Ever Heard of Photoshop?

Yes, it is New York City.

Yes, it is a low-flying 747.

No, it's not 9-11 all over again.

But try to tell that to the people of NYC who panicked today when this was the sight out their windows.

In actuality, it's an Air Force One photo op -- the White House is updating their pictures. This morning, over lower Manhattan and the Hudson River.

No, really. They were.

They didn't tell anyone; they didn't warn the people of New York City; they didn't even bother to call the mayor and alert him. They just flew the planes in this morning.

People panicked; they left their offices; they evacuated buildings; they ran for their lives. Wouldn't you?

The mayor of New York City is completely pissed, and why shouldn't he be?

Again, a prime example of the AMATEURS we have in the White House.

Imagine the hue and cry if BUSH had done this. Oy.

Puddled

Work pressure, allergies, hormones from hell, a birthday with a horrible number attached to it, the insanity of 'the thing' that is otherwise going on in my life + a single glass of Chardonnay all culminated in a mini-meltdown Friday night. For five days I felt like something had been pushing down on my head. Finally, I imploded.

I yelled at my husband and said terrible things to him. He sat there and took it.

I fell over in a puddle of myself on the sofa and laid there in a fetal position for 30 minutes, not saying anything. I then gathered myself up, went upstairs, took a quick shower and poured myself into bed.

We didn't talk anymore that night. He came to bed and didn't rouse me. The next morning he got up before I did and left the room. But he came back later and walked over, hugged me and kissed me on the forehead without saying a word. I knew all was forgiven and washed away in the puddle of the evening prior.

That's the lovely thing about being married to your best friend. Sometimes words are not necessary.

And the rest of the weekend was blissful.

Finding My Z-Spot

At my house, we have been going through one of the most horrendous ordeals of our lives. Eighteen months of purgatory, culminating in 10 weeks of pure hell. We're in the middle of the pure hell part right now. It doesn't matter what it is; suffice it to say it's been brutal and completely unnecessary and a waste of time and resources. I never want to go through it again and should have never had to go through it this time, but I must've drawn the unlucky straw. Rather, my husband drew the unlucky straw, and I have stood here by his side to share in the lashings. No big heroine scene....I think that's just what wives are supposed to do.

Anyway, if we have any money (or sanity) left at the end of the pure hell portion of this misadventure, we need to get away and take a break from the world. Need to go somewhere to heal body, mind and spirit, because it's all been beaten to a pulp over the last two years. Need to go somewhere to do some healing, some recharging of the batteries, some clearing of the mind and heart.

I think only you can define whatever that Zen place is for yourself. I've been looking at vacation package ads that push serene beaches, trips to the mountains, desert paradises. All of that is great...for somebody....but I really need to dig deep to find what refreshes my own soul, hits my own Z-spot. Where do I go to in my mind for calm, for cool waters, for my nirvana?

I've been so stressed these last two years, I'm not sure I can trust myself to choose. It's hard to throw on the brakes against the insanity that's been going on to think clearly about scheduling a nurturing event. I may have to let the shock of things wear off for a while, get some perspective back and then find a little corner of the world to run away to.

REAL Makes a Comeback

FINALLY. Someone who is NOT a 19-year old half-naked, spray-tanned, boob-jobbed, lip plumped harlet who can't sing live to save her life.

Real is making a comeback.

NOW PLEASE -- No 'handlers', no makeovers, no personal trainer, no sassy new hairdo, no fashion police, no, no, no. Just leave her as she is. She's perfect.

Full of Empty

What is the municipal equivalent of empty calories? Los Angeles.

Famous street signs.....Sunset, Melrose, Beverly... I certainly recognized them but nothing about them there resonated with me. Storied places....Rodeo Drive, Bar Marmont, the Ivy...I was indeed there but felt like they weren't...at least not in the way I expected them. And traffic! Cars, cars everywhere and nary a place to park....and hordes of people, wandering about in the most soulless of cities. Such is Los Angeles.

I've been there before but it's been a while. And this is the first time I've really been hit with the vast emptiness of it. It's the most crowded empty place I've ever been. It is so full of everything and nothing simultaneously. Have you ever been thirsty and nothing you drank satiated your thirst? That's the feeling I get from L.A. -- plenty to drink in, but nothing to satiate.

I've almost never been in a place that I couldn't make some sort of emotional connection with, but Los Angeles proved to be one of them. It stirred nothing. I didn't like it; I didn't hate it; I almost had a feeling of indifference about it...it was so empty and valueless, I couldn't register emotion of any type for it. Empty calories indeed. I took it all in and got absolutely nothing out of it. It was utterly charmless.

I wasn't there very long but it was long enough to establish a feeling for it, if I were going to have one. And I just didn't. The connection button was stuck on 'off' for me.

We arrived Saturday noonish by car from San Diego (now THERE's a city with some charm), and we drove forever through endless cheesy neighborhoods full of strip shopping centers and fast food on our way to see the storied million dollar places. Ick! This is the dream? This is the glamourous life? To live on the right side of the Beverly Hills city limit sign in the middle of an ocean of junked up areas that surround it? No thanks. I'll take my zip code over 90210 any day.

No culture, no flavor, no charm whatsoever. Sort of like a real life movie set -- all veneer, no substance. And I really have no need to go back for a good while now. I got my fill of empty.

Hitting the Sauce

So here was my Friday night:

• Worked late.


• Went to dinner with husband at local Italian hotspot.


• Wore favorite (and expensive) Boho dress and cropped denim jacket combo. Rockin.


• Had pasta with best organic marinara sauce ever. Fabulous.


• Paid $11 for a $3 glass of wine.


• Watched as waiter cleared our table before he proceeded to dump the entire plate of remaining food and marinara sauce all over floor, which included a spattering of it on favorite boho dress. Good thing I liked the sauce so much since I was now wearing it.


• Manager and 3 other waiters came over and had things cleaned up in less than 2 minutes, except for my dress, of course.


• Manager kindly comps the entire meal, knowing that the dress will be headed to the dry cleaners in an ambulance ASAP.


• We tipped the waiter anyway. He was a nice guy, and it was an accident.
  

Hey, it happens. We'll go back. The food was fabulous and cheap. It cost us the equivalent of a dry cleaning bill. :)

Amateur Hour

My apologies to the rest of the planet for having elected a total amateur to office...but I didn't vote for him. I was on to him early.

We're only 6 weeks into it, and it's already become a total embarrassment.

According to newspaper articles, he just insulted the British Prime Minister by totally playing down his recent visit because Obama is 'tired' and 'overwhelmed'; he didn't realize the job would be this hard; he underestimated the volume of work that would be crossing his desk; he needs a cigarette; he's not getting enough sleep at night, and on and on and on. He says he just didn't realize what a big deal it wast to host Gordon Brown, wasn't aware of the protocol, doesn't see the US &UK as having a special relationship and can't figure out why the PM's office is making such a big deal about this.

And it gets even worse -- Mr Brown brought some specially selected gifts, including a pen holder made from the wood of a warship that helped stamp out the slave trade - a sister ship of the vessel from which timbers were taken to build Mr Obama's Oval Office desk. Obama's gift in return? A collection of Hollywood film DVDs that could have been bought from any department store.

I simply cringe for all of us.

And this is the guy who's going to 'make amends' and 'regain US stature' in the world. Right.

Amateur.

My apologies now and in advance for whatever else he does because he's inexperienced, overwhelmed and not qualified for the job. It's going to be the longest 4 years on record, and I, for one, am embarrassed.

Money, Justice & the Media

As a part-time Floridian, I have been watching the most horrendous tragedy unfold in the newspapers there over the past couple of weeks.

Fort Lauderdale, Fl - 2:00am-ish in the morning. A white Porsche endeavors to race another car that revved at it at a stoplight. In 30 seconds and a blurr, it results in the Porsche cracking up, crashing up on to the sidewalk and killing two British tourists who were on their way back to their hotel. Subsequently, the damaged Porsche took off into the night and was abandoned a few miles away. The other car, unidentified, was never seen again.

When the police found the abandoned Porsche, they identified the owner of the car as a rich kid from Chicago who has a record a mile long of drug use, high speed car chases, street racing expensive cars, injuring people (including a cop), and seemingly never having to really answer for any of it. In all the trouble he'd been in, it appears the worst punishment he'd received was probation and a court order to complete a drug treatment program. In fact, he was still on probation from his last 'incident' but the court let him go live in Florida, so he could 'take care' of his parents' oceanfront properties there (like a property management company wasn't already doing that).

Let's see -- one minute you're behind bars in Chicago and being charged with a crime. The next minute you're living oceanfront in Florida and driving your white Porsche around the Ft. Lauderdale nightlife. How does that happen? That's easy -- daddy can afford to hire the best and most expensive lawyers, and he surely did. Oh, and who knows how connected they all are into the Chicago political scene -- it's a quagmire of muck and money. They may own a judge or two there.

But here's the kicker -- the police identified the abandoned car's owner, but when they finally found him, he claimed he wasn't driving the car. Even though he was seen leaving night clubs, driving around in it earlier all by himself, apparently, he's wise enough to the system to just say 'it wasn't me', and now the police have to prove it.

So two innocent people lie dead; two wives have lost a husband; two sets of children (including a new baby) have lost a father. And once again, daddy has hired the best and most expensive lawyers, and the owner of the white Porsche says 'prove it'.

And now, we watch the investigation. I only hope the national media picks this up, as I think it might be the only way some form of justice is going to take root. My fear is that without the media spotlight on it, money and influence will trump truth and justice. Chicago and Florida are two of the most corrupt places in the country, and I can't imagine that excludes the law enforcement there. So I really want someone in the press to take up this story and follow it closely so that all of us can see what's really going on here.

I feel so bad for the innocent families. They are the ultimate victims of money and justice. Had this guy been given the proper jail time previously, he wouldn't even have been in Florida, and two families would still be in tact. What a tragedy for all of us.

No Spring in My Step

Ugh! We change the clocks tonight....an hour forward. Time to spring ahead.

I hate it when we mess with the clock. Although I'm happy to see an extra hour of daylight in the evenings, I hate going through the transition of effectively having to get up an hour earlier to do it.

I've been in sunny California most of the week, in the Pacific time zone, already two hours behind the Central time zone, and it's messed up my sleeping, eating, waking up, etc. And here comes another hour change to deal with. Ugh.

Yet another sign of getting old.

Up in Arms

While I do think Michelle Obama is an attractive woman, I truly do not see her as a fashion icon in the realm of Jackie Kennedy, and I find it laughable that some in the press are trying to sell that notion to the public. Paleez.

While she generally looks okay, I couldn't help but think this look was fairly inappropriate for her first official appearance as First Lady in the First Lady's Box in front of Congress for official State business.

She arrived in bare arms in February (brrrrr) and while everyone else seemed to be dressed for a business occasion, she seemed ready for a social occasion. It was a bit unseasonal, bordering on unprofessional and almost to the level of being distracting. Even the small girl next to her had her arms covered. And Jill Biden (to the right) figured it out.

What was Michelle thinking? Does she not have people to advise her on these things? Does she not know it's 30 degrees outside? Did she not get the memo on the dress code? She could have very simply tossed on a jacket over this, and it would have been suitable for the occasion.

It's occurred to me that Obama continues to act like he's still on the campaign trail (somebody needs to tell him he won the election, and he can stop touring the country with campaign-type speeches). Looks like someone needs to clue in Michelle, as well.