Just Call Me Doctor

So, I'm gonna do this embarrassing thing where I talk about my mom. I do it pretty frequently because I can't help myself - she's pretty neat. Incidentally, my mom says I should stop doing that because it makes me seem like a loser. But then, that's my crime: I love my mother. Lock me up.

Long ago, when I was living in Vero Beach my mom came to visit and I took her to happy hour to meet some friends. She had heard me talk about my friend Rob and was happy to meet him when he approached her. He firmly extended his hand and introduced himself, "Rob Blarbitty, Attorney at Law." My mother knew my friend Rob was not a lawyer, so without skipping a beat she met his ridiculous introduction with, "Eleanor Moore, Marketing Genius."

What she didn't know is that Rob Blarbitty was not my friend Rob, but just some random stranger who was letting her know she could call him "Esquire" any time.

I love this story for two reasons: 1. Eleanor Moore, Marketing Genius??! Are you kidding me? Will I ever be that quick on my feet? and 2. Years later, my mother really has become a marketing genius. And a savvy businesswoman to boot.

I submitted my PR project on Monday, for which I used Moore Better Communication as my focus. One of the press releases' headings is "Marketing Genius Solves all your Web Design Needs." I hope I don't get points deducted for silliness.

Here Lies a Satisfied Woman

WHITMAN, Meredith Hampton, 82, of Richmond, Va., died in her home surrounded by family on Thursday, October 28, 2064. Her husband of 50 years, Paul, preceded her in death by only two days. She is survived by two children, Dr. Oliver Whitman (Kerry) and Daphne Jones (Fred), and four grandchildren, all of Richmond, Va. Whitman grew up in Oklahoma but spent her adult years living in various places along the east coast. She wasted no time making her way to the ocean after graduating from Oklahoma State University with a bachelor's degree in English. She spent most of her career writing feature stories for "Vanity Fair" magazine, interviewing such creative notables as Wes Anderson, Diablo Cody and Ben Folds . After she and Paul married in 2014, they spent two years in Nicaragua with the Peace Corps promoting sustainable agriculture. Whitman considered this her greatest contribution to the world and continued to volunteer in local food sharing and farming groups throughout her life. Friends may offer condolences to the family from 1 to 4 p.m. on Sunday, October 31, at the home of Dr. and Mrs. Whitman, 2605 E. Franklin St., Richmond, Va. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden.

Moore Better Communication

Brilliant, isn't it? That's the name of my mom's new web development company. I happen to love it. And while I don't have business cards yet, I am acting as unofficial senior editor. And for the next couple of weeks I will serve as make-believe public relations guru. I've chosen Moore Better for my big class project and I'm excited about building a PR packet for it. Mom, do you offer a benefits package for pretend employees?

Today I will work on the assignment given to us in Wednesday's class. There's nothing like writing your own obituary on a rainy day. Pretty morbid, methinks.

Actually, I'm looking forward to writing it. I think it's an interesting assignment and we have quite a bit of freedom with it. I have the opportunity to write my life, basically. Now I can finally get around to earning that master's degree and serving in the Peace Corps. Oh, and hiking the Appalachian Trail and writing that novel. Wow, who knew life would be so simple and fulfilling?

Back in the Bladdle Again

If "blog" translates to "web log," then "bladdle" is a "web log saddle." Right?

I have been coerced into firing this thing up again, per my journalism writing professor's instruction. Last Wednesday's assignment was to create a blog and discuss our MASC 203 course.

So here I am - reviving the blog I abandoned months ago - a decrepit thing by now, with a musty odor and virtual rats and mold throughout. No need to take up more Internet space, I figured. Reduce, reuse, recycle. You're welcome, blogosphere.

As for the class, I have enjoyed our work so far. It's been nice oiling the old writing wheels again. School is pretty fun when it's not the only thing going on in your life. That said, it has been a little difficult juggling work, school, and a social life, but worth the effort.

While the broadcast journalism writing is a tad easier than print, I feel like I'm more suited for print. Perhaps once I get more acquainted with creating visual pieces, I will feel more at ease with that side of it.

I'm trying to decide what product or brand or sports team or band I want to focus on for my big PR project. It needs to be something I enjoy looking at and working with because I have a feeling I will be spending a lot of time with this entity in the coming weeks.

I have considered using my favorite local band, my mother's web development company, or something generic like, the beach, or vegetables. I have this magnet on my refrigerator that says, "Try Organic Food...or as your grandparents called it, Food." I love that. That could definitely be fun.

Lots to consider.

Not Your Grandma's Sunday Afternoon Book Club

Question: What do you do when your book club chooses a book that everyone agrees will elicit about 15 minutes worth of discussion?

Answer: Host a fantastic dinner party wherein all participants are required to wear a wig and bring a delicious dish. Thank you, Liza! It was a beautiful night; everyone participated in the merriment; and there was so much laughter - a great success!

For August, we read Ruth Reichl's Garlic and Sapphires, a memoir chronicling her six years spent as The New York Times' food critic. During her tenure, she found it necessary to dress in disguises to hide her identity and gain a realistic dining experience at the restaurants she reviewed. Hence, our themed evening.
It was an okay book. The author began to take on the persona of the different women she embodied - talking like them, acting like them, empathizing with their plights, which was sort of interesting. She included an assortment of recipes, none of which anyone brought to the party, which Caroline astutely pointed out as being curious. She also reprinted her published reviews from the Times, which after reading the accounts of her various experiences in prose, was simply overkill. It was certainly not a meaty enough idea to fill all 328 pages of book.

On the plus side, we had a marvelous time at the party and selected our books for the next few months:

September - To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
October - The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
November-ish - The Ha-Ha, Dave King
December-ish - The Secret History, Donna Tartt
January - The Last Tycoon, F. Scott Fitzgerald
February - Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain
March - The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
April - Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen

Additionally, Liza and I had a very interesting day wig shopping Saturday. I won't go into great detail, but let's just say when a wig store owner tells you there is a five-wig-try-on-limit, that is precisely what she means. And don't try to go down the street to another wig store. She will alert the next merchants of your behavior and the next merchants will monitor you with in-store cameras. Five wigs, dammit. That's it.

Easy Rider

I have ridden my bike to and from work for the past two months, except for one day last week when it was raining and Bonnie gave me a ride. I'm convinced one of my peers put a hex on me by asking if I'd had any trouble with poor weather conditions. "Not so far," I replied cheerily. And of course, downpour the next morning.

I like riding. It's good to get the skunk out of the boat in the morning and, in the evening, it's a nice way to blow off steam. Yesterday I cursed under my breath the whole ride home. It was glorious. And by the time I walked in the front door I was totally over whatever it was.

Thursday is my least favorite day to commute. It's trash day and the whole ride smells like garbage. But nine out of ten normal-smelling commutes is a pretty good record.

Have Dabber, Will Travel

I come all the way from Vero Beach, Florida - land of canasta, bridge, and bocce ball - and what do I do?

Play Bingo.

I would have felt marginally guilty about this lapse in coolness, but I must say it was quite entertaining. In fact, it was the very definition of good, clean fun.

We went on Quilt Bingo night. Meaning: the prize for each game was some sort of quilted throw or wall hanging or table runner. If that doesn't make you want to rush out to your neighborhood bingo hall, I don't know what will.

For twenty dollars at the door they gave us our game cards (I'm guessing we played about 20 games) and a nifty, hand-made, one-of-a-kind tissue holder (as seen above). You might say that everyone went home a winner. Plus, in between each game they auctioned off baked goods; there was a raffle for various donated items; and there was a silent auction going on throughout the night.

Proceeds went to Race for the Cure.

I may or may not have spent $25 on a box of home-made fudge. But how often do I get to eat fudge? And it was for a good cause. AND, I used the delicious treats as a friend-making device throughout the night. I was very popular. Apparently, there is a serious fudge deficit in Richmond.

I had fun out-bidding the lady at the next table. Although, I was jealous of the woman who went home with the cake shaped like a cartoon chicken. Now that's a fancy dessert!