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"If things are going untowardly one month, they are sure to mend the next." - Jane Austen
I know that Facebook is supposed to be a phenomenom of a generation twenty years younger than I am...but I honestly believe that it works better for the Over 40s. And here's why...we're the ones that have lost touch with our friends from middle school, high school and college. And we're the ones who benefit when those wonderful friends who drifted out of our lives twenty years ago...suddenly reappear. One of the greatest joys of my life over the past twelve months has been reconnecting with my sorority sisters. Not only are each and everyone of them just as bright and beautiful (and funny) as I remember, they seem to still know what makes me tick. How lovely is that? I was reminded today when one of them directed me to the facebook page of author Claire Cook and I found this video. I'm a fan. I'm also a fan of the lovely Susan Boyle, a Cinderella who has made her dreams come true. Find out about her most recent dream-turned-reality here. It's the Top Chef finale tonight. Still cheering for Kevin? Me too!
The Kennedy Center Honors is my mom's favorite television program of the year. It's the only night when she wishes she could trade her 15 inch television for a 50 inch 1080p HD flat screen with a surround-sound Bose audio system. The program was held last night in Washington DC. It will air on CBS over the holidays -- check your program guides. This year, the crew of honorees included Bruce Springsteen, Robert DeNiro and Mel Brooks. I think Mel Brooks is hilarious. My favorite line is from "Young Frankenstein" -- when Igor is asked if he'll help with the bags, he responds, "you take the blond, and I'll take the one in the turban." Makes me giggle every single time. Thank you, Mel!
This is an ad for fancy-schmancy bottled water in the U.K. I think it's about as cute as it gets. I would buy the water and I think that most of the cats I know would be big fans...waiting outside the backstage cage for just a glimpse...or at the very least a whiff of the band.
How was your Thanksgiving? I hope it was as sweet and nice as this adorable little tickle-ish kitten. Mine was fun. It went like this...
Turkey. Tryptophan coma. Movie. Sushi. Hockey. Football. More Turkey.
More or less with a little bit of extras here and there, that was my holiday in a nutshell. A chocolate pecan nutshell.
On the train on the way to work this morning, I turned to my friend and said, "I'm pretending that I'm on a train on vacation in Europe." She looked out the window as we whizzed through the underbelly of Sylmar and said, "Yeah, the butt-ugly part."
There is no easy way of going back to work after a holiday. Not even if you're striving to be delusional.
I don't know what it is about the day before a holiday. Everything seems really overwhelming...there's so much work to be done before I leave the office early tomorrow. And then there's work to be done for Thanksgiving dinner. And the world doesn't seem to be cooperating with good news for the holiday -- everytime I look at the MSNBC website the story on the front page is about homeless pets, jobless people or the war in Afghanistan. And so when I stumbled across the Muppets doing a cover of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" my heart sang along. I hope yours will too.
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I love British royal weddings. Charles & Diana...Andrew & Sarah...who cares if the marriages ended in divorce? It was all about the spectacle, baby! I was in a store the other day and thumbed through a coffee table book dedicated to "Diana's Dress." Just her wedding dress...can you believe it? I even toyed with the idea of buying it for my coffee table -- I could find that dress in the dark -- it was the most beautiful creation I've ever seen. It had big poufy sleeves and a huge train -- for years after I wore bridesmaids dress with big poufy sleeves because of Diana's dress. And I'm a girl with the kind of shoulders that really can't take big poufy sleeves -- in fact there was one church aisle where I feared I would have to walk to the altar sideways -- the aisle was small and my linebacker shoulders dressed in big poufy sleeves could poke an eye out of one of the guests. And so isn't it nice to entertain the idea that William & Kate -- two people with a limitless budget -- might be getting hitched in order to show us commoners exactly how it's supposed to be done. Besides, it'll give Memaw Queen Elizabeth a chance to dust off the royal jewels. And it would give me an excuse for a trip to London...as if I was needing one...I could always just stay home and watch Fred dance.
I don't know about you, but the best part of my day is the greeting I get from Roxy when I come through the door. Back when Goldie and I were living in Los Angeles at the end of a dead end street, I can remember driving a little faster than I should have down the street because I knew I was going to get to see her. When Goldie was very sick -- towards the end of her life -- it was the worst part of my day. My heart was filled with dread every time I turned into the parking lot. After she was gone, it was even worse. I kept hearing phantom sounds of her when I was alone in the apartment. I still miss her very much. Now, my life is filled with Roxy and she's hard not to notice. I can't imagine what it would be like to be away serving your country in a horrible environment like Afghanistan while your pet is missing you at home. Huffington Post has put up some of the videos soldiers have taken of their first greetings from their pets on their return. You can see more heart-warming greetings by following the link. I guess it's no surprise that we all look forward to going home -- and our pets are no small reason why. Two other sweet dog stories to warm the cockles of your heart. Here and here...with extra photos here.
I woke up this morning covered in wet balls. Before you admonish me to keep my blog populated with family content, I should tell you that it's because Roxy likes to play fetch. She likes to play fetch 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I have a hard time sleeping through the night. I always have, but it's a little worse now than ever. If I show signs of life in the middle of the night, Roxy leaps onto the bed and drops a ball on me. Her little cat toy balls are made out of a rubber material that's like a sponge. Sometimes, I'm awake long enough to throw it a few times, much to her delight. She leaps into action. But Roxy is also a multi-tasker. She likes to stop off for a bite of chow and a sip of water while she's running back and forth retrieving. So her balls get a dunking when she goes by the water dish. I understand. If I were her, I wouldn't want to put down my toys either.
When I was dressed and ready to go to work I went back into my bedroom to make my bed. There were balls at the foot of the bed, down the hallway into the bathroom, scattered across my pillow and the down comforter. I was laughing the whole time I was making up the bed. Every time I found another one and tossed it her way, Roxy made this little chirping noise that seemed to say, 'oh, that's where I put the purple one. I'm so glad you found it.' She's just so silly and cheerful. I'm more than willing to play fetch with her 24/7. I consider it an honor.
It's been sweeping the internet, but just in case you haven't seen it, here's a spontaneous little musical that broke out in a grocery store in Queens. I've been keeping it a secret, but for most of my life, my deepest darkest desire is that my life will suddenly become a musical...just once. I hope someday to have something to sing about. What about you? What's your secret?
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Well, it turns out that I had strep throat. I don't think I've ever had it before but the doctor said my throat was not a pretty sight. When I looked up photos of strep throat on the Internet, all of them were missing front teeth -- because they were all between six and seven years old. Seriously, I thought I was too old for strep throat. You are contagious for 48 hours after you take the antibiotics -- so I had to stay home for two days. Roxy was also still recovering from surgery so she was happy to catnap on the sofa and watch too many reruns of "Murder, She Wrote." Back to work for one day...and then the weekend.
It's that time of year when even grown-ups like to play dress-up. And today I stumbled across a behind-the-scenes video of a new BBC production of "Emma." This new production hasn't even hit the airwaves in the UK and already I'm salivating to see it. I doubt it will see the light of day on PBS in the US for at least another year -- so I will spend a great deal of time watching this video over and over. "Emma" is my not my favorite of Jane's works -- that is "Persuasion," of course. But any Jane is better than no Jane.
I took a day off last Friday, and I must say that there is nothing like a three-day weekend. Nothing like it until you're looking at it from the point of view of a Monday morning. Then you're wondering why you took an extra day off. It really doesn't feel like I had an extra day to lounge-about. And the traffic was way worse than I remember it had been last Thursday. Not to mention the fact that I'm completely out of the habit of working. Isn't it strange that you can get out of the habit after skipping a mere eight hours of work? Anyway...I'm just not in the mood. And this story of a precious dog finding her way back to her family suited me perfectly.
I'd like you to meet the anti-me. She's the ying to my yang. The sunshine to my rain. The get-up-and-go to my got-up-and-went. I wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of shorts with anything written across my cheeks -- but this 85 year-old pulls it off and then some. I wish I could say that she inspires me -- but I'm so dazzled by her razzle that I can't get up off the sofa. You go, Dorothy!
It's hot in Los Angeles. Way hot with no end expected in sight until some time next week. And the Santa Ana winds are blowing -- which means my allergies turn me into a zombie. I get blinding sinus headaches that make me want to draw the curtains and pull up the cover. Unfortunately, the other thing that the hot hot Santa Ana winds bring are wildfires. So that means instead of tucking in -- I'm working long hours. There are very few thing that I find entertaining right now. Perhaps, this is one of them.
A reminder today that being a hero means paying attention to the small things in life. I always hate it when people say, "don't sweat the small stuff." Don't they know that it's the small stuff that really matters? And by the way, if you've never read the book, you really should.
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...mine can do better. Only I don't own a piano.
Roxy may not know how to play the piano yet, but she continues to dazzle everyone with her sunshine attitude. For Roxy, every morning is Christmas morning and she's never had a bad day. I see her run around the corner into the living room and dive on top of her flying squirrel toy with total abandon and sheer joy. It is a sight to see.
I don’t know what it is about Saturday mornings, but I have always loved them. Little bits of snippets of fond memories from my youth involve Saturday mornings. From going to a swim class at the Greenfield Village pool to going to the Farmers Market in Ann Arbor, I think of Saturday mornings as full of possibilities. Monday mornings I have to pry myself out of bed with a crowbar, but on Saturday mornings, I’m up with the dawn. The day awaits and I don’t want to waste a moment of it. And I’m living with a rambunctious kitten now. Roxy believes that every morning is Christmas morning when she sees her toys. To her, they’re like long-lost friends that need to be greeted with great enthusiasm once again.
I was really busy this week, but I was nudged by readers to noticed this glamorous photo spread of Susan Boyle in Harper's Bazaar. I also took note of this “dating after forty” guide from a Hollywood trophy wife. As if! But my favorite story of the week involves the mysterious new Hunt for Red October.
I used to be a regular figure skating. I haven't skated in years, but if I did skate again, I'd want to be wearing a dress by Tania Bass. She's the choice of all the Olympic hopefuls. I was never an Olympic hopeful -- but in my imagination and the mirror in my bedroom, I accepted the gold medal for my performance many times between the ages of 8 and 16. My talent level just never lived up to the level of my imagination. Still doesn't.
The Handsomest Man Alive checked in today with two little nuggets about two of my favorite things. I thought they were both worthy of passing along to you.
Yesterday, I had a bad day. I mean it was stinking bad. The server was down at work -- when the Internets are broken, it's hard to work on the Internet...and everything was my fault. Three phone calls to the hair salon -- and I still couldn't get an appointment. My own personal plumbing has gone on the fritz again. I spent the night huddled into a ball of pain on the bed. But the kitten was very comfortable nestled in against my body heat. She never has a bad day...and when she does, she doesn't let it get to her the way I do. And while my train hit an old man on the way home from work -- it didn't hurt him -- it just knocked the shopping cart out of his hands. So that's a good thing.
Today is Friday. I have high hopes for making it through the day...but am very doubtful that my dignity will be intact. You can't ask for miracles. I am hoping that my train home doesn't hit anyone or anything. I will declare the day a success.
Suddenly I'm finding myself with an obsession for grey tabby cats. I can't imagine why.
Don't know what it's like in your part of the world this weekend, but here in Southern California we're laying in supplies for an extreme heat advisory. I'm not sure what exactly knowing that it's going to be incredibly hot in advance of the heat actually does to help the situation. I can't remember changing any plans because it's so damn hot. I do know that I tend to get a lot less done when it's really hot. And I complain a lot more.
Perhaps, that's where the excessive heat advisory comes in. I can justify my complaints because we've already been advised that it's excessive heat. Ah well, the one thing I don't like to do when it's hot is turn on the oven. The whole place heats up and the A/C has to be turned up accordingly.
So here's a great idea to do something constructive during the hot, hot heat. Not only will I have a load of baked goods when I'm done, my car will have the smell of freshly baked cookies rather than the smell of faux lemon stank from my Michelle Obama air freshener. I think someone should write an entire book of recipes to be cooked in a hot car. They'd make a fortune in Southern California. And how cool would it be to get into your car at the end of a long stressful day, knowing that dinner is already cooked? All you have to do is avoid spilling the pot roast on your commute from Hell to home and you're golden. Honestly, I'd just eat it right there in the parking lot.
The New York Times invited Bo Obama to write an Op-Ed piece...and so he did. There are economists from coast-to-coast who are kicking themselves that the White House dog got something in the Times before they did.
Speaking of the Obamas -- I thought this was an interesting article about what kind of long cool beverages are being served in the White House.
Weekend List of Things To Do: