It's weird watching people act out scenes from your life, especially when you're a tiny girl and the person playing you is a dude. A few weeks ago, Joe Leibovich asked me if I would be willing to take part in an upcoming Storytellers Unplugged show wi

It takes a surprising amount of people, objects and coordination to make it sound like someone is walking up a flight of creaky old stairs. It works like this: one guy lightly drops one foot on an upturned wooden drawer, quickly, so it sounds like two feet. A woman stands next to him, twisting a water-soaked cork into the neck of a wine bottle as he steps. The director, a guy with a folded copy of the script and big headphones, adjusts a mic on the floor and asks for a little less squeaking. The whole process takes about ten minutes. That's normal, though.

The first time I ever heard a Big Star song, I was 17 years old. I had gone through one of those nasty high school break-ups a few months before, and it was spring, and I was ready to start crushing on everyone again.

I'm finding things for the Memphis Scavenger Hunt like crazy this week. Yesterday afternoon, I met the Memphis Symphony Orchestra's principle oboist, Joey Salvalaggio.

Here's a not-so-secret: I've always been a Memphis resident, but I haven't always lived here. For four years, I attended Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana. There weren't very many Southern people in Muncie (and there were even fewer from Memphis). My Hoosier friends weren't quite sure what to do with me - I talked funny, thought that 50 degrees was unreasonably cold, and had no idea how to drive in the snow.

It apparently doesn't matter if you're no good at holding a hula hoop around your waist in continuous motion.

Excuse me while I go a little bit fangirl for a minute.

Songwriter Bob Gaudio is one of the Four Seasons, the band that the musical "Jersey Boys" was based on.