I like Addison

I do. Because she's so much less whiny and wussy than Meredith. (And perhaps because she's a redhead, like yours truly.) I hope that as McDreamy and Meredith heat up again, they won't write Addison out.

I am, of course, discussing Grey's Anatomy. The show I love. I began loving it because, well, just look at Patrick Dempsey. Yum. I simply can't believe this gorgeous grown-up was once the geek in Can't Buy Me Love.

But now I find I enjoy it almost as much for its portrayal of strong, idiosyncratic women. Addison Shepard. Christina Yang. Miranda Bailey. They're all so neat. I'm even warming up to that dark-haired girl whose in love with George. Tonight she covered for Meredith, and considering how annoying Meredith is, that couldn't have been easy.

I think part of the problem comes from the show's writers. Meredith's voiceovers remind me so much of Carrie Bradshaw's. Only Carrie's had a real purpose: she was the voice of the newspaper column she was writing. She also spent a lot of time discussing the inner lives of her closest friends. Meredith's voiceovers don't seem to accomplish anything except to make Dr. Grey seem self-centered and kinda somnambulistic.

Stuff I care about, and stuff I don't

When something captures my fancy I tend to read about/watch it obsessively. Lately that includes:

The National League Wildcard Race: Please, please, please let the Dodgers prevail. I simply must see Greg Maddux pitch in the postseason one more time!

The McCartney/Mills divorce: Doesn't matter how many allegations she makes about Sir Paul, the English public still hates Heather. She was just tossed out of a grocery store in her hometown because she shoplifted there 10 years ago.

Bill Clinton's Fox Rant: Oh, I loved it. But why on earth did he go on Fox in the first place? And while I'm sure it will help our side in the November elections, what impact will it have on Hillary? Does it free her to speak openly about the mess in Iraq without sounding like she's attacking Bush because after all, she's just defending her husband? Or does it simply illustrate anew that her husband is still more compelling and relevant than she is?

Anna Nicole Smith: I'm sorry, but I simply don't believe that Howard K. Stern is the father of that baby.

Meredith Vieria: I like her. I've always liked her. And I'm glad they didn't replace Katie with a 30-something.

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And then there are the things that I couldn't care less about, yet somehow they penetrate my awareness:

Dancing with the Stars: So Harry Hamlin goes and Jerry Springer stays? Isn't the real story that Mario Lopez cheats on reality shows, just as he cheated in reality?

T.O.'s alleged suicide attempt: If he's not a baseball player, I really can't be bothered.

The fabulousness of the Bears' Rex Grossman: See above.

Clay Aiken's hair, new CD, panic attacks and sexuality: Do we really need another Barry Manilow?

Girl Crush … as seen in the NY Times …

… meaning not "girl-on-girl," as seen in Girls Gone Wild infomercials.*

During the summer of 2005, the NY Times wrote about how women, especially working women, tend to get "crushes" on other women. It's always a woman who is just SO … fantastic, cool, together, etc. Who so exemplifies everything you want to be, but aren't (or aren't yet). A woman whose respect you dearly want to have.

I've never had a real-life girl crush. But I have had an enduring, lifelong girl crush on the woman you see here.

JBKO. Effortlessly elegant. Sublimely self-contained. Feminine, but tough as nails when the situation demanded it.

Jackie Kennedy was fluent in French and conversational in Spanish. For fun she read Greek poets. For fun, I read about her.

She captured my imagination when I was a little girl. I was fascinated by how fascinated everyone was with her. As I got older, I got it. And like many others all over the world (including, it seems, Princess Diana), my fascination with her didn't wane with time.

My all-time favorite Jackie anecdote: After being fired upon in an open car, after being with her husband when he is pronounced dead, after exhibiting nothing but grace and stoicism to a worldwide television audience as she buried him, after receiving the foreign dignitaries who wished to convey their condolences, on the VERY DAY of that famous funeral, she switched gears fast and efficiently. To oversee a birthday party for her three-year-old son. Who didn't understand where Daddy was, but certainly remembered it was his birthday. So she passed out cone-shaped birthday hats, played preschool party games and tried to convince her neices and nephews that it was not only OK to be festive on this horrible day, it was the right thing to do. She sucked it up because she was John Jr.'s mother, and it was his birthday.

My throat closes a little every time I think of what it took for her to do that on that day.

I see stories all the time about firefighters, cops and soldiers. I have nothing but gratitude for anyone who is willing to go into harm's way on my behalf, but I don't get it. I don't understand what it takes to go into a burning building or face a gun. I do, however, understand how hard it would be to swallow my fear and heartache long enough to sing "Happy Birthday" and feign delight as a three-year-old rips paper off of Lincoln Logs and Mr. Potato Head. The lady had guts.


*Geez, why do straight men find that particular sexual situation so hot, even though it renders them completely irrelevant? I like to be IN my own fantasies. Oh well, that's a post for another day.