We're back and no H is not my middle name

It's been more than three weeks* since my last blog post, and to be fair that one was pretty weak.**

(This is currently how we eat dinner.  We have no table yet and the pizza is frozen.  We are hobos.  Hobos with wine*** and nice chairs, but hobos nonetheless.)

Yesterday the plumber came and finished the repairs.  Over the past few days, we've had most of the cast iron pipes replaced as well as all the piping in the kitchen replaced, the damage which was found by the crew replacing our furnace and all the dusty dusty ductwork underneath the house.

I mention that because while it sounds boring (and it is) those pipes and ductwork, I suspect, are our anniversary trip.  Yep, a first-time-traveling-sans-the-little-man trip to somewhere that does not allow children**** may now be stuffed underneath the floorboards in the crawlspace.

But things are getting done, but it's been a transition.

Right now, as I type this, I am sitting in what most likely (in the not too distant future) will be the man-room*****/office.

I am surrounded by boxes, many of which are labeled "BOOKS/PAPERS."

When we got engaged, things started moving ultra-fast, so we could get all hitched up and move overseas.

In the process, (almost)Husband went to Norway to start work for a few weeks.

I packed up my apartment and moved things.  We were in such a hurry (packing, wedding planning, etc...) that, instead of sorting through much of it, I just tossed it into boxes and put it all into storage, intending to deal with it when we moved back.

In retrospect this may not have been the best idea, at least not completely.

I really don't need all those paperbacks including that unread copy of The Tao of Pooh, given to me by suitor whose name has long been forgotten, mainly because after that gift, there were no further dates.  But also because I abhor the vast majority of cartoon characters and especially loathe ones that lisp.******

But I do have every single one of my reporter's notebooks******* as well.

And on the top of the pile in one of the boxes was one of them with the notes from one of my favorite moments, in which I was confused with a major deity.

It was late in the evening in a nightclub in New York, after an award show. My intended interviewee was a southern rapper redneck type, who is not actually one bit Southern, but has perfected the redneck act to a tee. At the time, he was rumored to be engaged to a large bosomed actress, who once favored red swimsuits and had always favored musician types.  My orders were to ask him about the wedding plans, to get any detail at all.

The club was dark and smoky.  The music was at top volume and every conversation varied between shouting and speaking close into each other's ear.  My target interviewee was well into his bottle and had commanded the deejay booth.********

I walked up and it went something like this:

ECD:  Hi

SouthernRapperRedneck:  Hey darlin.'  What's your name?

ECD:  I'm Elizabeth from NameOfMagazine. I just wanted to come over and say congratulations about your engagement.

SRR: Uh.  Thanks.

ECD:  (I am not quite sure exactly what I said here, I scribbled "Chatter about wedding, etc...")

SRR:  That's none of your f***in' business. Get the f*** out of here.

ECD:  Well, alright, thanks so much.

And I turn to leave. I asked the questions.  He declined to comment.  So at that point I consider that part of the evening done. Oddly enough, SRR does not. He grabs my upper arm, holding me tightly enough that I cannot move.

SRR:  Seriously, get the f*** out of here.

ECD:  I would sir, but you're holding onto me.

SRR:  Who do you think you are!!?!!  Jesus H. Christ!!?!!

ECD: No sir, I don't.

SRR: Smartass!  Seriously, get the f*** out of here.

ECD:  I would sir, but you're holding onto me.

SRR:  Who do you think you are!!?!!  Jesus H. Christ!!?!!

ECD: No sir, I don't.

SRR: Smartass! Seriously, get the f*** out of here.

This went on for a few minutes, in varying forms.

He got more irate, I got calmer and more amused.

Then his manager pried his fingers off me.

And while I did not get the details of the upcoming nuptials, I did have a hand shaped bruise on my upper arm for the next week or so.

And I had forgotten that until I just read it again and I still think it's funny.

So that's something.

_____________________________________

*Or thereabouts. I could figure out the exact number of days but that would require me to find a calendar, count the days, etc... and I just don't care enough to do that, and really, I'll bet you don't care enough either...

**Hilarious, but weak. 

***Dear PC Police, Let me explain. First of all, I think most hobos tend to have wine, so that's apropos. But I do not mean to be insensitive to the plight of legitimate hobos, both past and perhaps present, I merely mean to identify somewhat with the act of carrying around all of one's possessions on one's back, or in one's suitcase, if you will.  Sincerely, Elizabeth

****Listen, there's no offense meant and we adore our little guy (and also many of the children we know), but to be clear, we adore our little guy.  If we're going to spend some cash to go traveling without him for a few days, we don't really want to hang out with strangers' children.  

*****I suspect that if you are married and are reading this post, the term "man room" needs no explanation.

******Yeah, yeah, yeah...but even in light of this shocking fact, it's pretty likely that Elliot will have a pretty alright childhood anyway. 

*******Except for the drawerful from my last semi-fulltime job.  One morning I came in, sat at my desk, opened my drawer and found it completely empty.  The mail clerk, misunderstanding a request to clean out some old file cabinets, dumped out three of my key drawers, including files, notes, tapes, a calendar from that current month and all of my personal items.  I spent the rest of that day, not reporting, but climbing through the three dumpsters in the bowels of the AJC building.  No kidding.  It was two years' worth of notes and ideas, including loads of interviews I had conducted for upcoming stories.  It was a BIG deal. And so I dumpster dove, all in vain.  I did not find one of my own things, but I did find really interesting unshredded expense reports.  These did not make the experience worthwhile, but did make for some interesting reading.

********Hey, don't judge.  This was a publicity event.  The famous people who were there were mainly B-list and below and were clamoring for ink. Every single one of their publicists knew exactly which magazines were sending reporters and to a certain extent, what the content of the questions could be...And also, to be fair, I saw SRR perform at another magazine's celebration about a year later.  He killed.  No joke, it was an awesome show.  I did not interview him that time, so I cannot say for sure if he was still confusing reporters with deities or if it was just a one-time event.

Do these socks make my feet look fat?*

Over the past few weeks, I've also been asked:

"Now that you're heading back does this mean you're going to be shutting down or renaming your blog?"

The short answer:
No and no.

The long answer:
Striped Socks and Skinny Jeans was never really about stripes, socks, skinny and/or jeans.**

It's always been about figuring out how to navigate where I am---which right now has been Stavanger, Norway and soon will be Atlanta, Georgia.

I've written about gettting hitched up, being newly married, traveling and having a baby, as well as other weighty topics such as wombats, how not to be burgled, glitter and tobacco.

I've even had contributors.

None of this will change.

So I'm just going to keep on with what I'm doing.

Please feel free to stop back by anytime.  You're always welcome.


_________________
*Horizontal stripes are often not considered a great idea on most body parts unless you are very very brave.  I am not.  But stripes on feet?  I kind of like them.  They just seem friendly.

**The name came from my very first trip to Stavanger, which was not Husband's first trip.  (He's American, but had lived here before, moved back to the US.  Then we got hitched up and moved back to Stavanger for a few years.)

It was early in 2008 and as it often is in these parts, Stavanger was cold and rainy.  But being the optimistic sort that I am, I immediately tried to figure out how to make the dampness less annoying.  And I began with my feet, which if you've ever had really wet and cold feet, you may know that often that makes all the difference.

If you every happen to drop into Stavanger, and really most of Scandinavia, you'll notice that women tend to wear close-fitting pants or leggings, often jeans, tucked into knee high boots. I am convinced that it is less (or at least equal) a fashion statement and more of a practical one.  

On dark, dank days, the last thing you want to do is get the hemline of your pants wet.  Then not only will it eventually creep up your pants, but also will track into your home.

Which brings me to the next bit, the striped socks.  Unless it's a place of business, shoes are never worn inside.  Once you step over the threshold into your home, the shoes are removed.  And really, no one wants to see holey socks.

Also, I just like stripes.

Emily Post

This weekend the cover story of the New York Times Magazine is "Exposed," a personal essay by a writer named Emily Gould.

As an avid follower of Gawker.com, I followed her posts during her tenure, which true to Gawker's tone, were snarky and insidery with a heavy dollop of schadenfreude.

In her own blogs, she was ultra-revealing of the details of her own life, as well as of many of the people around her.

And, about six months ago, I interviewed her for an article I wrote for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution (the AJC) called "Plugged in For Life."*



The story explains how Google works and that its memory is forever, if not longer. The portion of the interview with Gould that made it into the story was:

"We are all responsible for how we present ourselves online, " says Emily Gould, Gawker editor and author of the posts chronicling Page's story. "Shame is the new fame. People come to the public attention because of the things they do. It's really a culture of narcissism."


And, in the last paragrapher, in reference to the subject of the story, a man who earned internet noteriety...

Page is left with only two courses of action, said Gould at Gawker. "It's scary that it's out there for perpetuity, but put it into perspective: It's not easy to erase, but you can always do something bigger. And at the very least, the pace of the Internet turns over quickly.

"Just remember you're not the center of the universe."


"Exposed," this weekend's article in the NYT Magazine, chronicles her experiences blogging and the effects it's had on her psyche, her career and her personal life.

I would have liked to see it as less of an essay and more of a serious magazine article, a real in-depth look into blogging, buoyed by her own personal anecdotes.

But make no mistake; the article is well written and details the personal ramifications of a cultural phenomenon.

For the most part, the commenters have ripped her apart as self-centered, selfish and invasive, and deemed her words a waste of trees, and oxygen.

They've decided the cover forum should have been used for "more worthy" subjects such as the war in Iraq or the earthquake in China, which inarguably are worthy subjects.

But to decry blogging as an unworthy subject is wrong.

The magazine is not the newspaper.

Put simply, the newspaper is a quick turnaround medium for the news, with a time frame made even shorter by the ever quickening race to get it online and first.

The magazine, while a part of the NYT, is a general interest magazine, with a much more thoughtful lead-time, comprised of short and long-form articles, Q&As, essays and commentary. It covers a variety of subjects, which include politics, and culture, which also includes "pop" culture.

Right now, while blogging could arguably be called "pop" culture, it is just about three minutes to becoming "actual" culture, if it's not already.

According to data complied by Technorati, a company whose business it is to follow what's happening online, "there are over 175,000 new blogs (that’s just blogs) every day. Bloggers update their blogs regularly to the tune of over 1.6 million posts per day, or over 18 updates a second."

And that's just what is happening today. That is not counting all the ones that existed yesterday or the ones that will be created tomorrow.

Blogging, in its most simple definition, is merely writing in an online forum.

And to that point, more than sixty years ago, George Orwell wrote an essay called "Why I Write."

And his essay is exactly that and well, well worth reading.

In it, he identifies the four reasons that any writer writes:

1) Sheer egotism: "a desire to be clever" and "to be remembered after death."

2) Aesthetic enthusiasm: "words and their right arrangement."

3) Historical purpose: "to find out the facts and store them up."

4) Political purpose: "a desire to push the world in a certain direction."

Orwell also said, "It can be seen how these various impulses must war against one another, and how they must fluctuate from person to person and from time to time."

Because you're reading this, on my blog, perhaps you wonder, why I write...

So the answer (in a attempt to organize into a semblance of order) is:

1) Historical purpose:

Chronicling our life for readers (family, friends and clickers) who are thousands of miles away and many time zones helps me feel more connected. And it helps them feel more involved and intouch with our day-to-day.

It's also a kind of picture diary/memoir of our life here, in both the adventure and the mundane.
_______


2) Aesthetic enthusiasm/Sheer egotism:

In my past life, I practiced daily deadline journalism.

Now as I morph into whatever career or life as it is unfolding, I need to keep my fingers limber and my perspective fresh.

Also, I think of one of Big D's mantras, which can be applied to almost anything, "If you don't use it, you lose it." So whatever it is that I "have," I don't want to lose.

Plus, one day, I want to be in a card catalogue. Seriously. One day, if they even still exist, I want to look up my name, check my shelf number, wander through the stacks and search for my book.
_______


3) Political purpose:

This one is a bit foggier, but it's solidly there...And it's wrapped up in community and perception.

To be clear: I wouldn't change a thing about my life. I love Husband and our pack more than anything in the entire, whole world. I couldn't have a better partner and family. We're on a great adventure and it's only getting better.

But make no mistake, over the past six months, we've gone through a lot...marriage, global move, job changes, family illness half a world away, just to name a few.

It's occasionally been a momentary challenge, but here's the thing: We're not the only ones. All over this town and the world, there are people in their first year of marriage or with sick parents or living as expats or wondering "what" they are when their roles have changed.

So that's a big part of "why I write." Before I moved here, I followed blogs of the day to day experiences of people in similar situations to help me gauge what was about to happen and it helped.

So while I'm still thinking about this one, it's a big part.
_______



So, saying blogging is a self-indulgent exercise and, by extension, to vilify Gould, is a rash over-simplification.

All over the world and the internet, blogging has changed the face of journalism. Now on every major newspaper staff there is at least one "mojo," which is short for "mobile journalist," a real-time reporter, who in a very real sense, writes by blogging. Then there is the "citizen journalist." Note the captions and bylines on some of the CNN photos of the earthquake. Those are from real people out in the world.

All over the world and the internet, bloggers are connecting through prayer groups and religious affiliations. Still others discuss the minutiae of the worldwide economy and how to fix it. Others contribute to computer code to make our machines run faster and better. Others dissect Man United strategy in their win over Chelsea.

And others detail their lives, which, if put on paper, would be shelved under "memoir."

So judge the flaws as you see them in Gould's essay, but don't judge Gould.

She's just a microcosm of what is really out there.

Every single day, every single second, millions of people blog. Millions more read their words.

Whether or not you may approve of the content is a personal decision. Hang out until the very last word or click away, it's up to you.

And if you don't like what someone is saying in their blog, get your own.


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


*In case you want to read "Plugged in for Life"

AJC Main Edition
Date: Monday, 11/5/2007
Section Name: Living
Section Letter: C
Page: 1
Label:

PLUGGED IN FOR LIFE
Take care: 'Shame is the new fame' in the online world, and your public humiliation could last a long, long time.

ELIZABETH COBB / Staff
ecobb@ajc.com

When Atlantan John Fitzgerald Page fired off a scathing e-mail to a would-be online suitor at match.com, he couldn't have imagined the repercussions.

Page's e-mail wound its way through cyberspace, landing last month in the in-boxes of "The Bert Show" at Q100 and finding a high-profile home at the New York-based media gossip site Gawker.com, where it generated 285,000 page views and more than 3,000 reader comments, most of them attacks on Page's hubris. The AJC story about Page, which appeared Oct. 12, generated more than 135,000 page views.

A cautionary tale of the Internet age, Page's story is proof that everyone is game where scandal or public embarrassment is concerned, and the fallout can last into perpetuity.

Page's note to the woman who rebuffed him accused her of being out of shape and berated her for rejecting him despite his many qualities, which he listed as: "8.9 on [hotornot.com], Ivy League grad, Mensa member, can bench/squat/leg press over 1,200 lbs., has had lunch with the secretary of defense, has an MBA from the top school in the country, lives in a Buckhead high rise, drives a Beemer convertible, has been in 14 major motion pictures, was in Jezebel's Best Dressed, etc."

The simple stroke of the "send" key wound up getting Page branded "The Worst Person in the World" by Gawker. Offline it would have been a fleeting moment of shame forgotten in a matter of weeks. Not so online. In a world where 70 percent of North Americans are Internet users, according to InternetWorldStats.com, and the Google search engine is so pervasive it is now a verb, nothing online is ever completely forgotten. And in an era when potential employers, romantic suitors and friends Google each other as a first step in getting acquainted, a negative post can having a resounding effect. Today, when Page's name is plugged into the search engine, the Gawker post pops up second in the list of sites that contain his name. Unless he tops the scandal in popularity, that is most likely where it will stay.

"We are all responsible for how we present ourselves online, " says Emily Gould, Gawker editor and author of the posts chronicling Page's story. "Shame is the new fame. People come to the public attention because of the things they do. It's really a culture of narcissism."

Public scandal was once more commonly the domain of celebrities and politicians. And with the advent of Internet culture, their sins may be forgiven but never forgotten.

Paris Hilton has starred in a reality TV show, had a chart-topping record, written two best-selling books, walked thousands of red carpets, done a stint in jail and is great-granddaughter to the Hilton hotel founder. But Google her name. A page detailing her infamous sex tape, "1 Night in Paris, " leaked online in 2003, pops up third in the list.

Former N' Sync member Lance Bass says in his new book, "Out of Sync, " that his mother discovered he was gay by Googling her son's friend, reality star Richard Lehmkuhl. When rumors popped up that the two were in a relationship, he was forced to come out to her and then days later on the cover of People magazine.

Removing a Google link to embarrassing material can be an almost insurmountable task. Google will remove content if it contains personal information such as Social Security numbers or credit card numbers, but it can take days or even weeks to investigate each case and remove the offending item. The only other course of action is to ask that the content be removed from each individual site that contains it.

"This is to protect the integrity of the Web, preventing people from capriciously pulling content lawfully posted by others, " says a Google spokesman.

Jerry Portwood, a former Atlantan who's now managing editor of New York Press, recalls a phone call he received from a former intern who had written a personal essay about his mother convincing him to reconsider a surgical procedure he'd planned to have. It was titled "How mom saved my manhood."

"He called begging me to take it down, " says Portwood. "He was trying to get a corporate job and every time an employer Googled him, that was the first thing that popped up. I told him that it was a good piece and also that it's part of our archive." The story stayed. Portwood says he's gotten at least six similar calls --- from both writers and subjects of stories --- over the last year.

Let this be a lesson: Nothing electronic is totally private, not even personal e-mail, the source of Page's public shaming. Page added to the maelstrom by posting responses and comments on gawker.com and his personal Web site, maintaining that the message was private and intended for one person only. He requested Gawker remove the e-mail from its site, adding, "I really don't want to get my legal team involved." Gawker refused.

One attorney thinks Page may have been wronged.

"E-mail can be protected by copyright law just as an article, book or work of art is protected, " says Atlanta attorney Doug Isenberg, of the GigaLaw Firm, who's been practicing Internet and technology law for more than a decade. He likens Page's situation to a 1987 copyright infringement case won by author J.D. Salinger against Random House, which had planned to publish lengthy quotes from letters the author had written. According to the ruling, quoting a few lines of a letter may be permissible, but publishing long passages or complete letters is not.

So does Page have a case? "At this point, proving damages would be difficult, " Isenberg says. "Really you can't put the genie back into the bottle. Right now it's out there in so many place that it wouldn't be worth it."

Page is left with only two courses of action, said Gould at Gawker. "It's scary that it's out there for perpetuity, but put it into perspective: It's not easy to erase, but you can always do something bigger. And at the very least, the pace of the Internet turns over quickly.

"Just remember you're not the center of the universe."

WHAT WILL GOOGLE REMOVE?

Content containing personal information such as ...

> Social Security or government ID numbers

> Bank account or credit card numbers

> An image of a person's signature

> Explicit content that violates Google's guidelines, which could include pages that install viruses, contain hidden text and other manipulative and deceptive practices.

Author:
Graphic Info:
ID: 0007403974
Type: Graphic
Name: 0007403974FinalGoogle102507
Date: 11/05/2007
Page: C1
Edition: Main
Pub: AJC
Caption: JEMAL R. BRINSON / Staff
Illustration features a man imprisoned and on display in an electronic device with a Google logo.

A Masters in Expat Housewifery*

Though we just got here eleven days ago and we've only been hitched for a little more than three weeks, I'd been researching the Expat life for months.

I'd been reading blogs written by Stavanger wives who had moved here for their husbands' careers...(look to the right for Victoria's Guide to Norway, for example.) I'd researched the Norwegian lifestyle. Husband had been prepping me and we came for the house-hunting visit. So I thought I was pretty versed up on the Expat aspect.

Then there was the marriage aspect of it all. I have been a bridesmaid 14 times, so that should count for something. I've been talking to my friends about it for years and finally found someone I wanted to marry.

And,most importantly, even with all the unknowns, I'd been gathering advice from all sorts of sources. And, the best advice of all, came from the infinitely wise DaAnne...

A few weeks before the hitching, she and I went shopping for the skinny jeans immortalized in the title of this blog. We were sitting in some restaurant outside of some giant mall outside of Atlanta, having a few glasses of wine, engaging in a little pre-shopping strategizing.

And, feeling a little sentimental, I said, "Mom, do you have any marriage advice for me?" It must have surprised her because she started laughing, even spewing a bit. Finally, after several long moments and attempts at humorous deflection, she said, "Why don't you two just try to always be nice to each other. Then see how it goes."

So, armed with my jeans and a resolve to always be nice, I thought I was about as ready as possible.

And, for variety of reasons, both personal and professional, I intended to take good notes about the experiences along the way.

And of course, I knew there would be challenges ahead, but that no matter what, Husband and I will handle it happily and well.

And we have and we will. It's been a great amount of fun, with more to come...

But just based on the sociological discoveries thus far, I suspect this experience is really the structure for a Masters Program...

Some planned core courses:

Get Your Mind Right, Girl 601
The Psychological Economics of Work In and Out of the House

Conversion 702
It's Not Just Fahrenheit to Celsius

Cultural Ideology 601
Just Because Your Bra Size is Now 75D Does Not Mean You are Fat

Anti-Math 508
You Just Might as Well Quite Converting Kroner to Dollars

I'm still working on the rest of the curriculum.


*hous wif-uh-ree, preferably pronounced with a Middle English accent.