Re-launched, but still slightly under construction. :-)

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Red Hat Lady

Tuesday, March 31, 2009 By

When she is an old woman
She shall wear banjos
With a sombrero that does not go and does not suit her...

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Twitter, or: I'm Not Falling for it

Tuesday, March 31, 2009 By

If all the people who notified me that they were now following me on Twitter were <I>actually</i> following me on Twitter, I'd have more than a dozen people following me on Twitter.

Does anyone know what that's about?
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile


Tuesday, March 31, 2009 By

Since I spend so little time in the office, I have sadly neglected Momnesia (although I have not been cured, by any means). Also my new obsession with Facebook, and its handy Blackberry app, has meant even less time blogging. Listen up, Blogger/Google! A downloadable app = more usage!

Anyway, I took the time to figure out how to mobile blog, so now I'll have more access.

See? It's like a little gift to you, blogosphere. You're welcome!
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Monday, March 30, 2009

Is This Normal?

I let Emmie leave her room during a time-out, in order to go potty.

She entered a normal four-year-old girl. She exited completely naked, with a lip-stick drawn smiley face on her tummy ("It's Mr. Tummy!" she said), confidently rubbing Scott's deodorant under her arms.

She gave her pits each a sniff.
"You wan' smell dem?" she asked, holding up her arms for my convenience.


Friday, March 27, 2009

Overheard in the Office

Classified Sales Exec: "I'm second in my Fantasy Basketball bracket."
Designer: "You picked Duke to lose?"
Classified Sales Exec: "Yep. First round. I'm fourth in my fantasy fishing league."
Designer: "Did you say fantasy fishing? Bass fishing?"
Exec: "Yep."
Designer: "How ya doin' on your fantasy classified sales?"
Exec: "Shut up."
Designer: "I have a fantasy alt-weekly..."

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Emerson Says...

"Patty cake patty cake. Bake my hand..."


Emerson Says...

To Jim Christian: "My mommy say chill out... My mommy say chill out all da time."

Monday, March 16, 2009

Help for the Homeless

There are 7 pure-bred female Samoyeds who need a "forever home" because their owner/breeder, Cathy Pendleton, is losing her battle with breast cancer. She can no longer care for her dogs and has been moved to Hospice after being in the hospital for a week.

The dogs are in the Atlanta , GA , area, but they will allow them to be adopted out of state. All the owner/breeder wants is for all of these girls to get good homes. Currently, they are not wanting to place any of the dogs in foster care because they are trying to move the dogs only once. My understanding is that the older animals have been spayed. Because she is a breeder, the younger dogs are not spayed; however the new family would need to have the dog spayed if she is less than seven years. (The dogs range in age from 1.5 years to more senior dogs.)

One look at their picture (below) shows how extraordinarily beautiful these dogs are. (I count 8 in the picture, but perhaps one has been placed already.) All are healthy and well cared for, up to date on shots, heartworm, flea treatment, etc. The new "forever" home will need to have a fenced yard with sufficient space for an active dog. The folks who are placing the Samoyeds for the owner may do a home visit either before, after, or both to ensure that the dog and their new family are a good fit.

If you think you might be interested after reading Velvet's email (below), her contact info is

Monday, March 09, 2009

What's Wrong With Advocacy Journalism?

In answer to my headline, "Nothing."

But there can be some things VERY wrong with advocacy journalists.

An advocate gives an image, a voice, and an outlet to a cause or an individual. But being an advocacy journalist is not the same as being an activist. There are lines that should never be crossed.

If your publication only spouts catchphrases, cliches, and cheerleading, you are failing at your job. For a little while, a Disney-fied version of an issue, place, or organization might be seen as fresh and uplifting.

But that's treating people like idiots. And people don't like being treated like idiots. Unless you're an advocacy journalist in favor of rainbows and flowers, your issue will encompass complex issues and road blocks. When you offer only sycophancy, your readers will find you boring, repetitious, and irrelevant to public discourse.

All journalists use the same skills, and acknowledging your biases up front allows people to lend a critical eye to your work. They'll do it anyway, so you might as well own up to it. Failing to do so will undermine the credibility of your work, and that doubt will, by proxy, extend to your issue.

Fairness and thoroughness, verified facts, and quotes from multiple sources are the hallmarks of any kind of journalism. And finally, statistics should always come from neutral sources - those unaffiliated with your own organization or cause.

In addition, advocacy journalists are honor-bound to give coverage to events and stories that don't cast their issue in the rosiest of light. Positivity is an excellent interpersonal attribute. But in journalism, it's an excellent attribute for spin doctors and - dare I say it? - liars.

For example, if a developer nearly completes a beautiful project, only to have the financing fall through, many people could write off the developer as unprofessional or inadequate. Mainstream media might point to the crumbling surrounding sites, looking at the area as a whole and making generalizations. But an advocacy journalist, working for the revitalization of an area, could examine the development project's financier and fairly reveal problems beyond the developer's control - thus saving the reputation of an area and one of the people working for its redevelopment.

In the long run, the advocacy journal will be praised for getting the scoop, sure, but also for revealing a fair and balanced approach to its own issue - thus building even more credibility for itself, and its cause.

To ignore the road blocks and struggles faced by any cause is to be ill-prepared for the future. It is also ill-prepares your readers for when reality smacks them in the face. Nothing is perfect, and all the positive press releases in the world cannot change it. But ignoring the imperfections is to close your eyes against reality - and against the real story! And as observers and reporters of the world around us, the world cannot tolerate journalists who wear blinders.

For reference, here is a link to the code of ethics from the Society of Professional Journalists.

Thursday, March 05, 2009

And That's Why We Don't Go to Church

My sister gave me a Jesus action figure one year for my birthday. Don't start about it, people. I put it away, carefully keeping it in the box.

Fast-forward to Hurricane Emerson.

Emmie somehow found it and gasped in delight: "Mama! You buyed me a present?!"

Me: "Um, no, sweetie. That's Mommy's doll."

Emmie, brow furrowed, looking at the action figure with confusion: "But... mama, dis your queen?"

Me (snorting): "No, it's not a queen, sweetie. It's a man with long hair."

I took the doll and chucked it on top of the bookshelf in the hallway, intending to deal with it later, and went to work. Of course, Emmie greeted me at the door with doll in hand. Scott had given in to her cajoling. Thanks, sweetie!

Emmie dragged that thing all over the place.

"Queen Jesus say to gib me some ice cream," she told me after dinner.

"Yeah? Well, do you think the queen would like to go in the trash can?"

And at bath time, as we played together, Emmie began making up a story.

"I'll be da witch, and you be da queen," she said, handing over the toy. "EEEE-heee-heee! I'm da witch! An' I'm goin' turn you into a frog!"

"Ohhhh," I cooed, positiong Jesus' arms to reach out to her. "Sounds like somebody needs a hug."

"NOOO! I'm da witch! I'm a bad lady!"

"Let me hold you. Tell me how you feel," I snickered, overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation. I wanted to play along - after all, it was just a piece of plastic - but something wouldn't allow me to turn Jesus into Rambo.

"I'm going to bam you!" Emmie said, brandishing her imaginary magic wand.

"Be careful, or I'm going to sentence you to eternal damnation," Jesus warned gently.

"NO!" Emmie cackled.

"Why not?"

"Because I already lib der!"

Jeez. Game over.

Monday, March 02, 2009

If My Husband Were a Dog...

Y'all have heard me talk about Scott and his amazing sleep habits before... and here. posted a video that I am stealing and regurgitating, because if my husband were a dog, this would be him. You can see why it's so difficult for me to get a decent night's sleep, can't you?

My Husband, The Dog