Thursday Thirteen #145

THIRTEEN ROLES
PLAYED BY
ONE OF TV'S
MOST POPULAR ACTORS

When I was off on disability leave, I watched a lot of TV. And, consequently, saw a lot of Allan Melvin (1923-2008). He was:

1) Sam, Alice's butcher-beau on The Brady Bunch.

2) Sol (or Sam), Rob's Army buddy on The Dick Van Dyke Show.

A real menace to Mayberry, terrorizing characters on The Andy Griffith Show as ...

3) Payroll robber Clarence "Doc" Malloy

4) Conman Jake, part of a scam used-car ring

5) The escaped convict who ruins Andy's fishing trip

6) Gomer's Pyle's service buddy Charlie on spin-off Gomer Pyle, USMC

7) Mr. Wheeler of Hooterville on Green Acres

8) A nosy neighbor on My Favorite Martian

9) Archie Bunker's friend Barney on All in the Family

10) The voice of Magilla Gorilla

11) The voice of Drooper on The Banana Splits


12) The voice of Yogi Bear

13) The voice of of both stone-agers and jetsetters on The Flintstones and The Jetsons

For more information on the Thursday Thirteen,
or to play along yourself, click here

I'm so tired. My mind is on the blink ...

This has been me for the last few hours. I'm sitting here, I appear present here at my desk, but I'm really fuzzy.

I got here fine. I went through about a gazillion emails and responded to a few. Attended a staff meeting. Got hugged and listened to gossip. Ate lunch at my desk and then ... cuh-rash! I hydraulically shut down.

We got a new assignment today that I said I could handle just fine on my own. That was at 3:00. It's 5:15 and I haven't begun working on it yet. I simply can't.

Tomorrow there won't be any meetings. I can make serious headway on the project tomorrow. For now, I'm going home to take a nap. Hopefully a nice little doze will bring everything back into focus!

Exactly how it feels

I'm sitting here, pre-dawn, eating a cup of Yoplait, unable to sleep. Partly because I've ravenous these days, partly because my incision gets a little uncomfortable and makes my sleep fitful, and partly because I'm nervous about returning to work tomorrow.

Nervous about a job I have had for 7 years!

It's a bit concerning to me because while I can be a mess in other areas of my life, this job is where the earth beneath my feet has always felt solid.

I have no reason to believe that my return won't be successful. But that doesn't stop me from being nervous.

These early morning butterflies have a familiar feeling ... deja back-to-school!

Thanks to everyone for leaving advice and good wishes on this here old blog. They make me happy and leave me feeling (a bit) more confident. Much appreciated!

Don't judge me!

OK, so I have a crush on high-profile criminal lawyer Joe Tacopina. What of it?

I first discovered him years ago when he represented a woman named Melanie MacGuire, the New Jersey nurse who was convicted of drugging, shooting, and dismembering her husband and putting him in set of Samsonites and dumping him into the Chesapeake. (You gotta admire a woman who is that thorough.)

Joe wears clothes beautifully for a tall man, and he appears very tender with the women he defends, even though they are accused of heinous things and tend to be ... well ... found guilty.

Halloween Meme

Courtesy of Kwizgiver

Which urban legend ghost scared the bejeesuz out of you when you were a kid? Imagine that it's a late, moonlit night. You are in nearby Justice, IL, driving down Archer Avenue and are just about to pass Resurrection Cemetery. Suddenly a teenage girl appears by the side of the road. She's easy to see, even in the dark, because she has white blonde hair and is wearing a white party dress. It can't possibly be safe for her to be out alone, walking around near a cemetery on a night like this, so you roll down the window and offer her a ride. She wordlessly shakes her head and you start to pull away. Just as you're picking up speed, she somehow appears directly in front of your car! You cannot stop and are sickened by the thud and crunch of breaking bones as you run her over. You get out to see if there's anything you can do to help this poor girl. But there's no trace of her. For it wasn't a real-live girl you encountered … It was Resurrection Mary! (I can't promise this story is true, but I do know it's been repeated generation after generation here in Chicagoland.)

Which horror movie has the best premise? Don't laugh at me. OK, go ahead and laugh at me, but I loved The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. A reporter has to spend the night in a haunted house to prove whether the terrifying tales are really true.

What is the most disappointing “treat” to receive in your bag on Halloween night? Anything that wasn't wrapped properly and therefore thrown away by my mom

What’s the best non-candy item to receive? Quarters. The nuns always made popcorn balls to give out, and because they were so labor intensive, they never had enough to meet demand. I learned rather young to make the convent one of my last stops because the nuns felt bad about being out of popcorn balls and were very generous with the quarters.

Did a monster live in your closet when you were a child? No. Because he was in between the folds of my bedroom curtains.

Which supernatural creature sent chills up your spine when you were ten and still does? In Chicagoland, there were two genuinely awful crimes that got a lot of media attention. I still remember details. While these murderers weren't supernatural, they had an otherworldly grip on my imagination and haunted my nightmares: 1) Richard Speck, the bogeyman of my girlhood, who killed 8 student nurses in their home. Pockmarked and chainsmoking, even with his cuffs on, he looked like the perfect villain. As an adult, I view him with horrified contempt. He was a failure at everything he did, except mass murder. 2) Whoever murdered Valerie Percy. She was the 21-year-old daughter of handsome millionaire businessman Charles Percy, who was running for Senate. She was stabbed and bludgeoned in the bedroom of their suburban mansion. Violence isn't supposed to happen to girls like Valerie, evil isn't supposed to make its way across manicured lawns like theirs. It was a sobering, scary crime. Senator Percy died recently without ever knowing who entered his home and took what was so dear to him. He was a good Senator and, by all accounts, a very nice man and I hope that where he is now, he is at peace and with his daughter. (That's Valerie's photo. I'm including no photo or link for Speck, because he was an asshole who doesn't really deserve any more attention.) The impact that these crimes had on me at the time, and the hold they continue to have on me, makes me question how much exposure to the news children should have.

Which supernatural creature makes you yawn? Frankenstein. He's more sad than scary.

What’s your favorite Halloween decoration? I don't know why, but I like gravestones.

If you could be anywhere on Halloween night, where would you be? Watching scary movies!

What’s the scariest book you’ve read so far this year? Port Mortuary by Patricia Cornwell

Haunted houses or haunted hayrides? I'm up for either one.

Which Stephen King novel/movie would you least like to find yourself trapped in? It. Penneywise is my own personal nightmare.

Which is creepiest: evil dolls, evil pets, evil children? evil dolls

Food Coma Day

Now of course I didn't exactly consume all the food that's pictured. After all, I don't do coffee. But as my extended leave comes to an end, I wanted to do quiet things that I enjoy. And one thing that I love is a leisurely coffee shop breakfast. So I had steak* and eggs and potatoes and wheat toast and oj while concentrating on my book -- The Careful Use of Compliments, a lovely, leisurely (at least so far) contemporary tale set in Scotland, a land I'm unfamiliar with.

Then I went home, vegged out and slept. I woke up, paid some bills, did some laundry. And instead of the burger and fries shown, I had franks* and beans.

With laundry and finances behind me, I think I can devote my entire last day off to quiet happy time.

* My doctor says I gotta have more protein, esp. beef, and fewer carbs, esp. my beloved pasta.

"We are pleased to inform you ..."

When I saw the envelope from the doctor's office, I didn't rip it open immediately because I assumed it was another bill related to my surgery. WRONG-O! It was my mammogram results, and it was good news.

I am reminded again of my blessings, and I am grateful.

Am I ready for real life?

This is a pretty accurate illustration of my life over the past month. I'm not kidding. Any activity more strenuous results in a nap.

For example, on Saturday I met a coworker downtown for lunch. Just to see how I felt riding to and fro on the el. A non-rush-hour practice run. We ate and gabbed for two hours and it felt fine. Then suddenly, I felt all my energy begin to escape. I got home and took a three hour nap. To recover from a two hour lunch!

Today I played a rather enthusiastic game of Scrabble with my 12-year-old nephew. Then we split a pizza (his new favorite: ground beef and cheese). I got home and took a three hour nap.

I return to work on Wednesday. My low energy level concerns me. My doctor tells me that the first few days at work will be tiring, no matter when I go back. My coworker told me that the joke around the office is that I will make the big the presentation down at client on Thursday, the day after I'm back. I'd be certain it was all a joke if we didn't have precedence for this sort of thing -- three years ago, when I was out of the office because my mom was in the hospital, my boss decided I was the right one, the only one, to present creative I had not even seen.

In 2008, it was merely an unwise decision, but I was able to pull it off. In 2011, it would be an untenable position because I don't know that leaving the house at dawn to ride 2 and a half hours to make a presentation to a roomful of people is even physically possible for me at this point.

So I've decided that my ensemble on Wednesday will be dressed way down. I'm going to play "the scar card" and make sure that everyone realizes that wearing anything with a fly still,
literally, hurts me.

The scary thing is that I worry if my disability leave hasn't left me equipped to be the woman at the top of the page, but not this one.

He would blog for peace

After finishing Jacqueline Kennedy's Historic Conversations on Life with John F. Kennedy, I am reminded of how much faith he had in humanity and how dedicated he was to avoiding unnecessary conflict. Perhaps because he'd served in war himself.

And so, this restless, not-yet-sunny Saturday pre-dawn, I am doing my part for Mimi's upcoming Blogblast for Peace by sharing some of his quotes on the subject of conflict and our future as a nation.

If you need words for your own Peace Globe, feel free to steal some of his. He wouldn't mind.

Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures.

The world knows that America will never start a war. This generation of Americans has had enough of war and hate ... we want to build a world of peace where the weak are secure and the strong are just.

If we cannot now end our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity.

I look forward to a great future for America - a future in which our country will match its military strength with our moral restraint, its wealth with our wisdom, its power with our purpose.

Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.

Tolerance implies no lack of commitment to one's own beliefs. Rather it condemns the oppression or persecution of others.

When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

Domestic policy can only defeat us; foreign policy can kill us.

The basic problems facing the world today are not susceptible to a military solution.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Mrs. Potter's Lullaby

1. Adam Duritz (writer and lead sing of Counting Crows) mentions previous girlfriends in songs. In Mrs. Potter's Lullaby he sings “There a little piece of Maria in every song I sing”. Is there a piece of an ex that will always be a part of you? Yes. A day doesn't go by that I don't think of him wish him well. He was (and still is, I'm sure) a very nice man.

2. Who was your very first significant friend? The one I creatively refer to as My Oldest Friend. There is photographic evidence that we met in late 1962. I remember Beatle-bonding with her in February 1964, when we were in first grade, and I plighted my troth to (not yet Sir) Paul and she to George.

3. What are four (4) things you hope to do this weekend? (1) Get to and from downtown the Loop for lunch with a coworker -- a trial run for my daily commutes when I return to work on Wednesday; (2) do some exercise of some type; (3) catch some of the NCIS marathon on USA network -- have I mentioned lately how much I love Gibbs? (4) Give extra affection to my cat, Charlotte, as I'm worried about her medical malady

4. What do you consider to be the main purpose of your blog? To create an honest snapshot of my life at this moment

5. Tell us something that you've never before written about in your blog because it's too personal. There really hasn't been anything. I'm just careful that "the names have been changed to protect the innocent." Usually me.

6. If you could choose your doctor, do you prefer someone of the same or opposite sex? Why can't I choose my own doctor?

7. If you could dream about anything tonight, what would the subject matter be? Him. But most emphatically not Bill Clinton. I had a very detailed sex dream about The Big Dog and it upset me terribly. I mean, fantasizing about a President? That's creepy. Whose next? Abe? Thomas Jefferson?

8. How do you react to practical jokes when they're played on you? My best friend used to play them on me constantly. At the time I hated it. But now that we see one another so seldom, I miss it.

9. What's on your agenda after this weekend for the upcoming week? I'm returning to work for the first time in more than a month! I expect my agenda to include apologizing for having to wear sweats and other oversized elastic-waistband pants to the office.

Back at it!

I went to the health club for the first time in, like, 100 years. I was careful not to overdo (20 mins. cardio, 10 mins. machines) and was very careful of my tummy and my incision. I'm also completely indulging my voracious ravenousitis. But I feel good and am so glad I did it!

Image: photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Making the most of it

My best friend believes that I'm fixating on how I'm not meeting my recovery expectations. He tells me I'd do better to think about how these are my last few, free days off for a while and I should "make the most of it."

So today I did something that felt both normal (meaning an echo of my pre-op, pre-cyst life) and celebratory. After doing some errands (I needed to buy dental floss and visit the bank) I took myself out to a late lunch/early dinner and toasted myself with a pomegranate mojito. It was about 3:30, so the restaurant was pretty empty. They were playing an eclectic mix of oldies ("It's Judy's Turn to Cry" and "Jumpin' Jack Flash") and I was really getting into my book (The Careful Use of Compliments).

At quiet times like that, I like my life. I really do.

When I dream, I dream of you

Heard this country classic today for the first time in ages, and was reminded how much I love it.



Crystal Gayle - When I Dream Lyrics @ LyricsTime.com

Thursday Thirteen #144

THIRTEEN FACTS
ABOUT ZITS

Yes, I'm fixating on the one that stares back at me in the mirror. And when a thing is on my mind (or in this case, on my chin), it ends up on the Thursday Thirteen.

1) Whether it's a blackhead, a whitehead or a pimple, it started the same way -- as dead skin cells settling into a pore, made worse by oil.

2) Blackheads are small and usually flat. They are dark not because of dirt but because that's what happens to oil when exposed to the air.

3) Whiteheads tend to be raised bumps, white because of the sebum and dead skin cells collected there.

4) Pimples -- like the one ruining my life -- are blackheads gone bad. When a blackhead bursts and releases bacteria into the surrounding tissue, you get what I'm seeing in the mirror.

5) Scrubbing doesn't help prevent acne, since it begins below the skin's surface. Washing too often with a too-strong cleanser will only irritate your skin.

6) There's no credible, conclusive evidence that chocolate or caffeine cause acne. Of course, if cutting down on these foods helps reduce your breakouts, no reason not to do it!

7) There's even less evidence tying stress to acne. However it is believed the reverse is true -- that acne can cause stress.

8) Touching your face can be a factor. Not because your hands are dirty, but because touching can stimulate oil production.

9) Sunscreens do not necessarily cause zits. If you find that your skin is worse when you're slathering on the protection, try a different brand. Pimples come and go, but the impact of sun damage -- including carcinoma! -- is forever.

10) Oh yeah, and hormones'll do it to us, too. Hormones are powerful buggers, aren't they?

11) That could help explain why more women than men between 30 and 60 suffer from adult acne.

12) You can find over-the-counter treatments for your acne, which is not a surprise, since the skin care business is worth more than $40 billion dollars and continues to grow every year.

13) Benzoyl peroxide is most often recommended for teen acne, salicylic acid for adult acne. But a doctor can prescribe more sophisticated treatments to specifically target your problem.

Thanks to WebMD for most of this information.

For more information about The Thursday Thirteen,
or to play along yourself, click here.

Sometimes good can come from lurking

My niece, a freshman living away from home, is simply too busy to check in with me. And that's fine. I understand. But I miss her! And I'm a worrier. So I'm happy to lurk about on her Facebook page.

She studies while doing laundry. She's attended a concert. She's discovered Pandora.com (never mind that I tried to turn her on to it months ago; I'm a hopeless old fart). Her townhouse completes against the others on campus game night ("Yay! Free stuff!") Best of all, her roommate likes to photograph every moment of every day, so there are lots of new pics of my niece. Mostly a little red in the face, stifling a giggle, looking very happy.

I Want Wednesday

I want my best friend to launch a thriving bumper sticker business. For his advice to me regarding my sloooow post-op recovery deserves to be mass produced. "Recovery is a process, not an event." "It's OK to recover at your own pace because this isn't a competition." These platitudes annoy me. Probably because he's right.

Never a good sign

If you live in one of the world's best known zip codes, it's not a good sign to have the police over at your house all the time.

My oldest friend told me that she has programmed the local police department's non-emergency number into her phone. She knows it's only a matter of time before she calls them again ... to protect her from her son.

Today he destroyed furniture. The police recommended a counseling center for her and her family. She sent me the link. I clicked on it, but my response was a yawn. Her daughter's guidance counselors have recommended the girl move to a special school for at-risk youth. Nothing came of it. Before that, my friend's own shrink suggested she send her son to live in assisted living for young adults with mental problems. Nothing came of it. Why should I think that anything will come of this latest counseling center?

My response to my oldest friend? I told her to call her shrink. Now. Tonight. And she should change their living arrangements. She has a bedroom, her daughter has a bedroom, and her son sleeps on the sofa. When he came to live with her 10 months ago, it was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. He's a highschool dropout with no marketable skills. He is going to college fulltime, but with a GED and his woeful scholastic record, aid is not coming his way. Money is tight. He's an asthmatic, pot-smoking, anorexic, violent nutball who responds to tension by punching furniture and threatening his mother and sister. He is an abuser and he needs to get out of there.

But my oldest friend won't force it. Her son will continue terrorizing her. Everything about her move to California was wrong. There isn't anything more I can say to have an impact on this situation. I still love her and worry about her, but I cannot fix her. She didn't listen to me about this move, she hasn't listened to her daughter's counselors, and she hasn't listened to her own doctor about where her son should live.

So as much as I hate this situation, I have blogged about it, and now I have to let it go.

Our trips to the doctor

First Charlotte and I went to the vet. I thought it would just be her annual check up. After all, she's as lively and affectionate as ever, and remains my little feline treat slut. But the vet found a raised sore on her tongue. It could be something as simple and comparatively harmless as a bug bite -- Charlotte is my big game hunter, and it's possible that one of her captives resisted being eaten alive. Or it could be something serious, like oral cancer. The vet gave her a shot of antibiotics, and hopefully when we all get together again a week from Saturday, it will be improved. Otherwise we have to do more icky diagnostic things to get to the cause of the problem.

She's so inquisitive and social! Her eating and evacuation both seem normal. So I have such a hard time thinking that her problem could be serious. On the other hand, cats work very hard to mask their symptoms.

Then I went to the hospital and had my annual mammogram. Hopefully the radiologist won't find anything suspicious on my films.

After all, I've had quite enough of doctors and tests!

This just in!

I met with my doctor this morning. We discussed my raised and knobby scar (it will fade with time), my ginromous undies and sweatpants (they will be less necessary as my scar flattens), and my fatigue (I should continue pushing myself).

I explained that my biggest concern about returning to work wasn't my job, but the commute. We talked about it and agreed it makes sense for me to return to work midweek, so I can get used to traveling to and fro and going full days without nap breaks, with a weekend upon me rather quickly. So my first day back will be Wednesday, 10/19. Three days on, two days off, and then back to full weeks again.

I feel better about the 19th than I did the 17th. And I'm confident I'll be able to handle it. My doctor says that, if all goes well, we shouldn't see each other again until my 2012 check up. As much as I like him, that suits me fine!

Curses! Passed over again!

Sir Paul made Nancy his bride today, on what would have been John's birthday. Good for him. Long may they love.

You, Sir, are no Bill McKay

Bill McKay is the fictional Senator from California, played by Robert Redford in The Candidate. I wanted The Ides of March to be a reworking of that great Redford film and completely nail our political process.

I had these hopes because, well, Clooney is following in Redford's footsteps. He doesn't comment on his private life, uses his star power to make important movies (Good Night and Good Luck) as well as fun ones (Ocean's 11), and while everything he's in may not be successful, it is dependably high quality. And I admire his devotion to Darfur.

Of course, George Clooney doesn't consult me before he makes a movie, and that may be a good thing, because The Ides of March is a very good thriller. It wasn't the film I wanted, but it's a fun afternoon at the movies.

So many people have their panties in a bunch over George's politics, but this movie (which he cowrote, directed and appears in) is pretty low on the ideology. What's there is thoughtfully cynical, and, I suppose, designed to speak for those of us who are disillusioned with Obama. I'm just not as certain that the system inevitably corrupts good people, and I do hold out hope for heroes, so the national view that Clooney was espousing is one I reject anyway.

But the plot takes a couple pretty neat turns -- one I saw coming a mile away, which added to the tension, and one that came completely out of left field. So it was a movie I enjoyed.

Redford may be the more seasoned, thoughtful filmmaker. But there's something to be said for a movie that makes you catch you breath while you're sitting there in the dark. So for that, I thank you, George.

PS As in Good Night and Good Luck, Clooney hasn't given himself a very big part. This movie really belongs to Ryan Gosling. And he does a fine job with it. Poor Evan Rachel Wood, though. So far this year I've seen her Veda in Mildred Pierce, Mary Surratt's daughter in The Conspirator (there's Redford again) and now this. I hope that someday soon someone lets her play a singing governess or something a bit more sunny.

Sunday Stealing

Sunday Stealing: The Questions Galore Meme, Part 1

Cheers to all of us thieves!

1. Is there someone in your life you know you’d be better off without? Well, right now all my neighbors annoy me. But I suspect that unless I lived alone atop a lighthouse, I'd have this same complaint.

2. Do you get criticized because of your body? Not to my face.

3. Did you kiss the last person you called? Yes. It was my Mom.

4. When was the last time you danced? I don't remember. Isn't that sad?

5. Do you keep in mind other people’s feelings? I try to.

6. If you have a hang nail, do you pull it or clip it? Yes. I also gnaw and twist it. It's a brutal business, being one of my hands.

7. Who do you want to forget? One of my exes. The less said about him, the better.

8. Who was the last person to send you a letter? My cousin Rose.

9. Who did you last tell to shut up? My mom. I know, I know, shame on me. But I was grumpy.

10. What’s the last thing that you smelt that smelt bad? The litter box.

11. What’s your favorite cereal? It changes. Currently, it's Rice Krispies.

12. How do you feel when people lead you on, but they don’t even like you? I'm hurt, of course. I mean, is anyone a fan of this situation?

13. Could you live without sunlight? Not happily.

14. What’s something you know is bad, but you want to do it anyway? I think of him more as a "who" than a "what."

15. What was the last thing you lied about? I never lie.

16. Do you regret anything you’ve done in the past week? Nothing springs to mind.

17. What was the last movie you bought? Scoop, starring Hugh Jackman. It was $5. Haven't watched it yet.

18. What is a sport you would like to do? Pilates.

19. When was the last time you felt like crying? When I think about how slowly I'm healing post-op. It's been a month! I'm supposed to go back to work on 10/17! I'm not sure I can do it.

20. Have you ever wanted to kill someone (not that you actually do it)? No.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Someday We'll Be Together

1. Have you ever left a relationship but knew that eventually you'd get back together? Yes. I was wrong, of course. Not to leave, but to think the story could had had any other ending, or another chapter.

2. Are there things that you hate to buy? Items that you either hate to spend perfectly good money on or hate to spend the time it takes to buy them? Light bulbs! To the idiots out there who believe "freedom of choice" refers not to a woman's reproductive rights but to their home lights -- WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? Do you enjoy spending money on and then having to replace incandescent bulbs? Yeah, that's a courageous, worthwhile way to take a stand against The Man! (Ah, thank you. I feel better.)

3. What is your favorite cartoon show and why? Mr. Peabody. It was a segment on the absolutely brilliant Rocky and Bullwinkle Show. I loved that Mr. Peabody was the smartest one around, a dog who patiently explained everything to us. He even introduced himself each time we saw him ("Peabody here."). Then he and and his boy, Sherman, would get into the WABAC -- the coolest, safest time machine ever!

4. Are you anywhere close to doing what you wanted to do as a kid? Yes. When I was a kid, I used to trace pictures out of my Golden Books and write my own stories to accompany them. Now I write my little narratives and art directors must find pictures to accompany them from the world of stock photography.

5. Now that you're in the "real world," is your current job now really what you want to do for a living? If not, what would you ultimately like to do? Yes, I still like my job. But if I could start over -- or, even better, just appropriate someone else's career without doing the hard work -- I'd be historian Doris Kearns Goodwin.

6. A local university has asked you to teach a class about the one thing you know the most about. What would you be teaching and what would the name of the course be? "I Believe in Yesterday," a study of 1960s and that decade's continuing impact.

7. Commercials ... they can make us laugh or can annoy the heck out of us. Tell us about your favorite commercial and/or a commercial you simply loathe. I really don't like this Tums commercial. It's creepy and scary.



And I love the Mayhem/Allstate spots. Haven't seen one in a while. I hope Allstate hasn't dropped him!



8. Tell us about your favorite comedy movie of all time. "You fucked up. You trusted us!" Yes, Animal House. I have seen it dozens of times, can recite passages along with the screen, and still love it. You could say Tim Matheson had me at, "Eric Stratton, Pledge Chairman. Damn glad to meet you."

9. Tell us about your favorite black and white movie of all time. My Man Godfrey. It's a screwball comedy from 1936 and in addition to making me laugh (very hard at times -- Carole Lombard was a charmer) it also packs a timeless message about how we should treat one another. Quick! Go add it to your Netflix queue. You can always thank me later.

Exhausted!

Friday was a busy day for me post-op, but not busy by real-life standards, and it left me feeling so freaking weary that I'm worried. I'm scheduled to return to work in 9 days. At this stage in my recovery, I wonder if it's normal be so drained simply by --

1) Eating lunch and strolling in the park with my friend Ed
2) Taking the bus for a sit-down with my insurance agent

That wasn't taxing. It's not like I plowed the back 40. And yet I went to bed at 8:00 for a 4-hour nap.

Work is very top of mind for me today since my boss called to (1) check on me and (2) let me know that I got my first raise in more than 3 years. 5%! Yea! I'm eager to hurry back and start earning it.

I see the doctor again (and hopefully for the last time for a while) on Monday. I must be sure to report this to him. While I'm eager to return to the office, I didn't go through all this agita to just to have a relapse!

Pain meds and comfort TV

I have been discussing this at length with friends -- friends who don't know one another, btw -- and have discovered a connection between being on pain medication and mindless television viewing.

Here's the scenario: You wake up suddenly because prescription pain medication has just worn off. Ow, OW, OW! You're very awake and very uncomfortable right now, but your goal is to become very drowsy and very comfortable as soon as possible.

Reading is out of the question. Pain killers mess with my vision and besides, the goal is to (as the Lads once sang) "turn off your mind, relax and float downstream." You don't want anything to really engage you, just distract you. So you turn on the TV.

If you're me, you go to the Comcast OnDemand menu and find Friends. The length (just 22 mins., since there are no commercials OnDemand) and the content (very, very familiar) make it perfect. I know I'm free to doze off before the end because I know how Joey's hernia/insurance dilemma is resolved and what ultimately happens between Monica and Richard because I think I've seen every episode twice.

My cousin Rosemary gravitated to M*A*S*H. She distracted herself from the pain not with the plots but by trying to see how many jokes, puns and sight gags she could remember from previous viewings.

If you're my friend Kathleen, you go black and white. There's a local station here that specializes in just that between midnight and dawn. She took whatever was on, but her favorite was The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. She doesn't know why, actually. The premise is hopelessly dated and she can't remember any of the plots. But it's comforting, and it lulls her.

My friend John found that, after his foot surgery, his pain was worst in the afternoon. The discomfort literally exhausted him and he'd long to nap when the meds kicked in. So for him, the comfort show of choice was always Judge Judy. The cases were just interesting enough to take his mind off his ouchies, but since the resolution was always a foregone conclusion, he didn't feel he missed anything if he dozed off before the top of the hour.

TV as Therapy -- there's a medical journal study here, I tell 'ya!

A good day, a busy day

I'm so tired right now. Today I took Reynaldo to the vet for his annual check up (he's completely fine) … went to see The Lion King in 3D with Kathy … and saw my shrink for the first time in more than a month, due to the passing of her husband of 40+ years.

Each thing was nice (esp. my therapy session because I was a little nervous about how to handle my feelings about my doctor's loss -- boundaries and all) but now I need a nap.

If only ...

“Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

I wish my best friend would take these words of the late, great Steve Jobs to heart. For my best friend is a very good man and he deserves to be happy. Or at least content. He makes so many accommodations in the moment, to keep the peace, to do what is expected, and then he he seems surprised by how his life has become.

If only he could either take control of his life, or be at peace with the fact that he has relinquished that control ...

THURSDAY THIRTEEN #143

THIRTEEN FACTS

ABOUT

THAT GIRL

1) It was my favorite sitcom when I was a kid (1966-1971).

2) It starred Marlo Thomas as aspiring actress, Ann Marie -- the pride of Brewster, a small town 2 1/2 hours out of New York.

3) She had the most fantastic apartment on the East Side of New York, with exposed brick and built-in bookshelves. The only thing I didn't like about it was no tub, just a shower stall.

4) Ann was ever enthusiastic in her pursuit of her dream -- which was to support herself as an actress. However she often had to take part-time jobs to pay the rent on that gorgeous place. I remember her as a waitress, a salesgirl at the perfume counter of Macy's, and a telemarketer.

5) Every episode began with some character referring to Ann as, "That Girl!"

6) Considered groundbreaking at the time because, while Ann had a boyfriend, she was more interested in career than marriage.

7) Her boyfriend, Donald, was more established professionally -- a reporter for fictional Newsview magazine. Though Ann allowed him to pay for all their dates (this was the 1960s, after all), she never accepted financial help.

8) The "Swinging 60's" be damned -- watched now, the show seems completely fixated on establishing and re-establishing Ann's purity.

9) Other than the network censor, the only one more concerned with Ann's virginity was her dad, Lew Marie. A very protective and doting father, he had a hard time warming up to Donald.

10) I so envied Ann's trademark flip and eyelashes. Marlo Thomas insisted the hair was her own, but the lashes were augmented and the false eyelashes were uncomfortable.

11) And her clothes! Dear Lord, Ann had the most fabulous wardrobe! Especially her perfect little pullovers and all those raincoats and jackets. And her accessories! Purses that matched the shoes, necklaces that matched the earrings ... (In the clip below, you'll see she actually had a lavender print umbrella to match her sundress. Bliss!) I think I still tenaciously cling to the matchy-matchy thing in my own wardrobe (such as it is) because of the imprint this show made on my psyche.

12) In her most famous role, Marlo Thomas was nominated for four consecutive Emmys, and lost four straight times.

13) Like Sex and the City, it's a lovely Valentine to New York. But unlike the later HBO show, That Girl was actually filmed in Hollywood (at Desilu Studios).

For more information about The Thursday Thirteen,
or to play along yourself, click here.

I struggle with this

This comes to me courtesy of Snarkela.

I Want Wednesday

I Want Normalcy. Now, with a week and half to go on my sick leave, my life is starting to revolve around, well, my life and not my incision. And I think it's all good!

• Right now, as we speak, the handyman is installing the new ceiling fan in the den.

• Tonight I'm going to see Wishful Thinking with John. My first real outing!

• Tomorrow both Reynaldo and I see doctors. Me: my shrink. Reynaldo: the vet.

• Friday I have lunch with my friend Ed and then a trip to see my State Farm agent to inquire about a new policy.

I'm returning to work on 10/17. I think the most physically taxing part will be the commute -- 90 minutes in, followed by meetings and conferences and assignments ... no nap. So I want to escalate my activities each day. I want to be ready, not exhausted.

Yea!

Though I admit that, right now, I want a nap ...

Productive Day!

I switched out my clothes, reacquainting myself with my sweaters and deciding to part with some of the summer clothes I didn't wear in 2011, and therefore probably won't like much more in 2012. I also did a couple loads of wash.

Then I took a nap. I just have to accept that I'm still healing and that day-to-day life still wears me out. After my nap I went to the bank and picked up a piece of deep dish pizza. After all the beef I've been devouring, this gooey bit of cheesey heaven made me happy.

Pine Valley Hijinks

I admit it -- I just can't let go of All My Children. So yesterday I picked up the PEOPLE magazine special tribute edition and as I flipped through the pages I discovered, much to my shock, that Billy Ray Tuggle, soap's most comical pimp, has long been married in real-life to the elegant Christine Baranski of The Good Wife!

My perfect afternoon included KMart

No, really!

It was sunny and over 70º today. The trees are still full and green. It's my favorite kind of weather, and I was happy to be out of in it. I took the public transportation to the general neighborhood of both KMart and Walmart, and then Jackie* and I walked for about a half hour. KMart came first. I found a perfectly adequate three-blade ceiling fan for my den for less than $40. It was too heavy for me to carry any distance -- I still have to be careful about that -- so I took a cab home.

But it was nice to walk a bit without feeling exhausted. It was nice to have the fans in the windows again. It was nice to save money on the fan so I won't have to feel guilty about the expense of the cab back.

Nice.

* I had Historic Conversations on Life with John F. Kennedy on my iPod. I think this could be the first time she was ever -- in any way, shape or form -- in KMart.

What a collaboration!

I'm watching one of Robert Redford's best performances in one of his least successful movies, Havana. He plays a gambler who has lost his glamor, a man who consistently sits with his back to the wall so he can always see who enters the room, a dissipated satyr who is attracted to ... no, make that familiar with ... no, make that comfortable in seedy sex clubs. His life is bereft of romance and aspiration. Until, of course, he meets her, the beautiful Swedish wife of a political activist in Cuba in those dangerous days just before Castro takes power. His love for her redeems him.

It's not a remake of Casablanca, exactly. More a reworking of it. When it was released in 1990, it was a bomb. Partly because Redford rather suddenly looked bad for his age (53). This lack of vanity was as bad for his fan base as it was good for the role. And because the very idea of a remake of a movie as beloved as Casablanca pissed people off. When I originally saw it, lo those many years ago, I was bored. But as I watch it tonight, I'm appreciating it very much.

As I appreciate all the movies in the Robert Redford/Sydney Pollack collaboration. They met as actors back in the 1950s, appearing together in Redford's debut, War Hunt. Sydney moved behind the camera, making popular movies like The Firm and Tootsie.

Eventually Redford moved successfully into directing, too, but not before making a series of movies with Pollack that helped define his superstar persona.

This Property Is Condemned
Jeremiah Johnson
The Way We Were
Three Days of the Condor
The Electric Horseman
Out of Africa
Havana

Funny how the last two films they made together turned out. Out of Africa may have won Pollack his only Oscar, but it's by far Redford's worst performance ever. Havana performed woefully at the box office, but in Jack Weil, Redford created his most daring character.

I learned from the recent Redford bio that Out of Africa and Havana represent the low point in their friendship, that Redford's success as a director spoiled the delicate balance of their collaboration. It worked when Sydney was a director who was only a modest success as an actor and became strained when Redford became an actor who won an Oscar as director. Was Sydney jealous? Yes. Was Redford competitive? Most certainly. They never worked together again after the commercial failure of this film, and drifted apart as friends. This makes me sad because in 1993, they both faced family crises and could have been there for one another (Redford's son Jamie had a liver transplant, Pollack's son Steven died in a plane crash).

¿Quién es más macho? What a pity.

They did reconcile at the very end of Pollack's life, and in 2008 Redford delivered his eulogy. George Clooney, Dustin Hoffman, Harrison Ford and the other superstars Sydney had worked with more recently were there, but when it came time to reflect upon Pollack's career -- both at the service and in the Time magazine obituary -- it was Redford. As it should have been.

PS On a far more shallow note -- Watching Redford ca 1990 makes me suspect he's had his eyes done. I saw him on TV a lot earlier this year promoting The Conspirator and he looked not so much better as different 20 years ago. For what it's worth, Bob, you shoulda left well enough alone.

As her world turns

My oldest friend had surgery again last Monday. Her arm still isn't healing properly and, as part of her workman's comp agreement, she needs to this try to get her flexibility/agility back before she can return to work. It was outpatient surgery. It is hoped that she will be able to begin physical therapy on Tuesday.

She's upset because her kids are giving her so much grief again. Her son's violent temper has resurfaced, resulting in a broken bathroom vanity and a hole in the screen. This is bad not only because he's an asshole, but because she now rents, and every one of these tantrums means he's destroying someone else's property and costing her money she can't afford.

Her daughter, now a chain-smoking sophomore at Beverly Hills High, continues to flirt with drugs, alcohol and serial truancy. It's been recommended that she check into an on site treatment facility, where she would learn to control her impulses as well as continue with her studies. I don't know why there's even conversation about this -- the girl is still young, every possible step should be taken to get her on the right track. Her daughter resists this, of course, but so what? As my best friend says,"A parent's job is to parent."

My friend's move to California was a mistake. She feels adrift. Even before her workplace accident, this job wasn't working out. The cousin that she moved out there to be near actually lives in Mojave Desert, not Beverly Hills, and is neither as accessible nor as supportive as my friend needs. She's had a few dates out there, but not the romance or companionship she longs for. She hasn't made friends. I also think that leaving Chicagoland because she doesn't like snow and cold was just plain frivolous and stupid -- especially when you consider she drives everywhere and makes no mention of strolls up sunny Rodeo Drive or trips to the beach. Dumping her house when she did makes no economic sense.

But she made the move. And, to borrow from Col. Potter on M*A*S*H, "if you ain't where you are, you're no place." I believe she can decide to be happy there. After all, it IS Beverly Hills -- people travel from all over the world just to see it. And she wastes her days indoors, smoking in solitary or puffing away to deal with the tension of living with her son and daughter.

I have been telling her -- over and over again -- that she has to find some way to Beverly Hills her home. Join a church, call on her extended family. Go to the theater or TV show tapings. Move to a larger apartment (her 2BR, with her anxiety-ridden, anorexic 21-year-old son sleeping on the sofa, is simply too small).

But I fear she'll be moving back to Chicagoland soon. She conveniently forgets how unhappy she was here. (If I hear one more complaint about the snow and cold, I'll SCREAM!) She's not concerned about the negative impact yet another move will have on her daughter. She doesn't realize that the problem isn't her location, it's her life. But that's because she's hurting. And when she's hurting, her common sense seems to hydraulically shut down.

As the drama continues, I find myself less and less involved. I shall continue to be here every time she reaches out to me. I love her humor and imagination and I honor the decades upon decades of our friendship and our priceless shared history.

But I'm not counting on her to show up here, as promised, for my birthday next month. After all, I'm still waiting for my Christmas 2010 present and I haven't forgotten the agita caused by her "now you see me/now you don't" act after she offered to stay with me after surgery.

I understand that she is the best friend she can be to me, given her circumstances. While I can see clearly that they are circumstances she creates/perpetuates, she does not. She loves me and worries about me and depends on me and finds much about me to admire. That's valuable, and having her in my life makes me stronger.

My goal now is to simply appreciate our friendship for what it is and has been, and to quit trying to make her what I think she should be. I'm learning that if I let go a bit, not be as involved in her life and passionate about changing her (which isn't working anyway), I can still be a good and accepting friend.

And I'm saying a little prayer of thanks for all the resources I have that she doesn't -- faith in God, a network of people who love and support me, a career with solid professional contacts and good benefits, a resilient spirit … and the Cubs. I could never make the ill-advised decision to move that she did because NEXT YEAR COULD BE THE YEAR!