About

For years I’ve been reading blogs instead of doing the things I really need to be doing. I even started a few. None had the right raison d’etre. I thought writing about our move from New York to South Carolina in October 2005 would provide endless material, that the tales of a hip, liberal sophisticate who voluntarily relocates to a red state would not only be comedy gold but also supply me with a badly needed identity after leaving my job. It didn’t work for two reasons. First, every post had me sounding like Woody Allen in the scenes in “Annie Hall” where he goes to LA … Why is it so sunny? Why is everyone happy and smiling all the time? Don’t they realize the real world isn’t about Botox and golf courses and guys named Tap and Champ? Let’s see you survive 7 feet of snow without NASCAR and your Bible to keep you toasty. Funny for a while, sure. But a bit of a one-trick pony, no?

Secondly, my black-wearing transplanted-feminist schtick simply wasn’t sustainable. It was growing tired. For the first time in my life, after meeting my daughter on March 28, 2006, I was happy to put someone else’s needs first. I wanted to create a comfortable, peaceful home for the people I loved best. I met other stay-at-home moms who were smart and accomplished and I admired their dedication to their self-defined – not culture-defined – priorities. I came to realize the most important work I’d ever do didn’t come with a paycheck. 

Dramatis personae:

Me. I’m a freelance writer and editor and the mother to a little spark plug of a girl. A SAHM who can’t figure out how keep her house clean or put dinner on the table without an ordeal. I spent 10 years as a newspaper editor before moving to better my husband’s career. I love working out, when I do it. The happiest times of my life were spent walking the streets of Manhattan. I’ve seen Dave Matthews 34 times.

The Chef (still trying to decide if he’s The Chef, or simply Chef, a la “South Park”). My husband, who is tall and very funny. He enjoys stinky cheese, the complete works of Ozzy Osbourne and is a closet Louis Vuitton-loving metrosexual. Or aspiring hip-hop mogul. I don’t fully understand it. He opened a business in April 2008, the dream of a lifetime that might well kill us all.

Tink. My daughter, born in 2005. Not to me. Her provedance is sure to be discussed, but this isn’t an adoption blog. I tried that before and didn’t like where it was going. Right now her adoption doesn’t define her or our family. That may change, I realize. 

Besides, this blog is about me. Or, at least, mothering, writing, consuming media and whining from my perspective. It’s the secret ingredient my previous blogs were missing. I’m gonna own my navel gazing this time around, and it shall make all the difference.

I have lots of reservations about how open I want to be about my and my family’s identity on this site. On the one hand, I’d love to be as out there as Dooce is. I admire her fearlessness. She might not have the readership she has if she hid behind a nome de plume like Tink’s Mom. I know this, and yet I can’t bring myself to reveal my daughter’s full name. And then I’d feel all compelled to write monthly letters to my daughter, and, well, that’s an honor reserved for Leta Elise. Be grateful you’re getting full-on photos instead of cleverly obscured visages.

When I attended BlogHer in 2007, Penelope Trunk preached that the only way to a successful blog, the only way to be successful in anything, was to be authentic. Real. Good advice. Especially from someone who’s name isn’t even Penelope Trunk. (But, seriously, I love Penelope. Again, the fearlessness. I bow down.)

I also write about food at Cherry Tomato. See my professional portfolio at elizbarr.com.