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Friday's Feast is a Buffet for Your Brain
Feast #146 – June 1, 07

Appetizer
Name something you think is “the best.”
The While Album is the The Beatles' best

Soup
On a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 highest), how stressed are you today?
4. I'm a little worried about my best friend these days, but otherwise, my life is pretty good. It's payday … during the summer the office closes early every Friday through Labor Day … my workload is manageable … yup, it's a 4 day.

Salad
What kind of cleanser do you use to wash your face?
Reclaim by Principal Secret.

Main Course
Tonight is a blue moon! What is something that you believe only happens “once in a blue moon.”
That my stress level stays at only at 4. (I have been known to awfulize.)

Dessert
When was the last time it rained where you live?
Thursday afternoon.

Hungry for more? Visit the Friday’s Feast website!

I Love Lou

Yes, I went to the Cubs game last night. OK, they did kinda lose (like 9-0). But I am a Cub fan. We stayed till the last out, enjoyed our beer, and were grateful for the beautiful park and the stars in the sky.

Our new manager, Lou Pinella, isn't as copacetic about these events as I am. In the post-game interview he was soft-spoken but rather tightly wound. I sensed a hint of tension in his voice when he singled out the two things the team needs to work on: hitting and pitching.

He cracks me up. I just hope he can turn this thing around before his head blows up.

Thursday Thirteen #18 -- How to tell if it's me or a pod from outer space




Thirteen Things THE GAL HERSELFwould never say … THAT IS, IF IT'S REALLY HER! This TT was inspired by the fine film making of Ed Wood. The only way I would ever utter any of these phrases is if my heart, brain and soul had been sucked out by dastardly aliens, leaving behind nothing but a wasted humanoid shell. Please review the entire list before notifying Fox Muldaur. 1…. I love NASCAR. Wrestling, too! 2. You’re right. If I already have a black purse, why buy another one? 3. Beer? Ick! 4. Of course I’ll be at our next high school reunion! Please, let me help organize this one, too. 5. I just can’t get enough Three Stooges. Benny Hill, too! 6. No, thank you. None for me. Grilled cheese and hot dogs are kid stuff. 7. The most sophisticated people I know are White Sox fans. 8. No, really, I’m dying to hear what Dr. Phil has to say about that. 9. Rush Limbaugh is sure funny. Hot, too! 10. Let’s listen to opera. 11. Elizabeth Hasselbeck's thinking is nuanced and perceptive. 12. I’ll pass on dessert. 13. If only we could elect George W. Bush to a third term! Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Check out Courtney's aspirational thirteen. 2. Dewey provides the answers to last week's C&H TT. 3. Jerry has a culinary TT 4. Friday's Child's TT starts with a cute picture of the grandkids. 5. Cordia's TT is about the horrors of going to the dentist. 6. If I were Queen of Everything (I'm not?) Gabriella's TT would be mandatory reading. 7. Thomma Lyn's TT brings us up to date on her latest work in progress. 8. Ctina's TT is about her cat Oliver. 9. Check out Wylie's Google "wish list" TT. 10. As they say on Sesame Street, Janet's TT is brought to you by the letter O. 11. Susan's TT is about Shapeshifter and Summertime. 12. Margaret's TT is about Savannah. 13. Jenny McB's TT is about New Hampshire. 14. Judging by Janie Hickock Siess's TT, we attend the same meetings! 15. L-Squared's TT is about the moon. 16. Nancy's TT is her to-do list. 17. Sasha's TT is dreamy. 18. Frances' TT is lovely and poignant. 19. It's a Raggedy TT! 20. Fat Bloke's TT is highly aspirational. 21. Inside Mo's Mind you'll find 13 outstanding role models. 22. Samulli's TT is a collection of interesting sites you may wish to visit. 23. Sparky Duck's ode to Mrs. Duck. 24. Stephanie's TT kicks ass with girlpower. 25. Mark/impworks shares 13 ways to a better website.




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



I am soooooooo virtuous!

I did 25 minutes of cardio and a couple of machines at lunchtime today, even though the club's ac was broken and it felt about 600º in there.

On the way back, I was starving and stopped at McDonald's. Instead of the nice, greasy burger I craved, I ordered the fruit & walnut salad. It didn't suck. I think I find salads more palatable if there are no vegetables involved.

I am going to the ball game tonight (YEA!) and see peanuts and hot dogs and beer in my future. So I'm glad I ate wisely today.

I say a little prayer

Today would have been John F. Kennedy's 90th birthday. He has been gone nearly as long as he lived.

His death was the first national tragedy I ever experienced, but it shouldn't overshadow that his life was a national treasure. He made public service seem admirable and he made us believe we could be better. To quote Robert Dallek from An Unfinished Life:

"The sudden end to Kennedy's life and presidency has left us with tantalizing "what might have been's." Yet even setting these aside and acknowledging some missed opportunities and false steps, it must be acknowledged that the Kennedy thousand days spoke to the country's better angels, inspired visions of a less divisive world and demonstrated that America was still the last, best hope of mankind."

May you rest in peace, Mr. President.

My romantic post

The following is my response to Tea Mouse's invitation to write a romantic post. I love love, and just because this relationship ultimately ended doesn't mean I don't cherish the memory …

I was in a long-distance romance, regularly flying the 675 miles from Chicago to Philadelphia. I was unquestioningly enchanted with the gentleman in question, partly because he was really good looking but even more because he was far more complicated and far more sensitive than any of our friends knew. Getting someone this remote to open up was sexy in and of itself, and to discover all the contradictions within his nature just made me love him more.

Once I earned his trust, he could talk and talk and talk ... About everything from Reagonomics to his troubled childhood to the deep and very real comfort he derived from his Catholicism. His two great heroes were Adam Smith, the father of modern economics, and Dr. Martin Luther King. I know he would blush and deny it were I to ever call him on it, but he could recite the entire "I Have A Dream" speech from memory.

He was also a natural athlete gifted with tremendous focus. I am completely uncoordinated and can't even walk through a doorway without banging into something. But I agreed to the ski weekend because it was so important to him. Besides, it was after Christmas, we'd both had a lot of demands placed on our time by his family/my family/our friends, and a little time alone together was in order.

When I boarded the plane at O'Hare I felt fine. By the time we landed in Philly, I wanted to die. My head ached. I was hot. I was weak. I don't believe I've ever before gotten this sick, this fast.

We got back to his place and I laid down on his sofa, where I stayed for three days. We never made it to the ski lodge, so in addition to feeling crappy, I got to feel guilty, too.

But much to my surprise, I was as comfortable with his silence as I was delighted by his conversation. He sat on the corner of the sofa, my feet in his lap, for three days, submitting to an Elvis Movie Marathon because he knew it would make me feel better. I drifted in and out of consciousness and he made sure I was warm and comfortable and had tissues. My favorite part: he worried that I wasn't getting enough fluids, so every time Elvis sang, he would play with my feet to wake me up and then make me hot chocolate. I would wriggle upright and look at him over the big mug, watching him watch me over the top of his glasses, ensuring that I "made all gone."

There are people who know him who would never believe how tender and nurturing he could be. Perhaps I felt crappy, but I also felt gloriously loved and treasured and cared for.

As luck would have it, I started feeling better Saturday night and was fine to fly home Sunday night.

About a month later, it was Valentine's Day. When I got back from lunch there was a box on my desk. One of my coworkers was all excited for me. She knew my boyfriend "made good money" and was hoping there was "hardware" in the box.

It was a souvenir mug and a tin of hot chocolate from Hershey, PA, with an admonition that I take good care of myself because I was important to him.

My coworker was disappointed, but to this day it's the best Valentine I've ever received.

Well, am I?

So am I a tight ass? I mean clenched sphincter-wise, not blue jeans-wise.

My co-worker, the one who is (finally!) getting a divorce, showed me her minute-by-minute photos of her night out with the girls. I guess ya had to be there because the pix were pretty boring, and I amused myself by wondering if cellphone cameras have really improved our quality of life until one shot captured my attention: My coworker getting behind the wheel.

"So you were the designated driver?" I asked.

"Well, I'm the one who drove!" So even in our mid-40s, I guess we're supposed to think drunk driving is funny.

"Well, I hope you don't end up sharing a cell with Lindsay Lohan." Then I realized it came out edgier than I intended. OK, it came out exactly as edgy as I'd intended. I just didn't think before I blurted.

So is it me? Am I a humorless, tight-assed school marm who judges everyone too harshly? Was she just relating harmless hi jinks that might even have been healthy, considering the way her life has been going? Or is it OK for me to be furious that, in a city where a cab appears as soon as you raise your arm, she chose to drive?

I'm having salad for dinner

I hate salad.

But, as I work toward being the best damn gal I can be by year-end, these are the changes I have vowed to make:

More fruits and vegetables
Less Coca Cola
More exercise

I enjoy exercise, and now that my knee is better I look forward to doing more of it.

But God, I hate salad!

Just seems fitting to recall this

It's Memorial Day weekend. The Cubs are playing the Dodgers in LA. Rick Monday was a Cub who went on to play for, and now broadcast for, the Dodgers. So this has been on my mind.

In 1976, the Cubs were playing the Dodgers in LA. Rick Monday was still wearing Cubbie blue (as opposed to Dodger blue, which, truth to tell, is not all that variant a hue) and playing centerfield. Two LA fans somehow got onto the field during the game and, to protest, set an American flag on fire.

He ran at them full bore. Remember, he's a major league ballplayer in his prime. Fast, strong, with phenomenal reflexes. He knocked the kids over and saved the flag.

What were they protesting? I don't know. In 1976 the Viet Nam War was finally over. Did they get arrested? I don't remember.

I like to think that Rick Monday saved the flag out of respect to those valiant souls who went to Viet Nam and died there. That's how I remember it, anyway. If you know otherwise, please keep it to yourself. I need to believe in baseball and patriotism. Especially as I celebrate Memorial Day.

3 terrific performances in one completely average movie

The first news story I heard this morning was about Ms. Lohan's drunk driving. It's easy to let that distract you as you watch this movie. And is there an actress who brings more personal history to each and every part than Fonda? It doesn't help that some scenes play like a Lifetime made-for-TV movie.

So while I can't say Georgia Rule was a good movie, there were times that I was completely into it. The casting is inspired. You can believe these three are grandmother, mother and daughter. All three (yes, the troubled Lindsay, too) are so good in their roles they do dissolve into this family and you care about whether one of these gals is telling the truth, and whether the other two really do believe her story.

It's also good to see Fonda on screen, and while at first it's jarring to see Cat Ballou as a grandmother, there's also something very positive about it. She's a beautiful woman -- a natural beauty with age spots and crow's feet and hands that have done hard work. It's terrific to see that on the big screen for a change at a time when some actress' faces don't even seem to move.

Isn't she lovely?

Behold my new idol.

Diane Keaton is a more appealing screen presence now than when she was younger. She's more mature, less mannered, and now her charm is warm and wise whereas once it signaled neurotic and needy.

Right now I'm watching Something's Got to Give. Thursday was The Family Stone. I like this Keaton so much more than I liked her original incarnation.

I also find it encouraging that she's still believable as an object of desire.

Especially since I went shopping today and the new slacks I purchased were a size ... oh, I can't even bear to whisper it to this blog.

So now Diane is my new role model. I've got the skin thing under control. The new haircolor is working well. I know that my attitude is either more contemporary or perhaps more casual than people expect of a woman my age. Now I simply have to buckle down and work on nutrition and exercise.

Otherwise I'll just have to cede all the Keanu Reeves of the world to Diane.

Shhh! So far, so good …

Reynaldo is asleep on top of the cable box, which puts him immediately to the right of Greg Maddux, who is pitching against the Brewers.

This means that, this evening at least, there's no yowling, howling, leaping or hanging from the drapes.

By Rey, I mean. I can't imagine Greg Maddux yowling or howling. I have imagined him in some athletically and creatively compromising positions, but never hanging from the drapes, either.

Today's Washington Post leaves me feeling like Renault

Remember the scene in Casablanca when Capt. Renault responds with disbelief to the raid at Rick's? He says, "I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!" Then he takes his winnings from the croupier and slips them into his jacket.

That's how I felt after reading the Washington Post's scoop of two upcoming books about Hillary Clinton. Quoth the article: "The Hillary Clinton who emerges from the pages of the books comes across as a complicated, sometimes compromised figure who tolerated Bill Clinton's brazen infidelity, pursued her policy and political goals with methodical drive, and occasionally skirted along the edge of the truth along the way. The books portray her as alternately brilliant and controlling, ambitious and victimized."

So Bill Clinton cheated on his wife? I'm shocked. Shocked! These infidelities hurt her? Again, I'm shocked. Oh, and by the time a woman reaches 60 she can honestly be described as complicated and multi-faceted? Shocked, shocked, SHOCKED!

I've heard some serious allegations in these books, and since they are from respected investigative journalists and not foaming-at-the-mouth conservative hacks, I will review them and take them seriously.

But except for the fact that I want to know what influence Bill Clinton will/won't have on President Hillary Clinton, I don't care about their marriage.

I have been in enough relationships to know that no outsider can really know what goes on between a man and a woman. And, in fact, it's not uncommon for said man and woman to disagree about what's going on between them. So even if the stories are reported by Carl Bernstein or Don Van Atta, I take them with a grain of salt.

Will he EVER outgrow this?

Our office closed early today. I came straight home, switched into my jammies and settled in with a glass of wine and prepared to watch The Family Stone on HBO. It seemed like a good way to start my long, quiet, relaxing holiday weekend.

Except for Rey.

He raced around, destroyed things, and cried for nearly two hours. Knocking papers off the table and spreading them about. Knocking a box of cereal from the top of the refrigerator and spilling Great Grains all over the floor. Stretching up to sharpen his claws on the framed artwork. Hanging from the drapes. Trying to liberate the cans from the recycling bag. All the while singing and announcing his hi jinks.

For nearly two hours!

Two hours of calling, "What, Rey?" and "Don't, Rey!" and "NO, REY!" and "For the love of God, shut up!"

I tried cuddling him. He responded by eating my hair.

I tried tossing his favorite toys (colorful balls with bells inside) but he just sang as he watched me first throw and then retrieve them.

I emptied a big box, put it on its side and encouraged him to play cave. He meowed as he jumped on it once or twice, and then went on to amuse himself by knocking over a dining room chair.

For nearly two hours!

The other two cats just look at him like he's insane. Which he is. While this two hour performance was a little extreme, he does a truncated version of this every night. I've had cats all my life and have never, ever had one this lively … mischievous … demonically possessed.

He was born in the spring of 2004, which makes him almost exactly 3 years old. He's not a kitten anymore. I can't count on this being a "phase." I've discussed this with the vet, who reassured me it isn't thyroid or metabolism, it's just Rey being Rey.

Now that he's done, he's curled like a little fur shrimp and is about to nap. I'm resisting the impulse to bend over and shout "MOW!" in his face.

It's taken me a while to bond with this cat because he is so very Reynaldo. But he is inexhaustibly patient with my nephew, gentle and playful with my other two cats, and open and affectionate with me, so I have slowly come to love him and would never get rid of him.

But if I end up joining friends for dinner or a movie this weekend, it will be in part because I can't take another two hour serenade from Rey.

You'll be pleased to hear I didn't dream last night

At least I'm pleased by this turn of events! Those two dreams I just had were too weird and too fraught with symbolism.

I've read that actually I did dream last night, I just don't remember it. I also learned we can have as many 7 dreams a night.

If all that's true, I wish I could control my dreams a bit better. I want cool, surreal dreams where I'm playing cards with Abe Lincoln and Punxsutawney Phil while an astronaut makes coffee in the background. Maybe I should start taking Rozerem …

Thursday Thirteen #18 -- Gloriously bad pop songs

Thirteen Horrific Songs THE GAL HERSELF Knows by Heart If my brain was a hard drive, I’d probably resent the memory taken by these horrible songs. But alas, my brain is as unorganized and cluttered as my home and my office, so at times I revel in the cheesiness, the complete and perfect wretchedness, of these bad, bad songs. If you’re over 35, proceed with caution. It’s very possible that once you see the lyrics, one of these songs will bore it’s way through your skull and into brain and you’ll be mentally replaying it for hours to come. 1. The Night Chicago Died. Paper Lace. “Daddy was a cop on the east side of Chicago. Back in the USA. Back in the bad old days.” 2. I Can’t Smile without You. Barry Manilow. “I feel sad when you’re sad. Feel glad when you’re glad. If only you knew what I’m going through …” 3. Afternoon Delight. Starland Vocal Band. “Rubbing sticks and stones together makes a spark ignite and the thought of rubbing you is getting so exciting.” 4. Daddy Don’t You Walk So Fast. Wayne Newton. “Daddy, slow down some cuz you’re making me run. Daddy, don’t you walk so fast.” 5. Copacabana. Barry Manilow. “She lost her youth, then she lost her Tony. Now she’s lost her mind. At the Copa!” 6. The Night that the Lights Went Out in Georgia. Vicki Lawrence. “The Georgia patrol was a-making its rounds and he fired a shot, just to flag them down and a big-bellied sheriff grabbed his gun and said, ‘Why’d you do it?’” 7. Candyman. Sammy Davis. “Who can take a sunrise and sprinkle it with dew, cover it with chocolate and a miracle or two?” 8. You Should Be Dancing. The Bee Gees. “Whatcha doing on your back? Whatcha doing on your back? You should be dancing. Yeah. Dancing. Yeah.” 9. She’s a Lady. Tom Jones. “She always knows her place. She’s got style, she’s got face. She’s a winner.” 10. Top of the World. The Carpenters. “I’m on the top of the world, looking down on creation. And the only explanation I can find is the love that I found ever since you’ve been around.” 11. La La La (Means I Love You). Bobby Sherman. “La la la. La la la. There ain’t nothing in this world I couldn’t do. La la la. La la la. My dreams would all come true if I had you. La la la …” 12. Indiana Wants Me. R. D. Taylor. “If a man ever needed dying, he did. No one has the right to say what he said about you.” 13. Honey. Bobby Goldsboro. “She came running in all excited. Slipped and almost hurt herself. And I laughed till I cried.” Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. dewey 2. Thomma Lynn 3. impworks 4. tink 5. Candy Minx 6. Nancy 7. Nicholas 8. Sue 9. Sobeit 10. Janet 11. Jill 12. elementary history teacher 13. JennyMcB 14. Lene 15. Cordia Amant 16. Frances 17. marcia 18. L-Squared 19. Wacky Mommy 20. Gabriella Hewitt 21. Fence 22. Ctina 23. Leigh Ann 24. Amy 25. Titania Starlight 26. Nancy J. Bond 27. Harlekwin 28. Mo 29. Mz. Jackson 30. Terra

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

Apparently now only Frank Sinatra understands me. Alas, he's dead.

In last night's dream, I was reunited with an old boyfriend. I ran into him innocently enough. I was accompanying a female acquaintance (didn't know her well and can't recall if she was a coworker or a client) retrieve her coat from the stereotypical Chicago steakhouse where we had just dined. Seems he now lives above it. (In real life he's a corporate VP and lives in New York, but never mind.)

I bid adieu to the woman and went up to his studio apartment. I don't know why he lived here. As a matter of fact, I didn't even seem surprised he was living here.

I was completely thrilled to see him again and we started making love. I interrupted the action to go to the bathroom. I returned to bed (the only piece of furniture big enough for two) and we resumed. I then heard someone on the other side of wall, making a lot of noise, as though to let us know he was there.

My once/future lover got up and opened the door to the adjoining room and there was a young Frank Sinatra. He seemed to sense that I'd be embarrassed to know that there was a man right there who could hear me sighing and oohing and ahhing. He was right.

Then I woke up.

Back to dreammoods.com:

• Dreaming that I was in a restaurant means I feel "overwhelmed by decisions/choices" or am "seeking for emotional nourishment outside of your social support system."

• Ex sex denotes my reservations about "embarking in a new relationship" or "exposing" myself and my feelings again.

No word on the significance of the young Sinatra.

You know, I go weeks without remembering any dreams at all.

I had Chips Ahoy cookies and milk before bed. It seemed wholesome enough at the time …

They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games

I am very neutral about former President Jimmy Carter. I voted Democratic back in 1976 and 1980, but that had more to do with my antipathy toward Richard Nixon* and Ronald Reagan. I know Carter has done wonderful work since leaving the White House, and I admire and appreciate that, but still, I don't feel very passionate about him one way or the other. (In short, he's not Bill.)

So when I heard Carter deemed Bush 43 one of the worst presidents, I just sort of yawned.

Many commentators have talked about the "exclusive club" of ex-presidents and how they usually are more careful with one another, and this got me to thinking … It was Bush 41 and Bill talkin' bout the tsunami. Bush 41 and Bill talkin' about Katrina. It was Bush 41 and Bill going off to Pope John Paul II's funeral. Why don't they ever include Jimmy?

Is it because Jimmy is a sanctimonious pain in the ass? Or is it because Jimmy doesn't add anything to the carefully calibrated Bush 41/Clinton equation?

While I adore Bill Clinton, I also know exactly what he is: a consummate politician. I'm sure he realizes that while he has international popularity and charisma that Bush 41 doesn't, hanging around with Bush 41 gives him the gravitas he lacks. And that somehow, someway, both Bush 41 and Clinton are sure their alliance will benefit Jeb and Hillary. It could be that Jimmy Carter would just add a politically irrelevant ingredient to their dynastic stew.

Or maybe he's a sanctimonious pain in the ass.

I'm open to either argument.


*When I was young, that pardon really pissed me off. Like Ted Kennedy, I have mellowed with time and recognize the wisdom of it now. But at the time, it completely soured me on Ford.

I didn't even know I cared about Simon Cowell!

Apparently something is missing in my life and no one understands me but Simon Cowell. At least that's as far as I got with dream interpretation.

So here's the dream I had last night: I am on my own, traveling through Florida. I am not going to visit my friends in the Keys -- they are nowhere to be found in this dream. The area I'm visiting is pretty deserted and very muddy. I think I hurricane has just blown through.

I go into a bar and that's where I meet Simon Cowell. He jokes that he not really the bartender, he still has the gig on American Idol, he is just watching the place for his friends.

He mixes me a very strong Cosmo and I discover that he is married to Carol Ann, the much older sister of a girl I went to high school with. Carol Ann must be 60 now and I haven't seen nor thought of her in decades, but never mind.

The bar is very empty so Simon and I have ample time to chat. He really is very nice but not at all upset that this surprises me. He gets this all time.

I finish my drink and tell him I must be on my way. He warns me to be careful as I slog through all that mud. The drink was on him.

That's it.

According to dreammoods.com:

• Walking through mud symbolizes "feeling weighed down by a situation, problem, or relationship."

• Dreaming that I am in a bar means I am seeking "escape from the stresses of everyday life," or that I am "seeking acceptance in some aspect of daily life."

• That the streets are deserted, or empty, means that "something is missing" in my life.

Or maybe all this dream means is the capers I had with lunch didn't agree with me.

Ooooh, look! It's my favorite geeky TV boyfriend!

Dan Abrams is substituting for Joe Scarborough on MSNBC's Scarborough Country the week. I love him.

I began watching when he was MSNBC's legal correspondent and host of The Abrams Report. We followed the Michael Jackson and Scott Petersen trials together. I loved how informed and opinionated he was. He was always polite, but he never pretended to be an objective telejournalist. He has a Columbia law degree and has written for the Yale Law Review and is an articulate commentator.

I imagine he was just as passionate and pro-active behind the scenes because one day he went from host of The Abrams Report to MSNBC General Manager. His promotion meant the end of his show.

I'm happy his career took off, but I've missed him. And his cool ties and his kinda watery eyes.

But I really, REALLY want one!

I had one Coke before I left for work and another Coke with my salmon salad sandwich. That's it. It's now a little after 4:00 and I have no energy whatsoever.

It seems I have only two choices:

• Curl up in a ball and nap

• Race to the pop machine for a cold, delicious, caffeine-stoked Classic Coke

I am resisting both very strong impulses and am instead opting for ice water.

I am not enjoying this. I thought virtue was its own reward. How come drinking water makes me feel like I'm being punished, not rewarded?

Crosstown Classic: Game Three

It's OK, Sweet Lou. We had fun. And, to make you feel better, I will borrow from Miss Paula Abdul:

"Hey, baby, I want you to remember: I'm forever your girl." Or, in this case, gal.

In praise of alone time

Tomorrow I don't want to talk to anyone. I want my alone time. It's my time to recharge, refresh, and get ready for the new week.

I love my alone time. I am greedy and possessive of it.

The coworker who has been having all the marital problems is getting a divorce (but since she and her husband are still living together, I'll believe it when I see it) and wants to spend time with me. During work. After work. On the weekends.

I don't want to spend time with her. But I'm stymied when she asks what I'm doing instead. It sounds so anti-social to say, "I'm not doing anything. I just want my alone time."

I want to read. I want to watch TV (especially Crosstown Classic: Game 3). I want to nap on the sofa (which always feels a little decadent to me). Maybe I want to sort my books and clothes. I want to be on my own.

I love my alone time. I need my alone time. It clears my head and keeps me strong.

Crosstown Classic: Game Two

Look at that form. A thing of beauty is a joy forever, isn't it? Especially when D. Lee comes in to pinch hit … with the bases loaded … and slams it out of the park.

Gloating would be crass and cruel and, well, so South Side. So instead, I shall just sing:

"Hey, hey, holy mackerel, no doubt about it, the Cubs are on their way
The Cubs are gonna hit today, they're pitch today, they're gonna field today
Come what may, the the Cubs are gonna WIN today!


Hey, hey, holy mackerel, no doubt about it, the Cubs are on their way
They've got the hustle, they've got the muscle
The Chicago Cubs are on their way!"

Crosstown Classic: Game One

Ah, look at the love between Lou and Ozzie!

I shan't gloat about the outcome of this first game because we Cub fans are so much more highly evolved than our South Side contemporaries.

If only I knew then ...

Just got done watching the end of Disney's The Kid (2000). In this movie, Bruce Willis spends his 40th birthday with his 8 year old self. (It has something to do with a full moon and … oh, hell, how he and his 8 year old self can be in the same place at the same time isn't really important just now.)

The sweetest thing about this movie is watching the adult hug, advise and comfort the child. School bullies, a distant father, a 3-legged dog and a tragedy that shattered the boy also left the man with an annoying tic and some less visible emotional scars. By going through it all again, but this time with the support of an adult who not only knows exactly how it feels, but who also knows this agony will pass, helps heal their future.

So naturally it got me wondering: how would I help myself? What would Today's Adult Gal tell Yesterday's Little Girl? What would we talk about if I got into the Wayback Machine and met up with my younger self, in the mid 1960s?

Your dad makes everyone unhappy because he's so unhappy himself. It's not you! He's not just mad at you, he's mad at every single thing in his whole life. Unfortunately it's only going to get worse between the two of you. But don't avoid him -- watch him. He's teaching you what not to be as an adult. He judges himself by how much money, how much stuff he has, instead of measuring his self-worth by the people in his life.

Your uncle will come home. He's in the jungles of Viet Nam and watching the news scares you. You're afraid he will be shot or burned, but he won't be. When he finally comes home, he will give you a little teal bracelet that he bought when he was on leave in Saigon. You're gonna love that bracelet and will hang on to it for decades to come.

Treasure every moment with Grandpa. He loves you very much and has so much to teach you. Yes, he can seem a little corny at times. But when you look back on your time with him -- which will be all-too brief -- that old-fashioned silliness is one of the things you will remember and love the most. And his voice and how he smells of cigars when he hugs you.


Don't worry so much about Tommy! He won't get out again! It just happened that once and you caught him before he even got to the gate. Please relax about your big white tomcat. Yes, you love him more than anything, but Mom knows how to take care of him and he's going to live a very long, very happy life.

Your older sister is a bitch, always will be. It's too bad that you two will never be close. But that's OK. You know that curly-haired girl who just moved in across the alley? She's going to end up being your friend for life, and more of a sister to you than your sister ever could be.

Don't pin your hopes on the 1969 World Series! I can't bear to tell you what's going to happen because it's going to break your heart.

Another meme about ME!

Welll... Mo wants to know more about me, so she tagged me with this "About Me" Meme;

What were you doing 10 years ago?

In 1997 I was having something of a mid-life crisis. I was much worse about the prospect of turning 40 than I am now about 50 and took up with a much younger guy. 12 years younger. I couldn't believe he was interested in me, but he was, and it was fun. My friends were aghast because I knew there was no future in it, at least by conventional standards. I knew I was never going to marry him, have babies and live in a vine-covered cottage. But it was terrific for my ego and while I wasn't "in love" with him we were good friends as well as bed partners. And he custom built my bookcases for me! So in all it was good experience and I remember him fondly. I hope he can say the same about me.

What were you doing 1 year ago?

A year ago I was not at all happy with this job and I missed my best friend terribly. He had just been laid off and was moving his family back to Colorado, so I thought I'd never see him again. Funny how things work out, though. This agency got me a new boss and he's made all the difference in terms of my attitude toward work. And my best friend and I both have put a lot of effort into being in touch and staying in touch across the miles. So I guess this story ends with all of us living happily ever after!

Five snacks you enjoy:

~ Those crappy Hostess chocolate cupcakes with the white swirl of frosting on top
~ Sno-Caps, but only at the movies
~ Bowl of cold cereal (Post Great Grains, either with milk or from the box)
~ Fritos, the originals only
~ Peanuts

Five songs that you know all the lyrics:

~ "Hey, Hey, Holy Mackarel, No Doubt about It!" This radio theme song opened every WGN Cubs broadcast when I was a girl
~ "American Pie" The long version
~ "I Will" My favorite Paul McCartney song; it's on the White Album
~ "Julie, Do Ya Love Me?" by Bobby Sherman, the 1970s answer to Sanjaya
~ "The National Anthem" even though I don't sing it -- even at ballgames -- and only move my lips

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:


Some of these are much like Ms. Mo's

~ Pay off my condo
~ Get all those home improvements done!
~ Eliminate my debts
~ Give my mother the world's most valuable Albertson's Gift Card so she will never again have to watch her pennies at the grocery store
~ New underwear all the time! Whenever there's even the slightest sign of stain or wear, into the trash those panties would go!
~ Sponsor more "foster" pets, like the ones I have at North Shore Animal League and Harmony House for Cats

Five bad habits:

~ Laziness
~ No discipline when it comes to domestic chores
~ Being too bossy/demanding at work
~ Blurting (I really must think before I speak)
~ Fixating, obsessing, awfulizing, etc.


Five things you like doing:

~ Reading
~ Watching the Cubs
~ Going to the movies
~ Gabbing on the phone/emailing/staying in touch
~ Soaking in the tub

Five things you would never wear again:

~ Three shades of blue eyeshadow all at once (lid, crease, brow)
~ Anything in a neon green
~ Long sweater and leggings (a la Pat Benatar)
~ Enormous hoop earrings
~ Bowling shirts

Five favorite toys:

~ Facial masks (clay, pore reducing, exfoliating, etc.)
~ iPod
~ Purses and more purses
~ My Shout! Color Catcher laundry sheets (yes, I am that geeky; I always check to see if it's "caught" any loose-floating dye)
~ Pogo games


And Now for the important stuff...

INSTRUCTIONS:
Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:

- Pieces of Me
- The blog. Yep, the blog
- Dog's Eye View
- Inside Mo's Mind
- One Gal's Musings

I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND! It occurs to me that some of these memes are getting very chick-centric, so I hereby tag NICHOLAS and SPARKY DUCK!

Another word about tipping

I don't usually delete comments on my blog because most people make positive contributions to the discourse. One of the comments on my TT could be interpreted as insensitive to those who work in the service industry, so it's gone.

It's important to remember that most folks who work in the service industry pay income tax based on receiving tips. So if a customer is cheap or mean or ignorant and refuses to tip for good service, the worker is actually losing money.

Let's take a good look at who these people are. (This information is from the 2000 Census, so it's more than 5 years old.)

90% of hairstylists and cosmetologists (mani/pedi) are female, avg. salary $16,172

74% of restaurant, lounge and coffee shop servers are female, avg. salary $14,612

87% of maids and housekeeping staff are female, avg. salary $13,832

These people -- many of whom are working mothers -- are struggling to make ends meet. They do honest and very hard work. The way our system is set up, they depend on your tips.

If tipping offends you, your issue is with the custom and not with the person delivering the service. I agree that tipping can be confusing (hence my TT) and a pain in the ass. It would be nice if managers/owners in the hospitality industry paid their workers more in salary, or perhaps if their unions were stronger advocates, so tips wouldn't be vital.

Naturally, anyone who receives bad service (and of course it happens) shouldn't tip. But don't just dismiss/demean tipping. It's essential to those who work to serve us.

Of course we all have a right to our opinions. But since this is One Gal's Musings and I am The Gal Herself, I get the last word.

Thursday Thirteen #17 -- Tips on Tipping

Thirteen tips THE GAL HERSELFrefers to for tipping etiquette If I’m not in a restaurant or a cab, I’m confused. About tipping that is. I like to think everyone finds this as confounding as I do, so here are 13 tips about tipping. 1. At restaurants, tip 15% for good, solid service. Tip 20% for excellent service and 10% for sub-par service. Why tip for sub-par service at all? Restaurant servers pay taxes on 8% to 10% of their total receipts, not the actual amount of tips they earn. If you don't tip them, they are actually losing money because they are paying taxes based on the amount of your meal. So save the “no tip treatment” for a server who puts his thumb in your food or something equally egregious. 2. Buffet servers. $1 to $2 per person. $1 if all the server does is explain about the buffet and then bring you the bill, $2 is they deliver more service. 2. Bartenders. $1 to $2 per drink. 3. Hairdresser/barber. 15% for the haircut, 20% for chemical services. Remember to tip separately for the shampoo, usually $1. 4. Spa services (facial, massage, mani/pedi). 15% 5. Bellhops. $1 per bag (tip $2 if you have just one bag). 6. Concierge. $2 to $5 for dinner or tour reservations; up to $20 for impossible-to-get tickets. (This is one I always forget.) 7. Hotel maid service. $1 per person per night. If you’re staying more than one night, leave the tip each morning because the staff may change day-to-day. 8. Room service. 15% to 20%, unless it’s automatically added to the bill. 9. Doorman. $1 for hailing a cab (another one I forget) 10. Handyman. Tip is more optional than customary; 15% of the bill is fine if you are very pleased with the service. 11. Grocery delivery. $1 or $2 per bag. 12. Flower delivery. $2 to $5 13. Coffee servers. Tipping is more optional than customary; it’s perfectly acceptable to just leave your change in the tip jar. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Dewey 2. Thomma Lyn 3. Mamma Kelly 4. terra 5. shannon 6. Amy 7. Christine 8. Laughing Muse 9. Journeywoman 10. L-Squared 11. Wylie 12. Nicholas 13. tinkerbell 14. Lisa 15. Mo 16. Sparky Duck 17. Lori 18. Kendra 19. Barbara I've learned how to do links! Let's hear it for The (none-too-tech-savvy) Gal!

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

I don't have to forgive and forget

Gee, with Jerry Falwell dead and gone, who is going to tell me I'm wrong for believing in the separation of Church and State? Who is going to blame me for 9/11?

I believe in God and I accept Jesus as my Savior. I also whole-heartedly believe in America, and am proud of our heritage of religious freedom -- including the freedom to worship no gods at all. Jerry Falwell exploited his narrow view of Christianity for political gain, blurring the lines of Church and State and turning extremely personal issues literally into Federal cases.

No greater example of his cynical view of faith and government is his statement after 9/11. On September 13, 2001, he looked into a TV camera and said the following:

"I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.'"

Way to heal us, Rev.!

I am a feminist and a dues-paying member of the ACLU. I also worked in one of Chicago's highest-profile office buildings on 9/11 and was escorted out by Daley cops. I'd never ducked under yellow police tape before. I am not completely over that day. I probably never will be. Watching those towers come down left a mark on my soul as indelible as the vaccination mark on my arm. How dare he?

What kind of man thinks of political posturing and power at a time like that?

I know he apologized the next day, but I don't believe it was sincere. I don't have to. I don't have to forgive him, either.

Fortunately for Rev. Falwell, the Lord I believe in loves all His children unconditionally. (Even feminists and gays!) So going by this Gal's view of the world and the afterlife, Jer is forgiven and right with the Lord. He will just never be right with this Gal.

Why do men find it irresistable?

Teasing me, I mean.

Two of my male coworkers share an office. This afternoon, every time I tried to make my point to Steve, Chuck cut in with lame kid-brother comments like, "No, you can't," or "That will never work," or "That's crazy," etc. It wasn't funny but it sure was annoying. I felt like Marcia Brady trying to make a point to Greg with Peter butting in.

Steve does it, too. So does our production manager. My boss starts most mornings with the same joke about my Type A tendencies, "I know you're here because I can hear the gnashing of teeth."

The other women here don't get this sort of attention/treatment. I suspect it's meant affectionately, so it's not that it bothers me. It just confuses me. Why am I different from the other girls? Why am I so much fun to needle?

ABC Meme

I've been tagged! Jenny McB has called on me to answer this ABC All About Me.

A- Attached or Single? Single

B- Best Friend- His initials are SSP and he sees me as I am and likes me anyway

C- Cake or Pie- Pie. Specifically strawberry rhubarb pie.

D- Drink of choice- In public: Margarita on the rocks with salt; In private: Arbor Mist Strawberry Zinfandel (Please don't tell!)

E- Essential Items- iPod, hairbrush and a book

F- Favorite color- Blue

G- Gummi Bears or Worms- Really? I have to choose one? OK, bears.

H- Hometown- Brookfield

I- Indulgence- Bad TV

J- January or February?- January, because it's a fresh start and everything seems possible

K- Kids- None

L- Life is incomplete without- Critters! I can't imagine living in a home without pets!

M- Marriage Date- I'm just a barren spinster

N- Number of Siblings- Two sisters; one 16 months older, one 8 years younger

O- Oranges or Apples?- Apples, but I prefer orange juice to apple juice

P- Phobias/Fears- Flying. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

Q- Favorite Quote- If we cannot end our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity. JFK

R- Reason to Smile- Hearing a Beatle song

S- Seasons - Fall

T- Tags- Starbucks Junkie. If you are still out there, Hick, copy this into your blog and answer these questions for yourself.

U- Unknown fact about me - When I was in second grade I had a poster of Paul McCartney on the back of my bedroom door. I kissed it so many times I wore the lips away.

V- Vegetarian or oppressor of animals? Oppressor, I guess. But this is very unfair. I consider about what I eat and am concerned with the quality of an animal's life.

W- Worst Habit- I can be terribly impatient.

X-X-rays or ultrasounds - I trust my doctors. Whatever they recommend.

Y- Your Favorite Food - Manicotti

Z- Zodiac - I'm on the cusp. Scorpio or Sagittarius, depending on which horoscope book I'm looking at.

I am SO still a Cub fan!

I know all the words to "Hey, Hey, Holy Mackarel, No Doubt About It." What more proof does anyone need?

One of my coworkers is a White Sox fan. Usually I treat these sad characters with the noblesse oblige they deserve. But today he really got under my skin.

He wanted to talk about last night's disappointment, when the winning run was walked in by poor relief pitcher Michael Wurtz. I confessed that I didn't watch the entire game because I switched over to watch my beloved future Hall of Famer Greg Maddux turn in a truly inspirational and heroic performance on the mound.

"You turned the game off? Then you aren't a Cub fan. You're a Greg Maddux fan."

Well, I'm both. My loyalties aren't even remotely tried this go-round because Greg Maddux certainly didn't ask to leave me … I mean, CHICAGO … last August at the trade deadline.

Also, it's still early. Experience has shown me time and time again that it's a very long season and we can't assume that the way we play in May will have any impact on where we end up in the Fall.

And the Cubs are my guys whether they win or lose. The outcome of one particular game has no bearing on my relationship with my team. We're in it together for the long haul. Whereas this could very well be (gulp) Greg Maddux' last year.

So I'm melding my Cub fandom and Maddux fanaticism with this photo. It's my beloved #31 doffing his cap and saying farewell to Wrigley Field last summer. (Is it any coincidence that the immortal Fergie Jenkins wore #31, too? I think not.)

Maddux halts Reds in complete game

Veteran right-hander perfect through five, wins No. 336
By Sandy Burgin / Special to MLB.com

SAN DIEGO -- Greg Maddux, who has never thrown a no-hitter, had a perfect game through five innings Monday night.

Javier Valentin doubled to right-center in the top of the sixth spoiling the no-no, but Maddux and the Padres went on to beat the Cincinnati Reds, 7-1, at PETCO Park.

The win was the 336th for Maddux, who allowed five hits in posting his 109th complete game, his first since Sept. 27, 2005.

Maddux (3-2) also helped his own cause at the plate with three straight sacrifice bunts, tying a franchise record.

Maddux threw 46 pitches in retiring the first 15 Reds. He got Alex Gonzalez on a groundout to start the sixth. But Valentin ripped a double to the scoreboard in right-center for the Reds' first hit. Pinch-hitter Jeff Keppinger followed with a single. However, Maddux came back and got Ryan Freel to hit into a 6-4-3 inning-ending double play.

Maddux lost a chance for his 36th shutout in the ninth. Juan Castro led off with a single and moved to third on a double by Freel. One out later, Ken Griffey Jr. hit a deep fly to center for a sacrifice fly as Castro came home. Maddux threw 96 pitches, 20 in the ninth inning. He finished the game striking out Brandon Phillips for his 3,200th career strikeout.

We're still friends, we're still us

My best friend hasn't spent any time communicating with me lately. Not by phone, not by email. It was making me very uncomfortable.

Usually we at least trade emails a couple times a day. Two weeks ago he was in town and we had dinner together two nights in a row. That spoiled me, I guess. I was getting used to seeing him regularly, and for hours at a time, once again.

Then he took his family on a much-needed vacation to New Orleans for Jazz Fest and to visit relatives. And then he had a whirlwind business trip to New York. And last weekend was Mother's Day and naturally he had family obligations.

His silence was completely understandable. But I hated it. I missed him. Here's the thing about him -- like this blog, he just absorbs what I have to say and accepts me as I am. But from this blog I am anonymous. I can confess my inkiest-black thoughts to him and he still accepts. And comforts. And supports. When I don't hear from him, my world starts to make less sense.

Because he's him, I was able to tell him how much I missed him without feeling silly or needy or vulnerable.

I know he gets a lot from me, too. I know this relationship is a two-way street. But for the last week or so, I'd been the needy one. He was attentive and sweet via emails and over the phone as he came in from the cold.

So we're still friends and we're still us and I'm so glad. Now I can relax and concentrate on my beloved future Hall of Famer Greg Maddux taking the mound against the Reds.

Facts about this here little ol' blog

Thanks to statcounter.com, I know some fascinating things about my musings. At least fascinating to me, because I am a geek.

While it may seem that I spend an inordinate amount of time blogging about Greg Maddux and the Cubs, those two subjects are not the ones that bring readers to me. At least not through search engines. Nor are searchers drawn to my musings for my sharp wit or my perceptive take on life in these here United States. No. The subject that has brought me the most msn and Google search hits is …

The discontinuation of Victoria Principal Time Release Moisture

This completely cracks me up.

76 visitors have spent more than an hour on my site. Gotta tell you, I don't even find me that interesting. I suspect that either their screens froze or they went off to make dinner without exiting my page.

Just to prove that it is indeed a worldwide web: I have had one visitor each from Croatia, Kuwait, Peru, Chile, Costa Rica and Ecuador.

My brunch with Mom

Took my mother to the Mother's Day champagne buffet in my hometown. We had a lovely time … two trips to the buffet each, plus dessert. Since my mom can't drink anymore, I got both mimosas. They took some of the discomfort out of being back in my hometown. (It is, after all, the place I fled.)

My mother is a very happy woman, very content with her life. She's "lunch mom" four days a week at the local grade school, but with summer looming she's fixating on her yard. She is very serious about her garden and proudly showed off all the plants my younger sister's family got her for Mother's Day yesterday. She loves the Chicago Bulls and is stoic through their playoff bid this year. She dotes on her cats. She was effusive about a new shampoo she bough from Home Shopping.

I don't want to copy my mother, because her life seems very small to me. But I do wish to emulate her in terms of how peaceful she is with her life and her choices. She epitomizes that saying about, "It's better to want what you have than to have what you want." In that way, she's a most excellent role model.

A mom to include in your prayers today

Chicago Fire Dept. Capt. Annette Nance-Holt is suffering through her first Mother's Day without her son, 16-year-old Blair Holt. I wonder if it's any comfort for her to know that he died a hero, and that his last words were, "Tell my mom and dad I love them."

Last Thursday, an expelled gangbanger got onto a CTA bus and opened fire on his former classmates. Blair Holt, an honor student and all around good kid, pushed Tiara Reed down in her seat. Because of his quick thinking, Tiara was hit in the foot and will recover fully. Blair was struck in the abdomen and died.

Blair did not know the boy who shot him.

His mother said Blair, "was the kind of kid that if I could have gone shopping and picked one out, it would have still been him. He was my best friend."

I don't know how she will get through today. But once she does, Captain Holt and her husband, Officer Ronald Holt of the Chicago Police Dept.'s gang crimes unit, have to face June 1, the day that would have been Blair's 17th birthday.

What has happened to this family, and to this city, is a sin. There are too many guns and obviously they are still too easy to obtain. There are economic issues that make life appear so hopeless to some of us that gang life seems like a viable option. Our attitude toward one another has become so coarse that murdering your classmates seems like acceptable recourse. But those problems existed last week and will exist next week.

Today, as I honor my own mother, I'm going to concentrate my prayers and thoughts and energy on Capt. Annette Nance-Holt, too.

The International Association of Black Professional Fire Fighters has set up a fund in memory of Blair Holt. Contributions are being accepted at:

The Blair Holt Scholarship Fund
Seaway National Bank
P.O. Box 19522
Chicago, IL 60619
Attn: Personal Banking
773/487-4800

What? What is it? TELL ME!

I'm nervous. Anxious. Tense. Apprehensive about something, but I don't know what it is. It feels like there's something BIG around the corner, but I can't imagine what it is. This is my night to relax, just me and the Cubs. So why aren't I relaxed? What is it that's gnawing away at me? I wish it would just happen already, so I could deal with it and get past it.

And I love him … them … all of them

This is the flip-side of my TT post about celebs I hate. There are also celebs I love. Very much. OK, I admit it: my mind is a motel. And these gentlemen are my most frequent objets d'lust. As luck would have it, there are 13 of them, too, so I shall consider this TT.2

1. George Clooney. It’s not just how heavenly he looks in a tux. How can you not love the man who used his popularity and power to make Good Night and Good Luck? And while he takes his craft seriously, he doesn’t take himself seriously.

2. Greg Maddux. He has the most darling face, like a 6’ tall Precious Moments doll. The dichotomy is that this sweet-faced, bland-voiced guy is one of the best pitchers there ever was/ever will be. So within that average exterior must beat a tenacious, committed, passionate heart. And that’s soooo sexy.


3. Bruce Willis. Love his smirk. Love his shoulders. Love him as an action star (Die Hard, Armageddon) and his character parts (13 Blocks, In Country) and his supporting roles (Pulp Fiction, Nobody’s Fool). Love him.


4. Bruce Springsteen. He has the heart of a poet and a body by Nautilus.


5. Paul McCartney. I love him. I always have, since I was 6 years old. He’s my doe-eyed troubadour.

6. Patrick Dempsey. Great face, great hair, and somehow you just know he’ll smell good. I would love to have him sidle up beside me in an elevator.

7. Hugh Grant. Maybe it’s the McCartney influence, but I’m simply a sucker for Brits who can’t keep their hair out of their eyes.

8. John Edwards. He has clear blue eyes and terrific hair. His accent is so honey smooth I can listen to him for hours. (And, back when I was a Kerry-Edwards campaign worker, I did.) And there's something very sexy about a man who loves his wife so much. I keep hoping he'll come through and give me an unassailable reason to support him for President. (Other than Elizabeth.)

9. George Stephanopolous. My other politico/heartthrob. Truly terrific hair. I love watching him be all boyish, and then bore into some candidate with the one question he didn’t want asked.

10. Chris Meloni. Or, actually, Elliott Stabler, his character on L&O:SVU. Intense and honest and good and true – with a very hot bod.

11. Robert Redford. Not now. I’m afraid I could kill him now. But Redford in the mid 1970s is as gorgeous as it gets. Especially that scene in the Way We Were when he appeared onscreen in his Navy Whites. The only man who could possibly look that hot in uniform is …

12. Richard Gere. Ah, that last scene in Officer and a Gentleman! In a way, he’s the anti-Redford in that he looks better with each passing year.

13. Johnny Depp. What a face! Cheekbones carved from stone. And any man who is that comfortable in himself and in his talent just has to be good in bed.

Whew! Sorry, but I've got to go. Doing this list has left me exhausted!

This is the only home I've ever owned

I'm suffering with a combination of tummy ache/menstrual cramps today. Consequently I'm not moving too much, sticking to the sofa. From my perch I'm able to survey my condo, and am dreaming of all the things I'd like to do with it …

• New drapes in the living room and the master bedroom
• Ceramic tile starting in the kitchen and going on into the dining area
• New carpet in the living room/hallway
• New kitchen counters and new fronts for the cabinets
• New toilet, sink and wall tile in the bathroom
• A fresh coat of paint on everything

Sigh. I am $3,000 away from having 8 months' living expenses in the bank. That's important because in advertising, you can be laid off at any time, and I am my only source of income/support. So socking away that last $3,000 has to be my priority before I can take on the bigger projects, like the kitchen and the bathroom.

But I think I will start shopping around for window coverings. Certainly I can do that without much expense.

This is the only home I've ever owned, and I have this vision of what I can make it. But it seems like I'll never be able to do it all! In 2006 I had the unexpected expenses of a new air conditioner, new refrigerator and new windows. This past week I had to have some wiring redone. All this crap was necessary, but none of it was fun. And it was all costly enough to keep me from accumulating that last $3,000.

Ah, the joys of being a homeowner!

I admit it's not all about the news

I am a news junkie. First thing I do in the morning is turn on the local news and Today. First thing I do when I get home from work is switch on MSNBC. I get email alerts all day from the Chicago Tribune, the Boston Globe and CNN. I always worry that something is happening that I should know about.

There are reasons I remain so loyal to NBC. Part of it is my almost limitless respect for Tim Russert and my genuine affection for (HA!) Chris Matthews. But another part of it is THE CLOTHES.

I love checking out what Meredith Vieria and Campbell Brown are wearing. Today Meredith has a pale pink coat with a big pointy collar. I love it. I could never wear such a coat because I take the el and there's no way I could keep it clean. But I love the collar, and how it looks with her light gray slacks.

Campbell is my favorite. She used to really relish red, but she's experimenting with other colors and has inspired me to do so. I've decided to add rich browns to my predominantly green, blue and lavender wardrobe.

I read Allure and Glamour and More. But I like seeing fashions on women who are moving. (How do those slacks look when she crosses her legs?) And, while these women are certainly fit and beautiful, they neither model thin, nor model young.

Does this make me hideously shallow? (Or even garden-variety shallow?)

Chinese Freeze tag- 10 Interesting Facts about me

I was tagged by JennyMcb (right) of J's Thoughts and Musings (jennymcb.blogspot.com) and I need to tell 10 interesting facts about myself. This can be something shocking or anything that may become a surprise to people! So have fun here goes...

(I shall parallel Jenny's 10)

1. I was always one of the shortest in my class. I tell people I'm 5'2, but it's not true. Anything less than that, though, just doesn't sound like an adult to me.

2. I am hooked on Turbo 21 at pogo.com

3. I'm not at all tech-savvy, which is why you never see links in any of my posts.

4. I miss the olden days when enormous Judith Light/Who's the Boss glasses were in vogue. My sight is so bad and the new frames are so narrow that I don't trust my peripheral vision and am unsure of myself on stairs.

5. I won $10 in a creative writing contest when I was in third grade. It was for a paragraph about my teacher, Mrs. Kessell.

6. I have never shoplifted anything.

7. I have an irrational dislike for Scarlett Johannsen.

8. I regularly receive certificates from the Illinois Secretary of State, applauding my perfect driving record. Since I don't have a car, my record is not hard to maintain.

9. I cannot recall the last time I cried in front of anyone.

10. I'm not a big one for participating in church. It's a very personal experience between me and God. I don't feel like mingling afterwards.

Now if you haven't checked out Jenny's list, do so now so you can compare and contrast.

A Giant

It's been a month and I'm still inching through Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals. I'm enjoying it, so I'm kinda glad it's slow going. When I finally complete it, I'll miss Lincoln's cabinet (especially Salmon Chase), his family, and most of all, the melancholy man himself.

So wise, so insightful, so articulate! In 1848, Rep. Lincoln accused President Polk of "hoping to escape scrutiny by fixing the public gaze upon the brightness of military glory, that serpent's eye that charms to destroy." He went on to compare Polk's war message to, "the half-insane mumblings of a fever dream."

Is it any wonder why I'd prefer to stay back in the 1800s with Lincoln? Yes, we have a lot of heartache ahead of us. (Eddie has already died. We still have to mourn Willie. Then there's the nightmare of the Civil War and the night at the theater.) But damn, he was an exceptional human being, and even the bad times are enlightening when you're with Abe.