Scootin'

Yesterday, my sweetheart and I took to the streets on the Vespa. It was a gorgeous day. In great irony, the weatherman had called for rain, but the sky could not have been bluer or brighter. We were transported to the tropics, suddenly on a Caribbean island, and we couldn't resist climbing on the scooter for a ride around town and down to the beach. Shorts, t-shirts, sandals...me in a ponytail, a golf hat and no make-up. It was blissful freedom, floating about on a little Italian scooter, without a care in the world. We loved it. Bellissimo!!

I continue to be a little squeamish about piloting the Vespa alone, after I plowed it into a Jaguar that first day, but I'm so loving the freedom of it, I'm vowing to get back on the horse and ride. It's a blast, truly. I do love that little Italian baby!!

Welcome to the Party, Mr. Brown

To my British friends...do be careful out there. It's a dangerous world, on every corner now....and all brought to you by the "religion of peace".

Hopefully, all those security cameras will pay off. Although I understand that the driver of the first Mercedes was someone they caught earlier related to 7/7, and they let him go due to 'lack of evidence'. I don't suppose it matters how many they round up if they're just going to let them go. There's nothing like a recycled terrorist to make your day.

Please, be safe!

Eva the Diva

I'm making another appointment with Eva for next week. Eva is the thick-accented Polish lady who gives the best massage on the planet. But, that's not the half of it. I would describe Eva as somewhat of a modern-day witch doctor, of the positive variety (no voodoo, no chicken heads or goat sacrifices, just an unusual dose of spirituality and uncommon insight). She's very spiritual. Her premise is that everything comes from God, and we need to let Him flow through our lives, let go of the stress and negativity, and just let Him in. It sounds eery, but it's actually a very positive experience all the way around.

While Eva massages you, she "connects" with things. She finds your "energy" and moves it around, if it's out of kilter. But she also picks up on things you didn't tell her. All of a sudden, she'll ask you about something that she should absolutely have no knowledge about. She says she feels the energy of it. And she's usually right. So in addition to the best massage ever, it can be a very interesting experience.

I've had friends say that while she is working with them, they'll be flooded with memories they hadn't thought of in years, things they'd thought they'd forgotten, all of a sudden recalled in brilliant visual detail. Supposedly, it's part of the energy thing, finding it and focusing it in places that will help and heal.

Next week, in addition to the massage, I am also getting a "foot detox". Haven't had this before, but my friends who have said it is amazing. You release bodily toxins through a foot bath, which starts with clear, salty water and twenty minutes later results in some strange colors present, with each of the colors representing some toxin that has been released, varying from person to person. Sounds hokey, but my friends are swearing by it, full of renewed energy afterwards. And apparently, if you repeat the de-tox several times over a time period, the water will eventually stay clear, and the de-tox is complete. Hmmm....painless, inexpensive, and worth a try just to see what happens.

As for the massage, this is where Eva will 'see' things as she works on me. That's the really interesting part. I'm curious about this especially -- She told me some insightful things last time I did this. And I'm not going to tell her about the miscarriage; I want to see if she tells me about it. Will report back on this next week.

Old and Uncool

I'm too old and uncool to know anything about her, but I really like that Amy Winehouse song, "Rehab". I liked it the first time I heard it, which is rare for me. A song usually has to grow on me. But I saw her sing it on something not long ago, and I thought it was different and catchy. Then I heard it playing overhead at the gym the other day. If the rest of her latest CD is equally catchy, I might just have to pick it up.

Also, here's another favorite tune that once again proves how out of it I am musically -- John Legend's 'Save Room'. I hear it once or twice a day on the local jazz/R&B station, and it sort of transports me somewhere. It's refreshing, like cool water on a hot day. I might have to go find more stuff by him as well.

It's so sad. As a teen, I remember how out of it my parents seemed musically, and I thought they were so old and uncool and that I would never be like that. But it looks like I am. Show me a Top Ten list, and I might have inadvertently heard of one or two of the artists contributing, but that's about it. How does that happen?

Crabcakes & Eye Cream

Reporting back on yesterday's Ritz and Not Famous adventure....

First of all, I dug in my closet and found a shift-style sundress I'd bought at a street market a while back. I enjoyed the irony of wearing a $10 dress with a $250 pair of sunglasses. :) I bet I had on the only $10 dress at the Ritz that day (or ever). I'm surprised it didn't set off alarms when I entered the building. :)

As for my attention-seeking associate, she did not disappoint. She wore something cut way down to 'there' and way up to 'here', from Bed, Bath and Beyond's shower curtain fashion line. It was something that harkened back to the 60's, something I'd expect to see on a high school or college-age girl, and then only one who managed to get out of the house without her father seeing it. I was truly shocked at her fashion choice, especially given that she's in her early 50s. Usually, if you can remember the first time something was in style, you won't wear it when it comes back around the second time. My feeling is that it's something she wanted to wear as a young girl, but her mother wouldn't let her. Now, as an adult, it's back, and at last she has her chance, regardless of how ridiculous it looks.

The other ladies were dressed well, sporty, stylishly, and age appropriate.

We lunched on the outdoor patio overlooking the pool area and the Atlantic Ocean. It was a beautiful, tropical day, and it was fabulous. We ate crabcakes over greens and sipped peach martinis. Yum.

Afterwards, we wandered over to the center of Palm Beach to check out the shops on Worth Avenue. For those of you who aren't familiar with that, Worth Avenue is one of the most expensive shopping streets in the U.S. It's Florida's Rodeo Drive. Designer stores, estate jewelers, high-end everything. And I couldn't possibly buy a THING on most of that street, but it's fun to walk through and look at the shops and wonder what silly people are paying those kinds of prices for things. And now and then a celebrity sighting will occur (last visit, Rod Stewart), although we didn't see anyone yesterday.

We spent most of our time poking around at the sale at Neiman Marcus (the most affordable store on the block, yet also financial insanity). One of the ladies wandered through the cosmetics section and immediately became the hostage of flawlessly made-up cosmetic kidnappers, who took over her face and turned her into a glam queen. She did actually look great, and their scheme must have worked, because she ended up spending a fortune on the new makeup. It was not unlike paying a ransom to her captors to secure her own release. But she looked FAB-u-lous, darling! Worth the incarceration and money, to her, anyway.

I, myself, got sucked into buying the latest eye cream. It was far too expensive, but I must say that general consensus is that it works. The fine lines disappeared almost immediately. I wondered how they crammed a tiny little plastic surgeon into that jar, but apparently, they did. Either that, or someone behind the scenes was adjusting the lighting in the store as soon as that cream hit my face. (I wouldn't put it past them).

All in all, a good day. An indulgent day -- beach lunch, martinis, Worth Avenue and expensive eye cream. But you gotta have an indulgent day with the girls now and then. And my $10 dress enjoyed visiting some places it never thought it would see. :)

Ritz and Not Famous

Today, I am venturing out to do lunch with "the girls". I'm scouring my closet for something elegant yet casual, as we are dining on the terrace overlooking the beach at The Ritz Carlton just outside of Palm Beach. Whoo-hoo! Swanky digs, indeed.

Our original premise was to go for high tea, however, since we learned that they only do tea during the summer on Saturdays, we've opted to go earlier and just enjoy some lunch.

The instigator of the outing is one of those friends who always says 'Oh, don't dress up. It's casual...' and then proceeds to show up dressed to the nines, ready for the red carpet and paparazzi, making me feel like an underdressed waif. I've been a victim of her more than once.

But not today. Today, I'm going to find something wonderful to wear; wonderful, given the constraints of my closet, of course. Time to get creative.

How To Spot an Unhappy Woman

This weekend, we went to a beach gathering at the home of some wonderful friends. Every Sunday, like a ritual, their entire family and any number of random friends show up at their house to spend the day at the beach and enjoy a barbecue and some good company. It's a grand time, and we always enjoy ourselves there.

This time, a couple that we've never met before showed up and joined in. There was nothing terribly memorable about him, but the woman caught our attention and became a bit of a "whisper" discussion among many of the women there.

Why? Her appearance spoke volumes to us. She was older, maybe 40, but was desperately trying to hang onto her 20s. She must have had some sort of eating disorder to be that thin, and she'd clearly had a boob job on top of it...so she looked like a stick figure with tits. Her hair was bleached as blonde as blonde can get, and her skin was pale white, like if it ever saw the sun, she'd turn to dust on the spot. We all wondered how much she owed the plastic surgeon at this point.

She sat in the shade with her significant other, didn't come out and mix with the other women, who were clearly behind her in whatever 'race for perfection' she was running, so we didn't have a chance to gauge her personality. But we all came away with the same conclusion: She must be a very unhappy person.

We could have all resented her for the near perfect body....hers was clearly closer to the 'ideal' than ours were. We could have been envious of the generous cleavage and the 'non-hips' she was sporting. Instead, we just felt like she was a walking tragedy and mostly felt sorry for her. She must live her life in agony, so unhappy with herself inside, constantly on the quest for physical perfection, running a losing battle against the clock, and clearly putting a lot of energy into it. We wondered what tragic life experiences had driven her to this.

I'm all for hitting the gym, slathering on the wrinkle cream, coloring the gray, dressing stylishly and someday, maybe an eye tuck or two. But this was just tragic, truly. That woman should be spending her money with a psychiatrist, not a plastic surgeon.

The other day, I heard someone say they'd never seen a skinny woman who was truly happy. There may actually be some truth to that. Certainly, based on this woman, there is. So sad, and so many just like her. Truly sad.

Lobster Tales

Today, I am a lobster.

Saturday, golf by the ocean.

Sunday, beach party.

Monday, bright red everything, seeking heavy doses of aloe, garlic and melted butter. :)

Fortunately, it'll likely turn brown over the next few days, and I'll be on my way to having my summer tan. But really only on the front. The backside of everything still wreaks of winter whiteness. Next time, I'll have to devise a tanning strategy, because this time, I clearly did not employ one.

Amazing

He sang live in Rockefeller Center this morning. Wow. What a voice. I can't wait for the album to be released.

Tis the Season

We're off to the Florida house again later this morning for a couple of weeks. It's that time of year again - hurricane season - and we need to go down and close the house down for the season.

There's not much to it, really. Mostly, we need to bring in the patio furniture from out back and store it in the garage and then make sure anything that's loose is tied down in some way. We don't put up hurricane shutters, as the house has impact glass that should withstand very high winds, should something happen. So it's minimal work, but it needs to be done. Otherwise, we're just tempting Mother Nature by flaunting that patio furniture out there, just waiting for something to happen.

Above is a picture of hurricane Rita which hit the East Texas/LA coast a couple of years ago. You didn't hear much about this one, because at the time, Hurricane Katrina was the media darling, the People's Hurricane, the Perfect Storm, the favorite cause-du-jour, and even though Rita cropped up two weeks later with equal strength and devastation, the cameras were pointed at Katrina victims, so this one pretty much got ignored. Also, the people who got nailed by this one were probably less black and more white, so it didn't make for as good a media story. And since many of them figured out how to recover without waiting for the government to be their daddy, they didn't count. They didn't make good victims, so it was just no fun reporting on them. Darn those independent people who take responsibility for helping themselves.

I'll be back online later today or tomorrow, assuming all goes well with the flight.

Cheers!

24 Heures du Mans

Spent much of the last 24 hours at Le Mans. Not literally, but the Speed Channel made me feel like it. We're avid watchers of the race at my house, since my husband attended it with the Audi North America race team a couple of years ago.

Really happy to see the Aston Martins doing so well this year. I believe they had 5 or 6 cars in the race this time. 009 came in ahead of the Corvettes, and 007 came in third in its class. A good showing by all.

Audi dominated as usual, but they best watch out for those Peugeots next year. They're coming on strong for a relative newcomer.

The Other Paris

We've really been enjoying the art cinema that is close by. It seems to be our Friday evening 'go-to', assuming they're something showing that we haven't seen.

Last night's fare was "Paris, Je T'aime", a collaborative indie film of 20 separate vignettes, directed by 18 different directors and featuring an ensemble cast including the likes of Natalie Portman, Gena Rowlands, Bob Hoskins, Maggie Gyllenhall, Elijah Wood, Juliette Binoche, Emily Mortimer and a few other familiar and unfamiliar faces.

The real star of the film was Paris, the City of Lights. Each of the 5-8 minute vignettes featured a different district of Paris as its setting. Most of the film was in French, with English subtitles, while a bit of it was in English.

The vignettes ranged from the mundane to the outrageous, from comical to sad. Some were very poignant, some dramatic, some just showed us a small, uneventful window into a life. All were entertaining to some level, some much more than others.

Probably my favorites, the ones I found most touching and though-provoking were:

(1) the vignette featuring Juliette Binoche as a mother who had lost a young son and was openly grieving for him. She conjured up a cowboy, previously her little boy's fantasy friend, to help her cope with the loss. It only lasted a few minutes, but I was in tears by the end of it, and it was beautifully done, and

(2) a vignette featuring an actress whose name I did not know. She played a young mother, getting up very early in the morning, taking her baby to daycare, singing him a song to calm him before she left. Before dawn, she caught what seemed like 9 buses, a train, a subway and several other forms of transportation to arrive at work on time -- to take care of another woman's baby, in a wealthy French neighborhood. As she sang the same song to the other woman's baby, she thought of her own child she'd just left across town. I found it to be a thought-provoking scene, a window into society and culture, all done in 5 or 6 minutes, with little to no dialogue. Kudos to the director on that piece.

Less impressive was the vignette featuring Emily Mortimer and her fiance in a Paris cemetary. The piece was just okay, but I do like Emily Mortimer very much. I thought she was terrific in Woody Allen's "Match Point", and I think she'll go on to do some great work. It was nice to see her in this ensemble cast.

So, while I probably wouldn't run out to see this flick again, I did enjoy it and was glad we went. It certainly beats more commercial crap like 'Spider Man' and 'Ocean's 13'. I'll opt for the art cinema and lesser known films over that stuff every time.

TGIF

It really hasn't been the best week, and I'm happy that it's about over. Thank God it's Friday, literally.

Small things, annoying things, disappointing things, feelings of setbacks have put us in a bit of a bad mood around my house. So far, nothing fatal, so we're thankful for that. It's small lumps, and I'd rather have a dozen like that than one or two whoppers that we could have handed to us. So I'll take my lumps and deal with them, and maybe we just need an attitude adjustment of some sort, but it really feels like we could use some good news, of any flavor, small or large, about now.

On deeper thought -- I have a really good life, full of wonderful things, filled with blue sky and sunshine, so when a grey cloud does temporarily stop by, I really feel it, because I'm not used to it. So with that in mind, I'll suck it up and continue to be grateful. Life is good, and the cloud will pass.

Nothing good in the universe can come to you without gratitude. (...say and repeat, say and repeat, say and repeat....)

Disingenuous Day

Some days I just feel a little down and disappointed about people in general. It usually only happens when someone personally disappoints me or if I have multiple disappointments at the hands of 'friends' or 'trusted associates' within a short period of time. Yesterday was one of those days. Everyone just seemed so disengenuous.

First case in point: I reached out and communicated with my friend who borrowed the money and is avoiding both repayment and discussion. I chose email rather than a phone call so it would be less confrontational for her (and me) and to allow her a chance to gather her thoughts and respond thoughtfully. I asked her if things were going okay, since I had not heard from her lately. (She knew what I meant.) Her response was, I felt, disingenuous at best. Classic tap dancing around the elephant in the room. She responded with paragraphs about everything else and then in the middle of one, buried a request to delay payment for another 3-4 months because of blah blah blah. I didn't need to see body language; I could tell by the way the email was written that she was attempting to avoid the topic again and then buried it alive in the middle of something else. Disappointing, and I haven't decided how to respond to her. But I'm delaying a response, and this time, she can wonder about me while I'm not communicating with her.

Next up: The buyer of our townhouse backed out, cold turkey. The sale was supposed to close on Aug 1, and he called up with some really lame excuses and said he'd changed his mind. He had requested 14 days (instead of 7) in the contract to review the homeowners' association documents. We agreed, as he's a lawyer, and we figured he wanted pour over the docs ad nauseum to satisfy himself. On the 12th day, he called up with some lame excuses, none of which had anything to do with what he read in the documents (it was never mentioned), and said he'd changed his mind. Based on that, I feel like even though he negotiated and contracted for the property, he was never really sincere about buying the place, and he used our goodwill to stretch out his 'comtemplation period'. Again, disingenuous.

Finally, I got a phone call from another "friend" late morning. While her demeanor is warm and she registers concern for my well-being, I seem to rarely get a call from her unless there is some underlying agenda which causes me to always be a little suspicious. When I asked what she'd been up to lately, she described some activities and painted a visual of it all a certain way. I thought nothing of it, but later on, I spoke with another friend (who never has an agenda, truly), and found out that the visual that was painted for me absolutely in no way represented fact. It wasn't dishonest completely, it was just misleading and disingenuous. And I don't even know why, because it wasn't about anything that mattered, which makes me feel even worse about it. Why would she purposely mislead me on something that doesn't matter? So strange and disconcerting.

So I ended the day with my faith in people somewhat diminished. While I'm sure I'll overcome that, it feels disappointing. All day, I felt like I had a grey cloud overhead.

Freedom, But on Her Terms

Not that I've ever assigned much credibility to her, but this time, Angelina Jolie proves what an idiot she really is (and a hypocrite at that).

She's just made a film which promotes freedom of the press as its main theme. At the premiere of the film, she banned reporters from specific news outlets (because she's politically biased against them) and had interviewers sign contracts before they were allowed to talk to her -- contracts which stated they could only ask her about certain things.

Amazing isn't it? Make a film about the freedom of the press, and then censor all the interviews about it. So very, very classic.

Enthusiasm Curbed

People Mag has released yet another one of "those"lists. This time, it's the '50 Hottest Bachelors', with the likes of Matt McConaughey topping the list (yawn).

Despite the recent announcement of his pending divorce and forthcoming single status, this guy did not make the list. Must be #51, eh?

Borrowed Money

I did the worst thing ever, the thing they tell you never to do. I lent money to a friend. Ugh.

Quite a large sum, in fact. It all started with a phone call and a desperate voice on the other end. B had been my best friend in high school, and although our lives went opposite directions (she turned up pregnant as a freshman in college, married her high school sweetheart and did the nuclear family thing way too quickly; I didn't marry for another 13 years beyond that, had a career and no children....), we always managed to stay in touch and enjoy each other despite long periods of absence and very different lives.

Then suddenly, the desperate phone call comes. I knew she had probably struggled with money because she was the family bread winner while her husband seemed to piddle around with nothing jobs (and often no job). But her parents had money (mine didn't), and I knew they'd helped her out over the years, so while I figured she wasn't rolling in cash, I thought she was probably doing okay. She'd never alluded to the fact that she wasn't.

Usually a gregarious presence, this quivering upset voice immediately alerted me that something was amiss. She poured into how tough things had gotten, that she was up to her ears in debt, and if she could just get this little lump paid off, her life would be very different. I asked about her parents, and her answer implied that she could no longer go to them for money...for whatever reason....and it became clear that I was her last resort. My mind ran to the irony of the situation -- as children, I had nothing and she had quite a lot. Now, as adults, our economic positions seemed to be reversed.

We talked ad nauseum about her situation, why she had ended up this way, and if I was able to lend her the money, how could I be sure that this would fix the problem, change her life (as she insisted) and ensure that we all live happily ever after? Or would it just finance and slow down a continued spiral because of issues with the very basics of their finances (too much spending, not enough income). She assured me that if she could just get this one monkey off her back, things would turn around for her. This one thing was something she just couldn't dig herself out of, and if she could just pay that off, she'd be back on track.

After much discussion in my household and against our better judgement, we agreed to lend her the money and on some very attractive terms -- no interest, 3 year payback, and we told her not to start paying us back for the next six months, to give herself a breather and a cushion. It was not a good decision, but we both agreed that God had been good to us, and if we couldn't help our family and friends with it, what good was it anyway. So we did it officially, with paperwork she had to sign, copies for both of us, etc. And the deed was done.

Six months later, like clockwork, the first payment arrived with a note from her. I was happy to think that we'd done some good and life was easier for her now.

The next month, no check. No phone call. No email response. So I let a few weeks go by, and I called her. She was mealy-mouthed, less than forthcoming. She chatted on and on about nothing for a while before she happened upon the 'fact' that oops - she'd "forgotten" to mail me a payment. I raised an eyebrow at that. A check arrived within a few more weeks.

Since then, I should have received six checks total; I've received two. No phone call, no communication. I'm a little perturbed, some at her, but mostly at me for going against my better judgement and lending her the money. Again, it was with good intentions of helping a friend, not a business decision at all. So it is what it is.

While I'm not aching for the money, I am disappointed that my friend seems to have put repayment (and my importance) at the bottom of her priorities. While I'm sure she is still struggling with money and that this didn't "fix" the problem as she pleaded it would, I still feel she at least owes me some form of communication each month to tell me how things are going. I feel like it was okay to call me and share intimate issues when she was desperate and wanted something, but now, when she's not, she doesn't take the time to keep me in the loop. Read: I'm not important now. In addition, I'm certain she probably wants to avoid talking to me, as she'll feel she needs to offer an explanation, and I'm quite sure she doesn't have one, except that her expenses are not in line with her income. Still.

I'm truly not a ruthless person or a bad friend, but I would have a lot more understanding and sympathy if she'd just reach out and tell me that things were still not good (for whatever reason) and that she'll try to make it up later, if that's okay. It would be, by the way. But I'm not hearing from her. At all.

So, I'm going to have to rattle her cage again soon, and I don't like having to do that. 'They' tell you to never lend money to a friend. That's good practice to follow, but it's pretty hard to do when there's a desperate, quivering voice on the other end of the phone, and you know you have the ability to help. 'They' never tell you what to do when that happens, do they?

No More Ziti

It's done now. Over.

I thought it was a fabulous ending. Some people didn't. What are ya gonna do?

David Chase did an amazing job. It was vintage Sopranos. A gritty portrayal of lives to the last second of the show. Brilliant, intelligent writing, as always. The buzz of all water cooler talk this morning.

Brilliant, on so may levels.

A Day at the Circus

Paris is back in jail.

The circus that surrounded this event today was totally surreal. It was like this decade's O.J. moment.

As it unfolded live on television, it became more and more incredible and unbelievable. So much ado about a spoiled self-annointed social princess throwing a temper tantrum and the clowns in the Los Angeles legal system going right along with it. The media coverage was off the charts. If we'd captured Osama bin Laden today, you'd never have known it. The media spent the day at the circus.

Only in Hollywood...script by Barnum & Bailey.

The Question to an Answer

It's been a year and a half since I left my corporate job. I had been doing something for 20 years that I really didn't like much. It started with a need to make enough money to pay the bills and snowballed into making lots of money but hating my life. So I walked in one day and quit, shocking those I worked for and those who worked for me. There wasn't a plan, no career move, no next gig. I just had to take the harness off and give myself a rest and look for a new direction. Thankfully, my husband had built his business up to a point that allowed me to do that.

A year and a half later, no real regrets. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. The stress relief has been a God-send.

But the one thing I do lament is that in the last year and a half, I haven't been able to grab a handle on what I'd really like to do going forward. Now that I have the luxury of picking something I like to do rather than something that pays the bills, I can't figure out what that is. Never in my life have I been able to sit and think about what might be fun or satisfying. Like most people, I had to consider as a priority what would pay me the most money. While money is still a consideration, it isn't at the top of the list anymore, and I'm finding it difficult to sort opportunities based on a new set of criteria.

I have former colleagues who call me now and then and want to know what I'm doing now. They have opportunities for me to come on board and work with them again, and they are good opportunities if your top criteria is making money. I don't know how to answer these people. On the one hand, I don't want to discourage their interest because I might just need the opportunity one of these days. On the other hand, I don't want to suggest too much interest, as I don't think I'm ready to throw up my hands and put the harness back on.

It's a good problem to have, and I'm thankful for it. But it is a weird time in my life. I've always, always worked. Diligently, in fact. Top performer for twenty years. Next title was VP of an international firm. And then it all stopped, by my own hand. Was it self-sabotage? Some days I wonder.

Some people see it as just quitting and being a slacker and that seems easy enough, but it actually took a bit of courage to do it. I had to be able to finally relinquish some financial control and responsibility to my husband and put faith in his business that it could be stable enough to continue (so far, it has).

But the hardest part of it has been losing my identity. I always had a title. When people said 'what do you do', I always had an impressive answer. Now I don't. Now I have no value in the world -- I'm not a VP; I'm also not a mother. So as a woman, in the eyes of the world, I really have no value. I just exist. And all that done by my own hand. So it did take some courage to voluntarily move myself into that category after having had such a strong identity prior.

But the thing was, I didn't just relinquish that identity. I hurled it out the window of a fast-moving train. As hard as I could throw it. Because I didn't want to be known by that anymore. I didn't want my obituary to talk about what a hard worker I was. It just didn't feel like that's who I really was or wanted to be.

And now I look for a new identity, and it's not that easy to do. I feel lost, sometimes in a good way but sometimes in a frustrated way. I've always had the answer before, but that's because I knew the question. Now, I don't.

Death of a Column

After writing my magazine column for a year and a half, it's now over. The magazine was bought by a larger media company, and we couldn't cut a deal on the continued writing. So I'll no longer be a published writer.

Honestly, not a big deal. It was mostly for fun anyway. Certainly wasn't paying the bills. But it was nice to have a creative outlet and to get a comment now and then from a reader.

On the other hand, it was getting difficult to work within the boundaries given me. 500 words, keep it fluffy and non-controversial. Some days, I wanted to write an essay and slam all sorts of things. Other days, I couldn't string a sentence together. So all in all, I'm sort of glad it's over. No pressure to be witty and brilliant and fluffy on a schedule now.

Onward, to something else.

Sheer Delight

While Paris was whining and crying her way out of jail yesterday, I was having some window treatments installed at the townhouse. Here is one set of the simple and neutral sheers that went in. Perhaps a bit safe, but they do go with everything. And since they're floor-to-ceiling with no break for a rod, they make the ceiling seem higher and the space larger. They're light and airy and have almost an ethereal feel to them. A good, soft layer to add to the room.

Next up, a visit from the electrician, and lighting fixtures go in.

There is a God

The long national nightmare is over:

Paris Hilton is out of jail.

Free at last, free at last.

*is overcome by gagging reflex*

Sushi and Hotness

On a lighter note, in an entertainment vacuum last night (nothing was on), after some sushi and vino at the local sushi bar, we came home and threw the Casino Royale DVD into the player and watched.

I must say, after 3 months of being stashed away in my DVD case, the man is still smoking hot. No cooling off going on there.

I can't wait for the next Bond film. *sigh*

D-Day

Today is the 63rd anniversary of D-Day, the day that Allied Forces landed on the beaches at Normandy to begin the liberation of Europe from Hitler.

I bet most of us didn't even remember the date today, did we? Too busy thinking about Paris in prison, Lindsey in rehab and whatever other b.s. we seem to think important these days.

It was supposed to have happened a day earlier, June 5, 1944, but bad weather and rough seas delayed the invasion by a day. I can't imagine being one of those soldiers, mentally preparing to meet whatever fate lie ahead, and then having to wait an additional 24 hours before it happened. 24 extra hours to pace, smoke another pack of cigs, think about loved ones, pray and wonder what was about to happen. It must have been the longest 24 hours of their young lives.

Some 5,000 ships, 1000 transports with paratroopers, and 130,000 troops in amphibious vehicles participated in a landing along 50 miles of the Normandy coast, with full air cover overhead. Imagine the strategy, planning, coordination and training that had to take place to make this happen, and at a time with no computers and only rudimentary means of communications. What a feat it was then, and in hindsight now, even more amazing.

I think it's important to take a few minutes today, remember history, remember the sacrifices made by those who had the courage and will to be a part of this, and to think about those today who continue to fight for freedom from tyranny and terror.

I truly feel that we have the ability and the means to overcome evil in the world. But my greatest fear is that we don't have the will. And all that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing.

Thanks to all the veterans and their families out there for their service and sacrifice. If only the rest of us would endeavor to be worthy of it, the world would be a much better place.

Hair-owing Choices

It's June, almost officially summer, and I need a new haircut. I'm at the end of the old one. I let it go too long between trims, and its shape is completely unidentifiable now.

I have very thick wavy hair that goes really straight when I straighten it, really curly when I curl it and is mostly frizzy and wild when I do nothing with it (not an option), so I have to be careful of the cut.

I must resist the temptation to go shorter than what is requred for a pony tail because when I hit the summer hair doldrums and can't find the will to fix it, a pony tail rescues me. Plus, if there's a smidgen of humidity in the air, it goes nuts, and 'nuts' is not a good look for me.

It used to be that there was some haircut that was all the rage, and I had to have it. I was never one of those girls who could ignore the trends and let my hair grow endlessly to my butt. I've always cut it in one style or another. But nothing hits me (for me) right now. The hair style magazines either show some form of really long hair swept one way or another (which in my book is not a 'cut') or something artful, outrageous, spikey and/or purple that is quite beyond the ambition of my hair.

I need to do something with it soon, and until then, the pony tail rules. My only thought right now is a layered bob....not too short, but above the shoulders...although I've been that route a few times in my life. So I'll continue to ponder it, make an appointment and make the call when I hit the chair later this week. It's just hair. It'll grow. It always does.

Missing the Mob

This always happens to me when one of my favorite long-running TV shows comes to an end. I felt this way when 'Sex and the City' ended - like an old friend is leaving, a friendship is terminating, and I have to go into my television future without the aid and comfort of that favorite companion.

It's happening again with the final season of the Sopranos. There's one episode left next Sunday night, and then that's it. Over. Whacked. And I'm feeling really bad about it.

I've watched Tony and the gang for years and years now, been through the shock and awe of it all, been disgusted by it, laughed at it, marvelled at some of the brilliant writing, bonded with a few of the characters, was horrified by others. I've watched a lot of scenes over the years with my hands over my eyes because it was just too gruesome or cruel or awful to look at full on. But now, it's almost over, and I feel like I'm losing a friend. Oddly, I will miss the mob.

No spoilers given away here, but last night's episode made me feel weird and uncomfortable. I sort of dread next week, as the foreboding of tragedy (of some sort) hangs in the air. And as much as Tony and the mobsters deserve whatever they get, I'm not looking forward to it.

Tag Teamer

And here's the current boy of the house....Baci.

Baci (Bah-chi) means "kisses" in Italian. He's not a licker...he's a sniffer, and he gives everyone little butterfly sniffer kisses when he meets them. Hence, 'Baci' seemed appropriate, although he's Chinese, not Italian, but he doesn't know that, and we're not telling him. :)

He's very smart and has pegged some favorite human words that are meaningful to him such as 'bunnies', 'bugs', and 'ducks', which are the things he likes to watch out the window and chase in the yard when given the opportunity.

He's a jet set pet. He flies with us most of the time, going under the seat in front of us in his carrier. He loves it and is better than most kids on a plane. Now if only American Airlines would give him a frequent flyer number.

He just turned 3, so hopefully we have a while yet with him. He's just so darned happy all the time. I wish I could bottle and sell some of that.

Tucker

Following up on SandDancer's recent post regarding Ellie, I realize that I have given abundant airtime to Baci, the turbo shitzuh, but have not paid proper tribute to the late great Tucker, my Australian Shepherd who passed on last year.

Here's the last photo I have of Tucker and I. He was a very sweet boy, another little creature who was forever happy and smiling, and we all miss him greatly.