Thursday, July 31, 2008


Since I can't seem to get and keep my act together about blogging, I've decided to repost some classic entries from days of yore. Join me in this trip down memory lane until I get my ass in gear!

Here's one from November of '06

Not George Clooney's Dream Gal (but maybe his dream horse...)

Read a tidbit-o-gossip about George Clooney today in which he described his perfect woman as possessing Nicole Kidman's laugh, Julia Roberts' personality, Michelle Pfeiffer's beauty and J.Lo's ambition. It got me to thinking about what celebrity traits I might possess. Here's my list:

Julia Roberts' laugh--Yeah. That big, obnoxious, masculine HA! HA! HA! But only when something is really, really funny.

Elizabeth Montgomery's face (?)-- Kathy Love swears I look exactly like Sam on Bewitched. I don't really see it, but there it is. My kids think I'm a mix of Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Kidman. I tend to agree more with that one.

Alice Kramden's deadpan humor--technically, she's a character, but she's alive to me and since this is my blog, that's all that counts. It's a style I tend to use around men more than women. The openings they leave are just too hard to resist.

Lassie's hair--I look like a collie, and shed like one too!

Since no one reveals their real personality in Hollyweird, I won't even take a wild guess. But if I had to channel someone, I'd probably pick Mr. Ed .

What about you? What celebrity traits do you possess? More importantly, are you George Clooney's dream gal? Dream pet? Tell the truth!

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Who's a Dexter Fan?

So one of the myriad reasons I've been absent from the blog lately is a phenomenon that's sweeping the nation: Dexteritis.

Possibly the most brilliantly original premise to come down the pike ever -- a serial killer who's a blood spatter expert for the police. Oh how I wish I thought of that.

I watched season one on Netflix in about three days, read the first two books, and am currently eating the third book while waiting for season two to come available.

Have to say I'm enjoying the Showtime version almost more than the books -- something that rarely, if ever, happens. The only beef I have with the show *spoiler alert* is that Rita's children aren't little sociopaths too. I miss Dexter mentoring them. It just appeals to the blackest, burnt and crispy side of my soul when he does that.

Does that make me a bad person? Does that make you a bad person?

Is there a little Dexter in all of us?

Do you have Dexteritis, too?

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Sunday, July 06, 2008

Being UnderGround Hog Day

A selfish man is doomed to repeat the same day over and over until he learns The Meaning of Life.

What a quietly great movie that is quickly becoming one of the most esteemed Romantic Comedies of our time. Tonight I finally sat down and watched it. I know. I know. I'm slow.

I wanted to see what all the buzz was about. Now, I've been a Bill Murray fan since he replaced Chevy Chase on SNL so why have I never watched this gem of a movie? Was it the groundhog? I don't know. I don't know. I'm slow. Sue me.

It's funny, really. Because just the other night at the watering hole I said to my watering buddy, "The most important thing in life is love. We all agree on that. But I've always wondered: is it more important to love, or to be loved? Which comes first, being loved, or loving? I think it's more important to love."

After all, what's the last thing a dying person always says? Always. "I love you."

No one ever asks, "Do you love me?"

Nope. It's always the same old same old, "I love you."

Gets kinda redundant after a while.

But why do they say it? Is it because the world is filled with unoriginal drones who have nothing better to say on their deathbeds? On second thought, don't answer that.

They say it because feeling is living, that's why. Dying people are really confirming that by loving, they've lived.

My watering buddy started crying. A teenage, single mom, she confessed that she'd always thought she'd had her baby so it could love her. But now, tonight, she realized she had that baby so she could love it.

And when Bill Murray realized he loved -- finally, purely loved -- he was able to move into another day. So he said to Andie Macdowell, "What can I do for you, today?"

Those words reminded me I have a job to do!

Thanks to all my wonderful readers, who check this blog every day, who've supported me through rough times and have stayed true while I was blue. It's time to start loving again. Time to start living again.

I think I owe some people another book!

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Saturday, July 05, 2008

Collecting the Capricorn Way

Cappies are known for practicality and I'm so totally there it distresses even me sometimes. My dad hammered "quality over quantity" into my receptive nature so thoroughly it's part of me on a cellular level. The first question I always ask when confronted with a purchase is, do I need it and is it made well? I can't think of a thing I own that's shoddy. It actually hurts to see friends spending money on cheap, new furniture when they could get a solid piece at a yard sale for a fraction of the cost. Well-made trumps beauty almost every time.

Yet, a paradox has always battled within: the need to collect. The need to own things of beauty that also appeal to my emotions, or to my impractical, romantic, sensual side as well as that deep seated love of nostalgia.

Who among us doesn't have this need?

I finally found a way to indulge this duality. I collect vintage airline memorabilia -- but only stuff I can use. And I do use it, on a daily, hourly basis. Take a look at some examples of my stuff!

A new acquisition! Just bought a set of four after waiting about five years to find a set that matched my meager budget.

I have two of these 60s/70s Braniff coffee cups. They're made by Hall China. Totally indestructible.

Eastern Airlines nut cups -- and we all thought pilots had bigger ones! Embossed logo on the bottom. I have six.

The crown jewel of my flight bag collection, this one was used in the 50s.

What collection would be complete without some inflight silverware? I have scads of it that I've picked up for a song -- TWA, Eastern, United, American. How much more fun is it to eat with these utensils than some cheap Target ware?

My favorite bag. I use it all the time and get stopped constantly in airports by people who want to reminisce about those old grand and glamorous days of air travel. There aren't too many people left who remember them! I'm one of the fortunate few.

What about you? What objects appeal to you so deeply they're irresistible? Do you use them, gaze at them, or hide them like treasure, only to be brought out on special occasions? What do you collect?

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Wednesday, July 02, 2008

And Then A Miracle Occurred

So all these years, whenever Child Number One had to go anywhere -- even around the corner to the bus stop -- something terrible would happen to prevent her from walking.

Too cold
Too hot
But I walked all day!
Too wet
I'm stressed out!
Too icy
My shoes have holes in the bottom
My feet hurt...

Now, with a sparkling new license, she's finally able to drive herself. But that's not the miracle I'm talkin' 'bout.

A year ago a used Outback fell into our laps at a price no sane person would refuse. About 3k under book value. Child Number One had exactly the amount she needed to buy it in her bank account. Even though the car had had major work done on it already, I knew there'd be nickel and dime stuff. Isn't there always?

Fast forward a year. Gas prices have doubled. A nickel and a dime have become euphemisms for $500 and $1000. A solid dime later, combined with the exercise of digging into her own pocket for fuel, and suddenly the aches and pains of her youth have magically vanished.

She can walk!

That's the miracle I'm talkin' 'bout.