And I love him … them … all of them

This is the flip-side of my TT post about celebs I hate. There are also celebs I love. Very much. OK, I admit it: my mind is a motel. And these gentlemen are my most frequent objets d'lust. As luck would have it, there are 13 of them, too, so I shall consider this TT.2

1. George Clooney. It’s not just how heavenly he looks in a tux. How can you not love the man who used his popularity and power to make Good Night and Good Luck? And while he takes his craft seriously, he doesn’t take himself seriously.

2. Greg Maddux. He has the most darling face, like a 6’ tall Precious Moments doll. The dichotomy is that this sweet-faced, bland-voiced guy is one of the best pitchers there ever was/ever will be. So within that average exterior must beat a tenacious, committed, passionate heart. And that’s soooo sexy.


3. Bruce Willis. Love his smirk. Love his shoulders. Love him as an action star (Die Hard, Armageddon) and his character parts (13 Blocks, In Country) and his supporting roles (Pulp Fiction, Nobody’s Fool). Love him.


4. Bruce Springsteen. He has the heart of a poet and a body by Nautilus.


5. Paul McCartney. I love him. I always have, since I was 6 years old. He’s my doe-eyed troubadour.

6. Patrick Dempsey. Great face, great hair, and somehow you just know he’ll smell good. I would love to have him sidle up beside me in an elevator.

7. Hugh Grant. Maybe it’s the McCartney influence, but I’m simply a sucker for Brits who can’t keep their hair out of their eyes.

8. John Edwards. He has clear blue eyes and terrific hair. His accent is so honey smooth I can listen to him for hours. (And, back when I was a Kerry-Edwards campaign worker, I did.) And there's something very sexy about a man who loves his wife so much. I keep hoping he'll come through and give me an unassailable reason to support him for President. (Other than Elizabeth.)

9. George Stephanopolous. My other politico/heartthrob. Truly terrific hair. I love watching him be all boyish, and then bore into some candidate with the one question he didn’t want asked.

10. Chris Meloni. Or, actually, Elliott Stabler, his character on L&O:SVU. Intense and honest and good and true – with a very hot bod.

11. Robert Redford. Not now. I’m afraid I could kill him now. But Redford in the mid 1970s is as gorgeous as it gets. Especially that scene in the Way We Were when he appeared onscreen in his Navy Whites. The only man who could possibly look that hot in uniform is …

12. Richard Gere. Ah, that last scene in Officer and a Gentleman! In a way, he’s the anti-Redford in that he looks better with each passing year.

13. Johnny Depp. What a face! Cheekbones carved from stone. And any man who is that comfortable in himself and in his talent just has to be good in bed.

Whew! Sorry, but I've got to go. Doing this list has left me exhausted!

This is the only home I've ever owned

I'm suffering with a combination of tummy ache/menstrual cramps today. Consequently I'm not moving too much, sticking to the sofa. From my perch I'm able to survey my condo, and am dreaming of all the things I'd like to do with it …

• New drapes in the living room and the master bedroom
• Ceramic tile starting in the kitchen and going on into the dining area
• New carpet in the living room/hallway
• New kitchen counters and new fronts for the cabinets
• New toilet, sink and wall tile in the bathroom
• A fresh coat of paint on everything

Sigh. I am $3,000 away from having 8 months' living expenses in the bank. That's important because in advertising, you can be laid off at any time, and I am my only source of income/support. So socking away that last $3,000 has to be my priority before I can take on the bigger projects, like the kitchen and the bathroom.

But I think I will start shopping around for window coverings. Certainly I can do that without much expense.

This is the only home I've ever owned, and I have this vision of what I can make it. But it seems like I'll never be able to do it all! In 2006 I had the unexpected expenses of a new air conditioner, new refrigerator and new windows. This past week I had to have some wiring redone. All this crap was necessary, but none of it was fun. And it was all costly enough to keep me from accumulating that last $3,000.

Ah, the joys of being a homeowner!

I admit it's not all about the news

I am a news junkie. First thing I do in the morning is turn on the local news and Today. First thing I do when I get home from work is switch on MSNBC. I get email alerts all day from the Chicago Tribune, the Boston Globe and CNN. I always worry that something is happening that I should know about.

There are reasons I remain so loyal to NBC. Part of it is my almost limitless respect for Tim Russert and my genuine affection for (HA!) Chris Matthews. But another part of it is THE CLOTHES.

I love checking out what Meredith Vieria and Campbell Brown are wearing. Today Meredith has a pale pink coat with a big pointy collar. I love it. I could never wear such a coat because I take the el and there's no way I could keep it clean. But I love the collar, and how it looks with her light gray slacks.

Campbell is my favorite. She used to really relish red, but she's experimenting with other colors and has inspired me to do so. I've decided to add rich browns to my predominantly green, blue and lavender wardrobe.

I read Allure and Glamour and More. But I like seeing fashions on women who are moving. (How do those slacks look when she crosses her legs?) And, while these women are certainly fit and beautiful, they neither model thin, nor model young.

Does this make me hideously shallow? (Or even garden-variety shallow?)

Chinese Freeze tag- 10 Interesting Facts about me

I was tagged by JennyMcb (right) of J's Thoughts and Musings (jennymcb.blogspot.com) and I need to tell 10 interesting facts about myself. This can be something shocking or anything that may become a surprise to people! So have fun here goes...

(I shall parallel Jenny's 10)

1. I was always one of the shortest in my class. I tell people I'm 5'2, but it's not true. Anything less than that, though, just doesn't sound like an adult to me.

2. I am hooked on Turbo 21 at pogo.com

3. I'm not at all tech-savvy, which is why you never see links in any of my posts.

4. I miss the olden days when enormous Judith Light/Who's the Boss glasses were in vogue. My sight is so bad and the new frames are so narrow that I don't trust my peripheral vision and am unsure of myself on stairs.

5. I won $10 in a creative writing contest when I was in third grade. It was for a paragraph about my teacher, Mrs. Kessell.

6. I have never shoplifted anything.

7. I have an irrational dislike for Scarlett Johannsen.

8. I regularly receive certificates from the Illinois Secretary of State, applauding my perfect driving record. Since I don't have a car, my record is not hard to maintain.

9. I cannot recall the last time I cried in front of anyone.

10. I'm not a big one for participating in church. It's a very personal experience between me and God. I don't feel like mingling afterwards.

Now if you haven't checked out Jenny's list, do so now so you can compare and contrast.

A Giant

It's been a month and I'm still inching through Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals. I'm enjoying it, so I'm kinda glad it's slow going. When I finally complete it, I'll miss Lincoln's cabinet (especially Salmon Chase), his family, and most of all, the melancholy man himself.

So wise, so insightful, so articulate! In 1848, Rep. Lincoln accused President Polk of "hoping to escape scrutiny by fixing the public gaze upon the brightness of military glory, that serpent's eye that charms to destroy." He went on to compare Polk's war message to, "the half-insane mumblings of a fever dream."

Is it any wonder why I'd prefer to stay back in the 1800s with Lincoln? Yes, we have a lot of heartache ahead of us. (Eddie has already died. We still have to mourn Willie. Then there's the nightmare of the Civil War and the night at the theater.) But damn, he was an exceptional human being, and even the bad times are enlightening when you're with Abe.

Now this is important to know!

Everyone should be able to identify their inner Brady!

I Am Jan Brady

Brainy and a little introverted, I tend to think life is a lot worse than it actually is. And while I may think I'm a little goofy looking, most people consider me to be a major babe.

What Brady Are You?

Oh, there are two Americas, all right!

Last night I watched the Republican Debate. I felt it was part of my duty as a good, grown-up, patriotic American … even if it meant cutting into my time with McDreamy.

The debate took place at the Reagan Library, and all ten candidates kept trying to position themselves as Reagan's rightful heir. OK. I'm told that the Reagan Era is to conservatives what Camelot is to liberals. I can understand that.

The part that I didn't understand at all was the way the candidates all reacted when Chris Matthews asked if it would be a good thing for America if Bill Clinton was back in the White House.

They all laughed! LAUGHED! Falling over one another to be tied to Reagan's legacy and laughing at Bill Clinton? I felt as though I had fallen into an alternative universe.

I never hated Ronald Reagan. His administration just left me feeling sad about my country. It seemed that if you weren't a rich white guy, the Reagan Administration had no interest in helping you improve your lot in life. The topics that matter/mattered to me as a woman were an anathema to those folks. My friends of color, as well as my gay friends, felt completely invisible to the Reaganites. Bush 41 seemed like an extension of that.

Then along came Bill. Like in a Warner Brothers cartoon, music played, the clouds broke, the sun came out, the little woodland creatures re-emerged and life was good again. We all felt we had a place at the table. We could be trusted to make choices about OUR OWN BODIES. Guns shouldn't be standard issue. AIDS was a health problem, not a punishment from God against homosexuals. Bill Clinton seemed like he was interested in being everyone's President.

We miss him. And no matter how we feel about Hillary, we certainly would never LAUGH at the prospect of having him back in the White House.

So John Edwards is right after all. There really are two Americas. I saw that so clearly last night.

My life as Lucy

Every now and again I do something so stupid that I feel like I'm channeling Lucy Riccardo. This morning brought such a moment.

I am trying to be a little greener. This morning, when I went to the kitchen for some paper towels to use in the bathroom as I refreshed/reNaired my bikini line, I tore a couple off the roll and then grabbed the paper napkins that came with last night's carryout. Why waste them? Why not use them?

So I'm sitting on the side of the tub tending to my nether region and listening to the oldies station. Two thoughts occurred to me -- Michelle Phillips is the only surviving member of the Mamas and the Papas, and I can't recall how long I've had the Nair there. Has it been four minutes yet? Has it been less than ten minutes? I truly don't know. The tube warns that very bad things will happen if I leave the Nair on too long.

Deciding that I don't want to risk possible pain down there, I grab a paper napkin and begin wiping away the cream. I look at the napkin and see little dots of orange. ORANGE! Oh … my … God! What have I done to myself? Where could the orange be coming from?

Last night's dinner was cheese pizza. I'm such an idiot.

Hi. I'm old.

I can't party the way I used to in years gone by. I went out three nights in a row this week and all I want today is a nap.

Monday night my best friend got into town. We had a very nice dinner, I had two drinks, and I was home by about 11:00 and in bed by midnight. That shouldn't be too taxing on the old bod, right?

Tuesday night we met after work at a bar with an extensive martini menu. We were going to try a new place for dinner, but somehow we never got there. I had two martinis and a beer, along with 3 or 4 really cute little hamburgers. Kinda like gourmet sliders. He outdrank me by two-to-one and was definitely bobbing and weaving on the way back to his hotel. Got home that night just before 1:00.

I was fine yesterday morning, but as the day wore on, I wore out. I'm trying not to depend so much on Coca Cola Classic for energy and I successfully limited myself to two cans, but it wasn't easy. Especially because another friend and I had tickets for Camelot with Michael York. She was as excited by this play as I was about Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, so I couldn't disappoint her. Before the show we had a big dinner (I had a hardy but heavy dish -- chicken stuffed with two kinds of cheese -- and it was probably not the best choice under the circumstances). Just one beer. And I admit that towards the end of the first act (you remember, when the knights are competing with one another and Lancelot and the Queen start making goo-goo eyes), I kinda nodded off. I think I recovered nicely when the lights came up for intermission. I was home by 11:00 and in bed by (how long does it take to fill cat bowls with kibble?) 11:03 or so.

I have no big plans for the weekend beyond a massage tomorrow after work, and I must admit I'm grateful for the respite.

Isn't this pathetic?

When did this happen? When did I get old and tired? What happened to the girl who used to party like it's 1999? Back in the day, every evening was it's own pub crawl as my friends and I searched for the best juke box and the perfect wine spritzer and generous new friends who would let us fuel our partying with their cocaine. The old me wouldn't be tired today!

I guess that Gal went the way of juke boxes and wine spritzers and Duran Duran and shoulder pads and all other relics of the 1980s. I guess that's just the natural order of things. Tonight it's just me and the TV.

Thursday Thirteen #15 -- Little things that mean a lot

Thirteen Things that delight THE GAL HERSELF Norman Maine referred to “little jabs of pleasure, like when a swordfish takes the hook.” I believe our lives are filled with those little jabs of pleasure … moments of joy that touch your heart a bit on even the saddest days. Here are 14 of mine (I included an honorable mention), listed in the order they occurred to me. 1. Chicago’s lakefront. The vastness of our great Great Lake never fails to take my breath away. 2. Oldies. Singing tunelessly along when a truly cheesy 70s always gives me the giggles. I may not be able to remember where I left my checkbook, but I do know all the lyrics to “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia.” 3. Talking to my mom. We blab on the phone for about an hour every weekend. Every now and again it washes over me that we aren’t exclusively mother and daughter anymore; we’re also two women who like one another. I think that’s quite cool 4. My best friend’s name and number. I love coming around my desk to see the message light on alongside his number. Or opening my email to see his name there. Doesn’t matter what he has to say. I’m just glad he’s out there somewhere. 5. Pat and Ron. How to describe the Cubs radio team? As utterly charming, that’s how. I’d always rather listen to a game than watch because of them. Ron is Ron Santo, Cubs All-Star third baseman and one of the most idiosyncratic, and least objective, baseball broadcasters you’ll ever hear. More than once I’ve known a call hasn’t gone our way because I’ve heard Ronnie literally groan in my ear. He’s also one of the bravest, most positive characters around. He’s had so many health problems, and yet he always manages to sound upbeat (unless an outfielder loses one in the vines). Pat is Pat Hughes, the play-by-play man and the professional broadcaster in the booth. His pipes are spell binding and his wry sense of humor helps even the most broken-hearted Cub fan find something positive about any given game. 6. Paul McCartney. And I love him. Have since I was 6 years old. He’s provided the soundtrack of my life. From “All My Loving” to “Fine Line,” his familiar voice can always make me smile. 7. The sky. I love just looking out at the sky. From a cloudless light blue to a stormy gray to a starry black night. There’s a beauty and personality to its every form. 8. Chocolate. Dark chocolate. Hot chocolate. Hershey’s chocolate. Ghirardelli’s chocolate. Hostess cupcakes chocolate. It’s all good. 9. Going through my mail. There is always the possibility that I’ll find something exciting in there. Found money … a letter from my cousin … a magazine with McDreamy on the cover … 10. Really bad movies. Glen or Glenda. Valley of the Dolls. Change of Habit. Give me an unspeakably bad movie, a big glass of milk and a box of Nilla Vanilla Wafers and just watch my mood improve. 11. Really good movies. Casablanca. Citizen Kane. Gone with the Wind. It’s a cliché, but the classics really don’t ever go out of style, or even appear dated. 12. Going to the movies. I’m not talking about what I’m watching; I’m referring to the actual act of going to the show. You know, grabbing your popcorn or your Sno Caps and settling into your seat in a darkened theater. Beginning with the coming attractions, there’s a romance to it that I love. 13. Saving money. Rebate checks, coupons, airline miles, interest paid … The amount doesn’t matter. It’s the adventure of saving the money. It always leaves me feeling I’ve accomplished something. Am I allowed an honorable mention? That would go to watching my cat Joey sleep. Not only does he look like he’s smiling, he moves a lot when in the throes of serious napping. My favorite nap position is kinda-sorta on his back, with his right rear leg sticking up. He manages to look positively ridiculous and completely adorable at the same time. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! Thanks to everyone for your positive comments. Each one was an additional "jab of pleasure," too! 1. Check out Sue's very first TT at doubledeckerbuses.org/urbanzoo 2 Courtney has a baker's dozen of dumb celebrity quotes at fifer-traeger.blogspot.com 3. See if the 13 things on your desk are the same as Carol's at themediansib.com 4. There's a visual intriguing TT is at impworks.blogspot.com 5. Tinkerbell's TT will make you wish you were more witchy: tinkerbell-nl.blogspot.com 6. Dew's literary TT is at deweymonster.com 7. For a unique and entertaining TT approach to dieting, go to thiseclecticlife.com 8. Do you wonder what 13 things Mitchell and Keri keep in the frig? Find out at westofmars.blogspot.com 9. Wylie's colorful TT is at wyliekinson.blogspot.com 10. Janet's TT is filled with things she loves that begin with the letter L: www.fondofsnape.com 11. Go to thommalyn.blogspot.com and find yourself drawn in by a TT of intriguing first line of novels. 12. For the "stuff" of she's life, check out her TT at daemon-ink.net/blog 13. Journeywoman gives well deserved props to her thirteen favorite teachers at journeywoman.typepad.com 14. For a cute, cute, cute visual TT, go to theflatlandalmanack.typepad.com/the_flatland_chronicles 15. Rose's grown-up and funny TT is at rosedesrochers.todays-woman.net 16. Healthy Nadine's first TT is tips for a good night's sleep: healthifica.com 17. Samantha's TT is funny, romantic and hopeful, and you can read it for yourself at samsquietspot.blogspot.com


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An appreciation of La Liz

When I was growing up, Liz Taylor was one of the most famous women in the world. Jackie Kennedy Onassis was her only competition. Princess Grace and Sophia Loren certainly had their fans, but when it came to dominating magazine covers, Liz and Jackie were in a class by themselves.

Jackie is a woman I always admired. Stylish and stoic, smart and enigmatic, she is still the lady I wish I could be. Liz, on the other hand, had become a garish joke. She and Burton always seemed to be drinking, fighting and smoking. She wore mu-mus and obscenely big diamonds and too much makeup. Her movies sucked.

But then I discovered her old movies, and suddenly I understood what all the fuss was about. She might not ever have been a great actress, but for a time she was a most compelling movie star. Did they coin the phrase, "she makes love to the camera" about her? If they didn't, they could have. Her cinematic charisma is genuine and powerful, like a force of nature.

She herself once said, "Some of my best leading men have been dogs and horses," and that's certainly true of her child-star years. She's so affectionate and natural when she throws her arms around Lassie or The Pie that you remember that your first great love was was four-legged, too.

Her teen movies are all pretty dopey, as MGM teen movies tended to be. The only one I've watched more than once is Little Women. She made a terrifically selfish, yet somehow lovable, blonde Amy.

Then she grew up, and her beauty was breathtaking. Father of the Bride and Father's Little Dividend show her as this ideal little 1950s girl. She had no aspirations in the world beyond being a good daughter, then a beautiful bride, a supportive wife and a loving mom.

Then came A Place in the Sun. She is fabulous in this film, literally the embodiment of the American dream. She made a ton of really great movies during this period. She came to dominate the screen and seem somehow more modern, more vibrant and more carnal than anyone around her. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Giant, Suddenly Last Summer, even Butterfield 8 (a movie she hates) are all watchable and rewatchable because of her.

Then there's her Martha. Her work in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is the high water mark of her career. This was the perfect material for her contemporary, carnal qualities and she is simply brilliant. I had the opportunity to see Virginia Woolf live a few weeks back. Kathleen Turner was ill that night, so I don't know if her live Martha could have eclipsed Liz' cinematic creation. But the understudy who played the part was unable to erase the memory of Liz's boozy voice barking out those lines.

Now when you think of Liz, it's easy to dismiss her as silly. Her friendship with Michael Jackson, her weight gain, her ceaseless health problems, her addictions, her jewelry. I understand this because when I was growing up, I thought she at best irrelevant and at worst frivolous.

But then I saw her work, and I'm the better for it. Thank you, Dame Elizabeth, for some indelible screen moments.

My apologizes, Bernie. This is worse.

From the Today Show, April 25.

ANN CURRY: Do you know the American people are suffering… watching [Iraq]?

LAURA BUSH: Oh, I know that very much, and, believe me, no suffers more than their president and I do when we watch this. And certainly the commander-in-chief who has asked our military to go into harm's way.

ANN CURRY: What do you think the American people need to know…

LAURA BUSH: Well, I hope they do know the burden of worry that's on his shoulders every single day for our troops. And I think they do. I think if they don't, they're not seeing what the real responsibilities of our president are.

Whoa! So those silly Goldstar mothers can't touch your pain, Laura? Those veterans who lived among the mold and the rats at Walter Reed have nothing on GWB, eh?

Senator Kerry made an admittedly very bad joke and was pilloried. This woman trips over her tongue in the most offensive of ways and we're all just supposed to love her to bits.

Yeah, whatever.

Don't this just beat all?

Bernard McGuirk, the producer of Imus' erstwhile radio show, has lost his job. My first response was, "Good!" He'd always been more toxic than Imus and, worse by my lights, no where near as funny. Imagine my surprise then when I learned that he and Imus had been victimized in this whole ugly, media-sodden episode. And not only that, they had been victimized in a truly historic way that should stand as a sober warning to us all.

He appeared on Fox last week and here's a transcript of what he said: "I mean, it's like the off-quoted anti-Nazi German pastor who said, you know, first, they came for the Communists, but I wasn't a Communist, so I didn't say anything. Then they came for the Jews, but I'm not a Jew, I didn't say anything. Then they came for the Catholics, but I'm a Protestant. Then when they came from me, there was nobody to speak."

No, really. I'm not making this up. Imus' producer likens himself to those who suffered in the camps during WWII.

I work in advertising, an industry almost as volatile as broadcasting. McGuirk had a cushy gig for a long time and he lost it. When you work in advertising or broadcasting, THIS HAPPENS!!! We all know we're not going to earn a gold watch for service to one company. McGuirk was going to lose this job eventually. It might have been over ratings. It might have been over a contract dispute. It might have been because some new conglomerate bought CBS radio and wanted to cut costs. I promise you, it was going to happen eventually. And when it happens, you should blow a kiss to the heavens and say, "Thanks for the ride." You should be grateful that you have six months' expenses in the bank and start looking for another job. You should not liken yourself to a prisoner in a concentration camp.

Shame on you, McGuirk.


www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,268970,00.html

A tale of two famous men

Two men I've never met are on my mind a lot these days.

White House Press Secretary Tony Snow is back at work. His cancer has returned, but he's working hard to maintain his strength and normalcy. Yes, I'm still a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat. But I admire how well Snow has responded, first to his boss' plummeting polls, now to his health crisis. He is a gracious gentleman with good manners and a respect for the English language, and it's safe to say I find all those attributes sorely lacking in this Bush Administration. Welcome back, Mr. Snow. I wish you nothing but the best.

Only 29 years old, Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock was killed in a car crash last weekend. The information reached me in dribs and drabs. First I heard on Sunday morning that the Cubs/Cardinals game was postponed. No reason given. I was pissed because I love this rivalry, and because it was sunny and clear here in Chicago with no rain in the forecast. How could the weather be so bad in St. Louis that the game was postponed? Then I heard. So sad, and so eerie. Josh Hancock is the second Cardinals pitcher to die during a Cubs/Cards series this millennium! What are the odds? The Cardinal players will wear their fallen comrades' number on their arms all season in tribute. So very sad.

Ah, Gracie …

This blog has been entirely too serious today, so I shall end the day's entries with a dose of lust.

Mark Grace was the color commentator for Fox's pre-post-game coverage of the Cards and Cubs. Sigh. I still love him.

Oh, he looks older and more staid than he did during his Cubbie heyday. But I don't judge. After all, I look more like a fat pigeon today than I did during his Cubbie heyday.

He's not as deft a broadcaster as he was a first baseman. He kept turning to confirm which camera had the light on. But so what? He's still my beloved Gracie.

What did surprise me was his enthusiasm for Sammy Sosa's hot streak, and his endorsement for Sammy's induction into the Hall of the Fame. When did he come around? It wasn't that long ago that he was making corked bat and steroid jokes at Sammy's expense.

The "Moral Leader" Question

It didn't bother me that John Edwards took about 20 seconds to answer the question about his "moral leader" in Thursday night's debate. After giving it thought, Edwards answered that he didn't have just one moral leader, that he looked to his Lord, his wife Elizabeth, and his father.

I've considered it, too, and my answer would be my Lord, my mom, and his wife Elizabeth.

I cannot overstate the impact her book Saving Graces had on me. Searingly, scorchingly honest about her agony after the death of her son, Elizabeth Edwards generously shared what she learned -- that we need one another, and we should graciously offer and accept support and strength from those around us.

I read her book over the holidays, before her cancer returned but just in time for me to deal with a family crisis. I'm one of those women who is used to being "the strong one." This past January I was confronted with a situation that taxed my strength.

My uncle's wife died. Her death in and of itself didn't disturb me because, to be honest, I never really liked her. But my uncle has Parkinson's Disease, and because of his advanced symptoms, the wake was going to be exceptionally difficult for him. He's a proud man and since I love him, my place was with him, offering support to him and my mom.

However, the relative who molested me when I was a girl would be there. too. A pillar of the church, he's always front and center at these things. Even though he must be 80 by now, he still takes every inappropriate opportunity to make me skin-crawlingly uncomfortable about what he did -- and got away with.

My oldest friend knew how expensive this would be for me. She said she was coming with me and sticking by my side. "He'll have to get past me to talk to you." My first response was, "No, that's OK. You don't have to." She reiterated the offer and I thought, Why not? Why not accept "solace and strength" (Mrs. Edwards' phrase) from someone I've known since Kindergarten, someone I've supported countless times? So she accompanied me. I was able to hug all who needed hugging, stand by all who needed someone to lean on, and the moment my molester appeared, slip out the side door with some excuse about my friend's family obligations.

I was so grateful my oldest friend was there for me. She literally made it bearable. It also made her happy to reverse our roles a bit, and to show respect to my mother and uncle, two people who played a role in her growing up, as well as mine. It hadn't occurred to me might be empowering for her.

That's what I learned from the wise and gracious and giving Elizabeth Edwards: that we strengthen our connections to those around us by receiving as well as by giving.

I don't know why this particular book touched me so deeply, but I'm grateful it came into my life when it did.

The image this week that stays with me …

Last Saturday morning I took a grocery bag filled non-perishables and personal care items (OK, bars of soap) to the local food pantry. I timed my trip intentionally because I have learned that in the weeks leading up to a holiday like Easter, people are very generous. And then, right after the holiday, the pantry shelves are empty and slow to fill again.

Anyway, as I was dropping off, I noticed the parking lot was filled with the cars of the neighbors who were picking up their free groceries. Maybe it's because Earth Day has made me sensitive to these things, but I never noticed so many cars before.

My community offers extensive, affordable public transportation. Everything is centrally located, too. I haven't driven since Ronald Reagan was president, and it hasn't been an inconvenience.

So why were all these people DRIVING to the food pantry? Why don't they walk or take the bus or share rides? Gas is so expensive these days! If a household is so strapped that they are getting their groceries from the food pantry, wouldn't their paychecks go a little further if they drove a little less? (And let's not forget how good it is for all of us to shrink our carbon footprints a bit.)

I think long-time drivers look upon their cars the way old cowboys looked at their horses. I guess it's simply inconceivable that they would leave the house without their wheels. But it's such a waste of their money and resources! If I get the chance tomorrow, I'll mention this to my minister (he's one of the food pantry organizers). Maybe the pantry itself can begin encouraging walking or car-pooling …

Hi. I look like a fat pigeon.

Really, I do. I caught sight of myself in a store window at lunch today and this is a reasonable facsimile of what looked back out at me.

Fortunately I was able to work out today. The pain in my knee has lessened somewhat so I wasn't worried about hurting it more. I did just 10 minutes on the treadmill -- don't wish to overdo -- and a full 20 on the stationery bike for 30 minutes of cardio. Because of my poor old knee, I hadn't been able to do that in a while. I topped it off with 16 reps on one of the arm machines. I'm still scared to try any leg machines yet.

So this activity helped my heart and my self-esteem. But there's still my pigeon profile to contend with.

I don't diet. I just can't. I have no willpower, and then I feel bad about myself and then the self-loathing gets out of control and, well, you get the idea.

But there is one thing I can do very easily that will help, and that is substitute water for Coke.

I drink Coke constantly. It's as though there's a red can epoxied to my hand. I consume Classic Coke the way other people drink coffee. One in the morning before work, one as soon as I get into work, one with lunch, another at my desk if I'm working late, one when I get home. That's 4-5 cans of Coke each day. That's 600 completely empty calories each day, too. Adjusting the total bit for my weekend consumption, that's 4,000 calories per week.* Which ain't helping my curvaceous pigeon profile none!

So in addition to increasing activity, I shall reduce my caloric intake. Beginning Monday, it will be water when I first come in from work. Every day. And I'll just suck on the water bottle until it's empty. No Coke for The Gal if there's H2O in the bottle.

*Are you impressed? I really don't do numbers, you know.

I'm not in love. But I am hopeful.

Last night was like my first date … with the Democratic candidates. And I had a good time. I'm open to seeing some of them again.

It's not like 2004. I have admired John Kerry since he was a 27 year old war hero, eloquently addressing Congress. The death penalty, a woman's right to choose, veteran's rights, the environment … every issue I care about, he championed throughout his life. I was thrilled to sign up and volunteer for his campaign. I was relentless in raising money. I completely believed that, at that moment in time, he was the perfect statesman to lead us out of the mess we were in. I still believe that. And his loss broke my heart.

But last night, there was no one who captured my imagination and loyalty. Yet. Obama is a wonderful speaker, but, um, he was a bit cavalier in discussing his relationship with Tony Rezko. Living in Chicagoland, I know Rezko was his neighbor as well as a major contributor. So his glibness disturbed me.

So now that leaves me with Hillary, Edwards and Richardson.

Come on, candidates! Woo me! I want to enthusiastically support one of you. For as I look at the world, I believe you three are our best hope.

Thursday Thirteen #14 - Why I'd Like to Switch Places with My Cats




Thirteen Reasons why THE GAL HERSELF would willingly trade places with her cats I wouldn’t want to be just any cat. (I realize that there are countless cats suffering or at risk, and if I could, I would bring them all indoors to my home.) But I look at my cats and at times I feel tremendous envy. Naturally my cats are the most attractive, intelligent and fascinating feline trio ever! (Just ask them.) And their lives are pretty cushy. Here’s how I imagine my life is I switched places with them … 1. Instead of leaving for work, at 8:30, I’d be doing whatever I pleased. I might be chasing a ball with a bell inside (like Rey) or indulging in a little after-breakfast grooming (like Charlotte) or finding the perfect spot in the sun for my morning nap (like Joey). 2. I’d eat better. They have premium cat food I buy directly from the vet; I eat McDonald’s. 3. The phone, the buzzer and the alarm clock would never have anything to do with me. 4. I could leap to the top of the refrigerator or the armoire. 5. My life would be more exciting and glamorous. When I look at a twist tie, I wouldn’t see a twist tie, I’d see a dangerous snake that must be pounced upon and vanquished! A shirt box would be a luxurious four-poster bed. A paper shopping bag would be a cave. 6. I’d be more patient and content, able to sit perfectly still as I stare at my human and telepathically try to convince her to share the milk from her breakfast cereal, and I’d be perfectly happy at the window, spending long moments just watching leaves blow by. 7. I’d have a tail. 8. I could nap anywhere – along the back of the sofa, on the windowsill, under the bed … sometimes even on the bed. 9. Cat nip! 10. With my exceptional night vision, my schedule wouldn’t depend upon mundane things like the clock, or sunrise/sunset. 11. There’s a confidence that comes with knowing you’re descended from Egyptian gods. 12. I could mess with my human by suddenly turning my head and staring at the front door. (Ha! Made her look!) 13. Wouldn’t know or care about Iraq, or Afghanistan, or the crisis in health care or even the tragedy of homeless dogs and cats. After all, to me, the cable box would just be a warm place to perch, and Chicago Tribune something to nest upon. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Rashenbo's important TT about literacy is at writingaspirations.blogspot.com 2. Tink shares 13 things she does on her computer at tinkerbell-nl.blogspot.com 3. Jade recommends 13 addictive TV shows at jadesymb.livejournal.com 4. I sighed while reading Thomma Lyn's TT at thommalyn.blogspot.com 5. Go to thiseclecticlife.com for a TT that's so on-target it's scary! 6. Susan's highly imaginative Kerri/Mitchell TT is at westofmars.blogspot.com 7. Take a TT trip to beautiful, sunny Cuba (& visit one gi-normous snake!) at mommybrainvictim.wordpress.com 8. Jamie's funny, yet painful, TT is at jdurward.blogspot.com 9. Jenny McB's bloody brilliant -- and blood-related -- TT is at jennymcb.blogspot.com 10. Janet's fun and imaginative things that begin with k are at www.fondofsnape.com 11. Kathy's generous TT birthday wishlist is at kathmandupa.blogspot.com 12. For 13 things you didn't know about Bermuda, go to wyliekinson.blogspot.com 13. L^2's more or less musical TT is at l-squared.blogspot.com (she's right about "Kokomo") 14. Dewey's TT TBR list is at deweymonster.com 15. Qtpies7's multi-media TT about Scrubs is at qtpies7.blogspot.com 16. Gabriella's TT is trip down memory lane to grad school at www.gabriellahewitt.com 17. She's TT is devoted to (shudder!) Karaoke. I'm tone deaf and will not sing in public, but if I did, I'd borrow from her set list at daemon-ink.net/blog 18. Crazy Working Mom's "mature" TT is at tishblack.blogspot.com 19. Teamouse's 13 big oops's is at teatimeramblings.blogspot.com/ 20. Starla's horrifically funny TT is at themonkeycrew.typepad.com/beside_the_pointe/2007/04/thursday_thirte_3.html 21. Frigga denies saying EVER any of the things in her TT at anyapples.blogspot.com




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

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I've considered it and decided against it. But thanks for the offer.

My best friend was in town last night, and, believe it or not, we were in stitches over a booklet called Hormone Replacement Therapy that I picked up at the hospital yesterday. This is because I have decided exactly how I'm going to handle the HRT controversy: I announced last night I am simply not going through menopause.

This process sounds so horrible it's funny. Like a Monty Python skit. How can you take a booklet seriously when a page begins with, "Your vagina shortens and the lining becomes thin, dry and less flexible. And your labia loses fat and flexibility"?

Gulp! I am reminded of the immortal words of Butch Cassidy, "Don't sugarcoat it, Sundance. Give it to her straight."

It only starts with vaginal/labial discomfort. It goes onto urinary tract infections, incontinence, thinning bones, thinning hair (see photo), facial hair, drooping breasts, abdominal weight gain, sleep problems and mood swings.

All that is covered by page 5, and we still have 12 pages to go!

The information was so negative it was absurd. But I feel better now that I know that I'm on the record with my announcement that menopause simply isn't for me.

I can't deny it

I am 80% Cat

I am almost exactly like a cat. I'm intelligent, independent, and set on getting my way. And there's no way I'm going to fetch a paper for anyone!

Are You More Cat or Dog?

Well, that was fun!

Had my annual mammogram this morning. Gave the lovely lady in admissions my doctor's name, address, and phone number and she noted that none of that changed from last year. I go for my the actual xrays and, while I'm nude to waist under my little paisley cover, the tech looks over my forms and says the information is incomplete. Do I have my doctor's fax number? Um … not with me. Obviously. Maybe in my purse.

"We have no way of contacting him," says Linda the tech.

"Yes, you do. It's there. They told me in admissions none of his information had changed."

"But they didn't get his fax number. We have no way of contacting him without a fax."

"Maybe I have a fax number in my purse. But I know the phone number and address are there."

"We don't call. You can call from our desk and get his fax number. Do you think they're open?" (It was 8:45 or so.)

"I don't know," say I. And suddenly the ridiculousness of this washes over me. "So if I don't get you a fax number, you'll just let me die?"

I mean, geez! I'm holding the little booklet about breast cancer. I'm there to find out if I have breast cancer. This is a stressful experience for any woman -- including Linda the tech. And now I get to let her smoosh my breasts between plates?

She got much nicer after that. She noted the sunburn on my arm and asked me about my weekend and told me about her boat. Then, as I was leaving, she said, "Don't worry. I'll mail your doctor the report."

THANK YOU!!!!

My faith is well-placed

It's tied 7-7 in the 7th. Cubs/Cards. This is exciting baseball, and Lou Piniella's Cubs seldom find themselves completely out of a game. Last year, it seemed if we fell behind by a run or two, it was over. But this year there's a new sheriff pacing the dugout, and so far I'm impressed with the improvement.

(Robbie Gould of the Bears is singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." And I thought I was tone deaf! Perhaps I judge too harshly. Maybe he's younger than he looks and his voice is still breaking. He does sound more than a little like Peter Brady.)

There's only one dark cloud on my horizon: Ron Santo, #10 All-Star third baseman and lovably loopy Cubs announcer, is in the hospital. Irregular heartbeat. Please get well, Ronnie. My prayers are with you.

It's about the characters

I've been reading mystery series for over a decade now. I enjoy them when they're well constructed and I get that little jolt when I thought I had it all figured out … and I turn out to be wrong. But I don't really read them to find out whodunnit. I read them because I've become so fond of the characters.

Sara Paretsky's V.I. Warshawski was my first, recommended to me because her adventures are set in the best city in the world; Chicago. And because Vic is a lazy housekeeper who loves dogs, which gives us something else in common. I read these books in big, greedy gulps, but soon I was up to date and needed to move on to something/someone else.

Sue Grafton's alphabet mysteries came next. Kinsey Milhone is a cop-turned-private-detective who lives in a mythic California town, Santa Theresa. There's much about her personality that I like. But I especially admire Grafton for setting all these stories in the 1970s. This way she doesn't have to incorporate cell phones or the Internet into her plots. And it keeps Kinsey (like Vic, an avid jogger) forever young and strong. Which leads me to …

Robert Parker's Spenser. I have the most passionate, tempestuous relationship with these books. I love them, but am so annoyed as soon as I'm done. Spenser is a Korean war vet, which means he must be at the very least 75, and yet every woman he meets wants him. And his derring-do isn't very credible when done but an old guy. (That's why I admire how Grafton has side-stepped this issue with Kinsey.) Spenser has a maddening lover, Susan, who is high-maintenance and incredibly shallow, yet everyone she meets loves her. Yet in spite of all that, I read each Spenser installment as soon as it comes out. I love the guy. He's funny. He's honorable. He loves Red Sox baseball and Boston, which I can understand because I love my city and my team.

Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe books are terrific. Better than funny, they're witty. And I love the interplay between Wolfe and Archie. (I admit that I have something of a crush on Archie.) As mysteries go, these are probably the weakest. But as character studies go, these are my favorite. Regardless of the year, regardless of the situation, Wolfe and Archie and the goings-on in the brownstone always ring true. These books also provide affectionate, romantic snapshots of New York from the Depression on through the 1950s.

The Southern Sisters by Anne George are a pure delight. Two older ladies, who are known by their family names "Mouse" and "Aunt Sister" somehow keep getting pulled into crimes. The sisters are an endearing study in contrasts. "Mouse" is a tiny teacher, married for a gazillion years to the same man. Together they enjoy watching Biography each evening as they eat their dinner off TV tables. "Aunt Sister" is a mountain of a woman who dresses flashily and keeps marrying, and burying, wealthy husbands. She also is the highly indulgent owner of a cat named Bubba who sleeps on a heating pad and does little else. These books are not very violent, because really, who wants to see these two charmers in any real peril? It's their relationship (and the ongoing battle about a certain Shirley Temple doll), their family and their love of Birmingham, AL, that kept me coming back. Unfortunately Ms. George died a few years back. I miss her work.

Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta is at the opposite end of the spectrum. Boy, oh boy, are these books violent! A lawyer and medical examiner, Kay is the beautiful, sophisticated and haunted star of this series. She is surrounded by the family she has cobbled together from those around her. Pete, the angry but talented cop; Benton, the aristocratic FBI profiler she loves; Lucy, her genius lesbian niece. The dark, very sad characters find comfort in one another against a backdrop of truly horrible crimes and the worst specimens mankind can produce.

If you're already a fan of these books, you know that you consider the characters friends. If you aren't, these would be terrific books to toss into your beach bag or suitcase to bring along on vacation.

Happy happy, joy joy

Whoa! This blog has been so heavy lately! Virginia Tech, JFK … even the Cubs.* So it's time to celebrate.

Specifically, it's time to celebrate Mother's Day.

Both of my nieces are graduating soon. One grade school, one high school. My mother has been a little blue because she won't be able to get the girls anything really special or memorable because she is so broke. She has mentioned this often, yet Mother's Day is not even on her emotional radar.

You can't be a grandmother unless you were first a mother, therefore I thought it was appropriate to celebrate her generous grandmotherly impulses with an early Mother's Day gift. I got her an American Express gift card and told her to "go forth and grandmother the graduates."

It made her soooo happy! She left messages for me at home and at work and she sounded so cute. And I sensed a little relief in her voice, too.

It really took very little effort on my part, but it brought her such joy. I'm so glad I did it.

*Still I haven't given up on them. The losses have been close, not blow outs. I believe they will hit their stride soon.

Fox is at fault, too

I'm aware of the backlash against NBC for airing the VT killer's multi-media manifesto. To be completely honest, this didn't bother me. Yes, I know that it's what this miserable young man wanted. Yes, I realize it was cruel to the survivors and the victims' families. But it was/is news. It might have more sensitive to have waited to air it, but the letter and videos do give us a new insight into a troubled mind, and that makes it news. At least in my humble opinion.

It's what Greta Van Sustern did on Fox that I believe went way, way over the line.

She interviewed one of Cho's family's long-time neighbors. On the street where they live. After she flagged out the street and the cross street and pointed out exactly which house the family lived in, she asked the neighbor shallow and silly questions. "Did you wave at them? Did they wave back? Did Chou ever wave?"

It was ridiculous! This man, Marshall, barely knew Chou's family. But now we all know exactly -- and I mean exactly -- where the poor parents live.

We can debate how much responsibility for Chou's actions his parents must bear. But we cannot approve of Fox putting these poor people at risk. Greta Van Sustern made it easy for the angry and the crazy to find their home and exact revenge. That's unfair. That's wrong. That's ugly.

There's been enough violence already.

Thursday Thirteen Mushy Moments

Thirteen Movie Moments THE GAL HERSELFjust loves. (I'm such a cornball.) I love movies. I love love. So it stands to reason that I love a good celluloid romance. 1, Scarlett and Rhett on the bridge against a Technicolor sky, as she sends a soldier of the Confederacy off to war with a beautiful memory. Gone with the Wind 2. George and Mary sharing the same phone receiver, falling in love as Harry drones on about investments and “ground floors.” It’s a Wonderful Life 3. Harry races to meet Sally at the New Year’s Eve party and confesses his love. When Harry Met Sally 4. Similarly, once Sandra Bullock realizes she loves Huge Grant, she takes off up the street to tell him and (sigh) kiss him. Two Weeks Notice 5. Richard Gere carries Debra Winger out of the paper bag factory. An Officer and a Gentleman 6. Rick directing the muzzle of Ilsa’s gun at his own heart, because if she no longer loves him, he no longer wants to live. Casablanca 7. “Keep going, Teacher Lady.” Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid 8. Captain Von Trapp kissing Maria in the gazebo. The Sound of Music 9. Hepburn realizing her sister neither loves nor understands Cary Grant. Meaning that Kate realizes what we’ve known all along – that she’s the girl for him. Holiday 10. “Godfrey loves me! Godfrey loves me!” My Man Godfrey 11. Jack and Diane flirt over late-night pancakes. Something’s Gotta Give 12. The detective investigating Laura’s murder dozes off in the chair under her portrait. And wakes up suddenly to see the real girl standing before him. Laura 13. Sinatra singing “Someone to Watch Over Me” to/about Doris Day. Young at Heart 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 don't have an illustration for this

… and it's possible you don't want me to.

CAPE CORAL, Fla. (AP) — A woman arrested for shoplifting has blamed the crime on irritable bowel syndrome, authorities said.

Helen Gallo, 61, of Clearwater, was arrested Sunday after allegedly shoplifting from a Cape Coral grocery store, The Daily Breeze of Cape Coral reported. Gallo reportedly told authorities that she could not wait in line because she has irritable bowel syndrome.

Gallo was charged with petit larceny and released Sunday from the Lee County jail on $500 bond.

Gallo did not answer a telephone call placed to her home by The Associated Press. It was not known if she had an attorney.

Ah ha! That explains it!

Had a long chat with my best friend yesterday. His life is not going so well these days, and to distract him from his own problems I presented him with the predominant question in my life -- why I am so cold and emotionally removed from what happened in Virginia.

My best friend can be very sensitive to need, and yesterday he didn't disappoint. He pointed out that I don't respond to acts, I respond to the victims. A child, a pet, a veteran … I feel a sense of responsibility to these people. He mentioned the recent Jessica Lumsford case and how upset I was by that. It's the job of the strong to take care of the weak, and when someone young, or wounded, or helpless is a victim, I respond very strongly.

He added that every national event doesn't have to be seared into soul.

All this means I'm not a cold-hearted witch. And hearing that made me feel better.

What is wrong with me?

I have been known to cry during Pedigree commercials when the shelter dogs talk to us from behind bars about how confused they are by their homeless state. The scandalous treatment of our veterans at Walter Reed touched me deeply. Abu Gharib almost literally broke my heart. I donated diapers and baby bottles and money to Katrina Relief because I had to do something to help or I'd go nuts. 9/11 crosses my mind in one form or another every day. I still mourn the little boy in this photo, Yummy Sandifer, who back in 1994 committed a gang murder and then, within weeks, was shot in the head in another gang murder … and he was only 9 years old.

Yet while I have read the coverage of the Virginia Tech Massacre, I remain unmoved.

Has this old heart of mine been broken by world events so often that now it's just cold and numb? Or is there something wrong with me?

Torn between two loves

Greg Maddux is on the mound again in the beautiful confines of Wrigley Field, but today he's pitching for the San Diego Padres. I have to admit that, in my heart of hearts, I want him to win. It's a terribly uncomfortable feeling for me, rooting against the Cubs.

Now I know what it's like to be Mrs. Manning when the Giants play the Colts.

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?