".... But then again, too few to mention"

I responded to a meme last week and one of the questions has really stayed with me:

"Name 3 minor regrets in life."

The three I listed were three of the biggest heartbreaks of my life. I don't have minor regrets. I try not to regret anything. I think it's a wasted emotion. If you make a mistake, you should try to learn from it and move on. In that way, I guess, I am like Frank. (Though I read somewhere that he really didn't like "My Way" very much.)

Isn't that an interesting thing about blogging? As you communicate with others, you end up learning about yourself.

I wish I could preserve memories in a Ball jar

My best friend was in town on Tuesday and Wednesday night. He had to attend focus groups that ran until 9:00, then entertain his clients a bit, so these were really late nights. (On Tuesday we didn't even meet until midnight.) We were both dead on our feet and the reasonable thing would have been to just agree that seeing one another this trip just wouldn't work. But we didn't.

After all, who knows how many visits like this we'll have? He really doesn't care for this job. I love him and I want to be happy, so naturally I support him 100% when it comes to finding professional fulfillment. But we both know a new job will mean no more regular business trips to Chicago. I may someday go visit him and his family in Colorado. I'm sure we'll still email and talk regularly, but it won't be the same. Soon enough there will be no more late nights, laughing and strolling up Michigan Avenue. I'm so comfortable with him. I'll miss our time together so much. The trick, of course, is to not let my worrying about the future deprive me of our fun in the moment.

"Mom!"

LOS ANGELES - Screaming and crying, Paris Hilton was escorted out of a courtroom and back to jail Friday after a judge ruled that she must serve out her entire 45-day sentence behind bars rather than in her Hollywood Hills home.

“It’s not right!” shouted the weeping Hilton, who violated her parole in a reckless driving case. “Mom!” she called out to her mother in the audience. -- MSNBC

Is it OK if I find this funny?

Paris Hilton cried a lot in her cell. Paris Hilton developed a rash in jail. Paris can't stand being incarcerated.

Aw ... She's right, this is sooooo unfair! The girls from Compton she was so comfortable making fun of on tape are far more likely to go to jail so they probably are used to the idea! But Paris is special. The idea of prison makes her sad, being there makes her cry and feel all itchy. She's right. Her mommy should get her out of this.

So proud of her

My niece graduated from 8th grade yesterday. I knew that she was enjoying much about this major event in her life: a class trip to Great America, a dance at her new high school, a party at the school she was leaving ... She's been with many of her classmates since Kindergarten (one since preschool) and developed a dedicated posse of good friends (for some reason they all wore superhero capes to their last day -- ever! -- of school). After the graduation ceremony, she and her closest friends were literally the last kids to leave because they were taking pictures of one another in their cap/gown in front of their lockers, inside their "favorite" girls' bathroom, in the stairwell, with their favorite teachers, etc.

What I didn't realize was how terribly IMPORTANT she felt this day was. She showed me her memory book (an 8th grade class project) and saw that she referred to it as "the end of my childhood" and "the beginning of a new chapter." Her writings were very poignant. She wishes she could just stay in 8th grade forever. I wish she could, too.

Each 8th grader was asked to provide a quote that accurately reflected them. I was surprised and quite tickled by her choice. She mentioned that she began to listen to Bob Dylan, but I didn't realize how into him she's become. Her quote was from "Positively Fourth Street":

"I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes/And just for that one moment I could be you/Yes, I wish that for just one time, you could stand inside my shoes/You'd know what a drag it is to see you."

She is smart and witty and curious and perceptive and sensitive and I couldn't be more proud of her.

Friday Feast #2

Appetizer
What do you consider to be the ultimate snack food?
Hostess Cupcakes -- the ones with the squiggle of white frosting on top of the chocolate

Soup
On a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 as highest), about how popular is your last name?
2. I dislike my own last name so much that I almost considered losing it a good reason to get married.

Salad
Who is your all-time favorite sitcom character, and why?
Hawkeye Pierce. Funny, glib, compassionate and talented. One of my dream guys.




Main Course
Do you shop online? If so, name some sites you like to browse for goodies.
peapod.com, amazon.com, ebay.com, overstock.com


Dessert
Fill in the blank: I think ___________ should be ___________.
Paris Hilton, jail

Thursday Thirteen #19 - Make a Baby Boomer Say "OUCH!"

Thirteen Celebrity Factoids that Make THE GAL HERSELF Really Feel Her Age Hi. I'm old. And these little news items have hammered that fact home. Now if you born in 1965 or later, you may look at these 13, yawn and say, "so what?" or "who?" But if you're a Baby Boomer, I bet you that at least one or two will make you say, "OUCH!" 1. Sally Field is a grandmother who promotes osteoporosis meds 2. Donnie Osmond is a grandfather 3. So is Ron Howard 4. Mare Winningham, the sweetheart/mascot of the “young adult drama” St. Elmo’s Fire, played Meredith’s stepmother on Grey’s Anatomy 5. JFK would have turned 90 on May 29 6. Luci Baines Johnson, whose wedding entranced me when I was a little girl, is now the grandmother of 8 7. “Gilligan, the Skipper, too, the Millionaire and his Wife” are all dead (“The Movie Star, the Professor and Mary Ann” are fine, though) 8. Jane Fonda had both hips replaced 9. Zoe Kravitz, daughter of Cosby kid Lisa Bonet, is 18 and will make her acting debut this year 10. “Charlie’s Girls,” the Manson Family hippie chicks who are doing time for the Tate-LoBianco murders, are all in their 60s 11. Mary Wilson of the Supremes had heart bypass surgery 12. The only surviving member of The Mama and the Papas, California Dreamin’ blonde surfer chick Michelle Phillips, now preserves her complexion by staying completely out of the sun 13. 17-year-old American Idol winner Jordin Sparks says she “grew up on the show.” Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

I think I'll settle for simply rich

Yes, I have loved Paul McCartney since I was 6. Once I understood what my virginity was, I dreamt of losing it to him. I know just about every song. I have read just about every word. I have seen every concert I could afford. Loving Paul has been my life avocation.

But I know our "relationship" is completely one-sided. When I say I'm going to be Lady Mac, I know that's not true. I know Paul doesn't know who I am. I am smart and cynical enough to know I never want to meet him because nobody could live up to 40+ years of foreplay. (Quick Quiz: On what golden oldie can you hear the words, "Oh no, not me. I'm not ready for that last disappointment?")

That said, I have met McCartney fans whose grasp on reality is more tenuous than mine.

One of them works here. We both picked up his new CD yesterday, and she's been in here just about every half hour to discuss another aspect of it. She flew to England expressly to attend the premiere of his classical music piece. She sent him a letter asking him to invest in her new small business venture, and was upset he never answered.

Another one spent Christmas morning IM-ing with Paul's son James. So she says. She is convinced it was really James because she kept peppering him with questions "only Paul could answer." Never mind that she doesn't know him and she could answer them.

I wonder what it's like to inspire such passion in complete strangers. It's definitely the downside of fame. I imagine it would be creepy. Paul's been famous more than half his life, so maybe he doesn't notice it anymore. But I'm not so sure he can afford to. After all,

• John Lennon was murdered by a stalker fan
• Cubs first baseman Eddie Waitkus was plugged by fan who loved him and believed he wanted to be traded to the Phillies (this story inspired The Natural)
• Rebecca Shaeffer of My Sister Sam opened her front door to be shot by a fan

When you consider the crazies, somehow "rich and famous" doesn't sound like that much fun. I think I'll settle for simply rich.

"That Was Me"

I'm listening to Paul's new CD, Memory Almost Full, and I'm impressed. (Believe it or not, I'm not always impressed. I mean, even I knew "Ebony and Ivory" was crap.)

This is only my second time through the entire thing, but so far my favorite is "That Was Me." It's a legitimate old-time rocker about a legitimate old-time rocker looking back on his life and career. While it's not a self-congratulatory song, it is a self-aware one. His voice gets more raw as he sings that he can't believe that the guy who did all that is the same guy that's (still) singing now, and I believe his "well-waddaya-know" wonder. It's one of those rare songs that manages to be both profound and ... well ... fun.

Nicely done, Sir Paul.

These results please me more than the Zombie thing

Which is not to say I won't be helpless against Zombies; I just prefer not to dwell on that.

Your Linguistic Profile:

70% General American English 15% Upper Midwestern 10% Yankee 0% Dixie 0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

I've got to be meme'd

I got this Random Sets of 3s meme from one Mr. Sparky Duck.


Random sets of 3’s:

3 things you WILL do in this lifetime:
1) Redecorate my condo and get it exactly the way I want it
2) Get thin(ner) and stay that way so I can throw out my "fat jeans"
3) Become more responsible with money

3 songs with lyrics that have made you cry:
1) At 17 by Janis Ian
2) You Don't Know Me by Ray Charles (more recently by Jann Arden)
3) I Will by the Beatles

3 TV shows you enjoy watching (old or new):
1) Law & Order ("In the criminal justice system …")
2) That Girl (Season 3 out on DVD soon)
3) Grey's Anatomy

Dreams you once upon a time had, but that haven’t come true and you’re okay with that:
1) Play the guitar
2) Learn Quark (hell, the designers are all using InDesign anyway)
3) To become Lady McCartney (though the position will be open again soon)

3 places you go/have been where you found a sense of peace:
1) Hot Springs National Park
2) Marshall Field's on State Street (Damn you, Macy's! DAMN YOU, I SAY!)
3) Tucked into the far corner of my sofa, which is the only place I ever want to be when I don't feel well

3 minor regrets in life:
1) Wasting so much time on that genuine shitheel (I've been involved with some lovely men that it didn't work out with, but this guy was a total time/life force suck)
2) Saying something really mean that I'm not even sure I believed during a break-up argument
3) Not being more successful working the phones for Senator John Kerry in 2004

3 clichés or common phrases that you tend to believe are true:
1) Wait till next year
2) Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely
3) Hindsight is 20/20

TAG TIME! I call on Gabriella Hewitt (because I don't think I've seen you tagged recently) and the dog-loving Mo and anyone who wants to join in.

If you do the meme, let me know.

Don't get too attached to me. I might not be here much longer.

32%Mingle² - ZombieQuiz



I got this quiz courtesy of Thomma Lynn

Lazy, lazy, lazy

I've just gotten done eating … alot. (Salad followed by a chicken pot pie.) Now all I want to do is crash. And I think I might do just that. What is it about rainy days that strips me of all ambition and energy?

I have a pile of magazines to go through. I have a ton of papers to sort. This living room carpet could use a nice little visit from Roomba.

But no, I'm about to recline. It's with equal parts self-indulgence and self-loathing that I am going to end my evening right here on the sofa.

A job I couldn't do

I couldn't moderate focus groups. I'm both too opinionated and too curious. OK, and I have too big a mouth.

I was watching a Road to the White House voter focus group on CSpan. Usually I find these things fascinating. Does everyone have the same priorities as I do? What's on other citizens' minds? But then I realized that in '04, I watched later in the process, when the party front runners were universally agreed upon, and the participants identified themselves members of one party or the other. This focus group consisted of Republicans, Democrats and Undecideds.

Two women -- one in her 30s and one in her 50s -- seemed to be from a different planet. If I were the moderator, I would either have stopped speaking to them, or challenged them with follow up questions. And that would mean I'd be doing a really bad job.

These two women kept talking about "morality." How the new candidates for President should reflect George W. Bush's "morality." He says what he means and means what he says. They admire his "moral" leadership. It's Bill Clinton who damaged this country and how it's viewed internationally, because of his sex life.

WHAT? HUH?

How do you judge morality? Are John McCain, Rudy Giuliani, and Fred Thompson all MORE moral than Bill Clinton because they left their marriages and he stayed in his? Is it worse to lie about oral sex or weapons of mass destruction? Is it worse to lie about oral sex or Saddam Hussein's role in 9/11? How do you "measure" that?

How come there are no photos of an underaged Chelsea Clinton sprawled atop of one of her college classmates, cig in one hand, beer in the other, the way you can find shots of Jenna Bush? Why are there no photos of Chelsea laying on top of her date and putting the ball in "Inaugural Ball?" Does this mean the Clintons are "more moral" as parents? Should these issues even matter when we vote?

And if the rest of the planet is so appalled or disgusted by Bill Clinton's personal life, how did he become the most popular politician in the world?

How do these women get to the conclusions they have reached? Why are they so sure they know exactly what the Good Lord smiles on and and what He doesn't?

I would love to know how these two voters came to be this way. Perhaps if they could articulate it, I'd move closer to being purple, rather than true blue.

But a moderator can't do that. He's supposed to simply elicit opinions. And that's a bigger job than this gal.

Dumb can be fun

I know I should be watching the news to catch up on the terrorist/JFK plot. Or whether or not our state will ever have an approved budget. Or if Carlos Zambrano has hit anyone else lately.

But I'm watching the original Ocean's 11.

It's hypnotically kitschy/campy/cool. Frank and the boys (including Mr. Roper himself, Normal Fell) are taking down glitzy old-time casinos like the Sands and the Desert Inn and the Sahara. With Brylcreamed hair, skinny ties, the ice in their glasses tinkling and cigarettes dangling from their lips, they spout "ring-a-ling dialog" and slip their room keys into the cleavage of willing, nameless women.

Interestingly, some of the best lines belong to the ladies. Watch for Shirley MacLaine and Dean Martin flirting in the parking lot when she says, "I'm so drunk, I don't think I lie down without holding on." Or Angie Dickinson telling soon-to-ex-husband Frank, "I'll consider mistress, plaything, toy for a night, but I refuse to be your mother. That's out!"

I saw the Clooney Ocean's 11 and will probably see Ocean's 13. Those movies are like a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition for women. And I'll wonder if, in 45 years, those movies will seem as kitschy/campy/cool to another generation.

LOU! LOU! LOU!

Baby, you did this for all of us. All the frustrated fans who look at our guys and wonder, "What the hell?!" I love you, Lou.

Pinella came here after this team had been built. He had no say in any of the trades, in any of the signings. So in a way, he's been like us. Looking at all this talent, all this heart, and wondering how it's all gotten this far awry.

We have hitters who can't on base. Or if they do get on base, they run into double plays. We have a diva pitcher who believes the way to turn his luck around is to turn his catcher's mouth into hamburger.

As this losing streak has worn on, we could feel Lou's patience wearing out. So today, in the 8th, when all indeed was lost yet again this week, it was almost a relief to see Lou come barrelling out of the dugout, kick some dirt, use some unsportsmanlike language, and delay the inevitable, ugly outcome of the game by about 10 minutes. Yes, he'll get a fine and maybe a suspension, but on this hot, humid Saturday afternoon, it must have felt good. It felt good to me as I watched it.

Sure, blame your catcher

Today exemplified why I don't like Carlos Zambrano -- why he joins the exclusive company of Todd Hundley and Dave Kingman as the only Cubs in franchise history that I can't stand.

He had a bad day. Just the most recent bad day in the bad season he's suffering through. There are those fans who maintain he's all pissy because his contract still hasn't been settled and the Cubs are being sold. Whatever. I don't care, because Zambrano is all about Zambrano.

He gave up (I believe) 5 runs in a single inning. And he seems to have blamed this on his catcher, Michael Barrett, who he then slugged and sent to the hospital with a swollen lip.

Yes, Barrett dropped a ball and made a bad throw. Yes, Zambrano has talent and potential. So what? I'd rather have him turn a little of that passion inward, quit blaming his teammates, and try to change his losing ways.

He seems to prefer punching his catcher in the mouth.

The Gal's Feeling Accomplished

Left the office today at a little after 2:00. Did my grocery shopping and picked up a burger on the way home. Finished 3 loads of wash. Did some online research for my best friend's project (he's sick and has a big report due Monday AM).

I have so inspired myself that I just might do something about all those sweatshirts in the front of my armoire. (It is, after all, 80º+ here.)

All this & it's barely 8:00! I am unstoppable! I feel completely fabulous, virtuous &, well, other words that end in "ous."

Found Me a New Meme!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Love Lou

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

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

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

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




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




Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants



I am soooooooo virtuous!

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

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

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

I say a little prayer

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

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

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

May you rest in peace, Mr. President.

My romantic post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, am I?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm having salad for dinner

I hate salad.

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

More fruits and vegetables
Less Coca Cola
More exercise

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

But God, I hate salad!

Just seems fitting to recall this

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

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

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

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

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

3 terrific performances in one completely average movie

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

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

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

Isn't she lovely?

Behold my new idol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shhh! So far, so good …

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

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

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

Today's Washington Post leaves me feeling like Renault

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will he EVER outgrow this?

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

Except for Rey.

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

For nearly two hours!

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

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

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

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

For nearly two hours!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday Thirteen #18 -- Gloriously bad pop songs

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then I woke up.

Back to dreammoods.com:

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

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

No word on the significance of the young Sinatra.

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

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

They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm open to either argument.


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