And he commented on Newscoma’s blog!

No, I’m serious…go see for yourself!

David Scobey, former Vice Mayor of Nashville and political figure, has died. From the Tennessean:

David Scobey, who had a reputation as the tough but fair vice mayor of Nashville for nearly a quarter-century, died Sunday night at Baptist Hospital after a short illness. He was 85.

A charter member of the Metro Council, Mr. Scobey served as Nashville’s elected vice mayor — the council’s leader — from 1971 until 1995, working with four mayors. He helped push through major projects including the construction of Interstate 440 and the Nashville Convention Center and bringing professional football to Nashville.

It’s today, campers.

I am in for a treat tomorrow. I will be attending the 67th running of the Iroquois Steeplechase at Percy Warner Park in Nashville, a yearly event that is a self-professed “spectacle of horses, hats and hounds.” This day marks the premiere social soiree of the spring and summer season in the South (like that alliteration?).

The pictures are fun from Southern Fancy.

From Jagadiah:

My mom teaches elementary school, and came home from a field trip yesterday with a story about how she had to sit in the back of the bus and intervene on a conversation between kids who were telling each other about how one like the way another’s butt smelled. The conversation was being conducted in chat rooms via Nintendo DS.

How can that much have changed since my day?

Oh, it gets worse the older you get.

Or it might be better.

Let’s go with door number two.

Our girl, Newscoma, has an amazing ability to get the more distinguished commenters over at her place!

Just a few months ago, none other than Norman Lear showed up to comment about the story of Loraine Barr!

This morning, gold medal great Bruce Jenner himself made us squee because ‘Coma made him laugh.

I don’t know about anybody else, but I think it’s pretty darn cool.

Angela compares her definition of a recession in comparison with another person’s definition.

For years, I’ve defined recession as a financial condition causing stress-related indigestion, sensation of lightheadedness at the gas pump/Wal-Mart, and a recurrence of aberrant thoughts, such as: “Hmmm, generic Peanut Butter isn’t so bad.”

Turns out, these aren’t symptoms of a recession at all.

She says it’s good to know but it still doesn’t help her much.

Jackson Miller went with the family to Jazzfest last weekend.

I have not been back to New Orleans since Hurricane Katrina. It was pretty sad to see how much destruction was still visible. Once we made it across Lake Ponchatrain it was much worse. The foundations without houses, the houses without occupants, the spray paint on the houses from the rescue effort. It was all very sad.

We got to the train station just as it started to get dark. The hotel was only 10 or so blocks from the train station, but my recollection was that those were not the safest 10 blocks in New Orleans. The thing is, it is hard to pile into a cab as a family of 8 with luggage. So we did what anyone would never do, we walked.

Scout went to a wedding a couple of weeks back to the Crescent City as well.

I look just over to my right and reality sets in and it sets in very very hard. Here I am staying in a hotel on the edge of the French Quarter, getting ready to go celebrate a marriage at a very swanky wedding and getting ready to enjoy a city that has become near and dear to the heart of most every blue-blooded American and to my immediate right underneath an overpass are literally hundreds of tents, sleeping bags, recliners, couches and cardboard boxes containing individuals and entire families displaced by the hurricane. And my heart aches because it’s not over. It’s really not over. Moms, dads, kids and grandparents are living under the interstate and occasionally going out with cups, asking for money. But, really, how good is a dollar going to do? Even a hundred dollars? A thousand dollars? It won’t buy a home.

You hang out with Emmy.

Ain’t anyone more Nashville than Sista Smiff. 

I would have panicked. But then again, there are some nice people in the world.

Something really freaky just happened to me, and I feel the need to share it.

When I got home from class just now, there were two small packages for me on the kitchen table. One was from my synagogue, with a box of chocolate-covered matzah for Passover (THANKS!). The other one had no return address, and the stamp showed it was from a zip code I didn’t recognize. When I opened it, there was no note inside…just my checkbook.

Read the rest at Silence Isn’t Golden. 

Community Health Systems in Franklin, the parent company of a hospital in Illinois is being sued over an accidental baby swap.

The mixup occurred when the IDs were apparently taken off and put back on incorrectly when the babies were taken away for circumcision. Both mothers claimed to have felt unsure of their babies identities, but one went home with the baby she was given anyway. But within a few hours, the hospital recognized the mistake (it’s not clear if the recognition was a direct effect of one of the mothers’ complaints) and arranged for the babies to be reunited with their real parents.

Certainly, I understand that the hospital needs to be held accountable for the issue and that an investigation into the causes should occur and steps put into place to prevent it from happening again, but I don’t understand why the mothers think they should receive over $50,000 each as compensation for the error. A few months, a few years…yes, then I think they’d have a claim. But a few hours? I don’t think so. Heck, when I was born, my mom was the last person to see me. She and I were both asleep for quite a while–probably as long as it took for the hospital in this case to recognize the error.

Our litigious society…and some of us wonder why health care is so expensive…

My apologies to those of you who couldn’t possibly care less about basketball, but Laura over at Fixin’ Supper takes a break from dinner to talk about basketball grudges. She and I share some grudges and we both struggled during last night’s Tennessee versus Louisville game. For her, UT is both a rival of Memphis and Vanderbilt (her two teams), so the Vols top her list. Check out the rest of her list here.

For me, it’s a little more complicated. I’ve held a grudge against Louisville since I was a small child, when I’m not even sure Tennessee had a basketball team (I keed, I keed). UT didn’t even get on my grudge-dar until I discovered while in college at Memphis that my school also had a football team (that–with one notable and oft-referenced exception–routinely got whipped by the Vols). And after the Metro conference dissolved, we had a new basketball rival, Cincinnati. And Bob Huggins. Read a couple of pages here to get a little of the story. I never threw anything at him, but I most certainly did shout “Bundy” at him (25 pounds ago, he resembled the guy who played Al Bundy on “Married…With Children”).

So, with that little history lesson, I present my top basketball grudges: Read the rest of this entry »

Looking for unique gift ideas? Want to support local entrepreneurs? Interested in original designs and stylish artwork? Then check out Mamamade!

Mamamade is a group of Nashville area moms who have put their creative minds together and started an online bazaar. You can order directly from most of their websites listed on the Mamamade blog or you can go to their 2008 Spring Market to be held on April 26th at Lillie Belle’s Tea House in Franklin, TN.

Personally, I can’t wait to get my hands on this:

The Nashville Bag!

From the Boredest Girl in Nashville, but it could have been written by me or plenty of women I know:

I’m not the sort of girl guys talk to. I’m a buddy girl. I’m witty, I’m fun, I’m cool, but not “hot”. Or whatever. It’s cool. I don’t really want to be “picked up”.

Guys say they like a sense of humor and all that, but it’s certainly not what initially attracts them. They’re visual creatures and short of wearing a clown suit (or ironic t-shirt, same difference), it’s hard to convey your sense of humor through how you look. It’s even harder for me since I don’t wear glasses, so I can’t get that “Tina Fey” look to let men know that I have a witty, dry sense of humor.

When I was still single and living in Memphis, there was this party held every week on the roof of the Peabody Hotel. I’m sure it had some marketing name, but we all called it the Rooftop Party. It was a meat market (meet market?). It was fun to go if for no other reason than to observe the mating ritual of the human.

But there were tales…urban legends…of women who met their husbands there. Read the rest of this entry »

Kleinheider’s in there.  So is Dave Joel, the beloved of Rachel.  They just like the whole mysterious motif…

h/t: Sista Smiff

Lesley recently had to surrender a tea rose bush to an eager young lad which prompted this little trip down memory lane:

One day, I was working in the yard and saw in the corner of my eye the little boy next door (also four at the time) walk across my driveway toward my front yard. A minute later, I saw him walking back with a bunch of pink tulips in his hand. As I went after him, I noted the lack of pink where my tulips used to be.

“Jan Bailey, where’d you get those flowers?”
“I picked these for my mommy!”
“Oh, okay. Well, you picked those from my yard, so those are my flowers. You’re not supposed to pick flowers from other people’s yards.”
“These are for my mommy!”
“Oh, okay.”

Altogether now, “Awww!”

 ”Nobody bailed me out.”

“The afternoon newspaper is in a sense being reborn online …”

St.Patrick’s Day A Season?

Crap, I wanted it. 

Stephen and Samantha dug Ani DiFranco at the Ryman

Green Squirrels

Guy goes to Dublin (with covered urinal goodness) 

Hazel’s Got The Music 

Park Vista Not Park Place 

Your daddy did good!

It’s in today’s Boston Globe.

It’s a great article, Sam.

Good for you!

A.C. Kleinheider, of Volunteer Voters is leaving WKRN due to budget cutting measures. Having been there twice, I know some of what A.C.’s going through. The political atmosphere of blogging has lost a leader and WKRN has screwed up once again. Having taken a national leadership position in blogging as an addendum to news journalism by bringing on two people who changed the nature of blogging in the country, they have decided that shooting themselves in the foot once wasn’t effective enough at removing them from the future. They have now succeeded in becoming an average run-of-the-mill television station rather than a harbinger of the future. Good bye, A.C. You became very good at what you do while at Volunteer Voters and I sincerely hope there will be another opportunity show up quickly. You deserve it.

What was initially a six month freelance gig to cover among other things a hard fought contested 2006 Senate Race became a full time mission to cover the political blogosphere here in Tennessee. Not only did we see that race to its conclusion we saw a new mayor elected in Nashville and we got darn near through the longest Presidential Primary season in history in here in 2008.

Unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to see that last one to the end with you. Today, March 14, was my last day at WKRN here in Nashville. Like many cherished colleagues before me at the Deuce, I have fallen prey to those unfortunate media budget cuts you hear about all too often these days.

Go by and wish him well. As one commenter put it,

WKRN is making a very foolish and short-sighted decision in my opinion. It HAD the go-to political blog in Tennessee, and the station shut it down. Hell, I read VV a helluva lot more than I visit the WKRN website. Why not shut it down instead?

You just have to see it yourself.

Heh.

John Carney is suffering from novel anxiety. An old friend is editing his work and he is feeling a bit insecure.

It’s been almost a month since I sent my novel to my old screenwriting teacher, who had offered to look at it for me and take her “mean red pen” to it (her words, not mine).

Writers go through this all the time. Fear of someone bleeding red on their work.

That’s why I use a green pen in the day job.

It looks like a zombie threw up, but hell, that’s my style.

The Music City Oracle has posted about something certain to qualify as a personal recession.

Coco has it right on the money:

Man to be a kid in the south. Granted, the country ice-covered roads are a good reason to close the schools in wintry weather, but the kids in my hood have it made. For serious they could go to the movies if they have transportation and the inclination. They are not homebound.

She takes a stroll down memory lane about snow days in New York. It sounds similar to memories my husband, who grew up in New Jersey, has about winter wonderlands.

SistaSmiff threw caution to the wind and went to work anyway!

The newspeople made it sound like the Blizzard of the Century…”DON’T leave home unless you HAVE to” they said…all a’twitter.

I think it took me 15 minutes to get to work and I live in one of the “hard hit” counties.

The newspeople SistaSmiff referred to must have had Middle Tennessee confused with East Tennessee. Go take a gander at what’s going on in K-ville.

BlondeMom wonders:

The girls woke up and ran to the front window, although we really just have a dusting of snow. What is it with the wimpy snow in Nashville the past few years?…it’s kind of nice for winter to have one last hurrah, even if it is kind of wimpy. At least the girls get to stay home for the day

For Ivy, today’s snow means everyone must go to the doctor with her!

We got another snow day today, which would normally be great, but I have another appointment at the gynecologist’s office today. … The problem is that because of the snow, I don’t feel comfortable leaving everyone at home with my 13 year old. That means I have to bring everyone with me to the appointment. This should be fun.

Emily of On Awesome Avenue took a picture of the fluffy white stuff at her house:

Well…that’s a quite bit more than at my place!

Tennessee Mom has pics at her place, too.

More as I find them…

Is “I Drink Your Milkshake!” destined to become the new big catchphrase? I don’t know about you, but since the SNL folks set it to a cute little tune, I’ve been singing it for days. And I haven’t even seen the movie. Luckily, Kat has included a link that clues me in a bit. Unfortunately for her, it’s in the context of telling us why this is now the bane of her existence.

About three or four weeks ago, the losers pop culture mavens I read at places like TWOP and EW and Slashdot etc. started talking about that whole “I drink your milkshake!!” scene in There Will Be Blood. The result of this non-stop jokery was my craving for milkshakes.

Problem is, she found out–a little too late–that she probably shouldn’t be drinking milkshakes. Unlike me, she actually likes them, though (don’t read the comments at her place if you have an overly-sensitive tummy and don’t want to know why I don’t drink milk).

For those of you who can/do like to enjoy a good milkshake, the folks over at the Nashville Scene did all the dirty work for you a while back to find the city’s best chocolate milkshake. The milkshake discussion over at Bites never really dies, though. Just last week, there was a lively discussion regarding suggestions for Krystal’s new MilkQuake offering. I have to register my vote with the first nominee. It’s the only thing I miss about Krystal.

And then there’s news of a new-ish (revised?) ice cream joint in East Nashville. What’s the deal with all these ice cream places? Nashville must really love ice cream and milkshakes. Me? I go to Bobbie’s Dairy Dip for the sweet potato fries.

Which kind of Nashville commuter are you? I avoid getting out in Nashville traffic as much as possible, but I can tell you that even in my limited daily exposure, I frequently see one of each of the types Megan has listed.  My favorite:

The Hillbilly. Like the Floridian, the Hillbilly is most often found riding in the HOV lane at several miles per hour under the limit. The only entities capable of persuading the Hillbilly to move out of the way are the Pusher and a state trooper or Metro cop. However, unlike the Floridian, the Hillbilly is always riding alone and most likely in a vehicle that would best be described as “busted.” The Hillbilly’s vehicle might include any four-door sedan made before 1995, will have at least two hubcaps missing, at least 25 percent rust on the body, and may be utilizing a donut tire. If you see a vehicle that resembles the aforementioned and notice the license plate has tags from Bedford, Warren, Cheatham, Hickman, DeKalb or Cannon counties, you are driving near the Hillbilly. Roll up your window immediately to avoid projectile cigarette butts and the tell-tale sounds of Def Leppard.

Oh man. Yesterday, I was behind a Floridian (real, actual Florida tags) and a Hillbilly (Cheatham county, Dodge Neon) on West End. I was darn near close to losing my mind. Even though I was really in no hurry to be anywhere. Which reminds me–I didn’t see me on the list anywhere. I’m probably some combination of a couple of the ones listed. Megan’s list focuses mainly on interstate drivers, though. There are plenty of offensive drivers (myself included) on the surface streets. Like “Old Folks Going to the Pharmacy”–the people who only get out in traffic only to get their meds and some groceries…and drive about 10 miles per hour with their heads barely poking above the steering wheels of their large automobiles. And “A-Hole Rich College Kids Driving Cars I Can’t Afford”–they’re usually carting around a bunch of their friends and can hardly be bothered to pay attention to what they’re doing and/or are talking on their mobile phones.

Hmm…I sound a little bitter. Maybe I should move? But then I’d have to deal with Soccer Moms and Pushers…