blogging


I never got the Lake Woebegon thing. Never did more than skim any of Keillor’s writings and wasn’t into the radio show. It was corny and I didn’t find the tongue in cheek fun poking at Midwesterners amusing. Still don’t. There is nothing magical about the coasts. CrazyBrother lives on the west one after all and if any of the bad actors in his life are to be taken for the average – well, culturally ignorant and tragically unhip people are everywhere. The Midwest isn’t cornering any markets.

But we were watching The World’s Fastest Indian (starts slow but improves) and as is our wont, scanned the previews for future viewing opportunities and stumbled on a few picks that our library had in stock (our library by the way is the most awesome source of flicks).

Garrison Keillor wrote and plays himself in a fictionalized version of his own show. Robert Altman directed it and I remember the tabloids at the time made much of the fact that Linsday Lohan was playing a character in an attempt to redeem herself as a serious actor (failed).

The story is shot in typical Altman fashion with random and overlapping dialogue/actions. If you’ve seen one of his other movies, you seen the template. Mostly it works but the characters and the setting have to be compelling and this story is so not. It’s dull. Duller, as one of Shakespeare’s characters once remarked, than a great thaw.

Rob fell asleep. This is an indictment of bad. My Virgo husband will stick with the worst movies until the bitterest of ends (Babel) because he hates to start something and not finish. 

I quit about an hour in with 46 mind-numbing minutes to go that Rob votes for skipping them.

The story – as nearly as I could follow – was about the radio shows last performance as the theater had been purchased by Texans (a memorable Kevin Kline line “Sure they talk funny and their eyes don’t focus and their flesh in rotting and falling off..”) who want to tear it down and put up a parking lot – Paradise Paved – I guess.

Lilly Tomlin and Meryl Streep are a Christian singing act with Lohan playing Streep’s suicide poet daughter. Streep’s character is a widow who is still in love with her husband’s friend played by Keillor. I really can’t tell you how cliche that is. Widow and best friend trysting and widow pining away in bitterness after he comes to his senses – or something like that. Anyway, totally couldn’t see why anyone would pine for Garrison Keillor. He is a bit bug-eyed and has no butt. Maybe it’s a sexy radio voice thing? If you close you eyes?

Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly do their best to save things as a cowboy singing duo but they are only good on their own. The minute another cast member begins sucking air in the scene, the whole aura deflates and everyone suffocates. Although there is one scene where the two old men are obviously vying for Lohan that isn’t too bad.

Virginia Madsen portrays an angel in a white trench coat that only Kevin Kline’s character can really see. At one point she guides the soul of an old man who sings on the show to the wherever. I cringed a bit when her character tells the old man’s paramour that “The death of an old man isn’t a tragedy” in her attempt to soothe the woman. While this is true. My early widow indoctrination programming reminds me to be a trifle indignant.

I believe the movie garnered the obligatory critical praise but it is truly an awful waste of talent as the number of Oscar winners and nominees totals half the main cast at least.

Here is my bottom line. Watch the trailer. All the good stuff is there. And then just listen to the actual radio show


The New York Times ran an article on the recent Blogher ’08 conference in San Francisco*. Although the article references female bloggers who do not write about home-making and lactating exclusively (try not at all), they seem stuck on the idea that women who blog blog about being moms.

Although I occasionally refer to what I do here as “mommy blogging”, I am not being serious when I do so. I really can’t tell you what kind of blogger I am because I tend to write about whatever is upper-most on my mind at the moment. This ranges from sex to writing to politics to feminism to body image to the ever popular – blog post about nothing.

I admire niche blogging. I wish I could pick a topic and stick to it like glue but I am far too random and frankly, I would have tired of blogging quickly had I done something like that. So if anyone is looking to me for the minutia of motherhood, you are in the wrong neck of the blogosphere.

I am little incensed for those who are writing about parenting – that’s what it is by the way – PARENTING, and the last I heard both genders engage in the act of parenting and blogging about it. The reason I am angry is that “mommy blogger” almost seems like a pejorative. A dismissal. As though a parent couldn’t have opinions on the state of the nation or world or environment. Like only a non-parent can accurately assess the economy or give tech advice.

I would claim the label with pride, if that is what I was, were it not for the snide way in which it is used so often. Like the phrase “just a housewife”, it’s meant to point out a person of little significance. Someone who isn’t a real writer and doesn’t have anything to do but gaze at the baby’s navel and then tell us all about it.

Perhaps I am over-reacting, but most of the women whose work I read via blogs are far more varied in interest than the NYT’s seems to think. We are not the sum total of our uterine output. In fact, parenthood isn’t exclusively about the female half anyway.

*I discovered this via Pundit Mom.


Again from surfing the WordPress tags, I came across another idea for meming our Monday’s away.

Today’s topic is the space from which you blog. Mainly I blog from the office in our home, a rather unkempt room converted from a guest bedroom or the dining room table. Both places are not terribly well lit or ergonomic in any way and the chairs make my bum ache.

Me at my desk Christmas Morning 2007

Me at my desk Christmas Morning 2007

I also write and blog from the public library in The Fort before yoga or at Starbucks over in the Safeway. And of course on my travels it has been from various hotel rooms with my absolute favorite being The Hampton Inn.

So where do you blog? Show it. Describe it. Link it.