And my life was Hell before I had cankles

Here's the thing. I have cankles. They're not as bad as the ones pictured above, but I have to tell you, any cankle is a bad cankle. There's no grey area when it comes to cankles. I'm a lovely middle-aged chick -- as long as you keep your eyes above my calves. Things go downhill pretty fast after that. I've always had lovely slim ankles and bony feet with well-shaped nails that look good with a pedicure. Well, those days are over. One of the few signs of aging that has been plaguing me over the past year or so are swollen ankles. Arthritis? No. Crumpled and rumpled skin? No. But ask me about cankles...and I'll excuse myself to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. I'm not quite sure why I have them...or what being afflicted by cankles means as to my health and life expectancy. I'm going to assume it means my days are numbered. If you have cankles, you don't care how much longer you're going to live.

I do wonder if the media wasn't fascinated with that particular female body flaw right now, if I wouldn't be ashamed of my cankles. If they didn't have a name for it, would I even know that I had them? Would I care? Would I learn to love my cankles? Can't imagine it. As any Cinderella would tell you -- anything that might prevent you from donning a pair of glass slippers is a tragedy.

Stop The DVR!

Just when I thought I had planned out my television viewing for the rest of the year, I see a promo on TLC about a new show starring Trinny and Susannah. What? I've been doing a battle with a bout of super-duper-expialidocious insomnia and I saw the promo at approximately 2:00am while enjoying an episode of 18 and Counting. (Yes, that is the one about the lovely Duggar family from Arkansas -- the one with the mom who's got a clown car for a vagina. She's had eighteen kids. And counting. Don't watch it. Seriously!) The next morning I checked the schedule and there it was -- Making Over America with Trinny and Susannah.

Trinny and Susannah are my style gurus. Of course, if they saw what I wear to work everyday, they'd probably disown me. They can shave years off your age and pounds off your hips by showing you what clothes look best on your body and with your own personal style. I love them. I've written two fan letters in my life. One was to Trinny and Susannah and the other was to Joan Fontaine. Joan took time away from her busy golf schedule in Carmel, California to answer me. Trinny and Susannah did not. But that doesn't mean that I didn't set up a series pass for their new show. Check it out! These chicks rock.

Tonight's the Night

It's return of my beloved Tim Gunn. He's the fashion guru who gives advice to all the little fashionista-wannabees on Project Runway. Season Six returns tonight -- which is very exciting because it is in Los Angeles. So I'm kind of hoping to see all of the hopefuls at locations that I recognize around town.

Last night was the grand finale (insert fireworks display here) of Top Chef Masters. Rick Bayless walked away with the big prize. He beat-out the French chef Hubert Keller (and you know the French are the original foodies) to claim the top prize. He's also from Chicago -- so go Midwest! And he seems like an all-around good egg.

It was also the first episode of Top Chef: Las Vegas. It was a fun episode except you really can't tell the boys from the girls. (I sound just like my grandma Azalia.) They all have androgynous haircuts and their bodies are all tatt-ed up. It's nasty. A few of them can cook though, and it was fun picking out the best of the bunch from the first elimination challenge. I've already got my favorites. It was also fun because they were going to all kinds of locations that we recognized in Las Vegas. The Top Chef kitchens are in the new M Resort that we explored on our way out of town last time. It was pretty swank.

And Mad Men is back. Or should I say ARE back. I guess for me the focus isn't always on the men of Mad Men. While I find Don Draper to be very yummy, it's the storylines of the female characters that absolutely fascinate and intrigue me. It's just too too much fun to bear.

What do you think it says about me that all of my favorite shows are mid-summer place holders for the primetime television season that doesn't start until October? Ok. Maybe. But say, what you will...I think I've got great taste. And a full DVR...that's true happiness.

Anything your cat can do...

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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.

World is Waiting for the Sunrise

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.

And now on the podium...

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.

Can't Stop the Crazy

Roxy spent more time by herself than usual this weekend as we went to Las Vegas. No worries! She had plenty of people looking in on her and a professional cat sitter tending to her food and water. She got a great report from the sitter on Saturday. Unfortunately, she had blown a gasket from too much "me-time" by Sunday. She took my purse apart and proceeded to chew on some tampons, benedryl packages (she didn't get to the actual drugs) and lip gloss. When we got home Sunday night, she ran around the house like a crazy cat. At one point, we saw her hiding underneath the placemat on the dining room table. It is very cute. My only problem with it is that I'm missing my car keys. I swear, I put them in the key cup by the front door on Friday. And now...they aren't there. Hmmmm....makes you wonder doesn't it? Which is the more likely suspect in the disappearance of my keys? My terrible memory or Roxy's terrible desire for toys? It's hard to say, isn't it?