Ah, Gracie …

This blog has been entirely too serious today, so I shall end the day's entries with a dose of lust.

Mark Grace was the color commentator for Fox's pre-post-game coverage of the Cards and Cubs. Sigh. I still love him.

Oh, he looks older and more staid than he did during his Cubbie heyday. But I don't judge. After all, I look more like a fat pigeon today than I did during his Cubbie heyday.

He's not as deft a broadcaster as he was a first baseman. He kept turning to confirm which camera had the light on. But so what? He's still my beloved Gracie.

What did surprise me was his enthusiasm for Sammy Sosa's hot streak, and his endorsement for Sammy's induction into the Hall of the Fame. When did he come around? It wasn't that long ago that he was making corked bat and steroid jokes at Sammy's expense.

The "Moral Leader" Question

It didn't bother me that John Edwards took about 20 seconds to answer the question about his "moral leader" in Thursday night's debate. After giving it thought, Edwards answered that he didn't have just one moral leader, that he looked to his Lord, his wife Elizabeth, and his father.

I've considered it, too, and my answer would be my Lord, my mom, and his wife Elizabeth.

I cannot overstate the impact her book Saving Graces had on me. Searingly, scorchingly honest about her agony after the death of her son, Elizabeth Edwards generously shared what she learned -- that we need one another, and we should graciously offer and accept support and strength from those around us.

I read her book over the holidays, before her cancer returned but just in time for me to deal with a family crisis. I'm one of those women who is used to being "the strong one." This past January I was confronted with a situation that taxed my strength.

My uncle's wife died. Her death in and of itself didn't disturb me because, to be honest, I never really liked her. But my uncle has Parkinson's Disease, and because of his advanced symptoms, the wake was going to be exceptionally difficult for him. He's a proud man and since I love him, my place was with him, offering support to him and my mom.

However, the relative who molested me when I was a girl would be there. too. A pillar of the church, he's always front and center at these things. Even though he must be 80 by now, he still takes every inappropriate opportunity to make me skin-crawlingly uncomfortable about what he did -- and got away with.

My oldest friend knew how expensive this would be for me. She said she was coming with me and sticking by my side. "He'll have to get past me to talk to you." My first response was, "No, that's OK. You don't have to." She reiterated the offer and I thought, Why not? Why not accept "solace and strength" (Mrs. Edwards' phrase) from someone I've known since Kindergarten, someone I've supported countless times? So she accompanied me. I was able to hug all who needed hugging, stand by all who needed someone to lean on, and the moment my molester appeared, slip out the side door with some excuse about my friend's family obligations.

I was so grateful my oldest friend was there for me. She literally made it bearable. It also made her happy to reverse our roles a bit, and to show respect to my mother and uncle, two people who played a role in her growing up, as well as mine. It hadn't occurred to me might be empowering for her.

That's what I learned from the wise and gracious and giving Elizabeth Edwards: that we strengthen our connections to those around us by receiving as well as by giving.

I don't know why this particular book touched me so deeply, but I'm grateful it came into my life when it did.

The image this week that stays with me …

Last Saturday morning I took a grocery bag filled non-perishables and personal care items (OK, bars of soap) to the local food pantry. I timed my trip intentionally because I have learned that in the weeks leading up to a holiday like Easter, people are very generous. And then, right after the holiday, the pantry shelves are empty and slow to fill again.

Anyway, as I was dropping off, I noticed the parking lot was filled with the cars of the neighbors who were picking up their free groceries. Maybe it's because Earth Day has made me sensitive to these things, but I never noticed so many cars before.

My community offers extensive, affordable public transportation. Everything is centrally located, too. I haven't driven since Ronald Reagan was president, and it hasn't been an inconvenience.

So why were all these people DRIVING to the food pantry? Why don't they walk or take the bus or share rides? Gas is so expensive these days! If a household is so strapped that they are getting their groceries from the food pantry, wouldn't their paychecks go a little further if they drove a little less? (And let's not forget how good it is for all of us to shrink our carbon footprints a bit.)

I think long-time drivers look upon their cars the way old cowboys looked at their horses. I guess it's simply inconceivable that they would leave the house without their wheels. But it's such a waste of their money and resources! If I get the chance tomorrow, I'll mention this to my minister (he's one of the food pantry organizers). Maybe the pantry itself can begin encouraging walking or car-pooling …

Hi. I look like a fat pigeon.

Really, I do. I caught sight of myself in a store window at lunch today and this is a reasonable facsimile of what looked back out at me.

Fortunately I was able to work out today. The pain in my knee has lessened somewhat so I wasn't worried about hurting it more. I did just 10 minutes on the treadmill -- don't wish to overdo -- and a full 20 on the stationery bike for 30 minutes of cardio. Because of my poor old knee, I hadn't been able to do that in a while. I topped it off with 16 reps on one of the arm machines. I'm still scared to try any leg machines yet.

So this activity helped my heart and my self-esteem. But there's still my pigeon profile to contend with.

I don't diet. I just can't. I have no willpower, and then I feel bad about myself and then the self-loathing gets out of control and, well, you get the idea.

But there is one thing I can do very easily that will help, and that is substitute water for Coke.

I drink Coke constantly. It's as though there's a red can epoxied to my hand. I consume Classic Coke the way other people drink coffee. One in the morning before work, one as soon as I get into work, one with lunch, another at my desk if I'm working late, one when I get home. That's 4-5 cans of Coke each day. That's 600 completely empty calories each day, too. Adjusting the total bit for my weekend consumption, that's 4,000 calories per week.* Which ain't helping my curvaceous pigeon profile none!

So in addition to increasing activity, I shall reduce my caloric intake. Beginning Monday, it will be water when I first come in from work. Every day. And I'll just suck on the water bottle until it's empty. No Coke for The Gal if there's H2O in the bottle.

*Are you impressed? I really don't do numbers, you know.

I'm not in love. But I am hopeful.

Last night was like my first date … with the Democratic candidates. And I had a good time. I'm open to seeing some of them again.

It's not like 2004. I have admired John Kerry since he was a 27 year old war hero, eloquently addressing Congress. The death penalty, a woman's right to choose, veteran's rights, the environment … every issue I care about, he championed throughout his life. I was thrilled to sign up and volunteer for his campaign. I was relentless in raising money. I completely believed that, at that moment in time, he was the perfect statesman to lead us out of the mess we were in. I still believe that. And his loss broke my heart.

But last night, there was no one who captured my imagination and loyalty. Yet. Obama is a wonderful speaker, but, um, he was a bit cavalier in discussing his relationship with Tony Rezko. Living in Chicagoland, I know Rezko was his neighbor as well as a major contributor. So his glibness disturbed me.

So now that leaves me with Hillary, Edwards and Richardson.

Come on, candidates! Woo me! I want to enthusiastically support one of you. For as I look at the world, I believe you three are our best hope.

Thursday Thirteen #14 - Why I'd Like to Switch Places with My Cats




Thirteen Reasons why THE GAL HERSELF would willingly trade places with her cats I wouldn’t want to be just any cat. (I realize that there are countless cats suffering or at risk, and if I could, I would bring them all indoors to my home.) But I look at my cats and at times I feel tremendous envy. Naturally my cats are the most attractive, intelligent and fascinating feline trio ever! (Just ask them.) And their lives are pretty cushy. Here’s how I imagine my life is I switched places with them … 1. Instead of leaving for work, at 8:30, I’d be doing whatever I pleased. I might be chasing a ball with a bell inside (like Rey) or indulging in a little after-breakfast grooming (like Charlotte) or finding the perfect spot in the sun for my morning nap (like Joey). 2. I’d eat better. They have premium cat food I buy directly from the vet; I eat McDonald’s. 3. The phone, the buzzer and the alarm clock would never have anything to do with me. 4. I could leap to the top of the refrigerator or the armoire. 5. My life would be more exciting and glamorous. When I look at a twist tie, I wouldn’t see a twist tie, I’d see a dangerous snake that must be pounced upon and vanquished! A shirt box would be a luxurious four-poster bed. A paper shopping bag would be a cave. 6. I’d be more patient and content, able to sit perfectly still as I stare at my human and telepathically try to convince her to share the milk from her breakfast cereal, and I’d be perfectly happy at the window, spending long moments just watching leaves blow by. 7. I’d have a tail. 8. I could nap anywhere – along the back of the sofa, on the windowsill, under the bed … sometimes even on the bed. 9. Cat nip! 10. With my exceptional night vision, my schedule wouldn’t depend upon mundane things like the clock, or sunrise/sunset. 11. There’s a confidence that comes with knowing you’re descended from Egyptian gods. 12. I could mess with my human by suddenly turning my head and staring at the front door. (Ha! Made her look!) 13. Wouldn’t know or care about Iraq, or Afghanistan, or the crisis in health care or even the tragedy of homeless dogs and cats. After all, to me, the cable box would just be a warm place to perch, and Chicago Tribune something to nest upon. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Rashenbo's important TT about literacy is at writingaspirations.blogspot.com 2. Tink shares 13 things she does on her computer at tinkerbell-nl.blogspot.com 3. Jade recommends 13 addictive TV shows at jadesymb.livejournal.com 4. I sighed while reading Thomma Lyn's TT at thommalyn.blogspot.com 5. Go to thiseclecticlife.com for a TT that's so on-target it's scary! 6. Susan's highly imaginative Kerri/Mitchell TT is at westofmars.blogspot.com 7. Take a TT trip to beautiful, sunny Cuba (& visit one gi-normous snake!) at mommybrainvictim.wordpress.com 8. Jamie's funny, yet painful, TT is at jdurward.blogspot.com 9. Jenny McB's bloody brilliant -- and blood-related -- TT is at jennymcb.blogspot.com 10. Janet's fun and imaginative things that begin with k are at www.fondofsnape.com 11. Kathy's generous TT birthday wishlist is at kathmandupa.blogspot.com 12. For 13 things you didn't know about Bermuda, go to wyliekinson.blogspot.com 13. L^2's more or less musical TT is at l-squared.blogspot.com (she's right about "Kokomo") 14. Dewey's TT TBR list is at deweymonster.com 15. Qtpies7's multi-media TT about Scrubs is at qtpies7.blogspot.com 16. Gabriella's TT is trip down memory lane to grad school at www.gabriellahewitt.com 17. She's TT is devoted to (shudder!) Karaoke. I'm tone deaf and will not sing in public, but if I did, I'd borrow from her set list at daemon-ink.net/blog 18. Crazy Working Mom's "mature" TT is at tishblack.blogspot.com 19. Teamouse's 13 big oops's is at teatimeramblings.blogspot.com/ 20. Starla's horrifically funny TT is at themonkeycrew.typepad.com/beside_the_pointe/2007/04/thursday_thirte_3.html 21. Frigga denies saying EVER any of the things in her TT at anyapples.blogspot.com




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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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I've considered it and decided against it. But thanks for the offer.

My best friend was in town last night, and, believe it or not, we were in stitches over a booklet called Hormone Replacement Therapy that I picked up at the hospital yesterday. This is because I have decided exactly how I'm going to handle the HRT controversy: I announced last night I am simply not going through menopause.

This process sounds so horrible it's funny. Like a Monty Python skit. How can you take a booklet seriously when a page begins with, "Your vagina shortens and the lining becomes thin, dry and less flexible. And your labia loses fat and flexibility"?

Gulp! I am reminded of the immortal words of Butch Cassidy, "Don't sugarcoat it, Sundance. Give it to her straight."

It only starts with vaginal/labial discomfort. It goes onto urinary tract infections, incontinence, thinning bones, thinning hair (see photo), facial hair, drooping breasts, abdominal weight gain, sleep problems and mood swings.

All that is covered by page 5, and we still have 12 pages to go!

The information was so negative it was absurd. But I feel better now that I know that I'm on the record with my announcement that menopause simply isn't for me.

I can't deny it

I am 80% Cat

I am almost exactly like a cat. I'm intelligent, independent, and set on getting my way. And there's no way I'm going to fetch a paper for anyone!

Are You More Cat or Dog?

Well, that was fun!

Had my annual mammogram this morning. Gave the lovely lady in admissions my doctor's name, address, and phone number and she noted that none of that changed from last year. I go for my the actual xrays and, while I'm nude to waist under my little paisley cover, the tech looks over my forms and says the information is incomplete. Do I have my doctor's fax number? Um … not with me. Obviously. Maybe in my purse.

"We have no way of contacting him," says Linda the tech.

"Yes, you do. It's there. They told me in admissions none of his information had changed."

"But they didn't get his fax number. We have no way of contacting him without a fax."

"Maybe I have a fax number in my purse. But I know the phone number and address are there."

"We don't call. You can call from our desk and get his fax number. Do you think they're open?" (It was 8:45 or so.)

"I don't know," say I. And suddenly the ridiculousness of this washes over me. "So if I don't get you a fax number, you'll just let me die?"

I mean, geez! I'm holding the little booklet about breast cancer. I'm there to find out if I have breast cancer. This is a stressful experience for any woman -- including Linda the tech. And now I get to let her smoosh my breasts between plates?

She got much nicer after that. She noted the sunburn on my arm and asked me about my weekend and told me about her boat. Then, as I was leaving, she said, "Don't worry. I'll mail your doctor the report."

THANK YOU!!!!

My faith is well-placed

It's tied 7-7 in the 7th. Cubs/Cards. This is exciting baseball, and Lou Piniella's Cubs seldom find themselves completely out of a game. Last year, it seemed if we fell behind by a run or two, it was over. But this year there's a new sheriff pacing the dugout, and so far I'm impressed with the improvement.

(Robbie Gould of the Bears is singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." And I thought I was tone deaf! Perhaps I judge too harshly. Maybe he's younger than he looks and his voice is still breaking. He does sound more than a little like Peter Brady.)

There's only one dark cloud on my horizon: Ron Santo, #10 All-Star third baseman and lovably loopy Cubs announcer, is in the hospital. Irregular heartbeat. Please get well, Ronnie. My prayers are with you.

It's about the characters

I've been reading mystery series for over a decade now. I enjoy them when they're well constructed and I get that little jolt when I thought I had it all figured out … and I turn out to be wrong. But I don't really read them to find out whodunnit. I read them because I've become so fond of the characters.

Sara Paretsky's V.I. Warshawski was my first, recommended to me because her adventures are set in the best city in the world; Chicago. And because Vic is a lazy housekeeper who loves dogs, which gives us something else in common. I read these books in big, greedy gulps, but soon I was up to date and needed to move on to something/someone else.

Sue Grafton's alphabet mysteries came next. Kinsey Milhone is a cop-turned-private-detective who lives in a mythic California town, Santa Theresa. There's much about her personality that I like. But I especially admire Grafton for setting all these stories in the 1970s. This way she doesn't have to incorporate cell phones or the Internet into her plots. And it keeps Kinsey (like Vic, an avid jogger) forever young and strong. Which leads me to …

Robert Parker's Spenser. I have the most passionate, tempestuous relationship with these books. I love them, but am so annoyed as soon as I'm done. Spenser is a Korean war vet, which means he must be at the very least 75, and yet every woman he meets wants him. And his derring-do isn't very credible when done but an old guy. (That's why I admire how Grafton has side-stepped this issue with Kinsey.) Spenser has a maddening lover, Susan, who is high-maintenance and incredibly shallow, yet everyone she meets loves her. Yet in spite of all that, I read each Spenser installment as soon as it comes out. I love the guy. He's funny. He's honorable. He loves Red Sox baseball and Boston, which I can understand because I love my city and my team.

Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe books are terrific. Better than funny, they're witty. And I love the interplay between Wolfe and Archie. (I admit that I have something of a crush on Archie.) As mysteries go, these are probably the weakest. But as character studies go, these are my favorite. Regardless of the year, regardless of the situation, Wolfe and Archie and the goings-on in the brownstone always ring true. These books also provide affectionate, romantic snapshots of New York from the Depression on through the 1950s.

The Southern Sisters by Anne George are a pure delight. Two older ladies, who are known by their family names "Mouse" and "Aunt Sister" somehow keep getting pulled into crimes. The sisters are an endearing study in contrasts. "Mouse" is a tiny teacher, married for a gazillion years to the same man. Together they enjoy watching Biography each evening as they eat their dinner off TV tables. "Aunt Sister" is a mountain of a woman who dresses flashily and keeps marrying, and burying, wealthy husbands. She also is the highly indulgent owner of a cat named Bubba who sleeps on a heating pad and does little else. These books are not very violent, because really, who wants to see these two charmers in any real peril? It's their relationship (and the ongoing battle about a certain Shirley Temple doll), their family and their love of Birmingham, AL, that kept me coming back. Unfortunately Ms. George died a few years back. I miss her work.

Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta is at the opposite end of the spectrum. Boy, oh boy, are these books violent! A lawyer and medical examiner, Kay is the beautiful, sophisticated and haunted star of this series. She is surrounded by the family she has cobbled together from those around her. Pete, the angry but talented cop; Benton, the aristocratic FBI profiler she loves; Lucy, her genius lesbian niece. The dark, very sad characters find comfort in one another against a backdrop of truly horrible crimes and the worst specimens mankind can produce.

If you're already a fan of these books, you know that you consider the characters friends. If you aren't, these would be terrific books to toss into your beach bag or suitcase to bring along on vacation.

Happy happy, joy joy

Whoa! This blog has been so heavy lately! Virginia Tech, JFK … even the Cubs.* So it's time to celebrate.

Specifically, it's time to celebrate Mother's Day.

Both of my nieces are graduating soon. One grade school, one high school. My mother has been a little blue because she won't be able to get the girls anything really special or memorable because she is so broke. She has mentioned this often, yet Mother's Day is not even on her emotional radar.

You can't be a grandmother unless you were first a mother, therefore I thought it was appropriate to celebrate her generous grandmotherly impulses with an early Mother's Day gift. I got her an American Express gift card and told her to "go forth and grandmother the graduates."

It made her soooo happy! She left messages for me at home and at work and she sounded so cute. And I sensed a little relief in her voice, too.

It really took very little effort on my part, but it brought her such joy. I'm so glad I did it.

*Still I haven't given up on them. The losses have been close, not blow outs. I believe they will hit their stride soon.

Fox is at fault, too

I'm aware of the backlash against NBC for airing the VT killer's multi-media manifesto. To be completely honest, this didn't bother me. Yes, I know that it's what this miserable young man wanted. Yes, I realize it was cruel to the survivors and the victims' families. But it was/is news. It might have more sensitive to have waited to air it, but the letter and videos do give us a new insight into a troubled mind, and that makes it news. At least in my humble opinion.

It's what Greta Van Sustern did on Fox that I believe went way, way over the line.

She interviewed one of Cho's family's long-time neighbors. On the street where they live. After she flagged out the street and the cross street and pointed out exactly which house the family lived in, she asked the neighbor shallow and silly questions. "Did you wave at them? Did they wave back? Did Chou ever wave?"

It was ridiculous! This man, Marshall, barely knew Chou's family. But now we all know exactly -- and I mean exactly -- where the poor parents live.

We can debate how much responsibility for Chou's actions his parents must bear. But we cannot approve of Fox putting these poor people at risk. Greta Van Sustern made it easy for the angry and the crazy to find their home and exact revenge. That's unfair. That's wrong. That's ugly.

There's been enough violence already.

Thursday Thirteen Mushy Moments

Thirteen Movie Moments THE GAL HERSELFjust loves. (I'm such a cornball.) I love movies. I love love. So it stands to reason that I love a good celluloid romance. 1, Scarlett and Rhett on the bridge against a Technicolor sky, as she sends a soldier of the Confederacy off to war with a beautiful memory. Gone with the Wind 2. George and Mary sharing the same phone receiver, falling in love as Harry drones on about investments and “ground floors.” It’s a Wonderful Life 3. Harry races to meet Sally at the New Year’s Eve party and confesses his love. When Harry Met Sally 4. Similarly, once Sandra Bullock realizes she loves Huge Grant, she takes off up the street to tell him and (sigh) kiss him. Two Weeks Notice 5. Richard Gere carries Debra Winger out of the paper bag factory. An Officer and a Gentleman 6. Rick directing the muzzle of Ilsa’s gun at his own heart, because if she no longer loves him, he no longer wants to live. Casablanca 7. “Keep going, Teacher Lady.” Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid 8. Captain Von Trapp kissing Maria in the gazebo. The Sound of Music 9. Hepburn realizing her sister neither loves nor understands Cary Grant. Meaning that Kate realizes what we’ve known all along – that she’s the girl for him. Holiday 10. “Godfrey loves me! Godfrey loves me!” My Man Godfrey 11. Jack and Diane flirt over late-night pancakes. Something’s Gotta Give 12. The detective investigating Laura’s murder dozes off in the chair under her portrait. And wakes up suddenly to see the real girl standing before him. Laura 13. Sinatra singing “Someone to Watch Over Me” to/about Doris Day. Young at Heart Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

I don't have an illustration for this

… and it's possible you don't want me to.

CAPE CORAL, Fla. (AP) — A woman arrested for shoplifting has blamed the crime on irritable bowel syndrome, authorities said.

Helen Gallo, 61, of Clearwater, was arrested Sunday after allegedly shoplifting from a Cape Coral grocery store, The Daily Breeze of Cape Coral reported. Gallo reportedly told authorities that she could not wait in line because she has irritable bowel syndrome.

Gallo was charged with petit larceny and released Sunday from the Lee County jail on $500 bond.

Gallo did not answer a telephone call placed to her home by The Associated Press. It was not known if she had an attorney.

Ah ha! That explains it!

Had a long chat with my best friend yesterday. His life is not going so well these days, and to distract him from his own problems I presented him with the predominant question in my life -- why I am so cold and emotionally removed from what happened in Virginia.

My best friend can be very sensitive to need, and yesterday he didn't disappoint. He pointed out that I don't respond to acts, I respond to the victims. A child, a pet, a veteran … I feel a sense of responsibility to these people. He mentioned the recent Jessica Lumsford case and how upset I was by that. It's the job of the strong to take care of the weak, and when someone young, or wounded, or helpless is a victim, I respond very strongly.

He added that every national event doesn't have to be seared into soul.

All this means I'm not a cold-hearted witch. And hearing that made me feel better.

What is wrong with me?

I have been known to cry during Pedigree commercials when the shelter dogs talk to us from behind bars about how confused they are by their homeless state. The scandalous treatment of our veterans at Walter Reed touched me deeply. Abu Gharib almost literally broke my heart. I donated diapers and baby bottles and money to Katrina Relief because I had to do something to help or I'd go nuts. 9/11 crosses my mind in one form or another every day. I still mourn the little boy in this photo, Yummy Sandifer, who back in 1994 committed a gang murder and then, within weeks, was shot in the head in another gang murder … and he was only 9 years old.

Yet while I have read the coverage of the Virginia Tech Massacre, I remain unmoved.

Has this old heart of mine been broken by world events so often that now it's just cold and numb? Or is there something wrong with me?

Torn between two loves

Greg Maddux is on the mound again in the beautiful confines of Wrigley Field, but today he's pitching for the San Diego Padres. I have to admit that, in my heart of hearts, I want him to win. It's a terribly uncomfortable feeling for me, rooting against the Cubs.

Now I know what it's like to be Mrs. Manning when the Giants play the Colts.

Numb

I am watching the CNN coverage of the Virginia Tech shootings and I feel nothing. I don't care in any real way. It's so big and so horrible and so crazy that I simply cannot grasp it.

I know that these students must be angry and frightened and rattled by the chaos. I know their families must be rocked right down to their bone marrow. I wish I had sympathy/empathy.

This is a defining moment. This college will never be the same. This community will never be the same. And yet I have absorbed none of it.

I'm going to keep watching until my heart catches up with my head.

When a wanna-be meets a never-was

I'm watching a documentary on the JFK assassination. Aside from the fact that everyone smoked so much in the 1960s that I want to wash the stench from my hair, the feeling I'm left with is frustration over the futility and waste of the events of November, 1963. Prior to 9/11, this was the biggest event of my lifetime, and in many ways our country is still scarred by it. And yet, if you accept the premise put forth by The History Channel, it was an accident of fate. A convergence of losers. The iconic leader who, as author Robert Dallek ends as his biography, spoke to "our better angels" was taken from us by a skinny loner who felt he had to do something huge, just to justify his existence on the planet. And then that assassin was silenced by a faux mobster/pimp with a bad temper.

During the first few months of 1963, Lee Harvey Oswald decided to become famous as a political assassin. His chosen target was Texas politico and segregationist Edwin Walker. Oswald spent time photographing Walker's home, plotting entrance and escape routes, monitoring Walker's schedule, etc. In April, while Walker was sitting in front of a window in his home, Oswald took a shot, using a soon-to-be world-famous mail-order rifle. The bullet was stopped by the (presumably bullet-proof) glass. This was yet another thing Oswald had failed at, and in plunged him into depression. As his grip on reality loosened, Oswald chose JFK as his next target. Ironic, since Walker hated the Kennedy brothers and everything they stood for. Clearly there was no ideology in Oswald's actions.

After firing the shot shown in this photo, Jack Ruby told the police -- many of whom hung out at his Carousel Club -- that now he was a "hero." A failed mobster who left Chicago and went to Dallas to manage a strip club, Ruby felt that he had served justice. He had killed the smug little bastard who had killed his President. He had saved Jackie from having to testify at Oswald's trial. He apparently thought the public would be grateful. Of course, because there was no trial, conspiracy theories have flourished for more than 40 years.

And from this came Viet Nam and Watergate. It pisses me off.

The simple joy of retail

An old boyfriend used to rib me about my "nun watch." Timex, black band, 12 black numbers on a white face. OK, so it was so plain it probably subtracted from my style quotient. Yet I loved it.

I began experimenting with my timepieces. Green Fossil watch, blue Liz Claiborne watch with the silver band, bold and oversized Nine West. While I appreciate how they look, I missed the simplicity and dependability of my old "nun watch."
GOD BLESS YOU, OVERSTOCK.COM! I am completed delighted by my new acquisition. Form meets fashion with my new millennium "nun watch." Austere black and white face, but dressed up with a lovely, lovely purple band! Best of all, more than 25% off!

Would it be weird to sleep in it?

Look at the face and remember his name

This is Bernard McGuirk. When you hear the now infamous "nappy-headed hos" dialog from the Imus show, this is the producer who started the conversation with the phrase, "hard-core hos."

I watched the Imus show occasionally on MSNBC and can honestly say I never heard Imus say anything offensive. Of course, when I watched he would be talking to Tim Russert or Senator Kerry and was on his best behavior. Bernard, or "Bernie," didn't mind being toxic in front of higher profile guests. I never heard him say anything that wasn't hateful or spiteful or angrily superior. (Nor funny, now that I think of it.) Whereas Imus does do a lot of work for kids with cancer and has championed the plight of veterans, all I ever heard Bernard do is be hateful.

I realize the name of the show was Imus in the Morning, and therefore Imus is/was responsible for all the content. He must have been amused by Bernard or Bernard wouldn't be there. However, if the old guy's career is now over, it's only fair that this "gentleman" also pay a public price for his hate language. I don't begrudge him the opportunity to make a living -- I just begrudge him the opportunity to do it on public airwaves.

So take a good and careful look. And remember the name Bernard McGuirk. If he ever again emanates from your TV or your radio, please reach for the dial.

A pair of movie queens

I'm watching an episode of Biography about Judy Garland. I adore her, especially those glorious MGM musicals. Even the corny ones with Mickey Rooney. As the narrator said, "the movies were of their time, but their talent was timeless." Her absolute, aching sincerity and her tremulous vibrato -- Garland was a heartbreaking genius.

I saw Perfect Stranger this afternoon and am very confused as to why Halle Berry made this movie. It was entertaining in a creepy, popcorn thriller way and I found Bruce Willis menacingly sexy. (I was also amused by the glamorous portrayal of advertising agencies; apparently I've worked at all the wrong agencies!) Halle is believable and compelling and very beautiful. But make no mistake about it: this is low-brow entertainment. I would expect her to be working off a far more literate script. Oh well, I enjoyed both the movie and the Sno-caps.

This week's people watching

The two people who made the biggest impression on me this week …

High-tech Granny. I saw her on a cold, wet Green Line el platform. Red flannel coat with BIG plastic buttons. Bright floral babushka tied tightly to protect her curly gray do from the humidity. Anchored with a pair red earmuffs. I would have pegged her as 70 and more comfortable in Polish than English. Probably taking the el downtown to meet other lady friends who were dressed just like her, or perhaps for an appointment with a specialist. Yep, I superficially decided I knew everything about the old girl. Until her expensive Blackberry (or maybe it was a Treo) went off and she began barking authoritatively to someone on the other end.

The saddest boy ever. He lives on the first floor of my building. We pass in the lobby all the time, occasionally I've seen him in town and this week we ended up doing our laundry together. He's about 40, lives with his mom, and works at the local Jewel. His mother had a stroke last year and is very slow in recovering. I've seen him walking with her and he's very patient, which probably isn't easy because I knew her before the stroke and … well … she was an odd old bat with questionable hygiene even then. I recently learned that he has a sister, but his mother refuses to see her since Sis refused to cut off all ties with Dad after the divorce. Therefore the responsibility for caring for Mom falls completely on him. He loves art and wants to see the Picasso exhibit at the Art Institute. He loves to gamble and wishes he could go back to one of the boats. But his life is spent going between work -- stocking and stacking at the Jewel -- and home to his mother. His world seems so small, so sterile and isolated. And there's such a weariness to him when he talks art or slots. I'm tempted to see if he'd like to go out for ice cream or something, just as a gesture of friendship. But he seems to have something of a crush on me and I don't want to mislead him. At any rate, he made me very grateful for my motley crew of friends. They are a constant source of support and comfort for me.

"Decent and strong"

"Decent and strong." What powerful words, cleansing in their simplicity and in their very ordinariness.

I'm watching Elizabeth Edwards on Larry King Live and these are the words she used to describe her husband. King turned around and used the same words to describe Mrs. Edwards herself.

"Decent and strong." After all this couple has been through together, in light of the future they are facing together, she is comforted by knowing she has a partner who is "decent and strong." This moves me.

If I end up supporting John Edwards, it will be because he has maintained healthcare, economic equality, the environment and Katrina as his focus. While Clinton and Obama seem to stuck rehashing Iraq, who was for and who was against, finger-pointing and speaking about what they'd do as President instead of what should come next, Edwards has kept domestic issues on the radar. It won't be because of his shiny hair or blue eyes (which I lust after), it won't be because of his wife (who I admire) or his marriage (which I envy). It will be because his political concerns are closest to my aspirations for my country.

But that doesn't mean that the spare, dignified and sincere way his wife described him didn't touch me. It did.

Thursday Thirteen #12 -- Me, me, me!

Thirteen Things about THE GAL HERSELF even the most loyal lurker might not know. I've been writing this blog for nearly a year now, and have undoubtedly (unintentionally) revealed much about myself. So my challenge was to unearth some fresh information for you all. 1. I only move my lips, I don't really sing, at church because I am completely tone deaf. For me, karaoke would be an evening in hell. 2. I can wiggle my ears. 3. I can't wear high heels because of my heel spurs. I suppose that's why I'm so into pedicures. I'm trying to "prettify" my damaged feet. 4. I'm a purse-a-holic. When I'm sad, I must resist the impulse to cheer myself up with another bag. I try never to carry the same purse more than 3 days in a row. I have been late for work because I was changing bags. 5. My favorite color is blue. 6. I have never smoked anything … not even a cigarette. 7. The smell of coffee makes me a little sick. 8. The character in The Breakfast Club that's most like my high school self is Ally Sheedy. I even had a coat with a snorkel hood. 9. Both of my sisters are dark eyed and tan easily. I'm green-eyed and am, in the words of my dermatologist, "as fair as they come." Consequently I grew up believing I was adopted. 10. I maintain my driver's license, even though I haven't actually driven any real distance since the Reagan Administration. 11. I love old, black and white movies, especially with Judy Garland, Katharine Hepburn or Myrna Loy. 12. My cat Charlotte snores. 13. When alone, I drink Arbor Mist Strawberry Zinfandel. However, since wine connoisseurs intimidate and I suspect it's crap, I keep this to myself. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Visit Thomalynn's TT in glorious black and white at: thommalyn.blogspot.com 2. Wacky Mommy's pleasure filled TT is at wackymommy.org 3. Jenny's 13 favorite websites are at jennymcb.blogspot.com 4. Check out Bellezza's thought-provoking TT at dolcebellezza.blogspot.com 5. L^2's aspirational TT is at l-squared.blogspot.com 6. Barbara gets thirteen annoyances off her chest at tidbitsandtreasures.blogspot.com 7. Check out Boltbabe's eclectic list of favorite females at thoughtsofboltbabe.blogspot.com

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

My 2¢ worth re: Sanjaya

I know that Howard Stern is backing him, and that there's some website that originates right here in the Chicagoland area that encourages the audience to vote for Sanjaya simply because he's the worst of the Idol finalists. But I don't believe either of these shenanigans explain why he survives week after week.

It's the little girls like Ashley. I should know. I was one of them. I spent money and emotion on an androgynous boy-singer I saw on TV and in the pages of 16 and Fave.

No, not Paul McCartney. Sir Paul was a teen dream, for sure, but he's also a bona fide genius whose music changed the world.

The same cannot be said for Bobby Sherman. Yet I loved Bobby Sherman the same way Ashley loves Sanjaya. And there are no doubt thousands of Ashleys all over America who squeal and cry when he sings, and then text and call and vote for the Idol of their dreams.

This is not a new phenomenon. Have you ever heard Paul Petersen sing? Fabian? James Darren? David Cassidy's blond and adorable but completely non-musical brother, Shaun? Certainly Sanjaya isn't worse than any of those singers. And after hearing his "Besame Mucho" last night, I venture that he might be a better singer than at least Fabian.

While I know ultimately he won't be this year's American Idol (I'm now leaning toward Jordin), I hope he lasts another few weeks. For Ashley's sake.

Enough with the Marilyn comparisons!

Here's a photo of Marilyn Monroe partying with Carl Sandburg. She also bewitched Arthur Miller, Joe DiMaggio, Frank Sinatra, Lee Strasburg, Yves Montand and, posthumously, Norman Mailer.

Howard K. Stern, Larry Birkhead, a bodyguard, Zsa Zsa Gabor's nth husband and a Bahamian official are a sad, sad substitute for that line-up.

That bottle in Marilyn's hand is Chanel No. 5, not TrimSpa, Baby!

Marilyn Monroe was a gifted comedienne and a genuine film star. Anna Nicole was the butt of sad jokes on her own reality show.

I realize Ms. Smith had a tragic life and a tragic death and I am sorry for her. I believe she loved both Howard Marshall and her young son and she sustained a lot of loss for a woman of 39.

But she was a pale copy of Marilyn Monroe in every way. And when you compare the two, Anna Nicole is just … well, kinda dull.

Re: Anna Nicole, all there is to say is, "Of course!"

OF COURSE Larry Birkhead is the father! He was actually interested in being in that poor little girl's life since before she was born. He seems to be the only decent person in this tawdry saga.

OF COURSE Howard K. Stern wants to keep handling Anna Nicole's estate! What else is he going to do? He hasn't had any other client but Anna Nicole during this century. And who would hire him, after the press he's received?

OF COURSE this DNA test was handled by the same lab that works for the Maury Povich Show! What could be more fitting?

That takes care of Imus and Anna Nicole for today. I suppose I could muse about the actual news of the day -- Alberto Gonzalez and the subpoena he just received, or Bush vs. Congress re: the funding of the war. But that's all so real and consequential. And depressing. I like the toy news better.

Let's not embrace ANYONE who uses hate langauge

Kanye West from "Drop Dead Gorgeous" …
"Convenient whore stay on top of convenient stores/Keep pictures of me in their Victoria Secret drawer"

Jay-Z from "Stick 2 the Script" …
"I don't give a whore jack, man they all say that Mac be frontin/But if you can't take a case bitch and take it to the chin"

T.I. from "No, no, no" …
"Shot the nine, shot the rock, sure shot, shot for sure/but I'm secure, no security, killa keep glocks and fours/plus blocks of raw, probably popped your whore"

Don Imus, CBS radio …
"Nappy headed hos"

As a woman, I find ALL these references offensive. While I am an old fart who is not up on her rap, I believe that Kanye West, Jay-Z and T.I. are all Grammy award winners (or have at least been nominated). As long as this kind of speech is awarded and rewarded, I don't see why Imus should be fired for it.

The perfect PMS dinner

I don't even apologize for this. By 6:30, I would have killed for the chocolate and the chips. Even better, the bunny was reduced to only 25¢.

Color me groovy

You Belong in 1967

If you scored... 1950 - 1959: You're fun loving, romantic, and more than a little innocent. See you at the drive in! 1960 - 1969: You are a free spirit with a huge heart. Love, peace, and happiness rule - oh, and drugs too. 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! 1980 - 1989: Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day. 1990 - 1999: With you anything goes! You're grunge one day, ghetto fabulous the next. It's all good!

What Year Do You Belong In?

It was a typical Opening Day

It was colder than usual for April. It was overcast. A few snowflakes even fell. And the Cubs lost. Status quo.

Now that we have THAT behind us, we can concentrate on moving forward and having a respectable season.

I was in a dreadfully long meeting this afternoon so I didn't catch any of the game live. But I'm sure there were bright spots. I hear that Soriano and Lee had productive at bats. Lilly must have looked OK or he wouldn't have lasted more than 6 innings.

So it's not hopeless! We will prevail! I don't expect there to be a World Series this year, but we won't be the "Lovable Losers," either. (God, I hate that "Lovable Loser" thing.)

I don't want this to be happening!

My left knee hurts. A lot. Especially when I get up after sitting a while. Because I haven't wanted to exacerbate whatever is wrong, I haven't worked out in a week. That makes me feel lazy and look fat, fat, fat.

Tomorrow I'm going to walk my 10,000 steps en route to the family Easter celebration. I'll see how it feels after that. If it doesn't start feeling better soon, I'm going to have to go to the doctor.

My fear is that it's arthritis. I really don't want to hear that word, "arthritis." I feel like I'm falling apart. Who was it who said, "Growing old is not for sissies?"

When my heroes come together

Last night I was able to watch my beloved Greg Maddux pitch his first home opener as a Padre, thanks to Senator John Kerry. If it wasn't for the Senator, the Comcast cable system wouldn't have been able to show this game. As the Boston Herald put it:

Kerry goes to bat
Friday, April 6, 2007 - Updated: 04:35 AM EST

Baseball fans were showering John Kerry with love yesterday after the junior senator got Major League Baseball to agree to allow three of the nation’s largest cable providers to keep carrying its “Extra Innings” package of out-of-market games.

----------------

Of course, the sixth inning last night was beyond the Senator's control. Poor Greg.

But hey! The Cubs won!

It felt good

My oldest friend is completely at the end of her tether with her two kids. Her son, a highschool junior, has been skipping school, is tardy when he does show up, and hasn't been turning his work in. Her 11-year-old daughter is a little slob, leaving wet towels and gum wrappers and chaos wherever she goes through the house. My oldest friend can't find a way to get through to either child.

As my friend spoke, I suddenly felt bad for my own mom. I brought both the sloppiness and the antipathy toward school to the table all by myself, and she still had two other kids to contend with. (My older sister became sexually active very young, and my younger sister experimented with smoking … everything.) There was a time when, if she was awake, she was yelling one of us. And she handled us on her own, since my dad believed child-rearing was "woman's work." I am sorry for what I put her through and I'm grateful she never gave up on me.

So I sent my mom the roses you see here. The card said, "I'm sorry for the 1970s." She laughed and told me not to mention it. She said that for all the trouble we three girls have ever been, she wouldn't trade us for anything.

I sent roses to my oldest friend, too. Her middle name is Rose, and she could use a pick-me-up, as well.

It's Easter weekend. Bring someone flowers. Or if it's easier, just click your way through FTD.com. You'll be glad you did.

I must stop doing this!

"Napping" after work, that is. I laid down on the sofa, just for a little "nap," and woke up more than 2 hours later. I don't mind that I wasted the evening. I was tired and probably wouldn't have done much that's productive anyway. But I do mind that now I have an annoying headache and am not the least bit sleepy.

Thursday Thirteen #11 -- TT ideas

Thirteen idea to help you get past your writer's block. THE GAL HERSELF is posting these early as a service to those who struggle with choosing a Thursday topic. Consider writing about 13 … 1…. Favorite timesuck websites (like my current personal favorite, blogthings.com) 2. Excuses for being late for work 3. Ways you know it's love 4. Ways you know it's over 5. DVDs in your TBV (to be viewed) pile 6. People you want to meet in Heaven 7. Favorite movies of all time 8. Why [insert chore here] is my least favorite domestic task (I'd write about cooking) 9. Favorite school teachers and why you remember them so fondly 10. Pop culture phenomenon that everyone was into … except you (My #1: Seinfeld) 11. Ways you find you're more and more like your mom (or dad) as you grow older 12. Classics that you intend to read, watch or listen to 13. Things on your desk/in your office that you can see from where you're sitting Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)


Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants



The very last words I wanted to hear last night

"At this performance, the role of Martha will be played by Dierdre Madigan." Kathleen Turner had laryngitis and wasn't in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? last night. I was disappointed, of course, but her understudy did well enough and I dearly love this play.

I also think it's very, very funny. My friend Barb thought it was clever but depressing. As a matter of fact, it fascinated her that I laughed out loud and as often as I did. She thinks I have "issues." (No shit.) She's engaged to be married for the first time, so perhaps this blacker-than-pitch portrayal of matrimony wasn't a fun night at the theater for her.

Was for me, though.

"I swear, if you existed, I'd divorce you."
"Can't you get the latch up, either?"

Ah, Martha, you break me up.

Call me "Olive"

I Am Olive Green

I am the most real of all the green shades. I'm always true to myself. For me, authenticity and honesty are very important... both in others and myself. I am grounded and secure. It takes a lot to shake me. People see me as dependable, probably the most dependable person they know.

What Color Green Are You?

Cats get it

Felines understand the power of the nap. And so this evening, I am following their lead. I have parked myself on the sofa and have no intention of leaving it. I believe the best way to battle this cold is to give myself quiet, still time to recuperate … and I'm taking it. In case I need a role model, my big old tomcat, Joey, is stretched out right here beside me.

They do the Lord's work

The good people at Vicks, I mean. For I believe that only Dayquil is keeping me going right now. My throat is scratchy. I'm woozy. I'm tired. When I cough, I discover thick, yellow mucous on the tissue. I know it's just a cold, but you know how hideously annoying and inconvenient colds can be. As a matter of fact, for your own safety, I suggest you wash your hands vigorously after reading the post.

Tomorrow is their opening day