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!)


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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

Presidential nominees, and who we're supposed to support

I have a dear friend who happens to be black. I've referred to him within my posts as "John." Lately his heart disease has been far more top of mind for me than his color or his homosexuality. (I've known him for a quarter century and he's been gay and black for the whole time; the heart disease is new.)

But recently his color was germane to our conversation. Since he's black and lives here in Chicago, I just assumed he was supporting Barack Obama for President. I was wrong. John simply doesn't know enough about our junior Senator yet. He would automatically be for Clinton if it was Bill and not Hill. It seems the deep affection many in the black community hold for Bill Clinton does not necessarily translate to his wife. He believes he would be "settling" for John Edwards. (Our conversation took place before my vacation, and before Elizabeth Edwards' heartbreaking news.) After all, he asked, who else? I surprised myself by my enthusiastic description of Bill Richardson. (I didn't realize how much I knew about him.)

It amused us both that likewise John just assumed I'd be for Hillary. I'm a long-time Clintonista, I was born and raised in the Chicago burbs as she was, and … drum roll, please … I'm a woman. Like John, I'd automatically be for Clinton if it was Bill and not Hill. She's a bit too hawkish on the war. She gets things done, she's efficient, but I do not feel an ideological passion from her.

Before her cancer announcement, I was leaning toward Elizabeth Edwards' husband. And not because he's hot. (I don't know what it says about me, but I put a lot more consideration into who I vote for than who I'd sleep with.) Instead of focusing on Iraq, he has been keeping Katrina and poverty and the inequity in health care front and center. But the fact that both of the Boys from Boston (Senators Kennedy and Kerry) are reluctant to endorse him disturbs me. Kennedy was his mentor. Senator Kerry was his running mate. What do they know that I don't know?

So I can be persuaded. I would love it if Hillary began to inspire me. I would love it if I suddenly believed in Barack Obama. I've contributed money to Edwards. It would make me very happy if I was doing it because that's where my heart leads me, and not because it seems to be the way to keep domestic issues on the radar.

So candidates, hear me, please. If you think you can count on voters like John and me, you can't. You have a long campaign ahead of you, and you can't take a single vote for granted.

When the newscaster is part of the story

I didn't see the entire Katie Couric interview with John and Elizabeth Edwards, but the clips I saw weren't as brutal as I'd expected from the buzz. Still, she asked hard questions about what cancer means to their family and the campaign. Katie did sound judgmental when asking about young Emma Claire and Jack, wondering if each parents' place isn't with their children at a time like this.

Woe, Nelly! Ms. Couric, weren't you still showing up for work on The Today Show every morning at 4:00, leaving your tiny daughters all day while your husband was battling colon cancer?

The Edwards' need to be available to answer tough questions. That's what a run for the Presidency is about. If Katie asked him if he would be able to govern if his wife's health took a turn for the worse while he inhabited the Oval Office, I wouldn't have batted an eyelash. (BTW, did she ask that? I would love to know his answer.) I'm not even sure the question did ask was out of line. The problem was, it was asked by Katie Couric.

When Larry King was out ill, Maria Shriver pinch hit for him, interviewing addicts and family members of addicts about treatment. Jamie Lee Curtis, Robert Shapiro and Susan Ford were on the panel. With her cousins Patrick and David Kennedy and Christopher Lawford all admitted addicts, shouldn't Maria have been participating as well as moderating? How could this thought not cross my mind? Don't we all know as much about the Kennedys as we do about our own families?

I'm a news junkie. I watch and read as much as I can. And I just hate it when the reporter distracts me from the story. Maybe this just comes with the territory when we live in a celebrity culture.

They found my Achilles' heel!

I made a dumb mistake at work. I was supposed to pass all the client's input on to the art director (who had to leave at noon to take one of his kids to the doctor). I didn't see that the document was multiple pages and only gave him one page. My lame-ass screw up wasn't discovered until he'd left. With this laptop, so he had all the files. We couldn't pass the job along to another art director.

We had to call him on his cell, interrupt his afternoon off, and make him crank out the revisions.

My mistake. My sloppiness. My fault.

Guess how the art director responded to my apology? He said, literally, "No problem-o."

Guess how the account supe responded to my apology? He said, "It was simple human error. Forget about it."

We almost missed our due date because of me. My art director and account supervisor were stressed out and inconvenienced because of me. And no one has the decency to be angry at me.

See, by being nice about this, they have deprived me of my righteous indignation. Now I am left with nothing but my horrible guilt.

And I do feel awful about this.

I still love Greg Maddux. How could I not?

You can have George Clooney. I'll take Greg Maddux. There's something unutterably sexy about a man who is described by the Dallas Morning News as "a middle-aged guy in boxers and an assortment of ice packs, eating a sandwich and watching TV. Bird legs protruding from a barrel gut, heavy bags under bloodshot eyes, he looks as if he just rolled out after a long night of Texas Hold 'em … Greg Maddux won't appear in any underwear ads anytime soon," and yet is still able to shut down the opposing team with 5 strikeouts.

He still plays because he loves it. He still plays because he can still earn and hold a spot as an mlb starter, even though at (almost) 41 he's competing with men almost literally half his age. He's still that good.

I had the privilege of watching Michael Jordan play. He was beautiful, graceful, self-possessed and gifted. Whether in his #23 jersey or a Hanes commercial, you know you were looking at "the best there ever was, the best there ever will be."

With 4 Cy Youngs, 333 wins and more than 3000 strikeouts, my beloved Greg Maddux is a cinch for the Hall of Fame. But when you look at him, he doesn't look special. I don't believe he was blessed with exceptional physical gifts, as MJ undoubtedly was. But he has guts and tenacity and concentration and smarts and a love of the game. He's one of the best there ever was, the best there ever will be because he wants to be. And that is just so sexy.

P.S. If you know George Clooney, tell him I really didn't mean the first sentence. I do indeed want him, too. I was just trying to make a point.

For Cubs fans like me, everything old is new again

It's spring, and as April approaches, I dare to hope again. I dream just as generation after generation of my family have dreamt since 1908. Next year is finally here!

I thought this year would be different because now we have Soriano and Lou. But alas, as the Cubs opener draws closer, we find ourselves wondering the same damn thing:

"What about Wood and Prior?"

Thursday Thirteen #10 -- Rewatchable Reruns

Here are thirteen shows
THE GAL HERSELF
is happy to drop everything and watch again,
and again, and again.

And if you were here before and the "comments" were screwed up, I apologize. My fault


1) Law & Order. You guys had me at, "In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories."

2) Friends. Phoebe referring to Old Yeller as "a puppy snuff film." Chandler announcing that, "Joey's tailor is a very bad man!" Every episode has a memorable moment.

3) The Dick Van Dyke Show. "Oh, Rob …" How I wished my parents were as glamorous as Rob and Laura! I especially enjoyed the episodes where they sang songs like "Mountain Greenery" at their cool dinner parties. My mom and dad played pinochle with my friend's parents at the dining room table. Not quite the same, is it?

4) The Andy Griffith Show. But only the black and white ones with Barney.

5) The Brady Bunch. I have no idea why. It's achingly stupid. Yet I can't turn away.

6) I Love Lucy. I do. Love Lucy, I mean. Plus, I believe the Riccardo's apartment accounts for my fondness for exposed brick.

8) That Girl. The clothes. The hair. The handbags. The romance of New York City.

9) Sex & the City. The clothes. The hair. The handbags. The romance of New York City.

10) Magnum PI. Thomas is a rakish charmer and a much better detective than Higgins (appears) to give him credit for. The cast interacts beautifully, as though they really do have a history that reaches back to Nam.

11) M*A*S*H*. Anarchy and humanity and a ton of puns, all in a half hour comedy. It doesn't get any better than this.

12) Moonlighting. After Hawkeye left Korea, network TV was left with a dearth of smart ass heroes. Then David Addison Raybanned and smirked his way across our screens. Watching the DVDs, I realize that Cybill Shepard was more charming than I recalled.

13) Golden Girls. Wouldn't it be comforting to know that as we grow older we'll also grow warmer and funnier and we'll remain sexually active?


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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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Wednesday Wisdom You Won't Get from Mom

These are the sayings that I see as I look around my office from bulletin board to bulletin board. I hope you find them inspiring.

"Some people are born to be adults. Others have adulthood thrust upon them."

"She liked imaginary men best of all."

"Inner beauty won't get you laid."

"I will not obsess. I will not obsess. I will not obsess."

"It will be a great day when schools get all the money they need and the air force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber."

"Some days it really isn't worth chewing through the restraints."

"I am not like the others. My strangeness is my strength."

"Sugar … prozac … coffee … Now I'll have a nice day."

"Mommy, when I grow up I want to help smash the white racist, homophobic, patriarchal bullshit paradigm, too!"

Take that, Victoria Principal!

Principal Secret discontinued my moisturizer, Time Release Moisture. Creamy but not greasy, with a decent SPF, I love the contents of that pink and white jar. Her newer products -- from her Advanced and Reclaim lines -- just don't do it for me, leaving my skin feeling tight.

When I was getting my spa facial last week, the cosmetologist told me how "really good" my skin looked and I should just "keep doing" what I've been doing. Much of the credit goes to my new dermatologist, and his antibiotic cream and his laser, but I also believe it's due in large part to my beloved Time Release Moisture.

I've tried countless other creams and they have all ended up on my nightstand so I can use them on my heels. (I have the most expensively moisturized heels in North America!) Until now. This lovely little purple jar from Kohl's Good Skin line seems to work almost as well as my Time Release Moisture, and better than some of the more expensive brands I've auditioned.

Since this isn't the perfect replacement, I'm planning on trying one more, a calming lotion by Aveeno. But at least now I can be confident that once I deplete that last lonely jar of Time Release Moisture, I won't automatically start looking like my portrait in the attic.

Me and my books -- today

Sorry, but I couldn't resist. I felt this blog needed a little something to cut the sweetness.

Me and my books -- back then

My mother has been cleaning house, literally, and had a wonderful time going through our childhood belongings. She enjoys how very different her three daughters were/are, and was proud that she could tell my little niece what belonged to whom as we were growing up.

My older sister, Patty, loved baby dolls and puzzles. My kid sister, Katie, was a Barbie kinda girl. I went with stuffed animals and books, mostly about horses and dogs.

Mom put some of my childhood books aside for me and I am thrilled to see these terrific old friends again.

Lassie Finds a Way. Lassie saves an abandoned litter of puppies. We expect no less from her, of course. Lassie rocks.

Playland Pony. A new pony, Gingerboy, becomes a favorite attraction at Playland.

Elsa. "The story of the famous lioness of Born Free."

Anna Nicole 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.

So now I've heard the autopsy results on Anna Nicole Smith. And I'm shocked, shocked to find there were drugs going on in her life! She seemed too wise, too stable for that.

For the most part, this story seems as realistic to me as an episode of Scooby Doo. But then I think of her baby and I get sad.

Free to underprivileged trollops …

… 3 boxes of Nice & Easy #108. They're of no use to me anymore because I've left my red headed days behind. But I find it impossible to throw anything new away.

So if you've ever had a desire to look like Belle Watling from Gone with the Wind …

Stuff I care about, stuff I don't

Stuff I don't care about …

Rudy Giuliani's wife and her previous marriage(s).

Aside from the fact that I'm surprised Judy Nathan could hide an entire bridegroom from the New York press corps (Liz Smith and Michael Musto, I'm surprised at you both!), this isn't interesting and it's certainly not my business.

TomKat and the Beckhams and Brangelina. Yawn.

The Grey's Anatomy salary dispute. I'm not so fond of Izzie anymore, so it's OK if the producers let her walk.

Spiderman 3. I care as much as I did about 1 and 2. Which is not at all.

Stuff I care about …

Anna Nicole Smith. I know, I know. Caring about this silly saga is one of the early signs of dementia. But I admit it, I'm hooked. I believe the tipping point was the addition of wacky Judge Larry. (I'm referring to the crying Judge Larry, not the toking Judge Larry.) The whole thing is so gloriously surreal. The centerpiece of the case is a pregnant junkie/Playmate of the Year and her evil lawyer. And it takes an epic harmonic convergence for Virgie Arthur and Zsa Zsa Gabor to end up in the same story.

The captured UK sailors. It's so sad. The Brits are paying a very, very high price for supporting us. While I realize it's not funny, in fact it's way beyond not funny, but I still keep thinking of Tim Matheson's line from Animal House: "You fucked up -- you trusted us."

That Girl/Season 3. When is that new DVD set coming out? I love her hair. I love her little handbags. I love her false eyelashes. I love her wacky adventures. I've greedily devoured Seasons 1 and 2 and I'm jonesing here! Amazon is teasing us with a preorder option and a June release date, but they don't show any cover art, so I'm dubious.

Elizabeth Edwards. And Jack and Emma Claire and Cate.

Didn't do, should have done, don't have …

I'm watching Joel Osteen right now (yes, I have my own minister, but sometimes I need his predictably sunny brand of Christianity). He is talking about listening to the wrong inner voice. Instead of listening to personal condemnation, I should tell myself: "I have made mistakes, but I know I am forgiven." (I know that as a "gay-loving baby killer," aka Liberal Democrat, I'm not supposed to take comfort from God's forgiveness, but I do.)

Or, as my minister has said, "God doesn't expect us to succeed. He expects us to try."

I do have a tendency to be hard on myself. In every area except my work, I often feel deficient. I'm not pretty. I'm lazy. I'm pudgy. I have a bad temper, paired with a quick tongue, which can be a brutal combo. I can be judgmental. I'm undisciplined. I'm selfish.

And I'm a coward. I'm terrified of flying. The talisman I held in my hand as I took off and landed this past week was the printout of an email I received last Friday from my best friend. I felt stressed and sent out an SOS,* telling him that I was at the end of my tether … with people appearing in my doorway every five minutes there was no way I could get all my work done. He wrote:

"There is a reason that everyone is in your doorway. You have great insight, you are compassionate, you are genuine, you are understanding and deep down you truly care about people. It is no accident that people come to you for advice. You do things all the time that make a difference in peoples lives.

"Not everyone would be willing to adopt all the sheltered animals and all the wild children running around Target, Walmart and Kmart."

Joel is saying I should "bold enough to believe" what my best friend wrote. I'm trying. I'm growing. I'm working at doing better where I must and trying to appreciate my good qualities.

And I'm very literal. If it's in writing -- black type against white paper -- I tend to take it more seriously. So I shall clutch that piece of paper when I'm blue or frightened and take reinforcement from it.

*"Finding Solace and Strength from Friends and Strangers." Thank you, Elizabeth Edwards, for reminding me I can and should ask for help.

Enjoying the solitude

It's 7:30 on a Saturday night and I'm already in my pj's. And I'm quite happy with this turn of events. If it wasn't for the rather constant conversation my youngest cat, Rey, howlingly demands (as in, "What, Rey?" and "Good boy, Rey!" and "You're making me crazy, you psycho cat!"), I don't think I would utter another word until Monday.

I am fortunate. I have friends I could hang with. I have my mom to call. I just don't feel like it. And the solitude feels like a luxury.

I think of people who are alone on Saturday but not by choice. What is a private indulgence to me is painful to them. I'm grateful that I'm seldom if ever lonely.

I hope it's true

The toothy blonde with the big hat is Sabrina Guinness, described in the British press as, "a former girlfriend of Prince Charles and heiress to the beer dynasty." She's rumored to be Sir Paul's new love interest.

She's 52. She has money. She has a friendly relationship with Paul's middle daughter, Stella.

I hope he is in love with her. I hope she is in love with him. I hope they live happily ever after.

I love love. Just because I'm not especially good at it doesn't mean I'm not happy when it happens to others.

I miss my conscience

I remain prouder of my work for Senator John Kerry than I am of just about anything else I've ever done. One of the most important things I learned from that campaign was a deep, abiding respect for the troops, those with their "boots on the ground." I learned this from listening to Senator Kerry, who served bravely himself, and from those who proudly served with him. (Yes, I met a man who was actually on the Swiftboat with Lt. Kerry. You should hear how HE feels about so-called the "Swiftboat Veterans for Truth"!)

But if my conscience isn't being tweaked, I forget. I move on. And I haven't sent a package to Operation Shoebox in ages. Shame on me.

Well, that changes with a box that's going out tomorrow.

If you'd like to help the troops in a visceral, non-partisan way, you can send personal care items (or money to be used for shoeboxes filled with treats and surprises) to this organization. Their website appears above.

I do love being pampered

I'm back from a short (too short!) getaway to Chateau Elan, right outside Atlanta. It's a spa, a winery, and an all-around luxurious, relaxing time. I ate salmon and duck, drank sweet wines right from the vineyards shown above, and was exfoliated and wrapped and massaged and oiled. Between the soothing pampering and alone time to recharge my battery, I feel like a fresh new girl! Now all I have to do is maintain this zen state of being at least until I return to work on Monday.

In Praise of Elizabeth Edwards

Tonight this gallant lady is in my thoughts and prayers. Since reading her daring and intimate book, Saving Graces, I feel like I know her. I admire her candor, her courage, her integrity and her marriage. Most of all, her book conveyed a message to me that I very much needed to hear at this specific time. (See my post http//onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2007/01/book-that-helped-really-helped.htmlonegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2007/01/book-that-helped-really-helped.html

Please take care, Elizabeth.