But his life looks SO GOOD from here

Owen Wilson, who writes as well as acts and makes tens of millions a year and has one of the cutest broken noses in film history, is in the hospital. Early reports are that he tried to take his own life, and his short statement ("I respectfully ask that the media allow me to receive care and heal in private during this difficult time.") doesn't seem to dispel that impression.

I know I should be up in arms about Alberto Gonzalez and his rumored replacement (who has handled the Katrina aftermath so exquisitely). But this bothers me more. First of all, because I've enjoyed Owen Wilson's work every time I've seen him on screen, going back to a big-budget but still cheesy horror film called The Haunting back in 1999. And because when anyone who seems to have it all ends up in such a dark place, it first makes me say, "What the fu ...?" and then it breaks my heart.

Kinda creepy ...

Found this book quiz over at Sparky's place. It's so on-target it makes me a little uncomfortable.

You're Compassion Fatigue!

by Susan Moeller

You used to care, but now it's just getting too difficult. You cared about the plight of people in lands near and far, but now the media has bombarded you with images of suffering to the point that you just don't have the energy to go on. You've become cold and heartless, as though you'd lived in New York City for a year or so. But you stand as a serious example to all others that they should turn off their TV sets and start caring again.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Observations from the health club

I did 30 minutes of cardio and 16 reps each on machines designed to strengthen my flabby arms and tighten my fat ass. Because I was felt I deserved a reward, and because I'm PMS-in and am jonesing in a big way for a burger, I had planned to stop at McDonald's on the way back to my office.

As I grabbing my gym bag, I saw it. A woman was wearing just the dress I used to be able to carry off … when I had my former arms and ass. The pang of longing I felt as I looked that dress was palpable.

Of course, so were my burger cravings. I couldn't bear the thought of a salad. So I went a healthier route for the protein my hormones told me I must, MUST have. At Ada's Deli I ordered salmon salad on wheat. Omega-3s, vitamin D, calcium -- all those came with my sandwich but not with a Big Mac. Am I not a good girl (or at least, a better girl than I would have been with a fast food burger)?

I'll gaze at this photo again tonight to inspire me to graze on a friggin' salad with dinner.

August Happiness -- Sunday 26

Watching the Cubs game with my nephew. He's starting second grade on Wednesday, and this is a very cool age. He's curious and funny and feeling very independent, very sure of himself. Plus he now has the patience for baseball (in years gone by he was more interested in the vendors selling food behind home plate than what the batter was doing). We discussed my current favorite player, my all-time favorite players, and Grandma Ruth's favorite player, Ryne Sandberg. He was born after my grandmother, his great-grandmother, died, so it's good that he know her through stories like this. The generational component of Cub fandom is as important to me as the ivy and the cold beer.