Cubs come from behind in the 9th

What a great game!

I am celebrating with this picture of Ryan Theriot. He didn't have an outstanding game the way Fukodome or Soriano did. But he gave in a solid performance and besides, he's so much better looking.

A brighter new day

Spring is the time for rebirth, right? So today I am trying to start anew and concentrate on what I do have, instead of what I want desperately.

Spent an hour with Monette, my new personal trainer. We discussed my general health and specific issues and then she introduced me to my new best friend -- Mr. Rowing Machine! Devoted 15 minutes to him and then 20 minutes on the exercise bike. My shoulders are a little sore but it's not a bad kind of sore. Next Sunday she and I are meeting again to go over the personal fitness program she's developing for me. All I need is perseverance.

The sun is out. I feel stronger. I'm going to spend this Easter with my mom, which is a good thing and I must concentrate on that. It's not forever, but it's for now. My moments are good. I must remember to just appreciate them.

Thanks to everyone who weighed in about my bluesy moment yesterday. I appreciate your kindness and support.

Yearning

Maybe it's because my first week back from vacation was pretty rough. Maybe it's because holidays tend to make me a little more introspective than usual. Maybe it's because the Cubs lost to the Brewers. But tonight, I'm filled with longing, an ache for things I can't have.

I want …

• My mom to be young again.

• To have someone who loves me, romantically loves me, that I can have good, clean, dirty fun in bed with.

• My former size 6 body.

• A pretty face.

• To know when the Recession will be over.

• To convince everyone to adopt shelter pets.

• Just a half-hour more with my grandpa. Just 30 more minutes.

• To have more and need less (of everything).

I know, I know. I have been blessed with much in life and I really am grateful. But still, I want ...

A 35¢ Act of Kindness

Today at lunch I stopped at McDonald's on my way back to the office. As I waited for my order (I substituted fries with a healthier yogurt parfait) I observed the man at the next register trying to place his. I don't know that he was homeless, but his clothes were unmistakably not Downey fresh. I don't know that he was deaf, but he certainly was mute. He handed the cashier a list and kept gesturing "three." Then he laid two singles and four quarters on the counter. Unfortunately the tab was $3.35.

I lingered a moment because I wanted to make up the 35¢ if it was necessary. It wasn't. The cashier filled the order, even though his customer was 35¢ short. This was done with a minimum of fanfare. The manager wasn't called over. I'm not even sure the customer realized what kindness he'd been shown.

It made me very happy.

Who do these two think they are?

Whenever I am in danger of feeling sorry for George and Cindy Anthony, they turn out to be haughty, elitist liars. They have been subpoenaed, and today were compelled to answer questions under oath in the suit Zenaida Gonzalez filed against their daughter, the infamous "Tot Mom" Casey Anthony.

They were hostile and controlling from Square One. Clearly they don't feel that the laws apply to them, and they shouldn't have to answer questions that are difficult, embarrassing or painful for them. As opposed to all the people who are deposed in cases every day? Who have to participate in legal procedings regarding the consequences other people's actions? No one wants to go court, but every day people have to. What makes the Anthonys better?

I understand that they have lost their grandchild. I sympathize with the anguish not only of losing that adorable little girl, but their anonymity and life as they knew it a year ago.

But instead of blaming the one who put them in this position, their daughter, they blame every one else in the world. They perjured themselves today, with statements different than those they made to the police. I need a Silkwood Shower after seeing this.

Thursday Thirteen #103 -- Stolen from Snarky Pants

Yes, I'm stealing from you again, Lisa! I'm too distracted to come up with a real, original TT idea, so this week I continue to recycle from Snarky Pants and present 13 more previously undisclosed facts about moi.

AN ADDIITONAL THIRTEEN
FACTS ABOUT THE GAL
YOU WILL ONLY FIND
HERE

1) The movie character I relate to the most is Katie Morosky (The Way We Were) in that I believe everything we do matters to our fellow man in some way and so I can't not pay attention and I can't not care. I'm also very sure of everything I'm sure about. I've been told this makes me a wee bit too intense at times.

2) Janis Ian's "At 17" is still painful for me to hear. ("I heard the truth at 17 that love was meant for beauty queens …")

3) Kathie Lee Gifford ties with Madonna as the female celebrity who annoys me the most.

4) My legs are still good. If/when I get those varicose veins taken care of, I intend to wow the unsuspecting Midwest by showing off my gams.

5) I used to be a pretty fair tree climber, back in the day.

6) My most horrifying amusement park moment didn't involve a roller coaster. No, it was the bumper cars. I got stuck beside the empty tires and couldn't get out, and the pimply kid with the microphone kept yelling, "Come on, #3! Get out of there, #3!" Like I wouldn't if I could!

7) I'm really not as smart as I may seem. The first time I saw the headline, "BREAKING NEWS! Pirates Take Hostages," I actually thought that some of the Pittsburgh players sprung out of the dug out to confront rowdy fans. Really. I'm not kidding. Would I cop to such a ridiculous notion if it weren't true?

8) I'm inexplicably drawn to marathons on the USA Network. I have put my life on hold to indulge in episode afer episode of Law & Order: SVU, Monk, Psyche and NCIS.

9) I've been to Germany, France and Switzerland but really have no desire to return to Europe at all. If I had extra money to spend on a vacation, I'd rather go to the Grand Canyon (which I've never seen) or New York (which I loved).

10) Between the time I spend at my keyboard at work, and then while farting around online, I worry about getting carpal tunnel syndrome.

11) I'd much rather bake than cook (though I don't really enjoy either).

12) I'm sorry I never saw Elvis or Frank Sinatra in concert.

13) One of my favorite oldies to sing along with is "You Were on My Mind" by the We Five, even though the lyrics make no sense to me whatsoever.

To participate yourself,
or to look up more TT participants,
visit the new hub (thursday-13.com).

I won't be sorry when this work day ends

I've been busy today. I'm done taking lumps for my screw up, which wasn't as painful as I feared. Embarrassing? You bet. Humbling? Oh, no doubt about it. But not really painful.

Then I asked my boss if the lay-off rumors were true. He said they weren't. Just to make sure, I asked someone who has direct, daily client contact, and she said they weren't true either.

Then I called to check up on my mom. She still sounds weak as a kitten, but she's happy to be home, so that's good.

This stress (along with a nice, 35-minute cardio workout and a Xanax) have left me feeling pretty drained. I just can't wait to get home and flip back and forth between American Idol (go, Adam!) and the baseball game (go, Cubs!).

Poor, poor pitiful me

I screwed up at work a few weeks ago, and it's just now coming to light. Everyone is being very nice about it: "I understand how it happened," etc., but they would be well within their rights to not be. I screwed up.

I screwed up.

This is not a good time for screw ups. Not with the rumors flying that the client may be considering giving us less, not more, work. It was sloppy and ugly and irresponsible of me to give them a reason to place a black mark beside our name.

"It's not that big a deal." Yes, it is. The client shouldn't expect to have to do my job. Grammar and spelling are my job here. I must be more careful going forward.

We're having a meeting today at 2:00, in a small group, to discuss how to make sure this doesn't happen again. I'm not looking forward to it. I was told that the point of the meeting was to discsuss process, not to just "point a finger at you," but I'd be OK with it if they did.

I hate this.

Nice

My mom is home. Fatigued, but happy to be home. I asked her if she wanted me to stay with her tonight and she said no. She craves normalcy, sitting quietly in her own livingroom on her own sofa surrounded by her cats. I'm grateful she's home and that she should bounce back from this bout with pneumonia.

My best friend and I are still us. He's been worried about his own job, especially after having to take several previously unscheduled days off due to, of all things, a blizzard. Consequently he hasn't been as available to converse as I'd like. But he's back, and we're still as comfortable with one another as ever. His dad is getting divorced (again) and the office politics at his agency are disturbing him. But he's reasonably certain I won't lose my job and he's been very sympathetic about my mom. He's my bud. Everything makes more sense when he's around.

I'm still inspired. I've worked out 3 days in a row! It feels good.

So everything in my life at this moment feels pretty good. If only the Cubs had managed to win in extra innings.

Someone to hang onto

Good news! My mom should be home this afternoon or this evening! She doesn't sound so good -- tired and distracted. But both her cardiologist and her lung doctor tell her she's cleared to go. Now she only has to get the OK from her GP and she'll be in her own bed, surrounded by her cats, tonight.

I'm so grateful. She's my mommy. I still need her.

What's more, my oldest friend has generously offered to step up to the plate. She says that if my mom or I needs anything, "Put up the signal. I'm there." I've known her since we were in Kindergarten together. I still need her, too.

As I've grown up (older?), many things in my life have changed. But I've still got these two women, who have known me virtually all my life, to hang onto. I'm very lucky.

Rumor has it ...

... that my client is going to suspend promotions on another product. And that would just happen to be the very product I work on. Uh-oh.

It wasn't that long ago that I thought I escaped the shadow of the grim reaper's scythe. I may have been too optimistic.

Or maybe not. This is an unpredictable industry in a depressed economy. Who knows what will happen next? I must remember to breathe deep, take it one day at a time, and not freak myself out. Though I suppose it wouldn't hurt for me to reapply the brakes on my spending ...

Tuesday Tunes #22 -- Mix CDs

Have you ever made a mix CD for someone or had one given to you? My niece, currently in high school, is a newly-minted Beatle fan and her favorite is George. For Christmas, in an attempt to convince me that he was as talented as Lennon-McCartney, she made me a pair of CDs -- All Things Must Past and a mix of her favorite songs from other George albums (as well as the Willburys). I appreciate the gesture and enjoy the songs, but I'm still a Paul Girl.

What way do you share music with friends? Mix CDs, tapes or other means? Just yesterday I sent an email to my best friend with Martha Reeves' version of Van Morrison's "Wild Night" as an attachment.

Why do you usually make a mix CD? I've only ever made three mix CDs:
1. to re-introduce said best friend to Bruce Springsteen. Back in the 1980s, when Bruce hit it big, my friend was going through one of those "if it's commercially successful, it can't be good" phases that we all have fallen victim to. (Back in the 1970s I resisted Elton John for the same reason, so I don't judge.)

2. A 15-song overview of Paul McCartney's career for my best friend's little girl. She discovered that they shared a June 18 birthday and wanted to know as much about him as she could, as fast as she could. I think Sir Paul may have since been displaced for the Jonas Brothers.

3. a collection of my friends' favorite songs for my uncle. He's ill, stricken Parkinson's, so I thought I'd expand his world a bit with music he may not be familiar with. My friends are an eclectic bunch, and it was reflected in their contributions -- from Laurie Anderson to Johnny Cash to the Doors to Cesaria Evora.

If you could make one person a mix, who would it be and why? Hmmm ... I can't think of anyone. Is that bad?


To participate yourself, click here.

Go, Cubs, Go!

HEY, CHICAGO, WHAT DO YOU SAY? THE CUBS ARE GONNA WIN TODAY!

It's always nice to win. It's really nice to win on Opening Day. It's really, really nice to win a game that starts with Alfonso Soriano getting a homerun, the lead-off man, with his first at bat of the season.

This is gonna be another exciting season. I can feel it!

Sisterhood Is Powerful!

Look what I got from Mo! In addition to basking in the warmth of her kind words, I get to pass this along to others.

The rules:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate up to 10 blogs which show great attitude and/or gratitude!
3. Be sure to link your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
5. Remember to link the person from whom you received your award.

So here are my self-proclaimed cyber sisters:

Book Mama. I know that after the twins, the last thing you think you need is another sister! Too bad. I check out your blog every day, hungry for news about your job situation, LS and BB, Tim, and, of course, Snowbird. I admire the integrity with which you are raising your kids, and the affection within your family.

Jenny McB. One of my first blogging buddies. She loves her cats and her knitting and her boys and her golf. I wish she posted more. She takes what's serious seriously. The rest of the world? Not so much.

Kwizgiver. Dedicated teacher, big reader, and George Clooney lover. She very generously and frankly shares her everyday joys and triumphs, and it's comforting to learn that we're more alike than we may have realized.

Lisa. Her blog is, as promised, "all snark and no pants." She's a riot. A genuinely original voice in the blogosphere, and a woman who unashamedly loves her Cookie.

Vivian. Positive and sincere and genuine, Vivian is one of the kindest bloggers I have ever encountered. I'm proud that she swings by, and always comforted when she wishes me well.

Mimi. She's both visual and verbal, both funny and sensitive. Best of all, she's royal. So if we're sisters, I get to claim royal blood!

The Silver Neurotic. First of all, she's a Beatle fan, as all the best people are. She's at such an interesting time in her life! It seems she comes upon one crossroad after another as she evolves, and always responds with a good and open heart.

Cupcake. Intense and always very involved -- whether it's with her Tommy, her Geniuses, The Pro and Secondo and The Queen, or the not-so-secret love we both share, The Boss. As with Jenny McB, this is my chance to tell you in an open forum that you should post more!

It's not Christmas, but it's close

Central champs set to begin second title defense

The Cubs begin their quest to three-peat in the division with today's 6:05 p.m. CT opener in Houston. Carlos Zambrano makes his fifth straight Opening Day start.

Manic Monday #24

How often do you change your toothbrush? I don't have a formula for it. Each time I go to the dentist (because he gives me a new one) and then at least once in between visits so that would be ... um ... every 3 months or so. How often am I supposed to do it?

What is your favorite item of clothing to shop for? Do purses count? I looooove looking at purses. If purses don't count, then sweaters in fall/winter and lighter-weight pullovers and t's in spring/summer. I have more fun shopping for tops than bottoms (because I have a criminally fat ass).

Do you use social media (Twitter, Facebook, etc.)? Which do you use most often? Twitter. I never check Facebook. Between this blog and Linked In (a networking site) and now Twitter, I don't have time for Facebook.

To play along, click here.

It never quite goes away. It's always there.

Years ago, decades ago, when I was in high school, one of my relatives -- a pillar of his church, a respected family patriarch -- molested me. He has never apologized for what he did because he's not sorry. In fact, he revels in it. As recently as the last time we were together for any length of time (a little over a decade ago), he behaved inappropriately, whispering questions about my rate of intercourse and whether I masturbate. The occasion that brought us together was my mom's 60th birthday, and he enjoyed watching me squirm as I tried to maintain the "one big happy family" facade even as felt his breath on my skin. I was so upset that afterward I announced to my mother and sisters that I was never, ever going to be in the same room with him again. I can't bear it. And, as an adult, I have the power to make that decision, and to protect myself from humiliation and hurt.

It isn't that my mother and kid sister don't believe what happened to me back in the 1970s. It's more that they wish I could just "get past it" for the sake of peace in the family. He has since remarried and his new wife must wonder why I am so distant. (I wonder which of her daughters he played "funny uncle" with, because sex offenses are serial behavior, but you can imagine how well that went over.) The cousins in Michigan and Florida adore him and would be shattered if they knew what he did. I have stood my ground, though. I refused to attend my niece's baptism because he was invited (I couldn't bear dealing with that at a church function). I left a family visitation through the side door when he came in the front.

I know that it isn't very Christian of me, but I can't stand that this 80+ year old pervert is still alive, throwing wrenches in the works. My life would be so much easier if he were dead. (There, I said it.) What happens if my mom needs help when she gets out of the hospital? If I'm staying at her house, I may have to play hostess to the creep when he comes to call. He'll do it because it's expected of him, my mom being so sick so close to Easter and all, and it will burnish his reputation with the relatives that don't know any better. I'll do it because it will be what my mother will want me to do, and her needs supersede mine at this point. Protecting his skinny old ass and his pious reputation are paramount.

Oh well, she's not even out of the hospital yet. It could be that her condition will be so improved by tomorrow or Tuesday that she won't need me to live in. I could be worrying about a situation that will never come to pass.

I long to quit protecting him. HE, after all, is at fault. If his reputation were tarnished, it would be no less than he deserves. After all, some people get arrested for what he did in that upstairs bedroom way back when. But I realize that in order to keep the family facade as smooth as glass, I'll have to keep preserving his "good name" for as long as he lives.

It means a lot to my mother. I wish it didn't, but it does, so I'll have to suck it up, even if it means hurt and humiliation.

Feeling inspired

I joined a health club here in my neighborhood and did 35 minutes of cardio, 16 reps on one of the arm machines and some leg lifts. The club is new-ish (about two years old) and has far more equipment than the Bally's club I go to downtown. It's also open almost 24 hours a day, so it gives me fewer excuses for blowing off my workouts.

Spending days being buffed and scrubbed and massaged and exfoliated made me think a bit differently about my body. I used to be in shape. I used to feel better and was proud of my endurance. Now I'm a fatty who is out of breath racing to the el platform. The only one between me and a little self improvement is me. I won't look as good as I did at 25, but I can look and feel better. I just need to focus.

Look who represents us!

I'm watching the "week in review" coverage of the President's European trip and his speech in Prague today, and I'm so proud. And relieved.

My job looks OK through the summer, but that's as far into the future as it goes. And that's just the regular baseball season. (Of course, as a Cub fan, I'm dreaming of a post-season ... as an employee, I'd like one, too.) It's not like I'm comfortable enough to develop a 1-year personal financial plan, much less a 5-year plan.

The world is a scarier place than I can fathom. Pakistan and Afghanistan are a mess. Israel has brought back Netanyahu, never exactly open to playing well with others. Look! Up in the sky! Is that a ballistic missile sent up by Korea?

It's the nation and the world George W. Bush helped in no small way to shape. I'm just glad he's not out there making it all worse, either by his his arrogance or neglect.

Instead we're represented by a man who relishes diversity and espouses hope and change at a time when the world seems thirsty for it. And, of course, Michelle. Jackie for a new generation.

I realize that this trip may have been a triumph of style over substance. But that's OK. For the "wanted, dead or alive" cowboy image we had abroad was toxic. The crowds in Prague to hear the President speak about a safer future warmed my heart.

53¢ and a flag of New Zealand

My 16-year-old niece is a slob. Even more than me, and that's saying something. Her parents decided her room was sliding from "messy" into "fire hazard," and decreed that she must clean it up (or is it "out"?) this weekend.

She recruited her 9-year-old brother to help. He was thrilled because he is seldom even allowed in her sanctuary, much less invited into it. They worked together for hours and reportedly came up with bags of things to be discarded. When I spoke to him last night, he breathlessly told me how he had been paid: he could rescue any one thing he wanted from her castoffs, he could keep any money he found on the floor, and he could have 30 minutes of her evening Internet time.

"I got 53¢ and a flag of New Zealand!" he exclaimed. His joy was infectious.

A very vivid, rather wacky dream

Last night I dreamt that I'm trying to get to my new doctor's office for an appointment. The night is very rainy, and I'm trying to find an address in a neighborhood I'm unfamiliar with. I trip and drop my purse in a puddle (and I love my purses).

According to the folks at dreammoods.com, I have issues.

To dream that I am seeing the doctor indicates my need for emotional and spiritual healing. That it takes place at night indicates issues in my life that I am facing, but that aren't too clear. The storm represents unexpressed fears or emotions. The puddle is feelings that have been downplayed and overlooked. My purse represents secrets, desires and thoughts which are being closely held and guarded.

I think it means I'm having a hard time dealing with my mom's illness … and her mortality. She's over 70 and this is her second hospitalization in two years. It's scary and I don't like it. While I'm certain that she will come home and resume her normal life next week, I can't ignore that my previously healthy mother suffers from emphysema, COPD, and a propensity for pneumonia. It's sad and leaves me feeling helpless and unhappy.

Not today, not tomorrow

My mom didn't want to come home today, and she's not. She had hoped be released tomorrow, and that isn't happening, either. She's starting to get bored and to hate the food -- while I'm sorry for her, it makes me happy because it means she's feeling stronger.

The darker side of luxury

The resort has 14 guest suites at the spa. Only two were occupied -- one by me. There's also an inn, which is a more conventional hotel with 275 rooms. There was a hotel/motel convention being held there, so many of those rooms were filled. In addition to conventioneers there were couples vacationing who were as interested in golf or wine tasting as the spa, and they moved from the spa to the winery to the course. So I can't know for sure that things are slower and less lucrative than during my visit last year.

But I saw signs. For example, the gift shops were all closed. Of course you could buy things, but folks were doing double duty. At the winery, it was the restaurant maitre d' who also handled the register, at the spa it's the woman's locker room attendant, at the inn it was the concierge. So that's three jobs gone from last year.

The exercise classes at the spa were all held before noon, as opposed to all day long last year. I assume it's so they only have to pay the trainer for half days.

I realize that as we all look for places to cut, a spa stay is probably one of the first things to go. After all, as much as I loved, LOVED my vacation, I know it's not a necessity. But it makes me sad for the personal trainers whose workload is cut in half, or the three retail clerks who lost their jobs altogether.

In Review

My favorite spa treatment was the Mud Body Massage. First I was covered in crushed grape seeds (high in Vitamin E and C) and then clay was massaged all over my body. It drew the toxins from deep within my skin, then the mixture was rinsed away in a Vichy shower (shown above). The final step was a massage with moisturizer. My skin felt soooooo soft. I loved it!

The hot stone massage, the facial and the hand/foot reflexology treatment were yummy, too.

I also enjoyed the mimosas with lunch. The robe and slippers I never had to change out of it I didn't feel like it. The chocolates on my pillow every night. The courtesy car that was always available to take me anywhere on the grounds. The free room service and the meals included in the spa package. Drinking wine with dinner that was made right there on site. The quiet time that got me through 21 chapters of the book I'm reading. And what's not to love about sipping champagne during a pedi? I think living in such luxury might get boring after a while, but I'd be willing to perform an experiment to see how long it would take. (All in the name of science and research to better my fellow man, of course.)

Even though I have spoken to my mom everyday, and she sounds better and more positive with each call, I still slept fitfully. The wackiest dream from the last few days involves my uncle. He was married to Rue McClanahan, Blanche of The Golden Girls, and they were both furious about something I tweeted on Twitter. I have no idea what it's symbolic of, and I don't care. It's just too odd.

I'm in a bathrobe, Mom's in a hospital gown

Well, I got on the plane yesterday confident that my mom was feeling better. And she was. But that doesn't mean she wasn't still sick. She went to the doctor at about 4:30 in the afternoon and he admitted her into the hosptial with pneumonia.

I found out about it this afternoon when, after a massage and a pedi and a makeup lesson and some champagne, I went back to my gorgeous suite and checked my voicemail at home.

She sounds good. Eager to hear all about my vacation and tell me how "cheap" Holly Madison looked on Dancing with the Stars. She can't wait to tell the nurse all about my spa holiday and she's already bragged about the thermos of broccoli and cheese my niece sent her (my niece most emphatically does not approve of hospital food) and the plush toys my nephew brought to keep her company. So she is much better than she was last year. But the doctor is being cautious because he wants to treat this rapidly and correctly and get her home by Friday.

So, in all, I'm glad I came. In reality, there's little I could do for her at home that isn't being done, and I think she'd feel worse if she felt I cancelled this because of her. Still, it's hard for me to adjust to the idea of my mom being sick.

So thanks for the good wishes, everyone! Now I must get dressed for dinner in the Versailles Room. Since you are living through me, I feel it's my duty to do right by all of you.

Spa! Ah!

I'm here! Slept like a baby during the flight (not gin and tonic, Kwiz, but a few grams of Xanax). Spoke to my mom before I boarded and she's feeling much better, and breathing much better today. I'll check in with her again tomorrow, as I can sense she thinks I'm being "bossy." (Moi?)

The suite is more sumptuous than I'd imagined. The staff is generous and friendly (and my favorite waitress remembered me from last year). I am now prepared to pig out on healthy spa food, watch Idol, and prepare for a day of being buffed and massaged and exfoliated.

Thanks for thinking of me, Kwiz and Vivian and Sparkela. It's so nice to be so honest on this blog and get such support in return. I appreciate your kindnesses more than you know.

"Today I settled all family business"

"I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."
"Take the gun. Leave the cannoli."
"I don't want my brother coming out of that toilet with just his dick in his hands, alright?
"Look how they massacred my boy!"
"But then your daughter would lose a father, instead of gaining a husband."
"I always thought that when it was your time that you would be the one to hold the strings. Senator Corleone. Governor Corleone ..."
"You have to answer for Santino."
"Tell Mike it was only business, I always liked him."
"That's your husband! That's your husband!"
"This one time I'll let you ask me about my affairs."

Whenever I watch The Godfather, it's interactive. There are few movies I've seen as often or know so well that I can recite so much of the dialog. I love being able to lose myself in a movie like this. Distracts me from my worries. Too much reality can make a Gal crazy.

Why does this happen before I go away?

Talked to my mom today. Her voice doesn't sound as raspy and her cough is over, but she has trouble catching her breath. She DID call the doctor (good girl!) and he prescribed antibiotics and painkillers for her. She has an appointment with him late tomorrow afternoon. He's been her doctor ever since she went into the hospital last year, so I trust that if it was life threatening, he would insist she go back to the hospital. Still, I am nervous about leaving her.

I am not happy about the smell in my bathroom. You would think that after all the bleach and scrubbing it would smell as antiseptically clean as an operating room. But it's got a faint musty smell, so I worry about those ancient pipes in the wall.

Naturally I'm going away tomorrow for relaxation and pampering and alone time. While battling not to worry about what I've left behind.

Geez, Gal! It's a spa, with champagne and caviar and massages and luxury skin care. It's NOT a punishment! I must calm down and get my mind right.

I really hate traveling anyway. I like vacationing, of course, it's getting from hither to yon that upsets me. This isn't helping.

She's making me very nervous

My mom, that is. She swears that all she has is a cold. Yet last night she had the chills so bad that she slept wearing her winter coat under the covers. Her cough has left her voice raspy and she's weak. Yet she never took her own temperature and may, or may not, call the her doctor tomorrow.

She's over 70 and it was almost a year ago that she was sick enough with similar symptoms (cough, fatigue) that she ended up hospitalized with emphysema and pneumonia.

I will check on her again tomorrow, even though I can tell she's getting pissed at me for being so "bossy." ("Go to the doctor" … "Take your temperature" … "Can you take aspirin or Advil?") I don't want to go away on vacation at all if it appears she's going back into the hospital again.

This mother/daughter role reversal is a bitch.

I love my Sonic Scrubber

I've been scrubbing the grout between my bathroom tiles for two hours! I am a woman possessed by the smell of bleach and the hum of my Sonic Scrubber.

I know -- it's kind of at odds with the luxury of my upcoming spa visit.* But I like looking at the tiles, seeing them all white and clean, and saying, "I did that!"

*I'm leaving Tuesday AM.

This is what vacation mode looks like

Here's a photo of the very slippers I am wearing as I post this. Restoration Hardware refers to them as "a toasty treat for the feet." And so they are.

I've been up more than 2 hours and haven't really done a damn thing. Haven't even showered or fed the cats! (They have pretty much given up on me -- only Rey continues to remind me that we have a schedule around here and I'm not adhering to it.) Out the window all I see is wet and cold and snow, and it occurs to me that if I don't want to go outside today, I don't have to.

Vacation mode is a wicked and seductive beast!

The Men of Law & Order

Hasn't Dick Wolf, producer of the Law & Order franchise, performed a valuable public service by bringing these gentlemen into our living rooms?

"Made it."

One of the shortest, yet most welcome emails I've ever received. My best friend and his family are finally home, safe and sound. Being snowed in at a lodge in the mountains -- it's been a spring break holiday his daughters will remember fondly forever. He was no doubt worried about unexpectedly missing three days of work, and I was frightened for his safety. But kids love snow!

The Gal at The Movies

Went to the movies today and saw Duplicity. Now I'm watching Annie Hall again for the first time in years. To borrow from Woody Allen as Alvy, "Boy, if life were only like this."

Duplicity was fun. Julia Roberts was effectively and surprisingly edgy and Clive Owen is complex and oh so attractive. There's something wonderful about watching gorgeous people fall in love. The magic of movies. "Boy, if life were only like this."

I can't believe Annie Hall is more than 30 years old. It holds up very well and is as heart-tugging as it is funny. Poignant about love, and poignant to watch because it was Woody-before-Soon-Yi. Perhaps I should do a post about separating the artist from his art but not this evening. I'm too happy watching Annie and Alvy attempt to cook a lobster.

Saturday 9 -- Inside the Actor's Studio

The host of the famous Bravo series, actor, professor and host James Lipton asks actors these 9 questions (among many others). Today we will ask you those questions!

1. What is your favorite word? "Deuteronomy." It's fun to say. (Go ahead. You know you want to.)

2. What is your least favorite word? "Affect." Or maybe it's "effect." You see the problem. That's why, in writing, I try to use "impact" instead.

3. What turns you on, creatively, spiritually, or emotionally? Water. Showers, baths, swimming pools, the sea ... I love them all.

4. What turns you off? Bullies. I hate bullies. Pick on somebody your own size, why don'tcha!

5. What is your favorite curse word? "Fuck." Really, it's all purpose and universally understood.

6. What sound or noise do you love? A cat's purr.

7. What sound or noise do you hate? Eww! The noise you hear when you're unfolding a new, flat moving box and the cardboard scrapes against itself as you insert tab "A" into tab "B." Ick! I've got goose bumps right now, just thinking of it. I may never move out of this condo, just to avoid that noise.

8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt? Pet sitter. I like critters.

9. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? Welcome, my child!

To play along yourself, visit Saturday 9: Inside the Actors Studio.