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Dear Blog:

I’ve neglected you and I feel guilty. I apologize profusely, but I can’t promise it won’t happen again.

I could make excuses. I’ve been hosting folks in my house (as usual). I’ve been visiting family out of town. I’ve been working at the station and trying to sleep when I’m not.

But really, there is a bigger reason I have ignored you for five days: I don’t know what topic to tackle.

  • Should I address the fact that I’ve almost run over Trish with my car for three days in a row because she wants to greet me in the driveway?
  • Do I write about the permanent neon restaurant sign I saw on a building that read “Bojangles” on one side of the building, but “Bojangle’s” on the other?
  • Would it be better to vent my spleen about certain in-laws of mine who could not tell the truth if their lives depended on it? A corollary to that is that they aren’t happy unless they are saying something nasty behind our backs. This is why I cherish my friends so much.
  • Would it be best to simply offer a fantastic new recipe for potato leek soup that I found?

So, Blog, it is not that I don’t want to write. I just don’t know what topic to address. Forgive me for my indecision, and I’ll try to come up with something soon.

Love and kisses,

Beth

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I could give Rachael Ray a run for her money. I’ve baked four different kinds of cookies over the past two days.

Gingerbread, Hamantaschen, Peanut Butter Munchies and Snow-caps

The pumpkin pie is in the oven, and I plan to make empanadas for dinner. The pernil al horno for tomorrow is rolling around in special spices in the refrigerator. I might make some Christmas bark this afternoon.

The boys are on their best behavior, naturally, although they are so excited they can barely stand it. I did have to threaten to use the special Parent Hotline to Santa yesterday, though.

I finished wrapping all the presents last night. There may not be much, but we chose each gift with care. I may be as excited about tomorrow as they are!

It really is the most wonderful time of the year. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Rapturous Festivus and Joyous Kwanzaa to all!

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I rarely read for fun anymore because I don’t have time. People, Newsweek and Entertainment Weekly are my only sources of reading enjoyment. Sad, I know.

While I was in Barnes & Noble buying a book for research, I decided to buy “Columbine” by Dave Cullen because I had heard so many good things about it. I devoured it in less than 24 hours (kind of a long time for me, actually, but I had two vocal distractions and a “Survivor” finale to watch).

It is an impressively researched and incredibly interesting book. I remember the shootings, but was, like most, misled by erroneous and perpetuated media accounts into believing Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold were outcasts who were being bullied. Instead, Cullen makes clear, they often did the bullying, and they had few close friends by choice. At least that was Eric’s choice. He was a true psychopath, the clinical definition. Dylan was depressed, lonely and incredibly shy.

One of the concepts I teach is crisis communication. The Jefferson County sheriff and his office did almost everything wrong. Repeatedly. But, if nothing else, communicators can learn from their mistakes.

The overall feeling I have after reading the book is sadness — sadness for the victims and their families, of course, but they have long had support in their recovery and grief. I feel the most sadness for Tom and Sue Klebold and Wayne and Kathy Harris. It is easy to point the finger of “bad parenting” at them, but there is no “if/then” manual for parents. You have to do the best you can. It is hard to distinguish the difference between warning signs and normal teenage angst. And no one wants to think his/her child is a psychopath. They also lost their children on April 20, 1999, but their children were killers, which adds another layer of pain. They also lost community support and relationships. They were vilified unjustly.

In general, the book is a solid piece of reporting. I do wonder why he chose to focus on the stories of a few of the victims, but not all. Some are not even mentioned. Also, Cullen could have used a diagram of the building and images of the people he discusses, but perhaps he thought the images would sensationalize the story even more than it has been. But I wanted to be able to visualize whom he was discussing. I turned to the Internet, of course. The bullying myth is still rampant in the comments on the videos. I wanted to respond to all of them. Sigh. Maybe word will get around thanks to Cullen.

Now I’m off to play with the kids, and hope that one of them does not grow up to be infamous.

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Hello Blog. It has been a while.

I’ve been busy — a good kind of busy. I’ve been enjoying my first “birthday week.”

It is a concept that Trish introduced to us. It sounds silly and self-centered until you realize that some people have had historically terrible birthdays, and need to get some make-up action later in life. Trish’s stepmother is a Jehovah’s Witness, which means Trish’s family does not celebrate holidays such as Christmas, Easter and birthdays because of their alleged pagan origins. But Trish is on her own now. Enter the birthday week.

My birthday is 10 days before Christmas, and therefore sucks. I never had a birthday party (waaa!) because my parents were not party people, and because all my friends were always off visiting family or whatever.

So Eddie decided this year to take a cue from Trish and make up for past craptastic birthdays.

The birthday week began Thursday with teasers of the week to come. Friday consisted of beer at the Distillery, a massage, wine tasting at the Shannon Vineyards outpost, dinner at Vic’s, and an overnight stay at AVIA. Fantastic!

Room at the inn (AVIA)

Room with a view

Saturday began with a huge breakfast. Lox, cream cheese and capers on a bagel! Shrimp and grits! Fresh fruit!

Breakfast at AVIA

A morning gorge? Don't mind if I do!

After some Christmas shopping and the movie “Precious,” we came home to Trish, Ed and the boys singing “Happy Birthday” around a cake they made. That was my first cake in years and years (waaa! again). John and Heidi arrived a few minutes later for game night, and there was much rejoicing.

I can’t wait to see what else is in store. Thanks, Eddie. It’s the best birthday ever!

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I’ve been so slack. Unwatched on our DVR right now: the second seasons of “Tough Love” and “Tool Academy.” How could I have been so lax? That darn dissertation proposal has kept me from my regular dosage of trashy reality TV.

I did catch “Hoarders” last night, though. You may remember that one of the graduate students in my Persuasive Writing wrote a paper trying to convince me to stop watching “Hoarders.” The argument: The people need help instead of a starring role in gawker TV. So I should stop providing an audience.

Fat chance, Elisa.

If a woman is going to reveal to the nation that she has been living in four-foot-high stacks of used adult diapers because her plumbing has been broken for two years, then I’m going to watch (in horror, of course). Goats ate the back wall of a house to get at the trash inside? Let me get my popcorn.

House of Hoarders

In exchange for letting us gasp at their lives, the hoarders do get help from the show. Yes, it may be limited and come at a price, but it is more than they had before. And I think the show is raising a consciousness that some “pack rats” may actually have a bigger problem.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some TV to watch — while I clean out that hall closet …

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What is the DEAL with folks in Savannah? People are acting like there has never been a strong storm before. Closing school? SERIOUSLY? Now, the school my kids attend has a bunch of trailers, so I can kind of see their point in that case. But pretty much all schools have been closed since noon and it is just now starting to rain in the ‘Ham.

"The sky is falling!"

"The sky is falling!"

Yes, there is a tornado WATCH in effect.

Yes, there will be strong winds, heavy rain and the potential for flooding in low-lying areas.

But that is every afternoon in the summer, no?

In fact, the radar picture looks very similar to stuff we see all the time.

I’m not particularly worried, and I’m a meteorologist. I also play one on TV!

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Panic + resolve

My dissertation proposal was due today, the day of my self-imposed deadline. However, I sent it to my committee chair on Wednesday for feedback. I don’t want to work on it anymore until I get that feedback. I really don’t want to work on it anymore, period, but that’s not possible.

This is what my dining room table looked like the day I stopped working on the proposal:

Dining room table/work space/Hell on Earth

I switched gears yesterday from eating everything in sight to rereading everything on my theory reading list.

That list includes “Mass Communication Theory,” which is a struggle. Also on the list:

Herbert Gans, “Deciding What’s News”
Todd Gitlin, “The Whole World is Watching”
Edward Epstein, “News from Nowhere”
David Manning White, “The ‘Gatekeeper'”
Ben Bagdikian, “The Media Monopoly”
Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann, “Return to the Concept of Powerful Mass Media”

All of this is in preparation for the start of the comprehensive exams tomorrow. From Tuesday to Friday, for three hours a day, I will be holed up at the library at University of South Carolina-Beaufort (South campus) writing my little heart out. If (when?) I pass and successfully defend my proposal, I will be A.B.D. That stands for “all but dissertation,” but it might as well stand for “all but dead.”

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Can I please whine for a moment? I’m exhausted and my back is killing me. We had 19 people for Thanksgiving yesterday — an interesting mixture of friends, family and acquaintances, and the most we’ve ever hosted for a meal. Every year, Eddie handles the turkey, and I take care of everything else (including my Brussels sprouts!). This year, Trish the Human was kind enough to take over macaroni and cheese duty, along with adding a lovely sweet, sweet potato souffle (others brought an assortment of desserts and drinks — yum!). And Trish the Chicken amused everyone by knocking on the front door during our enjoyment of her fowl-weather friend.

We gave the boys’ bedrooms to some family members spending the night, and I took the boys into our room to sleep. Because I had to work at the station this morning, I went to bed at the same time they did. Gideon is the worst sleeper, though. He made noise, kicked and pushed all night.

So thanks to Gideon and the stress of the feast-making process, I am dragging today. DRAGGING.

However, I am always entertained on my drive in to the station on Black Friday, because I can marvel at the people standing in line at Best Buy. There is nothing in there that would be worth it to me to camp out. It’s not like camping out for KISS concert tickets or something.

Anyway, this is me this morning, doing my thing on the green screen.

The magic of television

And here I am with Lyndy Brannen on The Morning Show set.

With Lyndy on set

With Lyndy on set

When we’re not on the air, Lyndy likes to talk about rednecks and politics, and how he thinks it is stupid to recycle. He’s usually got some cockamamie mantra, such as this one from yesterday: “Reagan saved the world.” I have no idea what he really believes, but I believe he likes to say things that will get people riled up.

And I also believe I need a nap.

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I guess this sign is supposed to tell folks that the faucet is on a sensor, but it makes no sense as written. It’s funny, though. I took this image somewhere in Shanghai last year.

My reaction to the photo is similar to what I’m doing today: trying to make sense out of the vast amount of communication research that deals with media ethics and the journalistic decision-making process.

Or it could be a reminder that my life is flushing down the dissertation toilet.

Sigh.

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While I enjoyed teaching each of my four classes this quarter, the one that affected me the most on a personal basis was Persuasive Writing. In the final persuasive research papers, the graduate students — all  writers of promise — encouraged me to stop watching “Hoarders,” camp in national parks, support art funding in schools, lobby for a three-point harness on airplanes, write my representatives in support of the Alzheimer’s Breakthrough Act of 2009, join the bone marrow registry, and go vegan.

One affected me so much that I’m doing research today. Can you guess which one?

Here’s a hint: Think about my blog.

Yes, I’m considering veganism. Or at least a more cruelty-free lifestyle.

All of the papers were persuasive, but only one made me consider each bite of food, every meal I prepare, and all my grocery-shopping trips. I don’t really object to eating meat in general, but I have always objected to the American meat industry and the horrible way animals “live” and die on factory farms. I don’t eat beef in America, in fact, for this reason.

This morning, I eyed the Thanksgiving turkey in the freezer and felt sad and guilty. I fed Trish and thought of the cellophaned breasts in the refrigerator. I threaded Dominic’s belt through the loops on his pants and thought of milking Rosebud in the second grade.

And now I’m wondering if this Web site is on the up and up.

Thanks, Austin Floyd.

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