Don't worry, I didn't wear a trench coat

I've never been much of a loner, and I've always harbored some special fear of eating at a restaurant alone and, even worse, going to a movie alone.

But then I went to Kankakee.

Halfway through the week, I was ready to do anything that didn't involve VH1. So I decided to see every good movie playing in town. And I did see them all. Both of them.

In response, I have one comment and one question.

Comment: "Walk the Line" is incredible for many reasons, but hearing Johnny Cash's laugh coming out of Joaquin Phoenix's mouth is probably No. 1.

Question: What the hell was going on in Syriana? I probably would have known what kind of bizarrely confusing morass I was wandering into if I had first read this part of Roger Ebert's review:

The movie's plot is so complex we're not really supposed to follow it, we're supposed to be surrounded by it. Since none of the characters understand the whole picture, why should we?

Anyway, if nothing else, I at least got past my phobia of seeing movies alone. I might have accomplished more this week, actual journalism stuff even, but that's a topic for a post when I'm a bit better rested. I fly home first thing tomorrow morning.

The visiting ambassador

(Blogger's note: I wrote this early in the week but didn't get around to posting it until I was getting ready to leave Kankakee.)

This seems a bit strange.

I’m at the center of the deadline storm again, as dozens of writers, editors, photographers and designers flit around in the daily frenzy of putting out a newspaper.

It’s a place I’ve been often. It’s a place I’m comfortable and feel at one with the universe.

What’s different this time is that I’m not actually doing anything.

Oh sure, I’ve got plenty to fill my time. I spent half of yesterday meeting with staffers at the Kankakee newspaper, and it’s taken most of this morning to catch up on writing notes from my sessions. Also, I’ve had a few follow-up talks today and have sat down with an editor for nearly an hour.

But now it’s deadline, which is my time to slip away and get some logistical stuff done while the daily miracle is immaculately conceived.

So this is consulting. It’s about what I expected, except there isn’t quite the icy chill of resentment among the staff I’m visiting. In fact, they’ve been pretty receptive, likely because Rich has spent the past year softening them up to the readership efforts we’re pushing.

Up until the moment I walked into the newspaper, I was holding off any predictions on what I would actually do here. I felt that preparing a presentation or building up expectations would be a waste, since I’ve never really done this before.

What I found was a staff that was ready to improve and generally confident in the readership goals, but they were, like all journalists, exhausted by the thought of constant change.

While I’ve done a little coaching, I have mostly spent my time being a sounding board for the reporters and editors who have sat down with me. A few are defensive, but most are just caught up in their unique frustrations and want to gripe about it to someone from outside.

At times I’ve felt like a psychiatrist, especially when I say, “That’s a good question. What do you think?” At the same time, I’m fighting my natural desire to constantly interject my own ideas for how to solve a problem. It’s not the world’s easiest balance, and to be honest, it sometimes makes me feel lazy. But I’m here for a whole week, so I’m sure it’s best to let people warm up to me a bit before I sound like I’m telling them how to do their jobs.

Hey, at least I haven’t been run out of town yet.

Ready to get my consult on

The next few days look to be pretty hectic as I head out to Kankakee, Ill., for my first real consulting gig. I'm excited, but I feel a little under-prepared. Luckily, I'm sure I'll have lots of time there to catch up with any kinds of handouts or presentations I want to do.

In case you're curious (as I was) about what I'll really be doing there, here's an excerpt from an e-mail Rich sent to the staff:

As you know, David will be visiting Monday-Friday of
next week, and I hear some people are signing up to
talk with him already, which will be a good start.
Denise asked what reporters (and editors) should
expect:

For reporters, come with questions about anything:
What does this targeted enterprise mean? How do you go
about doing it? How can I find time for it? Tell him
about or show him a story you’re working on and ask
his take on it. Or tell him about things that
frustrate you about the system or process currently in
place – maybe there is a way to improve it. In short, feel free to pick his brain, maybe even take him to
lunch (it’s on SNG)

For editors, same thing – ask him about processes,
working with reporters farther in advance of deadline,
creating a news budget that you can depend on. Offer
specific examples of stories or coaching issues. At
meetings, bring him into the discussion about your
daily and advance budget.

So there you go. My biggest concern is in striking a balance of being helpful but not overly intrusive. But I'm sure the staff has been softened to the idea of a consultant (Rich) coming in to help, and I'm hoping they're generally on board now. If nothing else, I might be able to offer the same advice from a different perspective. Rich is a highly experienced veteran journalist, which can work for and against you. It might help the staff to hear the perspective of someone who's only been in journalism for 10 years and is excited about its future. (Even if I'm not necessarily excited about the people leading said industry into said future.)

I'll obviously be blogging a bit while I'm there, and I hope to set up a more professional blog on the Media Foresight page. I'll keep you posted.

Egads, time is haulin ass

Preparing a job packet yesterday, I pulled out a letter of recommendation from my old supervisor and noticed something a bit jarring ... the date. Oct. 25.

That means it's been more than three months since I began my job hunt, and here I am still plugging away. Now, an optimist might note that I actually do have a full-time job, one that even gives me benefits and lets me take a week off each month to do some consulting.

But as much as I love working at the bookstore cafe, I have to say it just won't pay the bills if I ever give up this freeloading lifestyle of living with family. Karen's new job will be a big help; now it's just my turn.

I have a good feeling about the coming month, though. The consulting work in Illinois will get my juices pumping just by putting me back in a newsroom. There are also a lot more jobs popping up in the "media" category of the Birmingham classifieds.

Obviously, our options were somewhat limited when we decided to stay here. Birmingham was originally supposed to be a waystation while we figured out what to do with ourselves. But we soon realized that we actually love it here. The town has matured a lot in the decade since I lived here (or maybe it was me that matured....nah). Being so close to my family has been great, and the flight to visit Karen's folks is now an easy peasy 1.5 hours direct.

Thanks largely to my sister, we've landed amid a fun group of friends who keep a pretty frenetic social calendar. We're picking up new skills, too. Karen, somewhat ironically, is taking up yoga now that we're out of California, and she's re-learning the trumpet. I've started playing drums and am steadily getting more practice on the guitar by playing with my brother-in-law. We've taken some dance lessons, and we've all started knitting. I have to say, I'm pretty good at the knitting, but that's another blog post entirely.

So yes, it's been three unexpected months. But it's been a valuable time for us, one where we can take stock of what we really want out of life and start working to get there. Two years ago, maybe even a year ago, I would have laughed at you if you said I'd be at my happiest if I moved back to Alabama. I guess it just shows that you never know what's waiting for you around the corner. Hopefully my next nice surprise will be the one that, you know, cuts me a check.

Oh, and in case you're curious, today's picture is a graph of fecal coliform levels from the San Lorenzo River in Santa Cruz. That's what you get when you do a google image search for "three months," apparently. That, and tons of baby pictures.

Well about time

OK, OK I promise it's my last post on this topic. I just wanted to make sure everyone saw Oprah go nuts on James Frey about the inaccuracies in his memoir. What's most interesting to me is that she admits being brainwashed by that immediate reaction from fans, who defended Frey to the wall without bothering to read the Smoking Gun article about his lies.

So, huzzah to Oprah. In case you're wondering (and I think the article mentions this), we're still selling copies of his book pretty regularly at the store. I always wonder if it's people who just haven't heard about the controversy or if they just want to see what all the fuss is about. Obviously, I keep my mouth shut when I ring them up. It's their money to do with as they please.

I'll post more soon, as I recover from several days of truly obnoxious head cold. I used my sick time to apply for two jobs today -- an advertising copywriting position and an assistant editor spot at a local magazine company. So wish me luck.

Some big job news

Two big pieces of news, avid readers (and random Web voyeurs):

First, Karen has a job! Today's her third day as development assistant for the Alabama Wildlife Center. Obviously she's still feeling out the duties, but it sounds like it'll be a good fit. She's organizing fund-raising, PR, the Web site, etc. It's a small organization, so she'll be a huge part of it. We're both excited, and soon we'll have a real, full-size paycheck rolling in.

As for me, it looks like I'll be flying to Kankakee, Ill., for a week to do some consulting work. Rich, my longtime mentor and three-time employer, has gotten an agreement to do more readership growth work with some newspapers up there. That means I'll likely spend one week a month there, starting at the beginning of February.

I'm stoked. Apart from the added money, this is a great learning opportunity for me and a good chance to expand Media Foresight Associates, which already is doing better in its first year than I could have expected.

Of course, I'm not sure what the Barnes and Noble folks will say today, but I'm sure they'll be cool with me taking the time off, if I agree to give up my benefits and drop to part time. I'll let you know.

Another perspective

I got a great e-mail from the reporter whose story I recently used as a cautionary tale of a source (or wildly popular author) possibly fudging the facts in the name of story telling. David, the writer, had this to say about his profile of a pastor whose story of post-Katrina aid seemed a bit too dramatic:

I, too, was troubled by that piece of
journalism, especially after the reports were
circulating that no one had been raped or killed
because of the violence. I read a lengthy AJR piece
recently written by New Orleans Times-Picayune
reporter Brian Thevenot that essentially said media
outlets, including his, were wrong about the carnage
that supposedly happened in New Orleans.

The (pastor) piece worried me in part because he
said some of the same things to me about New Orleans
that he had said to me after working at Ground Zero
after 9-11: that he was in counseling, that it was the
worst thing he'd ever seen, etc., etc. You hate not to
believe a guy who's giving you such vivid detail,
especially a man of the cloth, but I'd more likely
believe Don Kaput's allergy to electricity now than I
would believe (the pastor). Because I WANT to believe a
guy like (the pastor), a man who even blessed me in the
parking lot of The Union after our interview in
September.

Was that guy a fraud? I don't think so, but in the
heat of the storytelling moment, I think he took
liberties that he knew we probably would never try to
verify and thus take at face value.

Just as a side note, I've deleted the pastor's name because, for all I know, he could have been telling the truth 100 percent, and I'd hate for this post to come up when someone googles his name. But of course you can find his name in the link.

The AJR story (that's American Journalism Review, for the non journalism-obsessed) that David mentions is great reading, by the way. In case you don't plow through all of it, though, here's a good summary paragraph about a New York Times writer who tried to confirm the stories of rape and murder in the aftermath of Katrina:

The paper also dispatched stringers to shelters in Houston and Austin, Dwyer says, where they found no shortage of secondhand or thirdhand accounts of rape and murder – but none that seemed credible enough to discount Dwyer's original thesis. "Nobody could say they saw rapes and murders. It was always three or four steps removed, like 'my sister's uncle's cousin'" had seen the violence, he says.

A little more fallout

Some stiff defensiveness today at Barnes and Noble as fans of "Million Little Pieces" stood up for embattled fiction/memoir author James Frey. I wasn't too surprised...as I mentioned in my last post, it's easy to feel that way until you read the Smoking Gun article.

Here are a few more fun follow-up links:

The last-minute letter from Frey's attorney, hoping to kill the story. It includes a bizarre warning that putting the letter on the TSG Web site would be a violation of the copyright act. That's a new one on me...and the repercussions of such a legal precedent would be staggering.

Also, someone on Fark.com linked to this hilarious review from an American writer at a Moscow paper.

And yes, yes, I promise this is my last Frey post. If this blog is ever going to have a focus, I don't want it to be this.

Hoodwinked...by a drug addict?!

Like your Aunt Mary, that guy next to you on the plane, and the punk rock chick at the hair salon, I have been reading "A Million Little Pieces," a memoir that basically reads like an Upton Sinclair book about drug-induced vomiting.

As you might have heard by now, the book was skewered this week by The Smoking Gun in an expose that's quickly getting national attention. I won't linger on the investigation, which seems to be thorough and appropriately biting. If you've read the book, the TSG article should be required reading. If you haven't, I don't know if you'll get much out of it.

Now I'm at a strange crossroads. I've been reading this book on my breaks for the past two weeks, and I'm about three quarters of the way through. It's good, but I can't quite see myself finishing it now, knowing that it's probably a lot of horseshit.

I'm likely experiencing the same emotions that many of his millions of readers did: Defensiveness at first ("well, of course he changed up the story a bit from real life...that's to be expected), then reluctant skepticism ("I guess I did wonder how he got on an airplane unconscious, covered in vomit and with a hole in his cheek...") and finally resignation ("And he happened to befriend a mob boss? Whose adopted father was gunned down the day the mob boss was going into rehab? WTF?")

I've never trusted narrative memoirs, which of course have been huge best-sellers since "Angela's Ashes." I loved Ashes, but I just have trouble believing that one writer can remember so much about when he was a little boy.

I even felt the same inklings of doubt with "Devil in the White City," a brilliant book that (while not a memoir) purports to be straight nonfiction based entirely on historical documents. Here's the author's note from the intro of Devil:

In the following pages I tell the story of these men and this event, but I must insert here a notice: However strange or macabre some of the following incidents may seem, this is not a work of fiction. Anything between quotation marks comes from a letter, memoir or other written document.

I added the emphasis because that section is tantamount to a wink at the reader, one that you don't notice until you've gone back after finishing the book. Author Erik Larson vividly describes the thoughts and actions of people who died alone and were found only as charred bones. Why bother? Well, it makes good freading, something that "Million Little Pieces" author James Frey seems to have learned himself.

As a journalist, I was occasionally hit with a dilemma about a story that seemed a bit too good. There weren't quite enough records to back up someone's story, but why would they lie, right? Truth is stranger than fiction, right?

With the crunch of deadlines, I likely was responsible for printing several stories that deserved more thorough investigation. I often focused such energies on politicians, who have nice, easy paper trails to follow. But what about the others?

I still have concerns about one in particular...

Something about this story that I assigned and edited always sat funny with me. Editors develop a spider sense of sorts for things that don't seem to add up. This story was a run-of-the-mill tale of a pastor's work helping victims of Katrina in New Orleans. The first thing that bothered me was that he mentioned helping rape victims, and the story was running at a time when people were challenging the stories of rapes in the Superdome. Here's an excerpt from our story:

More than once, Nelson and his crew delivered babies while standing in raw sewage inside a triage center just steps from the Superdome. Where the National Football League has hosted numerous Super Bowl championships, Nelson saw women, too weak to move, urinate on their defibrillators as he prayed for them.

Although authorities are still attempting to determine if people had been raped inside the Superdome, Nelson said his team treated a few. "There were so many rape victims, and we had to turn (most all) of them away because they had life-damaging, but not life-threatening wounds," Nelson said.

I'm not saying any of this is untrue, but it just seems....I don't know, a bit too much for real life. Couldn't you take a few steps out of the sewage to deliver the babies? The story also mentioned this little anecdote:

And yet, Nelson saw signs of hope and humor inside the stadium home of the New Orleans Saints.

One hurricane survivor, wary of the lawlessness pervading throughout the stadium, posted a sign.

"Don't even think about it. I'm sleeping with an ugly woman, two shotguns and a claw hammer," the sign read.

The next day, the San Francisco Chronicle ran a picture of this same sign, except it was on the side of a building across town. The reporter checked his notes and confirmed that the pastor had said it was in the Superdome. Weird...

I talked briefly with the reporter and copy chief about how to handle this, and we agreed that it required an intensive set of follow-up interviews and scrutiny. But we were a small paper with tremendously limited resources. In the end, we had to move on to the other 100 stories waiting to be written. But I still feel that spider sense tingling, and I feel responsible for not doing more.

Now, going back to "Million Little Pieces," the question of the hour is WWOD. What will Oprah do? Her choice of the memoir for her book club made it an international sensation. What if it's little more than an embellished lie? His story is one of scoffing at the 12 Steps and instead trying to out-tough addiction. What if that actually hurts or kills those who are turning to it for inspiration?

Something tells me this storm is just starting to crackle.

Anonymous benefactor?

Hey, did one of you fine folks get me a Best Buy gift certificate by mail? One arrived anonymously, and I put it toward a new gig of ram and a new video card. So let me know whom I have to thank.

Quick work updates: Karen had a great interview for a job that doesn't sound like it would pay a living wage, but she's going to try negotiating. I'll keep you posted. Someone also threw my name in the hat for a Web content manager position at a locally based insurance company. While not the most thrilling job ever, it would help me toward my goal of learning more about Web design, and would still leave some time for free-lance journalism (or sleep and video games).

A sudden, unnoticeable shift in employment

I officially became a full-time employee of Barnes & Noble today, meaning ... well, not a whole lot. In 60 days, I'll qualify for a pretty nice set of benefits. But in 60 days, I'd like to have a better-paying job that also has a nice set of benefits. Still, I shouldn't belittle what I've got. I'm sure there are a lot of folks out there who wish they had fun, easy jobs that offer health insurance, even if they don't pay a fortune.

So I'm happy.

There's been a bit of movement on the job front. After some hefty soul-searching, I turned down an interview with Rotary International for a Web editor position. It paid up to $52,000...gulp...but we just have very little interest in living in Chicago right now. We're happier than we've been in a long time, and I'm sure some equally cool jobs will come along. Plus, $50,000 in Evanston is probably about like $30,000 here in Birmingham, and getting a house would be a lot easier here.

I've applied for five or so jobs recently...writer for CNN.com, writer for Cartoon Network's Web site, project manager for a local publishing house, etc. I'm working on applications for a few other local editing jobs, and I have some freelance ideas I'd like to get moving on. And there's still the possibility of good-paying consulting work in the near future, although I'm not banking on it.

OK, I'll end this bit of miscellaneous job ramblings with a shameless endorsement: SportClips. It's a haircut place with the gimmick of letting you watch sports while you get your cut. That's not a big draw to me...in fact, I almost left the parking lot when I saw all the TVs.

But...I got a good cut, along with a free shampoo, scalp massage, shoulder rub and one of those hot towels on the face. Seriously, I didn't think anything that felt that good was legal in Alabama. So, if you have one in your area, don't let the jumbotron and batting-cage atmosphere scare you off.

Merry Christmas from Cafe Asteria

It'll be a few days before I have time to post again, so I just wanted to throw out a quick note of thanks to all of our wonderful friends and family who have been so supportive during these months of chaos and uncertainty. Without you all, especially my wonderful wonderful unparalleled sister and her equally stupendous husband, this move to Alabama likely would not have been the great experience it has been.

Wishing you all the best,

Griner

10 steps to not angering your barista

I might not have been working the cafe for very long now, but I've quickly accumulated a list of ways to avoid infuriating the guy or gal who has full access to the drink you just paid $6 for. So excuse the inherent bitterness of such a project and enjoy these simple tips.

1. Don't hover over the barista. This is my personal pet peeve, when people order their drinks and then come stand next to the counter, watching me make it. It's disconcerting, especially when there are several drinks in front of theirs. They keep saying, "Is that my grande skinny decaf mocha? Oh.... Don't forget it's decaf! Is that it? You didn't forget it, did you?" There's one exception: I actually kinda like it when parents let their kids watch me make their hot chocolates. The kids think I'm a super hero, especially when I put on the whipped cream. But everyone else needs to step off and wait for the shout-out.

2. Try not to order your drink "extra hot." Of the 700 ways people like to order their drinks, this is the most frustrating. First, it implies I don't know how to make a drink. Second, and most obnoxiously, it makes us blast an entire steam pitcher up past 170 degrees (the last tasty temperature of milk) just because you want to scald your few remaining tastebuds. One steam pitcher can make four drinks, so an extra-hot order forces me to shuffle the drink order (pushing that one to last, by the way, so I can spike the temp later) if I don't want to be lazy and make all the drinks extra hot. Most baristas would just be lazy and give torched milk to everybody. PS: I say "try not to order" that way because you might frequent a coffee shop where they just don't make drinks hot enough. If that's the case, go for it. But it's best just to specify a temperature if you're worried: 170 for drinks with whipped cream, 160 for those without.

3. If you used to work at a Starbucks, don't mention it. It doesn't do any good for anyone involved.

4. Look at your drink when you pick it up. Did you order a tall? Then why did you grab a venti? I'm amazed every day how many people pick up the wrong drink, sip from it, dump a bunch of Splenda in it, etc. Of course, I've done it, too. But still, just pay attention. I will admit, though, this is the best reason for me to re-make a drink. The customer never gets mad when I say, "Some guy grabbed your drink, put a fistfull of Equal in it, wandered around the store for five minutes, then returned it. I'll make you a new one."

5. Bus your own table. Clean up your own sugar spill. Wipe up your creamer explosion. And, if you happen to be at a Barnes and Noble/Borders/etc., don't leave your books and magazines on the table when you take off. I know, the kind of people who read this aren't the kind of people who do these things, but I'm just trying to do my part to help.

6. Don't use the adjective "Regular" to describe anything. It starts a flurry of questions. Do you mean medium? Non-decaf? Just once, I want someone to order an "irregular coffee."

7. Never underestimate the people behind the counter. The cafe crew is probably the most educated I've ever worked with, and they know a lot about a lot of things. The customers who get treated the best are the ones who respect the crew and ask the right questions. ("What's a low-carb coffee drink?" "How do you make a macchiato?" etc.)

8. The whipped cream is low-fat. Just take our word on it. You'd have to eat a few cups of it to get some serious fat content. No one believes this.

9. Tip. Even if there's no jar. Especially if there's no jar.

10. Don't ever cite the drink-making prowess of Olive Garden.

Drifting from "us" to "them"

I've been grappling with a theory lately, but I haven't quite gotten it nailed down. So I figure this is the best place to try and make sense of it.

It's not that revolutionary, but I've realized lately that I feel more connected with the real world now that I'm not doing journalism. Working at a cafe, I meet a ton of diverse people every day, and I work with folks who come from just about every kind of background.

In journalism, I feel like we get isolated with other journalists -- who are generally great, interesting people, but they often come from the same mold. They're inquisitive, cynical, and saddled by a modern tradition of feigning emotion or conservative morality. What I mean is, journalists never talk about sources or stories the same way they write about them. We tear-jerkingly portray the tough plight of some unlucky bastard, but at home, we talk about how the person shouldn't have been so stupid or gullible to get into the fix.

Journalists (and politicians....especially politicians) are probably most guilty of pretending to care about things that no real person cares about.

At work, we talk about the importance of Constitutional process, or the corruption-sweeping powers of independent audits, or the fiscal forecast of the municipal budget. But in their personal lives, I'm sure that journalists and politicians are like everyone else .... we care about the fact that there aren't any good movies out right now, and traffic is a one-way drive to sucksville, and the fact that yeah you should be jogging more except that jogging is boring and it's really cold and ooo a new episode of Project Runway is on tonight.

As I said before, none of this is revolutionary. We all know that journalists and politicians have cast themselves apart from the rest of U.S. society. But the new thing for me is living on the other side and seeing just how drastically little everyone cares about the stuff that used to fill my day. I love the broad cross-section of Birmingham I've gotten to meet by selling coffee. I love that I don't just meet customers when they're complaining or trying to rat out their city councilman/neighbor/power company/illegal immigrant gardener. I love that I don't have to worry that conversations are going to drift instantly political as people try to figure out which side of the fence I'm really on. (Although it still happens, of course, but that's a gripe for another entry.)

So what this has led me to wonder is, what will I do with this lesson if I return to journalism? How can I stay more grounded in a field that seems to revel in elevating itself above the masses and then wonders why no one respects it?

I suppose that's the part I need to figure out.

I could've if I'd wanted to. Yeah.

It's been a while since I was in a college computer lab, but that didn't stop me from enjoying this tongue-in-cheek advice column on picking up women amid the nerdiest of nerdies.

Two of the best pieces of advice:

DON'T post to a blog
I cannot stress this enough: do not let a girl see you posting to any kind of blog. You will never, ever get laid. Seriously. Take it from me.

... and this suggestion on getting out of an awkward situation ...

GIRL: Are you looking at porn?
YOU: No.
GIRL: I can see porn right there on your screen.
YOU: Then YOU'RE looking at porn.
GIRL: What the hell are you talking about?
(pause)YOU: I'll give you this free iTunes song if you have sex with me.

Zombie history has waited for the XBox360

A few months back, I mentioned that there was a zombie game in development, but I couldn't remember the title. I stumbled across a preview the other day, and I figured I'd pass on these screenshots to any fellow zombie fanatics.

It's called "Dead Rising," and the unique aspect is that you're not fighting a handful of zombies at a time; you're taking on the whole "Dawn of the Dead"-esque army.

And, like any true butt kicker, the hero is a journalist.

Oooh, pretty

I've been tackling a few funky projects lately, and one of the more rewarding ones is nearly complete.

Before I left California, I asked my friend Brian to help redesign another friend's business Web site. Brian slammed out a design and e-mailed it to me, but I hadn't really had time to look at it in the months since. The other day, I buckled down and started using the template to rebuild the site.

The site is www.mediaforesight.org, home of Media Foresight Associates. This is the consulting business of which I am officially an associate, although I haven't been able to offer many services since the big move. Rich Somerville, the president, has been a close friend since my college days, when he hired a shaggy-haired Griner to be a research associate at New Directions for News (now defunct).

Rich then moved out to California, where he hired me to be his city editor while he was editor of The Union. Rich was a great boss, and I was excited to see his consulting business take off at the beginning of this year. When I left The Union, he hired me on as a consulting associate with the firm, and we hope to make it more than a ceremonial position in the coming months.

Anyway...on to the pretty stuff.

Here are some before-and-after links so you can see what I was able to do with Brian's design:

1. Before: Front page
2. After: Front page
3. Before: Who We Are
4. After: Who We Are
5. Before: Articles and White Papers
6. After: Articles and White Papers
7. Before: What People Say About Us
8. After: What People Say About Us

I hope you guys like the new design. I think it better reflects Rich's level of professionalism and skill, and it's a really flexible, crisp look that will work well for quite a while. What do you think?

Rich and I are also getting a blog going for him to keep folks posted on trends and news in the journalism industry. I'll obviously drop a link to it when it's ready to go. Oh, and it'll probably replace the Newstradamus feature on the front page, so don't be surprised if that doesn't look like it benefitted from the redesign.

What, no leeches?

Well, it appears I have a full-blown infection in my lungs, which has me out of commission on doctor's orders for a few days. For most people, being told not to work Saturday or Sunday would feel like a waste, but I was scheduled to work both, so...yay.

(As for the graphic, I just like thinking that any major illness would have cost me the ultimate price on the Oregon Trail.)

Last night, I got laid out by the most intense sinus pain of my life. It lasted about 12 hours, and I went to the doc this morning. After a shot in each butt cheek, a five-minute breathing treatment with some sort of inhalant medicine, two advil and two prescriptions, I was out the door! I guess it actually was worth signing up for COBRA insurance.

In a more upbeat piece of news, Karen and I were happy to find a surprise in our mailbox the other day: the title to her car! We took some of the money from selling mine and used it to pay hers off, which means we have $0 in debt!!! (We recently paid off the credit card, which had lingered at $2,000 or more for a while.)

I plan to buy my next car with cash, once one of us has reliable employment. Karen has a job interview with the local university next week, so we're both obviously excited about that. It's administrative work, which pays well but not might be a dream job. But discounted schooling would sure open up some doors to more fun jobs.

Our zero-debt approach was inspired by a finance radio show guy named Dave Ramsey. His Web site's pretty cheesed out with his promotional stuff, but I like his basic ideas. I heard him on the radio when we were moving to Alabama, and it instantly resonated with me. I picked up his book "The Total Money Makeover," which I would definitely recommend. He gives easy-to-understand, practical advice on saving money long-term.

His basic steps are:
1. Do everything you can to save $1,000 in cash as quickly as possible. (We, thankfully had quite a bit more than that saved when we decided to move.)
2. Start a "debt snowball," where you list your debts from smallest to largest (not counting house). Pay as much as you physically can each month to the smallest debt until it is gone. Meanwhile, keep paying minimum payments on everything else. When one is killed, move on to the next-smallest debt. Do this until you're out of debt. This usually takes years, but since Karen and I were a bit ahead of the game with savings, we were able to pull this off in about two months. We had the money, we just hadn't been smart about using it to pay off debt.
3. Increase your emergency reserve to $10,000, in case you decide to do something stupid like quit your jobs and move cross-country. We're still a bit short of this one, but it's a good goal. With few bills to pay these days, we're saving pretty much everything we don't spend on food or Christmas shopping.
4. Pay off your mortgage as fast as possible.
5. Set up and invest in college savings plans for your kids.
6. Invest in a diverse, mutual fund-based portfolio and max out your retirement savings.
7. Continue to expand your wealth, and focus on philanthropy.

I just think it's interesting that this guy made a New York Times best-seller out of a book that calls for a 14-year (on average), amazingly intense commitment. While we probably won't be as strong with these goals as we should be, they have helped us focus our priorities at a time of economic uncertainty.

OK, back to following doctor's orders: "Your job is to take it easy for two days." After two shots in the ass, that's a welcome prescription.

Killin time

I'm homebound today with a wicked cold, but it could definitely be worse. I could be Jonas, who spent a good chunk of Saturday morning throwing up blood (and proving once and for all that he was the dog that ate the bottle of pain pills), or I could be these poor bastards.

Jonas is fine now, in case you're concerned. The vet is pretty sure he'll avoid long-term liver damage. That bowl of bourbon we give him to help sleep every night probably won't help in the long run, though.

So as I try to find a way to kill time today, I figure I'd share some good Internet pastimes:

• The Perry Bible Fellowship - This PG-13 comic appears in some alternative newspapers (including, impressively, Birmingham's). Not all are that hilarious, but every once in a while there's a big winner. Scroll down to Lord Gloom and Schlorbians Again for two of my favorites.
• The Secret Satan video - In case you didn't see it when it was posted on fark.com. Gets the holidays started right. It's long, but be patient. There's a nice little breakdown scene near the end.
• The hockey name generator - Were I to pick up the stick professionally (um, you know what I mean) then apparently I would be called "Bob McGrinerchuck" (if Canadian) or Denis La Grinereau (if French-Canadian). What about you?

What would Olive Garden do?

Woke up this morning to the dual panic of my sister realizing that A) her flight to London today apparently was never really booked and B) one of our dogs ate a big bottle of pain pills. After some fun last-second ticket shopping and vomit-inducing, everything seems to be OK.

However, it's still up in the air which dog actually at the pills, which were Rimadyl chewables for my sister's oldest dog's back pain. Because high doses can be toxic for the liver and gastro system, both Loki (the oldest dog) and Jonas (my mutt) have to take Zantac pills for two weeks. Odds are good that Jonas was the one who ate them, since he's the biggest shithead, but we have to be safe. Only one dog, the puppy Picasso, was ruled out because we induced vomiting and found only his breakfast. Sorry, buddy. The other two dogs apparently have a strong stomach for hydrogen peroxide.

Anyway, moving on...

I previously mentioned that I was the second oldest worker at the cafe, after a fella named Rick. I've worked with him a few times and went out for drinks with him last night after closing, and sure enough, he's a pretty interesting guy.

Rick's primary job is in hiring at UAB, which is cool, since that's where both Karen and I are considering working. But he works at Barnes and Noble as a side job, and he loves it. He seems to share my love of getting to meet so many different people in a day, even if the interaction is limited (which can, of course, be a blessing).

I've decided to start keeping track of the random comments I hear sometimes when I go out to clean the lobby. You pick up unpredictable little tidbits of life, like groups of religious teens talking about peer pressure, or the awkward attempts at conversation on a first date. As I get some good ones, I'll post them on the blog.

The only other interesting day-to-day thing to track is the strange requests people make. I'm used to the "half-caf skinny caramel machiato no whip affogato style" kind of stuff, but then there are the things that just confuse me.

I stopped in today just to buy a cup of coffee (hard to beat the 50% employee discount), and a woman was lecturing one of our best baristas about how she wanted him to steam the milk and espresso together. (Normally, you drop the milk on top of the espresso.) Now, this isn't incredibly rare or strange, but her logic sure was. It consisted of two points:

1. "When you don't steam them together, you burn the milk."
2. "That's how Olive Garden does it for me."

Just when you're trying to get your head around the burning milk aspect, your brain comes to a screeching halt. "Did she just say Olive Garden?"

In case you care or can't figure this out yourself, putting espresso in cold milk and steaming it will not magically change the scalding point of milk (which is about 180F). But apparently at the Olive Garden, the espresso acts as some kind of safety valve, and when the milk starts to get too hot...I don't know, maybe the whole thing changes color or starts to smell like pistachios.

Yeah, I can take all manner of rudeness and ignorance, but amazingly flawed logic (coupled with a that's-not-how-they-do-it-at-Olive-Garden attitude) is just the best.

Olive Garden. Christ.