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Friday, September 29, 2006 - 04:29:46
Spilling My Guts
Hopefully just some of them--that's what I'll be doing, literally, in a couple of hours. I'm headed out for some surgery, where some things will be removed, other things will be excised, and still others could be "damaged" by the surgical process and then "repaired" (really - doesn't THAT sound like the fun part?), and expect to be hospitalized at least through the weekend (best-case scenario has me coming home on Sunday, which is what I'll be trying for). Laptop's going with me, so if anything interesting presents itself, I'll sure blog it. Or I could just drift in and out of consciousness for a couple of days. Either way. I did my final bit of navel-gazing already, and now it's time to actually get dressed and get over there, so...send the good thoughts, prayers, or vibes my way, and I'll catch up with you later!Sunday, September 24, 2006 - 22:39:39
In Which We Make an Appearance in the News of Our Neighbor
Our neighboring state, that is. I just stumbled across the following item yesterday while following links in the ongoing debate over Glitz Pageants and their appropriateness for infants, toddlers, and little girls, which is based, presently, at Lindsay Ferrier's fantastic blog, Suburban Turmoil. There is actually a very civil discussion going on over there right now, which I would encourage everyone who has questions about this topic to check out.Anyway, I got quite a kick out of seeing my own post, from right here at the Arkansas Times' blog, being referenced and quoted from in the post "Little Girls in Pretty Boxes," at "Nashville is Talking," which is the blog produced by Nashville, Tennessee's WKRN-TV News2. I share this with you even though I'm not entirely sure that the description, "...a screed of a post..." is an entirely, er...flattering characterization. Can't argue with the term's accuracy, however, where some of my writing is concerned.
It's been less than a month, and so far being involved with the Times as a Community Blogger has returned some really interesting dividends! I hope I can give back some of the same.
Belinda also blogs from her "home base" on the internet, NINJA POODLES!
Fact-Checkers Apparently Needed in Hollywood. BADLY.
I've written ranted about this topic before, most recently by publicly (and repeatedly) venting my frustration over Steve Oedekerk's idiotic premise that BULLS have udders--seriously, the whole "Barnyard" thing really drove me bug-nuts. So you can see how it's only natural that I now find myself totally sympathetic to the current frustration of my friend Erin, in Alaska.Erin's issue is with the writers of the ABC dramedy "Men In Trees," a new Ann Heche vehicle set in the fictional town of "Elmo," Alaska. Erin is a lifelong resident of Fairbanks, and as such has an appreciation for the natural beauty of her home state that shows plainly in her writing. And I agree with her 100% that it's not too much to ask of writers--even television writers--that they devote at least some small amount of superficial research to anything that's going to be used as a significant plot device (like, say, which gender belongs to which secondary sexual organs--oh, sorry, I drifted back over to MY issue for a minute there, won't happen again).
In the case of "Men In Trees," the irritating inaccuracy involves a recurring character: an animal character important enough to the storyline, as Erin notes, to merit multiple mentions on the show's "about" page. A wild raccoon. A particularly pesky wild raccoon, who makes a nuisance of himself, for example, in Heche's character's hotel room. Which would be bad enough, if Alaska even HAD raccoons. Which they do not. At all. No raccoons (nor, interestingly enough, skunks) in the entire state of Alaska! Hence our Erin's very justifiable disappointment in the integrity of the show's writers/fact-checkers. (And my not-slight case of jealousy at learning of Erin's raccoon-free status, which is something I've had occasion to wish for myself.)
Is there any detail in a book, movie, or T.V. show that just drives you to distraction due to its inaccuracy, misinterpretation, or just plain...wrongness?
Friday, September 22, 2006 - 01:13:04
In Awe of the Power of Journalism--oh, OK; Blogdom.
And wishing I could take the credit, but it was Lindsay who got this ball rolling. I would like to hug her right now.See the previous post, and note that a tiny victory for the self-respect of tiny girls has been won, in that the website "Total Nockouts" (yes, that is how they spell it, despite my mistakenly spelling it correctly in the last post, really) is DOWN. Admittedly, it's only "down for construction," and obviously, it will be back in the same or a similar incarnation, because there's too darn much money to be made from these little glamor-gals to think otherwise. But for now, at least, no one will be looking at that particular group of frighteningly um, adult photos of a bunch of sweet, innocent young, younger, and REALLY YOUNG girls from Arkansas. May all their parents rest easier...and may they and the photographers think a little bit about the context into which they are inserting these precious children.
And if you're REALLY still dying to see creepy (just my opinion) digitally mutated versions of weird, standardized, and completely artificial "beauty," you can still catch a sample here. At least the girls on her page appear to be out of diapers. And hey, if she didn't pull her site when BoingBoing linked it to lampoon this photographic production method, they're sure not gonna pull it now. Oh, and here. Because Dave, well...he's not even afraid of bad zombie monkies.
Belinda also blogs from her "home base" on the internet, NINJA POODLES! Expect chaos. Right now, expect TiVo and the contents of refrigerators.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006 - 21:02:18
In Which I Share With You a Treasure...AND a Major Case of the Heebie-Jeebies
One of the many personal "treasures" I've discovered through blogging, and particularly through the eclectic, unusual, tribal, and supportive community of bloggers who are usually called, whether they like it or not (and MANY do NOT--trust me), the "mommybloggers," is Lindsay Ferrier. Lindsay's "home" blog is "Suburban Turmoil," where she previously blogged under the pseudonym "Lucinda," and it is an absolute scream. From her site there, you can link to any one of her several other blogging efforts, which include a fabulous food/menu/recipe blog, a celebrity-watching blog, and many more. And the setting in which I have seen her just SHINE in recent weeks has been her column at The Nashville Scene Online, and their blog, "Pith in the Wind." (Now, if that's not a great name for a blog with a journalistic bent, I don't know what is.)Lindsay is tough to pigeonhole, the way we like to label people, because she "is" lots of things. She's an ex-television anchor, an Emmy-winning journalist, absolutely hilarious, quite a looker, a great cook, and (grumble, grumble) younger than me. What's that? Why, no, I do not have a complex. Not at all. *cough* But most importantly, as she'd be the first to tell you, she's a wife and a mom and stepmom, and even has "one more on the way," as we like to euphemize down South. (To put it in Lindsay's own terms, she's "knocked up.") Even so, we have a lot in common, as so many of us "mommybloggers" do, even down to sharing the same fabulous Canadian blog designer.
SO: Why am I trumpeting the virtues of a writer for a Tennessee newspaper's blog here, on the blog of an Arkansas newspaper? Well, because I'm just generous like that, and she's too good to keep to myself, and also because, you know how when you get a really bad, annoying song, or a very distasteful image, joke, or story, stuck in your head, just STUCK, and the only way to get rid of it is to infect someone else? Well, consider this post my way of sneezing my metaphorical blog-germs all over you, in an effort to exorcise myself of this extremely bad juju that's infected my brain. Lindsay's recent feature for the Scene was a powerful one, which turned out to have some strong Arkansas connections. Told in her unique voice, it comes across as simultaneously funny, shocking, and for me, as the mother of a not-quite-four-year-old girl, more than a little sad. It's a story of baby/preschooler/child "glitz" pageants, and the alternate dimension in which the denizens of that world reside.
Friday, September 15, 2006 - 23:21:59
"Southern Fried Scholars" in Mental Floss
I admit it: I'm a magazine junkie. I read a lot of books, but I also have a great love for the entertaining, bite-sized "browsing" style of reading that can only be had with a good magazine in your hands. Plus, there are pictures. I love At Home In Arkansas (OK, I admit, the content seems to have been getting thinner and thinner in that one, but ...oh, I have no excuse. Pretty pictures.), The Oxford American (pssst--the annual Music Issue is out now!), and one of my favorite, squeal-with-delight-upon-opening-the-mailbox times is that special day each month when the new Southern Living arrives.Wednesday, September 13, 2006 - 22:08:50
So, What's Up With the Koi?
I ask in all seriousness, especially anyone local to "Zone 7b" who keeps koi and/or goldfish in a small outdoor pond (Husband interjects here to say that people "don't exactly keep indoor ponds," but ha HA, Mr. Smart Guy, I have seen one, complete with stream and fountain, in a Sherwood home, so there). We inherited a koi pond with the recent purchase of our new home. The previous owner claims that he, too, inherited it from those who lived here before he and his family did, and never to have fed or otherwise cared for the fish, and only to have changed out the water one time in eight years, when a liner started leaking and had to be replaced, at which time they counted around 40 fish. We have never been able to convince the fish to line up for an official census, but there are a fair number of what seems to be a wide variety of fish in there, and we are clueless as to how to care for them, and we seek help.
West Nile Hits HOME
Tragic Accident In Newport
Who Needs Zagat's When You Can Just Count Pickup Trucks?
Testing The Waters
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