At Home With Brutalism

That's the name of my new column that is running for the first time today at Oakton Patch.

(So what if it's not Rolling Stone or Newsweek? That did not prevent me from running around the house doing the Mary Katherine Gallagher "Superstar". Tim is not sick of that. AT ALL.)

Thoughts on the column name? On the column itself? On anything else you care to discuss?

Check it out and let me know.

Conversations With Scott

I was reminded again today that true friends are rare and should be treasured. Friends like Scott, who has helped me through some challenging times in my life and who you may remember from some earlier posts:

The one where he supports me when I need to initiate a difficult conversation

The one where he assists me with a very important work project

The one where he listens to my medical concerns

The one where he aids me during a personal crisis 

The one where he helped me figure out Google ads early in my blogging days

And who sometimes shares words of wisdom:

About the magic of the holidays

About friendship

I've shared heart-warming stories about him before:

About appreciating diversity

And the time he gave me a really sweet nickname

Everyone needs a friend like this.

A friend who posted on Facebook recently: "Heading to the Renaissance Fair with the wife and kids. Because nothing says1500s England like Korean kids eating cheesecake on a stick."(His kids are half Korean.)

Getting misty over here,
Brutalism

What's My Byline?

Gentle Readers:

I need a title for my local column that will begin running later this month.

The column will focus on family and parenting (stop laughing), but will hopefully attract other readers both to the column and the blog who are not parents (at least, that they know of...wink, wink, nudge, nudge). Therefore, I do not want to name it anything too parent-y that may turn someone off.

Ideas that have been suggested (and summarily rejected) are:

Brutalism at home  (Too domestic violence-y.)

Suburban Krackerz (A write-in vote from my oldest friend.)

White rocks by the mailbox. (If you don't get this, I am very disappointed.)

Let me know if you have any ideas. If I use your idea, I will interview you for a future post and send you a fabulous* gift.

*"fabulous" obviously being open to interpretation

Defining Moment

Listen, I'm no stranger to rejection in many forms: jobs...love interests...mime school...

But my most recent rejection is a real puzzler. It's from Urban Dictionary. You know, the folks who brought you space docking. (You're welcome.)

Their e-mail to me following my submission is below:
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Thanks for your definition of rewhoresful! (Cheerful! You are so welcome, Urban Dictionary! This is starting out well!)

Editors reviewed your entry and have decided to not publish it. (What? The editors of Urban Dictionary have standards? Urban Dictionary has editors? Are you hiring?)

To get a better idea of what editors publish and reject, sign up as an Urban Dictionary Editor here: http://editor.urbandictionary.com/ (Whee! I can be an editor? I'm so drunk with power right now.)

Urban Dictionary
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Which...seriously? This gets published and this gets denied?:

rewhoresful


(Adj.) Capable of devising ways and means to get what one wants in a morally questionable way.

(Ex.) Amber did not have a hotel room reserved when she visited New York City, but she was rewhoresful enough to hook up with Joe so she could stay in his apartment.

If only I was rewhorseful enough to research the first amendment,
Brutalism

Stand Back, I'm A Professional

Yesterday, I met with the editor of a publication that has hired me to write a regular column.

I will not tell you how much I get paid  per column because you will be so insanely jealous that you will never read this blog again -- it's lonely at the top start sending me your gently used clothing and household items in pity.

The column will be featured on an online community site in beautiful Oakton, Virginia, where I live. It launches on or about September 27th and I'll be writing once every two weeks, with a goal of moving toward a weekly column.

While I am a huge fan of nepotism in all of its forms, the thing that excites me most about this opportunity is that it had nothing to do with that. The editor stumbled upon my blog and contacted me without knowing me at all. [And because of that, was worried that I might think she was a stalker. Which I guess to most people is a bad thing (looking at you Leonardo "Mr. Fancy Pants" DiCaprio).]

The editor has assured me that I am allowed to write about swinging and poop (and everything else that happens in the 'burbs). I'm pretty excited about this and hope you'll check it out.

*Tugs Imaginary Collar*

Last night, I was lying down with my daughter reading her the latest chapter in a book that we are gradually making our way through.

She would look at the words on the page and then turn her head and watch my mouth as I read out loud.

As I always do during these moments, I try to imagine what is going on in her almost five-year-old brain, figuring that she is recording this moment in her memory as I am, so  that she can reflect on it when she's older and remember fondly some of the things we did together, or remember that it was during our nightly "book time" that she developed her lifelong love of reading.

She continued this for a while...she'd look at the book, then at me, then at the book, then back at me...

Then she silently lifted the two ends of the drawstring on the hoodie I was wearing, stuck one in each of my nostrils, and turned back and faced the book, ready for me to continue the story.