Friday, September 29, 2006

Autumny McCosyfallpants Goes Round and Round the Fartberry Bush

This week around the house? Fall swept through like someone pulling the curtains across a picture window. Not that that's a bad thing.

Because Fall means not only cute, cosy sweaters...but sometimes ones with adorable matching hats. Let' say it: "AWWWWWW!"



Fall means changing the planters. Forgive me, but I had to go with funky. It was the gourds. They MADE me do it.



And, it means doing some work in the garden. Not fun puttering. Planting 168 bulbs was work. I think I still have bloodmeal under my fingernails (going to look up what's in bloodmeal, and hoping I'm not going to be really really grossed out). We also trimmed back some of the dead and dying stuff, and we put some of the white coneflower seeds in jars for passers-by to take. That was a really great project for the toddler to help with - choosing, cleaning and preparing the containers, shaking seeds out of the spent flower heads, decorating the labels, and putting them out at the edge of the flower beds - and then watching to see who might take them. And, should someone pass by and not take one, running out, grabbing a jar, and then running after and forcing it on the gentlemen in the suit and briefcase who did not expect to be carrying a jar of seeds and dead flowers to work.



In the back yard, a little bit of cleaning up too. For Josephine, one of the happiest things about fall is the Fartberry bush.

Before you go and look up Fartberry bushes, let me tell you we have the only one in the world, and it is in our back yard.



I have always loved the stories Steve tells about his adventures as a little boy. One of my favourites was the one about how he used to eat all the chives in his mom's garden so that when he farted in class, they'd be really stinky and he'd be asked to leave. That's now one of Josie's favourites too.

Another from the fart series of stories is the one about how he used to be late to school in the Fall, because around the corner from his home, a few blocks from school, was a big bush with lots of fat white berries on it. He'd stop, and pull them off, and lose himself in stepping on them. They'd make blurpy farty noises and squish all over the sidewalk. He'd show up at school late from having been so absorbed in that, with the bottoms of his shoes covered in gook. He didn't know what kind of bush it was, so he called it the Fartberry bush. The original bush is gone now - of course we went looking for it.

A few years ago, I decided that part of our back yard should house the Steve Good's Childhood Memorial Garden, and so we have chives and a Fartberry bush back there. I researched every bush I could find with fat white berries on it. Finally, it was identified as a Winterberry bush. I found one, and planted it, and this year it's finally producing berries.

At bedtime, Josephine loves stories about things that we did or things that happened when we all were little. The Fartberry bush story always held a special fascination. So, it was a great moment the other day, when she got to squish her first berries...



...with her daddy.



And then we broke out the Fall pajamas, and tucked her into bed, and now the story had a new ending. One where little Steve grew up and now has a Fartberry bush so that he and his little Josie can squish the berries from it together.




(because her Mommy made it happen!)



Your visit is kind enough - you don't need to comment. But if you'd like, do write: hellomarlagood at hotmail dot com.
And don't forget to Ask Boo Boo!

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

One Thing Leads To Another...

...in a house like ours.


Josie's toy mouse, who is really called Daddy Rat, is cruising in his shoemobile. It's one of my favourite things about Josephine. She is often quite creative, and it is usually in a very charming way.




Speaking of vermin, "Mommeeee! Mommeeee! Boo Boo has a mousie friend!" I heard from the back yard yesterday. "He won't give him to me!" Protruding from Boo's mouth were two splayed little gray legs with pinkish feet, and between them, a whipping and flailing little skinny gray tail. Do I need to say that there has been much discussion about kitties and mousies, and the kinds of things they do, around this house since then? Mousie did get away, and Boo Boo was not in the best mood about that.





As is evidenced by what he left in front of the last clematis flower on the fencetop.




Boo Boo is also rather creative. But rarely is he charming.








Your visit is kind enough - no comment is necessary. If you'd like though, do write to hellomarlagood at hotmail dot com.

Someone asked me...

...if Boo Boo, with his extravagant jerkitude and pissy demeanor (okay, I added those descriptions), gets along with Josie.











I think so.



Don't forget to play Ask Boo Boo!

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Your Once in a Lifetime Chance...

Marla: Hey...Boo. Boo Boo. BOO!

hey boo


Boo Boo: (two long slow blinks) What.

boo what


M: Fine Boo Boo. Start off that way. Great. This is all about you, and you give me that.

B: (in a marginally nicer tone) What?

boo thinks


M: I had an idea. I'm aware that you think that the blog's been a bit light on the Boo Boo content lately, so I was thinking...(whispers confidentally in Boo Boo's ear, making occasional animated hand gestures)

B: Will there be Pounce involved?

pounce involved


M: Well, duh. It's not like you do anything out of the goodness of your tiny shriveled little prune-sized venal black heart, you grasping mercenary.

B: So, lots of Pounces then.

mmmkay

M: (sighs) Yes, Boo Boo.


now go

B: mmmmmkay. Now go.







still here

B: Okay, you're still here,

M: It's just that, well, I have to buy a new inhaler today, because of well, how...and...um... you are really really close to my pillow and I am allergic to you.


B: How close?

how close

M: Well, you're practically on it now, and well, I saw a kitty sized impression on it yesterday before I went to bed. Perhaps that's why I was gasping and wheezing all night.

B: That pillow?

that pillow

M: Boo.

B: Was it the size of a kitty with a "tiny shriveled little prune-sized, venal, black, grasping mercenary heart"?


lets talk

M: Did I say that?

B: I think you did.

say  hello

M: Have a nice nap on my pillow Boo. I'll be getting my refill now. See ya later. Thank you for agreeing to answer any and all questions submitted by your fans (mutters under breath "you nasty little extortionist"). I'll send Josie up with the Pounce before we leave to go pick up my inhaler.




And so, Boo Boo has agreed to answer any and all questions sent to us before October 20th. I KNOW. Such magnanimity on his part. Such copious amounts of Pounce I've volunteered to disburse on my part. All this in honour of his birthday. He was born about a year ago, and came to live with us just before Halloween last year. So, let's look back to Boo Boo's first appearance here, and think about how now it seems people would prefer all Boo Boo all the time.

I think I need to go lie down for a while.


Please email your questions, on any subject, and Boo Boo will answer. Send to hellomarlagood at hotmail dot com. All will be answered and posted at the end of October. Some, will, no doubt, be smacked down. Some will, no doubt, cost me more Pounce than others.

Please note that he is a rotten little black kitty cat, and nothing he says is to be consrued as real advice in any way, even if he quotes Einstein or somebody really smart.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Has Anyone Else Noticed...

...that the gourds this year are particularly grotesque?




I have never before seen such practially pustular, misshapen, gnarled and almost repulsive-looking freaks of nature.


That makes me so happy.







Your visit is kind enough - no comment is necessary. But if you'd like, do write: hellomarlagood at hotmail dot com

Three Thousand Words

cake

frosting

happy kid



Your visit is kind enough - no comment is necessary. But if you'd like, do write: hellomarlagood at hotmail dot com

Saturday, September 23, 2006

We Are Such Cards, We Need To Be Dealt With.

On Monday, it is Papa Glen's birthday.

It's hard to find a present for a guy in his mid-seventies who has almost everything. What he doesn't have, he takes great pleasure in buying for himself and then sneaking in the house past Grandma Joan.

He's a former electrical engineer who chose a government job for the benefits and good retirement in the long run, over private practice and more money early on. He and Grandma Joan are comfortable in their retirement. He's handy. So his new shed, his tool collection, his pond and his accessories for it - they are all indulgences he's earned and the maintenance of them and the hobbies pertaining to them keep him busy. But, still, those are things we couldn't have given him. (Okay, Steve helped dig the pond, occasionally finding the bones of long-dead and buried pets, which he pitched over the fence rather than get Joan bawling over "Poor dead Bippy".)

Apart from the infrequent occasion of a funeral or wedding, Glen doesn't need "good" clothes - he wears mostly sweat pants and t-shirts now, and has plenty of them. (Steve and I make jokes that he's achieved a zipper-free lifestyle.)

Aside from being just an all-around nice guy who flirts with our next-neighbour and makes her feel like a million bucks, who glues broken things back together properly for us, and who lends us his carpet cleaner - Glen feeds, and traps then spays or neuters cats in a couple of feral cat colonies, which he visits a few times a week. He also takes care of Joan's twin sister's house, and that of another elderly lady friend of Joan's. He's just...good.

He also, perhaps most significantly, puts up with a menagerie around his split-level, paid-for home in Scarberia. Grandma Joan has rescued some, um, "quirky" cats, in addition to the decrepit seventeen-year old poodle named Daisy, and Furby, the vicious mini-chow looking furball that they keep away from the general populace; and should she and Glen pass before these horrible undying aged lemon animals shuffle off their mortal coils, there is a clause in the will providing money for Steve and I to care for the beasts that no one else can love.

We can't find enough ways to thank him for all of the things he does for us on a weekly basis, let alone find things for him to unwrap on special occasions.

In desperation, on Friday I asked Josephine what she thought Papa Glen would like for his birthday. She thought for a moment, and said "I think we should get him something about Jake."

Jake.

The light of his life.

The light of his life? It's not his wife. It's not his son, or his two daughters, or any of his six grandchildren including ours, whom he dubbed "Josephine Blossom Peanut Good" (for the record, she now believes that her name includes Peanut because of him).

He loves Jake best - his hairy, stinky, fat, drooling, diabetic, panting, untrained, stupid, (did I mention fat?), spastic, shedding, dumb, (did I mention the shedding?) barking, fool yellow lab who fell in the pond twice this past summer (and I forget how many times last year). Jake is often called "Jakey - poo" or "Dakees" or "Dakums" or any number of goo goo ga ga names that roll right off Papa Glen's tongue along with the wondrous stories of "Jakey's" antics - all spoken in such a way as to make you look around to find whatever golden wonder might be sitting nearby, drying off in a spray of sparkling drops and looking noble after having rescued Timmie from the well. Instead, all you see is a butterball of a dog who pees like a girl and sends off puffs of fur much like Pigpen's clouds of dirt.

And so, the perfect present for Glen occurred to us:



But, because if you ask him about Jake, he WILL tell you about Jake, the perfect present for Joan also occurred to us:

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

What She Said.

“Advertising has done more to cause the social unrest of the 20th century than any other single factor.”
Clare Boothe Luce
(American Diplomat and Playwright, 1903-1987)


Oh, Hi everyone, and everyone else who is coming from links everywhere. Like the quote above? Me too.


I'm so sick of this topic, because what seems to have happened in comment threads all over the place is that my part of the discourse has been simplified in to a Frankensteinian "aaarghhhh...ads....baaaaad. Mommy blaaaahgaaas with ads are baaaad."

And then, the citizens run screaming, and it's all "But they're harmless! They just sit there and I make money! Nobody clicks on them, nobody actually buys anything from them! They're like nothing really! It's fine, it's fine! Stop making me think about it!"


It IS a quagmire, and really, I'm happy to agree to disagree with the world in general that ads are harmless. As one blogger pointed out elsewhere, her husband is in advertising and it's be hypocritical for her to speak against them. Well, yeah, mine too. And I'm biting my own hand, as one of my jobs is actually doing some work for ads for a hoity toity department store. Sometimes the paycheck from it buys groceries, sometimes it buys toys for underprivileged kids. There's not much of an in-between lately, because aside from a 60 year old sofa that doesn't remind me that the cat peed on it, there's nothing we need and so we're on a buying less way of life these days. Okay, well...Josie got nice shoes last weekend, but that's because Steve had a freelance job that let us justify that one quality pair is better than three crap pairs that won't last. I'm always catching myself in some hypocrisy. And so, if I'm ever having a conversation with you, and I stop for a breath - you know that's just me checking myself. Oh...and I bought a needle-felting kit. I figured stabbing wool roving with barbed needles might be a good way to work out a little frustration.



But, it seems the main point of my post has been missed, and as happens in blogging, where everyone taps away in these pseudo-conversations, we miss tone and emphasis. Some take hyperbolic turns, some are either deliberately or unconsciously obtuse, and some back off and wait for more Boo Boo.


We, as mothers who happen to be bloggers, are an emerging economy, and we are being undersold. We're being told we're empowered, that we're a community, that it's all good, from everyone you can think of. It's not. It's a false camaraderie. It's maybe the kind of friendship where your fellow blogger will hold your hair back when you're barfing up too many tequila shots; but maybe you're not going to confess to her that abortion or talk about how you cut yourself as a teen just yet. Sure, I'll tell you that the only thing that separated my episiotomy from my anus was a 'roid, but you won't get to know about things I consider REALLY personal. And, on top of that, it can lead people to confuse "friendship" with readership, and friendship with what people can do for their business, and good times for depth and warmth and mutual support and fellowship. Just as some cultures have more words for snow, we need more words for acquaintances and friends, especially those met through blogging. Why yes, I am feeling a wee bit bitter about on-line relationships, because I all of a sudden remembered that I just spent way too much time telling people stuff they don't want to know, when really, all I want to find a nice dog through Petfinder one of these days. One that won't exacerbate our Boo Boo problem.


We're more protective of our kids than we are of ourselves. We decry the horror that is advertising during cartoons for kids, yet we let ourselves become inured to ads on personal blogs. The conditioning to accept advertising as benign in a medium that was formerly free of it isn't much different from the roofing company that wants their sign on your lawn while they're doing their work. I say, " What, it isn't enough that I paid you, you want to use my home to advertise without paying me?" They say," It's a harmless sign! People drive by it! They ignore it if they want to! Who cares?" And then people drive by it and say "Oh, they're getting their roof done by that company." And that's maybe it, or maybe not. Who knows? But...

Then why is it there?


And so, I'll say it this way, and hope it sticks. It's not that the mere presence of ads makes people buy things - I really really really know that it's not because I am a rational grown-up most of the time (really tempting to go DUH, I KNOW THAT in my best moronic voice).

It's that it allows the media to further encroach on something, that for being very public and very open, is actually quite private.

And, for not as much money as it is worth, if one is tempted in that direction and I understand that we all like new shoes. By all means, spread yourself around and write for sponsored blogs, take on work for larger companies. You won't likely be screwed any more than is that nice golden arches employee who gives you both honey AND honey mustard with your nuggets, because they really are better that way (um... or so I've heard). You may come out on top of the heap (oh, please remember that there's a heap below you). And money is nice to have! It feels good to earn money. Especially if you haven't got much. I know what the ads pay bloggers - I did that homework. It's easy money, not enough to make Uncle Sam take notice (yet - now, THAT'S a phone call that would certainly put me in a better mood) - but it also feels like a nice little something something for what seems like no extra work. Just so long as it's understood blog ads don't pay for your writing or work - they pay for your space and your ability to bring people to them. Some seem to have that confused with the quality of the content.


It all fits the "customer made" profile noted in the previous post (ohpleasedon'tmakemelinkforcryingoutloudit'srightbelow). The biggest defenders of the issue are the ones who would be and have been most seduced by the criteria, yet think the finger is pointing at someone else.


The busier the world gets - the more overwhelming it all seems, the more low-level stress we feel perpetually, well, then, the less likely we are to remember what life was like before - we just get used to the new norm.

Why do people take vacations to places like cottages and beaches? Why is a day in a rural setting so refreshing? Guess what's missing? A large percentage of the media that pervades every aspect of daily life. It's NICE to spend some time without it.

Yes, I like typewriters and pens and paper and I will tell you that of course I type as fast as I can think because of my high school typing course. In fact, on my keyboard, since January, I've worn off the a, d, c, n, m, and l letters off the keys because of the energy with which I type. I'm a little bit (fine. A LOT) retro, and don't mind working a little harder and going with less and would be even more so inclined if I didn't like city living so darn much, and at at least one point every day I take a minute to long for an even simpler life.

And so, I look back with fondness to the time before ads became an issue and to when bloggers took the dilettante approach. I also remember when toothpaste didn't sparkle and when I only had to choose between pulp and no pulp for my orange juice. I like my dish soap to smell the way it has all my life. Forays into crazy apple or mango scents seem like I'm in someone else's house. Once upon a time, there were no stupid smiley guys giving me the thumbs up or winking at me. And I think it was better then. My head was clearer. I feel like I should throw a doily over my computer and sip some prune juice with my withered lips.

I hope those who had the patience to read my post and the comments, along with all of the other worthy posts on the subject at least shifted out of cruise control for a moment and thought about, as I said, not what they do with their own eyes so much, but with those of their readers. I value my personal space, my peace of mind, and my clear conscience too much to keep inviting the ugly world in.

For me, as much as I loved my first comment on this blog from someone I've ever since carried on a private correspondence with (though the ebb and flow of life means the bond is stretched thin, but not yet broken), thus fulfilling a blogger's first dream - it was a thrill but it also marked a point where I knew there was someone out there and so yes, it altered my content. How can the presence of the commercial world on a private blog not, then? Am I so different from others?

And so, I can also say with honesty, that when ads first started appearing, it marked the end of just diving into reading the posts - for me, that minute portion of time, a fraction of a fraction even, that it took to register "hmm...an ad in my periphery" , was just enough time to remove a bit of pleasure from this pastime. I dare say that's there for everyone, but nobody wants to let themselves really feel it. Nobody looks at an ad and says "oh goody!", do they? Bloglines made them easier to ignore, but it also took away some of the feeling of being connected, and the ease out of commenting more frequently. It also made it easy to read people I didn't really like or admire either just to keep current, or because they'd become such a habit, or to be polite. I've found myself rushing through, and skipping around. It's like visiting with someone at the park, but still talking to each other over a cel phone (and I don't have one of those anymore either). I thought I disliked what blogging has become for me, and while none of that really got transferred into the previous post, I'll say that I have learned from my reading further afield over the last few days that perhaps I'm just more dismayed with what others have done with blogging.

And so, because I'll never get all this time spent on this subject back, I'm going to try to turn this into something more productive for my personal life.


First, I'm wiping out my Bloglines subscriptions. In fact, I'm even going to wipe out my bookmarks - those I hadn't decided to subscribe to or those without feeds. I'll be erasing my history from over the past few days too. I'm sick of it all.


Second, I'll rebuild it from memory and gut feelings - somewhat. I imagine my top ten reads will come back to me easily. But I'm going to say goodbye to quite a lot of blogs, because they've become a habit, not things that really make my days or sleepless nights any better.



Third, I'm going to try something crazy. I'm not going to remove the comment moderation - only in the tiniest part because of the troll, but more because I've met some very nice people through comments. But, I'm not going to publish the comments. They're mine. For me. Aren't they? Most people I've met through blogging that I want to know better already have my email, or know or could find someone they could get it from - and vice versa, I suppose. Perhaps this will give me more time to comment elsewhere, or it may mean I get to visit more new blogs. I maintain that I'm happy if people just quietly groove on what I write; so, depending on how this experiment works out, one day comments might go down. But, sometimes you just want to write something back - to contribute right away, and I understand that need because I have it too. Maybe it will be better for both of us if you feel you're writing privately. This is the last post where I'll publish comments. Enjoy the relief of not commenting, if prairie-dogging in my comments is something you've ever felt obligated to do. Email me, I'll be glad to correspond, however brief or lengthy. If you want to discuss anything further, find me and let's go get some Bourbon and Pocky and talk about it.


Fourth, I'm going to say - There were some bloggers that really put an immense amount of time, energy and thought into posting and writing some post-like comments, and managed not to take it to inflammatory and megalomaniacal heights. How fantastic - it's so easy to get all hyperbolic on this subject's ass, and turn it into an us-vs-them issue. It's not possible to really do a proper us-vs-them, because we are all in this together. Despite it being a false camaraderie, we're all on the Poseidon together and damned if I'm going to be Shelley Winters for y'all. I stuck my toe in the water, and realized the reason I don't swim in public pools is because it's "people soup" in my book.

Which is also why I am very, very disappointed by some of the comments I've seen elsewhere. Few were brave enough to admit they didn't care. Bravo - I wish I didn't. I have needle-felting I could be doing. Here, without exception, everyone was diplomatic and cool enough to agree to disagree, or to admit that they take issue with what I said. I took care not to personally attack anyone; but it's really maddening to see so many people in other blogs' comments making with the cheap shots, and laughing along in a round of Heatherish croquet. I wish I could un-know those parts, and also, forget about the oh so very many sycophants, coffee klatches, and me toos flanking the big dogs. The issue of popularity is not in the numbers, it's in the definition: the state or condition of being liked, admired, or supported by many people. We are all popular - it's just that some have followers that are rather more... unquestioning (fingers wanted to type rabid so. bad.). That's just fine - really, it is, with me. It helps me fulfill my renegade/loner fantasies. It's just so easy to knock out an "up" comment, that the vocal majority has it. It is a fuck of a lot harder to walk away, do your homework, and come out with something that wasn't copied over someone's shoulder. I admire anyone who really took the time to think about all of the issues discussed over the last week or so, and write about it. Especially if it hurt a little. Then, you know it's good.


Fourth and a half: I have reason to tell my mother this often, and it comes into use for a variety of reasons, but here it is:

I do not let how others are be the measure of the person I want to be.

That statement isn't meant to put anyone down in any way - I am just saying that I have standards for myself, and it is often hard to find my path. When I'm on the go, the blog keeps the shiny side up and the rubber side down.



Fifth, I'm going to shape up and join the Toronto Pillow Fight League. I still have some stuff to work out, but this isn't the place.



Sixth, this discussion has become long and tiresome. From here on in, I'm the bliss ninny .


Seventh, THANK YOU, most sincerely, for bearing with me during this. Thank you all for always reading. More Boo Boo soon, I swear.

Monday, September 18, 2006

When Money Talks the Truth is Silent

I've collected a few (Hah! More like fewty-hundred!) thoughts, and they are going to come out this way, and then I am done too. For me, this is not the place where I have these discussions, but it seems nothing will flow until this is out of me. And we all want some more Boo Boo, don't we?



Somehow, the since the introduction of this post, and others that ran concurrently, the topic has become rather convoluted invoking cries of “Feminism!” “Popularity!” and "I love readers and comments!" and "Politics!", within them often discussing how the personal becomes political, and thoroughly invoking memories of high school. If you've noticed a bunch of visits where it looks like someone's been going "Oh, it's THAT post." and "Oh, that one." and "Let me make sure I got that right." and "I'll just leave this one open while I go make a cup of tea (and come back forty minutes later).", that's been me. One of the topics that has been touched on, then dropped in favour of other topics, in my opinion, calls to my mind some cheese that keeps slipping off the cracker. You see, for me, it starts with the simple “Are ads good or bad?”. Then, it turns into a manifesto. Because that's how I am.

Regarding advertising: Putting ads on blogs is selling bloggers cheap - all of them, but particularly mommy bloggers who combine to form the ultimate pyramid/warm marketing scheme. Blogging for clearly labelled sponsored sites is no different than writing for a magazine or newspaper - except that you're probably paid less. And you're not a journalist.

You see, it's such a small piece of the advertising budget for these companies - the blog ads on "small" blogs. They are paying far less than the ads are worth - or they wouldn't be doing it. If bloggers were setting their own prices instead of taking offers, that would be a whole other story. The very few who are solely supporting their families with it are the true entrepreneurs (def: a person who organizes and operates a business or businesses, taking on greater than normal financial risks in order to do so - it's not merely any person who starts a business) - and even they apparently can't afford more than the bare minimum of health insurance. For most, taking these pittances, and then having to justify it to your readers? There's a reason it's called chump change.

But then, like anything, it starts small. How soon before ads in the sidebar aren't good enough for companies? When will we be trapped into watching an ad or clicking through one to get to the content of a blog - like we have to sit through ads and previews in a movie theatre? It's harder to turn away money once one has gotten used to it. Big business knows that. It's why teenagers will show up when they're called into work at Loblaws on a Saturday night even though they've got free passes to the Virgin Festival - they like the money, peanuts really, more than they like their freedom. We know ads pay more if they're clicked on than if there's merely a hit on the site. It's inevitable that the ads will soon demand more of those who accept them.

If a company can spend $20,000 for one full-page ad running once in the Toronto Star on a Saturday, (something so disposable as that!) they can pay more for ad space on a blog. But they won't, as long as people are happy with any money, because to them it feels like a bonus, not a right.

It's like if you already sport visible designer labels or obvious designer styles - either signature or knock-off, you are paying the company, along with the middlemen for the privilege of advertising that company. We all do to some extent - even after deciding whether or not we're going to follow current fashions or be true to our own style. We might recognize that it's a big joke on us that now skinny jeans and flats are in after $300 perfectly boot cut jeans with pointy-toed heels reigned for some time, and feel just fine about it. But, we can determine what we'll pay for any transaction: buying on sale, or at full price, and most importantly, to buy or not to buy them and where and when to wear them. Any way you call it, it's valuable advertising for the label, whose biggest care is that it's out there being seen. Why else do celebrities who can afford to buy receive such awesome swag? Only Chanel used to destroy its clothing rather than sell it at a discount (not so much any more). Because we look. We care. We know what things are worth even if we don't have them.

But, I would say to anyone, don't depend on sitemeters, the percentage of comments versus traffic stats, ad revenue or technorati-type sites to tell you what a blog is worth. Your blog is a part of you now, like it or not. It's a part of how we present ourselves, just as our personal fashion sense is. Factors in our self-worth, like it or not. It's not selling out - that's the fast, cheap and easy way of saying it - it is selling a piece of yourself. A piece of your mind, your time, your thoughts - and sometimes, very personal pieces at that.


So, how does your self-worth feel about being targeted this way: "We know who our women are, where they live, what they like - and what they buy."

What about "It’s more than just radio. (WE) put your brand inside our programming, organically – on-air, on-line, and in-person." How about "We are leaders, trendsetters, and broadcasters who have deep experience in producing mass appeal content that delivers audience and generates revenue."?

Or "These targeted efforts will bring your brand closer to the female audience than ever before."

How do they do it? "We do it with powerful personalities with a sense of humor, big time guests, real world content, interactive talk about issues that women care about, and an approach that creates community: the best possible environment for female-targeted brands."

Wait...issues that women care about? " Women want “useful information,” something “lighter and more entertaining” than political talk shows, something “geared toward women,” and talk shows that discuss “topics that are of interest to me.”

More than just identifying problems, women expect us to present meaningful solutions for their biggest concerns: making ends meet, health care, education, raising children, and job security.

Although current events and issues are the most important topics to 90% of the survey respondents, women also want a steady diet of entertainment, health and fitness, and relationships – delivered with lots of fun and laughter."


How did I end up adding a dollop of feminism to this stew?

One dictionary definition of feminism is about social, political and economic equality - with men. Yet, here are other women...Gloria Steinem, for crying out loud - and your next door neighbour, and other marketing specialists packaging up female (which is very very clearly specified) readers and delivering them to the advertisers - who will likely be a source of "meaningful solutions", and who are likely companies run by men. But, delivered with fun and laughter, inside the programming...organically, you know.

From the FAQ:
"Q. What is the origin of the name GreenStone Media?

A. Pulitzer prize-winning author Alice Walker (The Color Purple 1983) wrote an inspirational short story called, "Finding The Greenstone," where the green stone stays lit only as long as the owner is true to his or her authentic self. It's about honesty, fairness and ethics. Our goal at GreenStone Media is to embody those qualities in everything we do on the air and off."

But it's a different story, what is being promised to the advertisers.

See, the problem I'm having with the trends in advertising to mothers came from a place that advertises to mothers. One company, of the periodic email variety proposes to offer "solutions". When I took issue with one of their "solutions" being merely advertising, and contacted them directly about it, I was directed in a kind and friendly manner to Trendwatching, this article on curated consumption in particular, as one of the inspirations for the business. Then I was invited to be a reviewer/spotter, with no remuneration except for the odd product, which I declined.

What curated consumption is, in short, goes like this:

"On the other hand, that same avalanche of choice, the abundance of high quality mass class goods, the mind boggling number of variations, brands, flavors, and God knows what, is driving those very same, often time-starved consumers into the arms of a new breed of 'curators' and editors, who pre-select for them what to buy, what to experience, what to what to wear, what to read, what to drink and so on. (Curator n. He or she who manages or oversees a museum collection or a library.)

So make way for the emerging trend of CURATED CONSUMPTION: millions of consumers following and obeying the new curators of style, of taste, of eruditeness, in an ever growing number of B2C industries (Martha and home decorating was really just the beginning ;-). And it's not just one way: in this uber-connected world, the new curators enjoy unprecedented access to broadcasting and publishing channels to reach their audience, from their own blogs to niche TV channels."


Why is this working? Because it's "Customer-Made".

CUSTOMER-MADE: “The phenomenon of corporations creating goods, services and experiences in close cooperation with experienced and creative consumers, tapping into their intellectual capital, and in exchange giving them a direct say in (and rewarding them for) what actually gets produced, manufactured, developed, designed, serviced, or processed.”

And why does customer-made work?

"Consider any or all of the following:

Status: people love to be seen, love to show off their creative skills and thinking.

Bespoke lifestyle: something consumers have been personally involved in should guarantee goods, services and experiences that are tailored to their needs.

Cold hard cash: getting a well deserved reward or even a profit cut for helping a company develop The Next Big Thing is irresistible.

Employment: in an almost ironic twist, CUSTOMER-MADE is turning out to be a great vehicle for finding employment, as it helps companies recruit their next in-house designer, guerrilla advertising agency or brilliant strategist.

Fun and involvement: there's pleasure and satisfaction to be derived from making and creating, especially if co-creating with brands one loves, likes or at least feels empathy for?"

So, it's not so much that we're being targeted as a market to be sold to and sold by the same market. That's kind of rotten, but it's the status quo. The cold hard marketing world is loving the warm fuzzy mommy blogging world. It's really quite amazing how complacent some are in that we are being encouraged to sell to each other - like with "Garage Marketing".


"What happens when you open up media platforms to bloggers, amateur critics, self-educated experts, passionate commenters, and independent reviewers? You get insightful, surprising and highly original content, not to mention entirely new products and services from GARAGE INFLUENTIALS: amateurs-turned-professionals posting their reviews, criticisms, software, solutions and God knows what else on the web, ready for reading or downloading."



Just as there are companies that conduct studies on how to teach children (OUR CHILDREN!)"pester power" because it is a phenomenal marketing tool, "hot and warm marketing" is also a fantastic way for companies to use individuals to save on legwork, and money - so there are companies studying the power of bloggers to sell, sell, sell - either actively, passively, or as hosts.

A well-known blogger reaches "all three markets", hot, warm and cold, but especially, the warm one.

"Many of us, including me, enjoy warm marketing. We
like to write articles and send out newsletters that position
us as experts. We might speak or be quoted in the media.
We are often in networking groups. We enjoy helping
people see us as experts and get to know us and our
expertise better. Have I used the word expert? Warm
marketers like to be known as experts. We frequently have
many contacts and enjoy marketing to groups. However,
we may have a reluctance to turn those contacts into clients."

By merely hosting ads, a blogger might be removing that mental reluctance to sell to "friends".

I had an argument with my cousin not too long ago. She invited me to purchase a long-distance plan from her, and also to attend meetings for the company so that I might become a part of the business too. I declined, on the grounds that if the business relationship went sour, I'd possibly lose a friendship too. A few hurtful emails went back and forth, wherein I even questioned her interest in my and my pregnancy and my daughter, as it coincided with her attempting to make money from me. But sadly, I also knew to expect this from my cousin. I know her. I've never quite trusted her since.


Wouldn't it be great if you could trust that your fellow blogger isn't trying to sell you something? It's easy to say, "I make money from ads." It's not easy for them to tell the person giving them the money, once it's coming in, where they'll draw the line when it comes to content. And so, if not now, soon it may not be clear to readers when and what is being sold.


Remember that joke? I'll spare you, and just give you the punchline:
"we've already determined you'll sell your soul, now we're just bargaining over the price".

keri smith makes this point beautifully.

This line, from another blog, Utopian Hell, puts it well "If I were to place ads and take payment for them, the transaction is then between me and the advertiser. I am still selling a product, but in this case I’m selling the eyes of my readers to the advertiser. It gives me a profoundly creepy sensation to realize that my eyes are being sold over and over again, but that is modern advertising. It is my belief that your eyes are not mine to sell, and I won’t." I also borrowed the title of this post from that post.

It's not about popularity, or politics - it's about power: hers, mine, yours, theirs. It's about being aware of the target on your uterus. It's an ugly underbelly. It's because we are always being told what to wear, what to buy, and now we're not just being told directly - we're being sold to, and sold by, in hidden ways by "influentials" - people we want to like us. Wouldn't you want Gloria Steinem to like you? Don't you want other bloggers to like you? What a motivation!


And, because these companies, and the ad world behind them, are so interested in "viral" and "organic" marketing - it means that we have to think, really think, through and between the lines, whether or not we are being sold something - or being sold.

But why do I think that maybe blogging should be separate from this?

In Susan Mitchell's Icons, Saints & Divas, Erica Jong states:

"I always thought that writers could change the world and I believed in the power of the written word. But I never thought anybody would read Fear of Flying. I believed I was writing it for the desk drawer. I couldn't have written as clearly if I hadn't told myself that nobody would read it. At that point I was a poet who had published two volumes of poetry. Why would I think it would become a best-seller? I thought it would have sold a couple of thousand copies. I wrote it because I had to and yet I did feel these tiny pricklings in my fingers -- you know, that it was possible, that it might go well out there, but I wouldn't consciously let myself believe it."

Don't we all feel a little like this when we write a really good blog post? Doesn't it diminish it, even just a little bit, to have to look past an ad to get to it - to be even the tiniest distracted by an ad?

She also said "Of course, not every book is going to be the amanuensis to the Zeitgeist. In a writer's life there might be certain books that stand out and reach an audience, and other books that don't. Or certain books that reach a scholarly audience and other books that misfire completely. That goes with the territory of writing for a whole lifetime. What I find so upsetting about our culture is that we demand that everybody hit a home run every time. Art can't happen that way, that's terribly commercial. Artists can't create focus groups and find out what people want to hear like a politician or a television producer. Even if you could you wouldn't want to. It's not what you ought to be doing. You should not be giving people what they want, you should be giving people what they don't yet know they want. You should be plugged into the times, in a kind of mystical way, almost, and then you put into words the incoherent longings of your time. If you're lucky. Then, people discover what it was that they needed to hear. But it can't be done the other way around. An artist or writer is a specimen human being who just goes about the world hoping to be a bundle of nerve endings that take in everything and transform it into a voice. You may do that a couple of times in your lifetime, you may do it in certain passages of a book, and never again. But you're not motivated by that, you're motivated by the need to do it."

Isn't this a lot like blogging? A lot of bloggers want to be "writers" - certainly not journalists. And if a blogger is fancying herself a future or current writer, isn't there a huge difference between someone who is motivated by the need to write, versus someone who is motivated by the need to produce because they are required to, whether it's in order to increase revenue or maintain traffic? Do you get the same feeling when you read Rebecca Eckler's writing as when you read Ann Marie MacDonald? But they're both writers! But it shows, I checked. Just looking at Blogger profiles, none list Eckler as a favourite book. Eight list Knocked Up as their favourite read. Seven list Anne Marie MacDonald as a favourite in books, four list Ann Marie MacDonald, and forty list "Fall on Your Knees" there. And two list "Fall on You Knees". I don't think I need to check further misspellings to find further evidence of the sentiment - and that's just Blogger profiles, not really checking further because I got bored and went to get a handful of pretzels.

Also in Icons, Saints and Divas, Phyllis Chesler states in reference to Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique, and then carries it further, "You have to judge the woman by her work, and you have to judge the work by what it does in the world. If you don't like her or her political philosophy, that doesn't matter - look at her work. That's very important for women to know. Instead of saying "do I like her, is she my friend?", look at her work and its effects. It's important as feminists for us to also see how the feminist leadership treats women. I want to know how interpersonally challenged they are as human beings."

And so, when I look at businesses, especially those run by women, who are encouraging mothers to market to other mothers, I look at what the effects might be, foremost, the hidden price of cheapening the value of our time and our words, when mothers sell themselves and their buying power and influence for too little. When members of the feminist leadership are the ones promising us to the advertisers, instead of telling the advertisers - if you want to reach this huge demographic we've tapped you'll have to pay for it and pay BIG? It doesn't say that. The words used aren't holding us up to them - they're packaging us. It's there, in gray and white - make no mistake. But it's not on the front pages - it's buried.

Phyllis Chesler later says "Why are women so hard on each other? We want women to be perfect, but women cannot be all things to all people. If you're doing great works, it's less possible, less likely."

And so I question, when blogging is influenced by either revenue or for potential traffic, whether the freedom to do great work, to write because of the pure need to do so is present. Blogging might or might not be great work - but, because we all lived well enough before blogging, and some of us might not blog forever - I would argue that enough of us do it because the need is present. It's optional, but it's an option that is well-excercised, isn't it? We are hard on each other because we expect a lot of ourselves, and want others to have the same consciousness, I propose.

Erica Jong said, in reference to Fear of Flying "But people read the book and said, "This is the way I feel" and handed it to their friends." "I think the reason it sold was people said, "Look at this, you've got to read this." they saw their own thoughts on paper for the first time, about sexuality and many other things. It was as if somebody had sliced open their heads and put the contents on the page, with great irreverence and humour, and it was fun to read. It was a very readable book, a sad book, a funny book, an entertaining book and page turner."

"What I always hear from readers is, "You validated me and you made me know I'm not alone, I'm not a freak, I'm not the only one who has felt that way."

Isn't that the appeal of blogging? That through it we find fellow mothers, mothers with deep and shallow thoughts and share pain and pleasure - and similar consciousness? But would Fear of Flying have been the same if it had an ad on every page? And what about this...what if in every post by a blogger you're encouraged to click on links, sometimes the same one just worded differently, sometimes references to other bloggers with income from ads, in a huge round of "more hits, maybe some click-throughs, more money"? What if that person commented a little more often, made the rounds in a sense, perhaps out of pure niceness, but perhaps with the thought in the back of her mind to keep those clicks coming in? Because they are profiting from "popularity", and "politicking" is the way to earn? What if someone's writing style changed, perhaps almost imperceptibly, since accepting ads? Is that an appealing thought? What if there was an explanation for it?

Some things just need to be free of ads. And some fine bloggers really ought to, and deserve to be unsullied by commercial interests in their personal space.

Sure, I read blogs with ads. I don't look, I don't click. I don't like. But I think it's like buying a magazine instead of a book - sometimes the little bit of writing in there is worth the annoying "continued on page 234" because Guess really needed and paid for seven pages to show sixteen year olds in provocative poses. I don't write a letter to every article writer I read, I paid the price of admission, then I close it up and go away. It's not like blogging - it doesn't often feel like I am reading a friend's writing. And I like that personal part of blogging. I think that's worth more. And that's what the companies behind the ads are counting on. That's what people who earn from their blogs count on.

As noted here,"Ron Williams, CEO of alternative news publisher Dragonfly Media, said, “We’ve reached a saturation point with commercial message among people who resent the intrusion of commercialism into almost every aspect of their lives. We’ve starting to see blowback and resentment.”

Yes, yes. See this post?

Later in the article, Stowe Boyd, president of Corante's Weblog network, was referred to as such: Boyd was less sanguine about the volatile mix of content and commerce. He made no predictions about the future of paid-blogging programs but said, “The trouble with opening up Pandora’s box is that it’s impossible to get all the plagues back inside.”

One of the wonderful things about blogging is that there are mores, but really no rules. No hard and fast code of ethics. Which leaves it open to pollution, depending on where each individual blogger draws a line and depending on what each blogger chooses to think. Are we being deliberately targeted? I think so. “When you have a conversation with a friend or trusted associate, you shouldn’t have to wonder in the back of your mind, ‘Has he been paid to say that?’” Boyd said. “You’re automatically diluting and squandering your trust by putting your editorial content up for bid.”


The compound problem is being told your worth when people solicit you for your work, is not knowing it for yourself beforehand. Blogging is such fantastic source for community, esteem, entertainment and discourse - but one of the best parts is that it can be free from ads, apart from perhaps your host.


And one of the other best parts is that some people still blog like nobody's reading them. The worst part is that while relatively few have made it a career, a few have made themselves careerists in blogging.


Which is why at the Motherlode conference with a panel of some fine fellow bloggers, I'll be speaking my part, "A Blog of One's Own", wherein I'll try to stick to my original topic: that blogging is a new folk art - one that perfectly combines a mother's traditional role as the storyteller in the family while allowing a space to "breathe air that hasn't been breathed a thousand times before by her family".

Sadly, that air has become polluted by the commercial world in the year since I proposed my topic.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Boo Boos from Boo Boo**

**end of visit updated injury count below





M: Well um, yeah...so Boo Boo...we're um...Alexis is staying with us for a few days.

B: A...the one they call "puppy" ?

M: Yes. Alexis.





B: (arches back and hisses)

M: Yeah. I kind of thought you'd react like that.

B: Alexis belongs next door.


M: Yes, and she'll be over there, mostly. I'll go over to feed her and spend time with her and stuff. But she's sleeping over here, because otherwise she barks all night.


B: She is stupid.






M: She's not stupid, Boo Boo. She's um...a little introverted and maybe not too bright. But it's not nice to call her stupid.


B: She is as sharp as a sack of wet mice.


M: She's really no concern of yours Boo Boo.


B: Her elevator doesn't go all the way to the top.


M: Enough.


B: Not the sharpest pencil in the box!


M: (sighs)


B: A few clowns short of a circus.


M: (sighs)


B: A few fries short of a Happy Meal.


M: (sighs)


B: A few beers short of a six-pack

M: (taps foot)

B: Dumber than a box of hair.

M: (glares)

B: A few peas short of a casserole.

M: (looks at imaginary wristwatch)

B: Doesn't have all her cornflakes in one box.

M: Do I need to check the history on my computer Boo Boo?

B: The wheel's spinning but the hamster's dead.

M: How about one Froot Loop shy of a full bowl.

B: Exactly. One taco short of a combo plate.

M: I'm beginning to get the picture, Boo Boo.

B: A few feathers short of a whole duck.

M: I don't have all day, Boo Boo.

B. All foam, no beer.

M: (chortles) Okay, that was a good one.

B: The cheese slid off the cracker.

M: Should I pull up a seat?

B: Body by Fisher Price - Brains by Mattel.

M: (sighs)

B: Has an IQ of 2 and it takes 3 to grunt.

M: Hey - I might use that one sometime!

B: Warning: Objects in mirror are dumber than they appear.

M; (exaggerated yawning)

B: Couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel.

M: (eyes glazing over)

B: She fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.

M: Oh, I haven't heard THAT enough times.

B: An intellect rivaled only by garden tools.

M: (supresses a snicker)

B: Elevator doesn't go all the way to the top floor?

M: You can do, and have done better.

B: Forgot to pay his brain bill.

M: Iffy. Work on that one.

B: Her sewing machine's out of thread.

M: This is becoming long and tiresome.

B: Her belt doesn't go through all the loops.

M: This is becoming long and tiresome.

B: If she had another brain it would be lonely.

M: Actually, this was tiresome back at "Objects in the mirror are dumber than they appear".

B:. Slinky's kinked.

M; You're really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Wanna wrap this up?

B: Surfing in Nebraska.

M: I'll give you one more.

B: Too much yardage between the goal posts.

M: Yeah. So. Like I said. Alexis is sleeping over for a few days.

B: I pity the fool who gets between me and that dog.





M: Um, Steve, I'm really sorry about that. Boo Boo kind of resents the fact that Alexis is staying here.





Injuries as of Friday morning:

Steve: 1 bite.
Marla: 2 scratches
Boo Boo: 0
Josie: 0
Alexis: 2 swipes across her bum, trembles in fear at sight of Boo Boo
Front hall carpet: It's a goner. Sprinkled with dog urine from fearful peeing during last attack
Back hall carpet: A goner. The dog pees in terror if Boo Boo so much as blinks at her.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Two Conversations That Really Happened

Steve: Is "NO" your favourite word?

Josephine: Nnnnn...yes.


**************************************************



Marla: Now do you understand why you are not supposed to crawl on the arm of the chair like that?

Josephine: No.

Marla: I just explained that you could get hurt. Why did you say "No"?

Josephine: Because I'm No-sephine.


Sunday, September 03, 2006

In Sports News This Weekend



Marla Good delivered when she had to, and her hard-earned victory has earned her a berth in the upcoming Cat Punting Championship Games.

In round three of the "I want to go outside/I don't want to go outside" semifinals, Boo Boo attempted a win with two feet out the door, the left rear haunch hovering between in and out, and a raised tail poised on the threshold. Marla made her move three seconds in, just as Boo Boo went for a fourth return inside with his showy "But it's raining" yowl.

In an exclusive interview with Hello Josephine, Marla admitted that cross-training was the secret to Saturday's win.

"You see, I have a toddler. I'd been through several bouts of "Please may I have some cheese/I don't want this cheese" just that morning, and well, I admit to having been soundly defeated in that tournament. So I took all of that leftover energy and propelled myself into a more powerful position for a decisive win against Boo Boo."

Boo Boo agreed he has to step up his game. "I didn't factor in the transferred frustration quotient." He had two successful rebounds earlier, and it was his weak final attempt to fray Marla's last nerve that may have been his downfall. "In retrospect, I should have played a really hard defense, with perhaps a "Cute Kitty Rolls On the Ground and Shows His Belly" play in between the second and third attempt. It was the aloof move on the third time out that gave her the added impetus to shoot me down."

Boo Boo elected to call a foul, and the replay shows that Marla did use the inside of her left foot to propel Boo Boo porchside - a departure from her usual outside-of-the-right-foot technique - but technically, a legal move as three of Boo Boo's feet remained grounded and his tail cleared the slowly-closing storm door with plenty of time to spare. Had Boo Boo become airborne at any point, in whole or in part, the penalty could range from extra hairs on Marla's pillow to urination on the sofa.

The euphoria in the Good camp was short-lived though. Marla faced a bout with Josephine in the "I Don't Want To Wear Pants" Superbowl on Sunday. Regarding her strategy before the evening heat, Marla said "I'm bringing out a secret weapon - I know that Rockets are proven to work for the using the potty competition. I've already aced that. It's the getting her to put her pants back on part I've gotta work on. So I'm going to bust out some Smarties. That may be the key to winning the potty training finals." Early results showed this to be an excellent tactic, and we'll see in later heats if this plays out.

The next round of Indecision 2006, Marla vs. Boo Boo will be playing out over the next eighteen or so years that he might live. Stay tuned for more results.