Numb

I am watching the CNN coverage of the Virginia Tech shootings and I feel nothing. I don't care in any real way. It's so big and so horrible and so crazy that I simply cannot grasp it.

I know that these students must be angry and frightened and rattled by the chaos. I know their families must be rocked right down to their bone marrow. I wish I had sympathy/empathy.

This is a defining moment. This college will never be the same. This community will never be the same. And yet I have absorbed none of it.

I'm going to keep watching until my heart catches up with my head.

When a wanna-be meets a never-was

I'm watching a documentary on the JFK assassination. Aside from the fact that everyone smoked so much in the 1960s that I want to wash the stench from my hair, the feeling I'm left with is frustration over the futility and waste of the events of November, 1963. Prior to 9/11, this was the biggest event of my lifetime, and in many ways our country is still scarred by it. And yet, if you accept the premise put forth by The History Channel, it was an accident of fate. A convergence of losers. The iconic leader who, as author Robert Dallek ends as his biography, spoke to "our better angels" was taken from us by a skinny loner who felt he had to do something huge, just to justify his existence on the planet. And then that assassin was silenced by a faux mobster/pimp with a bad temper.

During the first few months of 1963, Lee Harvey Oswald decided to become famous as a political assassin. His chosen target was Texas politico and segregationist Edwin Walker. Oswald spent time photographing Walker's home, plotting entrance and escape routes, monitoring Walker's schedule, etc. In April, while Walker was sitting in front of a window in his home, Oswald took a shot, using a soon-to-be world-famous mail-order rifle. The bullet was stopped by the (presumably bullet-proof) glass. This was yet another thing Oswald had failed at, and in plunged him into depression. As his grip on reality loosened, Oswald chose JFK as his next target. Ironic, since Walker hated the Kennedy brothers and everything they stood for. Clearly there was no ideology in Oswald's actions.

After firing the shot shown in this photo, Jack Ruby told the police -- many of whom hung out at his Carousel Club -- that now he was a "hero." A failed mobster who left Chicago and went to Dallas to manage a strip club, Ruby felt that he had served justice. He had killed the smug little bastard who had killed his President. He had saved Jackie from having to testify at Oswald's trial. He apparently thought the public would be grateful. Of course, because there was no trial, conspiracy theories have flourished for more than 40 years.

And from this came Viet Nam and Watergate. It pisses me off.

The simple joy of retail

An old boyfriend used to rib me about my "nun watch." Timex, black band, 12 black numbers on a white face. OK, so it was so plain it probably subtracted from my style quotient. Yet I loved it.

I began experimenting with my timepieces. Green Fossil watch, blue Liz Claiborne watch with the silver band, bold and oversized Nine West. While I appreciate how they look, I missed the simplicity and dependability of my old "nun watch."
GOD BLESS YOU, OVERSTOCK.COM! I am completed delighted by my new acquisition. Form meets fashion with my new millennium "nun watch." Austere black and white face, but dressed up with a lovely, lovely purple band! Best of all, more than 25% off!

Would it be weird to sleep in it?

Look at the face and remember his name

This is Bernard McGuirk. When you hear the now infamous "nappy-headed hos" dialog from the Imus show, this is the producer who started the conversation with the phrase, "hard-core hos."

I watched the Imus show occasionally on MSNBC and can honestly say I never heard Imus say anything offensive. Of course, when I watched he would be talking to Tim Russert or Senator Kerry and was on his best behavior. Bernard, or "Bernie," didn't mind being toxic in front of higher profile guests. I never heard him say anything that wasn't hateful or spiteful or angrily superior. (Nor funny, now that I think of it.) Whereas Imus does do a lot of work for kids with cancer and has championed the plight of veterans, all I ever heard Bernard do is be hateful.

I realize the name of the show was Imus in the Morning, and therefore Imus is/was responsible for all the content. He must have been amused by Bernard or Bernard wouldn't be there. However, if the old guy's career is now over, it's only fair that this "gentleman" also pay a public price for his hate language. I don't begrudge him the opportunity to make a living -- I just begrudge him the opportunity to do it on public airwaves.

So take a good and careful look. And remember the name Bernard McGuirk. If he ever again emanates from your TV or your radio, please reach for the dial.

A pair of movie queens

I'm watching an episode of Biography about Judy Garland. I adore her, especially those glorious MGM musicals. Even the corny ones with Mickey Rooney. As the narrator said, "the movies were of their time, but their talent was timeless." Her absolute, aching sincerity and her tremulous vibrato -- Garland was a heartbreaking genius.

I saw Perfect Stranger this afternoon and am very confused as to why Halle Berry made this movie. It was entertaining in a creepy, popcorn thriller way and I found Bruce Willis menacingly sexy. (I was also amused by the glamorous portrayal of advertising agencies; apparently I've worked at all the wrong agencies!) Halle is believable and compelling and very beautiful. But make no mistake about it: this is low-brow entertainment. I would expect her to be working off a far more literate script. Oh well, I enjoyed both the movie and the Sno-caps.

This week's people watching

The two people who made the biggest impression on me this week …

High-tech Granny. I saw her on a cold, wet Green Line el platform. Red flannel coat with BIG plastic buttons. Bright floral babushka tied tightly to protect her curly gray do from the humidity. Anchored with a pair red earmuffs. I would have pegged her as 70 and more comfortable in Polish than English. Probably taking the el downtown to meet other lady friends who were dressed just like her, or perhaps for an appointment with a specialist. Yep, I superficially decided I knew everything about the old girl. Until her expensive Blackberry (or maybe it was a Treo) went off and she began barking authoritatively to someone on the other end.

The saddest boy ever. He lives on the first floor of my building. We pass in the lobby all the time, occasionally I've seen him in town and this week we ended up doing our laundry together. He's about 40, lives with his mom, and works at the local Jewel. His mother had a stroke last year and is very slow in recovering. I've seen him walking with her and he's very patient, which probably isn't easy because I knew her before the stroke and … well … she was an odd old bat with questionable hygiene even then. I recently learned that he has a sister, but his mother refuses to see her since Sis refused to cut off all ties with Dad after the divorce. Therefore the responsibility for caring for Mom falls completely on him. He loves art and wants to see the Picasso exhibit at the Art Institute. He loves to gamble and wishes he could go back to one of the boats. But his life is spent going between work -- stocking and stacking at the Jewel -- and home to his mother. His world seems so small, so sterile and isolated. And there's such a weariness to him when he talks art or slots. I'm tempted to see if he'd like to go out for ice cream or something, just as a gesture of friendship. But he seems to have something of a crush on me and I don't want to mislead him. At any rate, he made me very grateful for my motley crew of friends. They are a constant source of support and comfort for me.

"Decent and strong"

"Decent and strong." What powerful words, cleansing in their simplicity and in their very ordinariness.

I'm watching Elizabeth Edwards on Larry King Live and these are the words she used to describe her husband. King turned around and used the same words to describe Mrs. Edwards herself.

"Decent and strong." After all this couple has been through together, in light of the future they are facing together, she is comforted by knowing she has a partner who is "decent and strong." This moves me.

If I end up supporting John Edwards, it will be because he has maintained healthcare, economic equality, the environment and Katrina as his focus. While Clinton and Obama seem to stuck rehashing Iraq, who was for and who was against, finger-pointing and speaking about what they'd do as President instead of what should come next, Edwards has kept domestic issues on the radar. It won't be because of his shiny hair or blue eyes (which I lust after), it won't be because of his wife (who I admire) or his marriage (which I envy). It will be because his political concerns are closest to my aspirations for my country.

But that doesn't mean that the spare, dignified and sincere way his wife described him didn't touch me. It did.

Thursday Thirteen #12 -- Me, me, me!

Thirteen Things about THE GAL HERSELF even the most loyal lurker might not know. I've been writing this blog for nearly a year now, and have undoubtedly (unintentionally) revealed much about myself. So my challenge was to unearth some fresh information for you all. 1. I only move my lips, I don't really sing, at church because I am completely tone deaf. For me, karaoke would be an evening in hell. 2. I can wiggle my ears. 3. I can't wear high heels because of my heel spurs. I suppose that's why I'm so into pedicures. I'm trying to "prettify" my damaged feet. 4. I'm a purse-a-holic. When I'm sad, I must resist the impulse to cheer myself up with another bag. I try never to carry the same purse more than 3 days in a row. I have been late for work because I was changing bags. 5. My favorite color is blue. 6. I have never smoked anything … not even a cigarette. 7. The smell of coffee makes me a little sick. 8. The character in The Breakfast Club that's most like my high school self is Ally Sheedy. I even had a coat with a snorkel hood. 9. Both of my sisters are dark eyed and tan easily. I'm green-eyed and am, in the words of my dermatologist, "as fair as they come." Consequently I grew up believing I was adopted. 10. I maintain my driver's license, even though I haven't actually driven any real distance since the Reagan Administration. 11. I love old, black and white movies, especially with Judy Garland, Katharine Hepburn or Myrna Loy. 12. My cat Charlotte snores. 13. When alone, I drink Arbor Mist Strawberry Zinfandel. However, since wine connoisseurs intimidate and I suspect it's crap, I keep this to myself. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Visit Thomalynn's TT in glorious black and white at: thommalyn.blogspot.com 2. Wacky Mommy's pleasure filled TT is at wackymommy.org 3. Jenny's 13 favorite websites are at jennymcb.blogspot.com 4. Check out Bellezza's thought-provoking TT at dolcebellezza.blogspot.com 5. L^2's aspirational TT is at l-squared.blogspot.com 6. Barbara gets thirteen annoyances off her chest at tidbitsandtreasures.blogspot.com 7. Check out Boltbabe's eclectic list of favorite females at thoughtsofboltbabe.blogspot.com

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

My 2¢ worth re: Sanjaya

I know that Howard Stern is backing him, and that there's some website that originates right here in the Chicagoland area that encourages the audience to vote for Sanjaya simply because he's the worst of the Idol finalists. But I don't believe either of these shenanigans explain why he survives week after week.

It's the little girls like Ashley. I should know. I was one of them. I spent money and emotion on an androgynous boy-singer I saw on TV and in the pages of 16 and Fave.

No, not Paul McCartney. Sir Paul was a teen dream, for sure, but he's also a bona fide genius whose music changed the world.

The same cannot be said for Bobby Sherman. Yet I loved Bobby Sherman the same way Ashley loves Sanjaya. And there are no doubt thousands of Ashleys all over America who squeal and cry when he sings, and then text and call and vote for the Idol of their dreams.

This is not a new phenomenon. Have you ever heard Paul Petersen sing? Fabian? James Darren? David Cassidy's blond and adorable but completely non-musical brother, Shaun? Certainly Sanjaya isn't worse than any of those singers. And after hearing his "Besame Mucho" last night, I venture that he might be a better singer than at least Fabian.

While I know ultimately he won't be this year's American Idol (I'm now leaning toward Jordin), I hope he lasts another few weeks. For Ashley's sake.

Enough with the Marilyn comparisons!

Here's a photo of Marilyn Monroe partying with Carl Sandburg. She also bewitched Arthur Miller, Joe DiMaggio, Frank Sinatra, Lee Strasburg, Yves Montand and, posthumously, Norman Mailer.

Howard K. Stern, Larry Birkhead, a bodyguard, Zsa Zsa Gabor's nth husband and a Bahamian official are a sad, sad substitute for that line-up.

That bottle in Marilyn's hand is Chanel No. 5, not TrimSpa, Baby!

Marilyn Monroe was a gifted comedienne and a genuine film star. Anna Nicole was the butt of sad jokes on her own reality show.

I realize Ms. Smith had a tragic life and a tragic death and I am sorry for her. I believe she loved both Howard Marshall and her young son and she sustained a lot of loss for a woman of 39.

But she was a pale copy of Marilyn Monroe in every way. And when you compare the two, Anna Nicole is just … well, kinda dull.

Re: Anna Nicole, all there is to say is, "Of course!"

OF COURSE Larry Birkhead is the father! He was actually interested in being in that poor little girl's life since before she was born. He seems to be the only decent person in this tawdry saga.

OF COURSE Howard K. Stern wants to keep handling Anna Nicole's estate! What else is he going to do? He hasn't had any other client but Anna Nicole during this century. And who would hire him, after the press he's received?

OF COURSE this DNA test was handled by the same lab that works for the Maury Povich Show! What could be more fitting?

That takes care of Imus and Anna Nicole for today. I suppose I could muse about the actual news of the day -- Alberto Gonzalez and the subpoena he just received, or Bush vs. Congress re: the funding of the war. But that's all so real and consequential. And depressing. I like the toy news better.

Let's not embrace ANYONE who uses hate langauge

Kanye West from "Drop Dead Gorgeous" …
"Convenient whore stay on top of convenient stores/Keep pictures of me in their Victoria Secret drawer"

Jay-Z from "Stick 2 the Script" …
"I don't give a whore jack, man they all say that Mac be frontin/But if you can't take a case bitch and take it to the chin"

T.I. from "No, no, no" …
"Shot the nine, shot the rock, sure shot, shot for sure/but I'm secure, no security, killa keep glocks and fours/plus blocks of raw, probably popped your whore"

Don Imus, CBS radio …
"Nappy headed hos"

As a woman, I find ALL these references offensive. While I am an old fart who is not up on her rap, I believe that Kanye West, Jay-Z and T.I. are all Grammy award winners (or have at least been nominated). As long as this kind of speech is awarded and rewarded, I don't see why Imus should be fired for it.

The perfect PMS dinner

I don't even apologize for this. By 6:30, I would have killed for the chocolate and the chips. Even better, the bunny was reduced to only 25¢.

Color me groovy

You Belong in 1967

If you scored... 1950 - 1959: You're fun loving, romantic, and more than a little innocent. See you at the drive in! 1960 - 1969: You are a free spirit with a huge heart. Love, peace, and happiness rule - oh, and drugs too. 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! 1980 - 1989: Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day. 1990 - 1999: With you anything goes! You're grunge one day, ghetto fabulous the next. It's all good!

What Year Do You Belong In?

It was a typical Opening Day

It was colder than usual for April. It was overcast. A few snowflakes even fell. And the Cubs lost. Status quo.

Now that we have THAT behind us, we can concentrate on moving forward and having a respectable season.

I was in a dreadfully long meeting this afternoon so I didn't catch any of the game live. But I'm sure there were bright spots. I hear that Soriano and Lee had productive at bats. Lilly must have looked OK or he wouldn't have lasted more than 6 innings.

So it's not hopeless! We will prevail! I don't expect there to be a World Series this year, but we won't be the "Lovable Losers," either. (God, I hate that "Lovable Loser" thing.)

I don't want this to be happening!

My left knee hurts. A lot. Especially when I get up after sitting a while. Because I haven't wanted to exacerbate whatever is wrong, I haven't worked out in a week. That makes me feel lazy and look fat, fat, fat.

Tomorrow I'm going to walk my 10,000 steps en route to the family Easter celebration. I'll see how it feels after that. If it doesn't start feeling better soon, I'm going to have to go to the doctor.

My fear is that it's arthritis. I really don't want to hear that word, "arthritis." I feel like I'm falling apart. Who was it who said, "Growing old is not for sissies?"

When my heroes come together

Last night I was able to watch my beloved Greg Maddux pitch his first home opener as a Padre, thanks to Senator John Kerry. If it wasn't for the Senator, the Comcast cable system wouldn't have been able to show this game. As the Boston Herald put it:

Kerry goes to bat
Friday, April 6, 2007 - Updated: 04:35 AM EST

Baseball fans were showering John Kerry with love yesterday after the junior senator got Major League Baseball to agree to allow three of the nation’s largest cable providers to keep carrying its “Extra Innings” package of out-of-market games.

----------------

Of course, the sixth inning last night was beyond the Senator's control. Poor Greg.

But hey! The Cubs won!

It felt good

My oldest friend is completely at the end of her tether with her two kids. Her son, a highschool junior, has been skipping school, is tardy when he does show up, and hasn't been turning his work in. Her 11-year-old daughter is a little slob, leaving wet towels and gum wrappers and chaos wherever she goes through the house. My oldest friend can't find a way to get through to either child.

As my friend spoke, I suddenly felt bad for my own mom. I brought both the sloppiness and the antipathy toward school to the table all by myself, and she still had two other kids to contend with. (My older sister became sexually active very young, and my younger sister experimented with smoking … everything.) There was a time when, if she was awake, she was yelling one of us. And she handled us on her own, since my dad believed child-rearing was "woman's work." I am sorry for what I put her through and I'm grateful she never gave up on me.

So I sent my mom the roses you see here. The card said, "I'm sorry for the 1970s." She laughed and told me not to mention it. She said that for all the trouble we three girls have ever been, she wouldn't trade us for anything.

I sent roses to my oldest friend, too. Her middle name is Rose, and she could use a pick-me-up, as well.

It's Easter weekend. Bring someone flowers. Or if it's easier, just click your way through FTD.com. You'll be glad you did.

I must stop doing this!

"Napping" after work, that is. I laid down on the sofa, just for a little "nap," and woke up more than 2 hours later. I don't mind that I wasted the evening. I was tired and probably wouldn't have done much that's productive anyway. But I do mind that now I have an annoying headache and am not the least bit sleepy.

Thursday Thirteen #11 -- TT ideas

Thirteen idea to help you get past your writer's block. THE GAL HERSELF is posting these early as a service to those who struggle with choosing a Thursday topic. Consider writing about 13 … 1…. Favorite timesuck websites (like my current personal favorite, blogthings.com) 2. Excuses for being late for work 3. Ways you know it's love 4. Ways you know it's over 5. DVDs in your TBV (to be viewed) pile 6. People you want to meet in Heaven 7. Favorite movies of all time 8. Why [insert chore here] is my least favorite domestic task (I'd write about cooking) 9. Favorite school teachers and why you remember them so fondly 10. Pop culture phenomenon that everyone was into … except you (My #1: Seinfeld) 11. Ways you find you're more and more like your mom (or dad) as you grow older 12. Classics that you intend to read, watch or listen to 13. Things on your desk/in your office that you can see from where you're sitting Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)


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



The very last words I wanted to hear last night

"At this performance, the role of Martha will be played by Dierdre Madigan." Kathleen Turner had laryngitis and wasn't in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? last night. I was disappointed, of course, but her understudy did well enough and I dearly love this play.

I also think it's very, very funny. My friend Barb thought it was clever but depressing. As a matter of fact, it fascinated her that I laughed out loud and as often as I did. She thinks I have "issues." (No shit.) She's engaged to be married for the first time, so perhaps this blacker-than-pitch portrayal of matrimony wasn't a fun night at the theater for her.

Was for me, though.

"I swear, if you existed, I'd divorce you."
"Can't you get the latch up, either?"

Ah, Martha, you break me up.

Call me "Olive"

I Am Olive Green

I am the most real of all the green shades. I'm always true to myself. For me, authenticity and honesty are very important... both in others and myself. I am grounded and secure. It takes a lot to shake me. People see me as dependable, probably the most dependable person they know.

What Color Green Are You?

Cats get it

Felines understand the power of the nap. And so this evening, I am following their lead. I have parked myself on the sofa and have no intention of leaving it. I believe the best way to battle this cold is to give myself quiet, still time to recuperate … and I'm taking it. In case I need a role model, my big old tomcat, Joey, is stretched out right here beside me.

They do the Lord's work

The good people at Vicks, I mean. For I believe that only Dayquil is keeping me going right now. My throat is scratchy. I'm woozy. I'm tired. When I cough, I discover thick, yellow mucous on the tissue. I know it's just a cold, but you know how hideously annoying and inconvenient colds can be. As a matter of fact, for your own safety, I suggest you wash your hands vigorously after reading the post.

Tomorrow is their opening day

Presidential nominees, and who we're supposed to support

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the newscaster is part of the story

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

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

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

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

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

They found my Achilles' heel!

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

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

My mistake. My sloppiness. My fault.

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

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

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

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

And I do feel awful about this.

I still love Greg Maddux. How could I not?

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

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

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

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

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

For Cubs fans like me, everything old is new again

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

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

"What about Wood and Prior?"

Thursday Thirteen #10 -- Rewatchable Reruns

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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Wednesday Wisdom You Won't Get from Mom

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

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

"She liked imaginary men best of all."

"Inner beauty won't get you laid."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take that, Victoria Principal!

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

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

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

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

Me and my books -- today

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

Me and my books -- back then

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

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

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

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

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

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