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I'm streaming C-SPAN on my computer while I work so that I can listen to/watch the DNC roll call. So I thought I'd take a poll.

Geek?

__YES __ NO

It's one of my favorite parts. I love all the pomp and circumstance - "I Jimmyjoe Hooter, representing the fine delegates from the birthplace of Davy Crockett, Andrew Jackson and Minnie Pearl; the home of the Great Smokey Mountains and Jack Daniels Whiskey; symbolized by the iris, the poplar tree and the Power T, do hereby cast our 85 votes from the three grand divisions of the great Volunteer State of Tenneessee... for Barack Obama!"

OK, so it's not EXACTLY like that. But I'm not far off. How can you not get excited? Normally I get to watch this pagentry from the comfort of my own home while I clean out closets or balance my checkbook, but they've moved it earlier in the day because of the potential Hillary drama.

What's a geek to do?

Men...

This snarky, superficial observation from the weekend comes not out of any real ill-will, but only from having a pile of crap on my desk too overwhelming to think about at the moment. So I'm invoking the Scarlett O'Hara defense ("I'll think about that tomorrow"). Well, for the next 15 minutes anyway...

Dear Joe Biden: I love you, man. Seriously. Couldn't be happier that you're Obama's running-mate. (If for no other reason than this brings the total count of people I know, or know of, from the state of Delaware to TWO.) But... when you're giving your first big speech as the Potential Next Vice President of the Free World, could you maybe have gotten a haircut? I know that we were all given short notice that you were chosen, but I'm assuming you got a better heads-up than the rest of us. And speaking of a Heads-Up... I'm also going to assume that there was probably one somewhere in the Springfield, Illinois area.


Dear Mayor of London: I don't know anything about you, but I bet I would like you too. Your name is Boris. How great is that? You strike me as a guy I'd enjoy sharing a pint of Guinness with in a pub. Some would argue that you too need a haircut, but I think it's cool. Sort of a young Ryan O'Neal meets Andy Warhol. However... I watched you on the closing ceremonies of the Olympics last night (Horrid London intro/preview/whateverthehellthatwas, by the way. You get David Beckham and Jimmy Page to fly to China and that's all we get? And don't even get me started on that weird bus and those umbrella dancers...) and I was wondering if maybe in 2012, when you're on television in front of another gabillion people, you could try buttoning your suit jacket? Just a thought.

Say what you will about Hillary or the Queen and their hair and their outfits, but they would have made damn sure they were properly groomed and appropriately buttoned. And one of them would have would have not only waved that Olympic flag around like a champ, but she'd have done it while also carrying a handbag...

Summer Lovin' Week 5

"Hot Tomato"

This week I would like to take a moment and acknowledge my little corner of the planet located on the east side of the river in good ole Nashvegas. We're an odd bunch over here. A former Victorian enclave turned ghetto turned urban frontier turned hodge-podge of what makes Nashville one of the best kept secrets in the land (in my opinion).

I would argue that my region of the country is a bit of a dichotomy - a yin and yang - of mint juleps and moonshine, bluebloods and backwoods, parasols and overalls, B.B. King and the B-52's. We defy stereotype and yet are some of the most stereotyped people around. I would also argue that my state is an even more intense example of that contrast, my city even more so, and my neighborhood - well, let's just say we take this yin and yang concept to a whole other level.

My neighborhood is a place where you're apt to see a young woman jogging down a sidewalk and sharing it with a homeless guy, striding by people hanging on their front porch playing guitars and mandolins, being passed by a car with the base up too loud, and then bumping into her neighbor on his way to Drag Queen Bingo at the corner bar that sits a block from one of the best child care facilities in the city.

It's not a perfect place or utopia - obviously, since some of my neighbors have to live on the streets. We don't do as good a job as we should of integrating all of our diverse populations. And we have our other difficulties - like a bit of a crime problem (there are a series of bumper stickers for our neighborhood - one of which says "we'll steal your heart and your lawn mower.") And the ongoing challenge of not crossing from urban renewal into over-gentrification.

So far the Yuppie insurgents (as I like to call them and then try to remind myself that "inclusive" means including everyone) haven't scrubbed every corner clean and cram-packed it with fake urban cuteness, but some have certainly tried. I complained once at dinner that I thought we were headed too far in that direction and spent much of the meal whining about outrageously high home prices and my new neighbor with the BMW and Weimaraner. When I left the restaurant I was relieved to find myself parked between a pickup with a confederate flag decal and a Prius with a bumper sticker that said "Dick Cheney eats kittens" because I knew that my weird little part of town would live to see another day.

One of the ways our overall spirit and oddity manifests itself is in the fairly-new August tradition of the Tomato Art Fest. Why the tomato (and why tomato art) you ask? Because it's a good Southern summer staple? Because we grow a particularly special variety in East Nashville? No. It's because the tomato is "a uniter, not a divider - bringing together both fruit and vegetable."

There's a beautiful tomato contest. And an ugly tomato contest. Tomato art show for adults and for kids. A costume competition for dogs. Salsa dancing and a Bloody Mary contest. There is a pageant that crowns a tomato queen and king on that Friday - one of the requirements being that you are able to lead the parade the next morning (pictured above). The parade on Saturday is a second line parade in the New Orleans tradition - started by some our Katrina evacuees on the one-year anniversary. It goes for only two blocks or so, stops to form a circle of singing and dancing, then turns and goes back to the other end. It's a brief, noisy, unstructured, sweaty, costumed, conglomeration of bedazzled umbrellas, kids on bikes, dogs in capes, women with crazy hats, men in platform shoes, and a guy playing a washboard-type thing with a spoon. Doesn't get much better than that:

Please excuse my poor digital-camera-as-video-camera skills

This year's winning bumper sticker:

More pictures from the parade

Post parade

Tomato-themed crafts for sale

Festival-goers

Even though it's usually crazy hot for Tomato Fest (last year I ended up showering twice before noon) I know that you can't really have a Tomato Fest in October or May, and well, a cooler-weather Apple Fest or Cabbage Fest just wouldn't have quite the same flair.

So I'd like to say thank you to my neighborhood for giving me a reason to not only be grateful for where I live and for the most-delicious tomato, but also for making me enjoy the lovely onset of August.

Did I really just put the words lovely and August in the same sentence? Yes, I guess I did.

Well if He isn't, He Should Be

From the New York Times Duh Section:

"Is Jon Stewart the Most Trusted Man in America?"

It's been noted in writing here at least once and in my conversations with anyone who will still listen to me without rolling their eyes (a small, but tolerant clan) that no other man on the planet achieves the level of smart AND funny (and cute) that Jon Stewart does. No one. And I stand by this by saying that if I ever get a raise again, it will go to getting cable back in my house just so I can watch "The Daily Show." So yeah, I'll tack on "most trusted" to that list of adjectives as well.

But seriously, read the article, it's a substantial and well-written piece full of brilliant and hilarious quotes from him ("Mr. Stewart has said he is looking forward to the end of the Bush administration 'as a comedian, as a person, as a citizen, as a mammal'"). Not to mention a photo that is going to give my This Old House poster a little competition...

Olympic Observations

I have been good and taking my pictures and thinking of summer-related essay topics, but the first week of August all I did was work and last week all I did was work and watch the Olympics so I'm two installments behind. But I can't help it. Work stuff aside, I'm an Olympics geek. Normally I have a slight preference to the winter games, but during the last summer Olympics I was painting my kitchen cabinets. It was just me and Bob Costas for howevermany weeks painting and sanding and learning the minutiae about every athlete. So this year I feel like I'm being reunited with a lot of old friends. I'll get back to my summer assignment shortly, but to get the typing fingers limbered up again...

1. I am not tired - nor will I tire any time soon - of Michael Phelps coverage. Run him into the ground all you want to NBC, I can take it. Dooce named him to her top five list of male celebrities - twice - and I would have to agree with her. I did do the math first though and while it isn't entirely impossible, I am not realistically old enough to be his mother. So I feel okay in going on and on about him. What is it exactly? Is it that he is both terribly hot and adorably dorky all at the same time? Or that he is hottest WITH the swim cap on. What other human even looks good - let alone BETTER - with a swim cap on? He needs another gold just for that. Or that when asked if he was going to get to enjoy the rest of his time at the Olympics, he said he was, but that he did want to get home soon because he missed his dog. That would have made ten gold medals if I were judging.

2. Speaking of swimming... it's been well-established that I am not a flag-draped, "U-S-A" chanting patriot. I get just as excited for other countries when they do well in the Olympics. But when our men's relay team came from behind and beat those snarky, trash-talking, little Frenchie bastards it was almost like I was nine years old again watching the US beat the Soviets in hockey. Not quite - but still pretty damn good. It was made all the better when they showed such good sportsmanship and class and walked directly over to the French team after the race and shook their hands. Makes me want to wear one of those Uncle Sam hats. Okay, not really...

3. One of the many things that keep me from being a flag-draped, "U-S-A" chanting patriot is someone like the women's pole vaulting coach. If I could hand Michael Phelps gold medals for Wearing a Swim Cap Hotly and Total Adorableness for Missing His Dog, then I would so award this dude golds for Extreme Jack-Assedry and Being a Serious Tool. An American pole-vaulter-woman comes in second, losing only to what is apparently the Greatest Female Pole-Vaulter in the Known Universe Ever. After winning silver, she goes over to her coach in the stands - and he berates her! And he's mic'ed so the entire NBC viewing audience gets to listen as he says things like "When you can't even do [pole-vaulty lingo] what do you think is going to happen!?! All you get is silver! That's what happens!" Maybe it's just me, but I don't think I'd be such an arrogant and condescending pig toward a woman who carries around a giant pole for a living...

4. There are a lot of adjectives to describe gymnastics. Funny and refreshing usually don't make the list though. It's always so serious. Everything is so dire and intense. But with the scrappy US men's team's jubilation in working toward an unexpected bronze medal and Bela Karolyi getting all riled up about underage Chinese and bad judging, gymnastics has been a breath of fresh air. I love it when people on camera stop with all the pretense. So many other times we have to endure people who are disappointed WITH A SILVER MEDAL or are so prepped and rehearsed about what to say on camera that it gets to be tiresome. But when the guy on the men's team turned to the camera and genuinely and excitedly shouted "Bronze medal, baby! That's how we roll!" or when Karolyi in one of his tirades kept shouting "ez repoof!" (is ripoff) about the judging of the women's vault - I was cracking up.

5. There have been several "celebrity" deaths this spring and summer that have really affected me. They each seemed to be a genuinely good person who went about doing what they loved with passion but without a lot of fanfare. Most famously in the news have been Tim Russert and Bernie Mac. And even though I didn't know them, I really do miss them. But while watching the Olympics I have also been missing Jim McKay. For my whole childhood he was the voice of the Olympics (not to mention the Kentucky Derby). I can hear his voice and see his golden blazer perfectly in mind. NBC has covered the Olympics for a while now and in general I think they kind of suck at it (even though I do admit to having a geeky crush on Bob Costas). No one did the Olympics like ABC and that was mostly because of Jim McKay. He would have really gotten a kick out of Michael Phelps, the men's gymnastics team, and Bela Karolyi. Plus I'm pretty sure he would have had a few choice - but tactful - words for the French relay team and that pole-vaulting coach.

I Bet She Can Pronounce Nuclear Correctly...

Every so often someone asks me if I would ever vote Republican.

My response to that has always been "I'd rather eat glass."

Well, after careful consideration and soul searching I've decided that response really needs to be modified.

It will now be "I'd rather vote for Paris Hilton."

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/64ad536a6d

Who knew she was funny? Or had an energy policy?

Already a vast improvement...

Summer Lovin' Week 4

"On Holiday"

Just as a little preamble - I do love the way the British say things so much better - what mouthy Yank came up with the word "vacation" anyway? Bah! Send it to the dust bin!

Anyway... Sadly, I was not the one "on holiday" this weekend. But the Tennessee sales tax was.

And before you put your hand on your hip, wag your finger in the air, and say "oh don't you go participating in the 'sales tax holiday' after you chastised Hilary and PawPaw for wanting to have a 'gas tax holiday'!" let me say that it is SO. NOT. THE. SAME. THING. I won't go into too much of a rant since I'm supposed to be using my time for these posts to put happy thoughts into the universe and onto the interwebs. BUT I will just say that a nine-point-freakin'-seven-five-percent-sales-tax on clothes and a slightly less obscene tax ON FOOD is regressive and an abomination. However, a tax on a non-renewable fuel source that is also a major pollutant should be taxed even more than it is now for those reason and whole variety of others. Granted, that tax money should be going toward public transportation and to mitigate the pollution created by gasoline-burning engines instead of going toward - oh I don't know - BUILDING MORE ROADS. But enough...

The Tennessee Tax Free Weekend is a fairly new thing. I had been going with my mom to Atlanta to visit friends and family for the weekends of the Georgia sales tax holiday. And yes, saving sales tax really does not warrant a trip to Atlanta BUT there are always lots of additional sales and such on those weekends AND Atlanta has stores we don't have. The Container Store. Crate and Barrel. A pretty good outlet mall. Nordstroms. Ikea. The Container Store. AND if you already have people there you want to visit and its too damn hot to do anything with them outside, what are you going to do? Go to the new aquarium? That would be nice, yes, but let's compare both activities. Both crowded. Both cost money. The aquarium would be educational, yes, but I already know enough about jellyfish to satisfy me for a while. On the other hand. Stackable laundry baskets? Cute boxes - with label holders on the ends - that would contain my VHS collection of Northern Exposure episodes? A bookcase with a name I can't pronounce that I could assemble myself? Tell me more!

I take it all very seriously. Make a list of things I need. A list of things I want. A pre-determined amount of money and an estimate of what can be spent on the "need" versus the "want" lists. I don't buy shirts I only sort-of like just because it's a really good bargain, but I leave room for the serendipitous lamp or bowl or little tan Kenneth Cole mules (that I'm still wearing four years later and get compliments on every time I do - btw). It's like a hunting trip - lots of preparation and game plans but with the thrill of the unexpected. Only no cammo or firearms or bloodshed. Well, usually no bloodshed. There was the time my step-father decided at the last minute to go with us and then asked if we could spend the afternoon at a used bookstore...

So, finally Tennessee legislators got a clue and started a Tax Free Weekend for us. Not quite as exciting. But good. No outlet mall or Nordstroms, but Macy's proved pleasant and profitable. No Ikea, or Crate and Barrel, or Container Store, but a good time can always be had at Target. And with my ongoing lack of funds and a lack of living room ceiling, anything more would not have been feasible. We did well though. Here's my haul. (Hey, get me - posting pictures of my stuff like the preppy bloggers do. Someone stop me before I get something monogrammed... )

Jones New York classic black dress pants that will from this point forward be worn at least once a week. Not an enormous bargain but I've finally come to the conclusion that I have to spend good money on pants. Clinton and Stacy would be so proud.

Nine West black shirt. You can't really tell, but it has cute little pleats. And I normally hate the way I look in buttoned down shirts so this was quite the find on multiple levels.

Liz Claiborne shirt, but in green. In the picture this color is cute, but in person it was not. So I got it in a much-cuter, grass green, but no picture of it exists in cyberspace for some reason. I promptly wore it the next day to work with dark wash jeans and cute, black, rounded toe flats.

(If I had added "black patent leather headband" or "kate spade hobo bag" to that sentence you would have had permission to come and smack me around with something that stinks of patchouli.)

Target was equally exciting but less photogenic so I won't post any pictures of the hairbrush, thank you notes (God help me, they were pink), or string cheese. But the dogs did get their annual back-to-school collars.

Oliver's

Elsie's

(And hell if I didn't notice until now how preppy they are too. What is wrong with me! Don't worry though, pigs will fly before I put my dogs in sweaters or rhinestone collars. Well, as a joke / photo op, but not seriously. Elsie would smother me in my sleep. Oliver on the other hand would probably enjoy a little something sparkly...)

So there you go... another summer adventure has come and gone. We plotted, we scoped, we stalked, we pounced and we left triumphant. And nothing had to be strapped grotesquely to the hood of the car. Or monogrammed.