myself, when really everybody should be as excited as I am. It’s sports! Everyone should be standing and cheering and clapping and heckling the opponent at the free throw line.

Wednesday night, everybody was standing up. The stadium was roaring. You should have seen the way the place erupted when Wesley Witherspoon hit that game-winning shot at the buzzer. We really were the sixth man this time. The whole time I was imagining what the other team was thinking. Because who gets that excited about the NIT, really? The popular conception is that the NIT is a consolation prize for the teams that aren’t good enough to make the big dance. It’s for the also-rans.

But we love our Tigers. We were grateful for the chance to see Doneal Mack and Willie Kemp play at the Forum one last time, maybe two last times if they beat Ole Miss this afternoon. That’s one theory. Another one – and this one is probably closer to the truth – is that more fans could actually afford to go the game. The most expensive tickets were $22, for the entire plaza level. Including the courtside seats.

Early in the season our local Fox affiliate ran an “exposé” about the crowd makeup of Tigers vs. Grizzlies games, insinuating a basketball racial divide in the community. In so many words, “How come black folks don’t go to Tigers games?” I never watched it because it just seemed a little sensationalistic and race-baity. But here’s the thing: Much of the city, black and white, is priced out of Tigers games. If you ask me, it’s unfair to charge more to see an amateur sports team, but I won’t pretend college basketball isn’t all about the cash.

I don’t remember the exact number offhand, but Tiger basketball has a lot of season ticket holders. Because of this, single-game tickets can be hard to come by, so the best way to guarantee yourself a seat is to buy season tickets. Or you could enroll in classes and sit in the student section, but you’d be paying the same amount for tuition as you would just buying season tickets. And doing a lot more work. Although I’ll admit that the promise of free basketball tickets was a big factor in my decision to go back to school.

The per-seat donation system UM runs to sell season tickets is called the Tiger Scholarship Fund. Basically, if you want season tickets, you have to donate a certain amount of money. It’s tiered so the more you donate, the better seats you can purchase. Only the high-up seats in the 200 section don’t require a donation. The minimum donation is $25, and those seats are about as crummy as the ones that don’t require a donation. So when the TV camera pans the crowd, all those old white people you see donated between $2,000 and $3,000. Just for the privilege of buying season tickets. And then the tickets are about $700 apiece in the plaza level. It averages to about $40 a game.Do you have that kind of disposable income? I don’t. That’s why the people in my income bracket are the ones you don’t see on TV, because they’re sitting at the very top of the building. Or because they stayed home to get an actual decent view of the game. It ain’t a race thing. It’s a money thing.

In the past year or so I’ve fallen out of love with Slate. It’s barely a step above Politico in terms of sloppy tabloid writing, and the only thing sustaining my interest in the site was the “Dear Prudence” column.

Well, I just read a link shared on Twitter to a Slate article about how sleazy of a coach John Calipari is and I’m so annoyed I may never darken its URL again.

My first reaction was “Where the hell have you been, Slate?” because every other publication on the planet was running their “Calipari is a snake” pieces last summer, when news of the NCAA investigation hit. Clearly they’re trying to take advantage of March Madness and bring some clicks to their site, which is why I’m not even going to bother linking to this tripe. And after the ups and downs of the past year, I’m doubly pissed that I am enraged by a column that I SHOULD BE AGREEING WITH! But this one line has me fired up:

Then he moved on to Memphis, a university with a proud history of employing coaches whom you would not trust to hang up your coat.

OK, I don’t expect folks outside Memphis to know a whole lot about the history of Tiger hoops, Charles P. Pierce. And I will concede that Dana Kirk was not a friend of the law, since that appears to be the extent of your familiarity with the program. But not only did you insult my alma mater, you insulted Larry Finch and Gene Bartow with your gross generalization. So shame on you.

Since I last brought it up I’ve gotten over my beef with the library. I go online, search for what I want to check out (usually a few selections from my Goodreads “to-read” list) and see what’s available at my branch. Then I drive to the central branch and check out my selections, because my local branch inevitably doesn’t carry what I want. It’s OK; it’s only a couple miles down the road. And at least I can drop books off at my branch when I’m done.

However, I still have one complaint.

The library’s Web site. It kinda sucks. But in fairness, I did check out some other cities‘ libraries‘ sites and they aren’t much better. Some are prettier, sure, but no more user-friendly.

My number one issue is that I have to enter my library card number to access my account. It’s 13 digits long. I’m no coder but it seems it’d be incredibly easy to allow a user to choose an I.D. to associate with his or her account, as I’ve done this with other services. This way users don’t have to either a) memorize yet another number or b) keep their wallets handy whenever they want to access the library’s Web site.

Basically, it would be cool if the library’s Web site was more like Amazon’s. Amazon can tell me every single thing I’ve purchased since 2002. It makes recommendations based on what I’ve purchased and even what I’ve viewed. If the last thing I checked out was The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, maybe the library could tell me, based on what other people who’ve checked out that same book have selected, what I may also enjoy? Maybe even allow me to maintain a wishlist that I can pull up whenever I’m at the library (possibly even imported from my “to-read” Goodreads shelf).

Which brings me to…. smartphone apps. Washington DC’s public library has an iPhone app that enables users to store their account information, search the card catalog and place holds on books. Ideally it would have most of the functionality of the Web site and possibly display an image of a user’s barcode (a la CardStar or even the Starbucks card app) so all he would have to do is hold out his phone to check out a book. Also it would make coffee and pick up prescriptions.