Who Moved My Sheep?

It's been a week. I hope you haven't forgotten about me. Things have changed in my world. I'm working in a different department on a different floor. Those who know me know that I'm not good with change. I don't believe in it.

A couple of years ago the company I was working for was sold to a larger company. We were all very worried about what would happen and if we would lose our jobs. Our fearless leader called us together and told us not to worry. She also said she had one copy of the best-selling book, "Who Moved My Cheese?" that we were all encouraged to borrow from her and read. I did. I found it inspirational to know that many other people don't like change either. A week later they called us all together again. Told us half of us would be fine and continue to have jobs -- and the other half would be herded out the door. I was in the flock that was herded out the door.

Did I mention that I don't like change?

This time, things look a little brighter. I have my own desk and a direct phone line. I'm starting to feel like a grown-up. The video above is actually an advertisement for Samsung...but it also looks like a whole lotta grown up guys with too much time and too many sheep on their hands. It could be worse...

Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin'

Happy April Fool's Day! At least...I hope this is a prank.

To London, To London

President and Mrs. O are off to London for the G20 conference. And they've been invited to Buckingham Palace to have dinner with Queen Elizabeth. Oh! To have an invitation to that dinner party! What I wouldn’t give to watch the Obamas charm the royal lace drawers off of that old bird.

I must admit to a long-term fascination with the British Monarchy. I was eighteen when Diana Spencer became engaged to Prince Charles. I remember so well getting up at 5:00 am with my mom to watch the festivities. We had just settled on the sofa when my Dad came around the corner and settled himself into his La-Z-Boy chair so he wouldn’t miss out on a moment.

And that’s the thing about that wedding, I don’t know anyone who didn’t watch. It was like watching a real-life version of Cinderella. And Diana....she was one of us. She had never outgrown the desires of her thirteen year-old self. When it came to engagement rings, she picked out the biggest sapphire in the British Isles. Wouldn't you? When it came to wedding dresses, she picked up the one with the most ruffles, bows and longest train. Bring it on! When it came to flowers, she said, ‘more, more, more!’ Fortunately, she also had good taste.

Queen Elizabeth, unfortunately, did not enjoy having a daughter-in-law that was so completely in touch with her inner 'tween. It’s too bad. Diana’s wedding was an incredible moment of good publicity for HRH. They’ve certainly had to work hard to remake their image after Diana’s death. The whole world was devastated when Cinderella’s real-life marriage didn’t work, and Diana died after running off to Paris with a rogue.

But this is a new era for all of us. And our new President and his missus are off to London to see the Queen.

Not to be outdone by the Obama administration forcing the White House into the information age, HRH Elizabeth has recently gone out and gotten herself a website. There are some other websites that are even more intriguing -- full of gossip and photographs of the current young royals and their nuptials.

How do I live without you?

Natasha Richardson’s death left me completely stunned.

A few years ago, the roommate of a friend of mine died after she slipped and fell on ice in front of their house. She was up and laughing about how clumsy she was right away, but was dead within twenty-four hours. I find it so difficult to reason with the randomness of tragedy and the fragility of life.

I have always admired Natasha Richardson. She was a beautiful and charming. She made over 40 look glamorous. As the daughter of acting legend Vanessa Redgrave, I figured she had dealt with some pretty heavy emotional baggage and managed to come out of it smelling like a rose. She was married to Liam Neeson, a big strapping Irishman, and they really seemed to like each other. She was the mother of two teenage boys. All seemed right in her world. And then she died.

My thoughts keep going back to the movie Love Actually, in which Liam Neeson plays a young widower with a step son that he’s having a difficult time connecting with after his mother’s death. The story in the film is a tear-jerker. If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s a masterpiece of storytelling by writer and director Richard Curtis who much like Judd Apatow seems to know the magic formula that balances comedy and romance.

Since Natasha Richardson’s death, the role Liam Neeson played has become even more poignant. And frightening, since it seems to be yet another example of art becoming life. May she rest in peace…

Wild Thing! You make my heart sing!

You remember "Where the Wild Things Are" don't you? It's the classic children's book with the incredible drawings by Maurice Sendak -- the stuff of fantasies and nightmares. I still have a copy of it on the top shelf of my bookcase. I also have a copy of a lesser known book by Sendak called, "Sarah's Room." The inscription inside reads, "To Sarah Elizabeth from Grandma Bishop" and it was given to me by my precious Azalia. It's dated on the day I was born. That book is on another shelf where I keep my true treasures. I can hardly wait to see what the slightly demented mind of Spike Jonze does with the filmed version of "Where The Wild Things Are. "

You're As Cold As Ice

The competitive world of college basketball in the month of March is a passion for many. Did you know there are vasectomy clinics that actually advertise to men that it's a great time to get snipped and take a couple days off parked in front of the television? And the clinic says it saw a 10% increase in its business last year.

As if!

Personally, I've always believed that a bracket is a useful tool for successful punctuation. I'm slightly more intrigued by college basketball than professional hoops – but honestly, that's not saying much. It's just not my scene.

March is my favorite time of the year because I look forward to it for the competitive high-stakes that is the ISU World Figure Skating Championships. This year, the competition is here in Los Angeles at the Staples Center. At first, I had dreams of attending, but after seeing the prices charged for decent seats, I had second thoughts. For what they were charging for mid-level seats, Evan Lysacek would've had to perform a personal lap dance on me for me to feel I was getting my money's worth.

And I was frustrated to discover that figure skating is no longer broadcast on the sports channels. I have for years thought that eventually someone was going to realize that a sport that requires sequins, may not be a sport per se. But that shouldn't take away from how much talent and athletic ability it takes to be a factor in figure skating – nor how hard the competitors work to become the best. Figure skating competitions have found a new home on the Lifetime and 'WE' channels. I don't know whether to be insulted or relieved to have it on a "women's channel." (Check your local listings so you can see all of the skating, Betty.)

Whatevs!

Either way, it's there…all of it…hours and hours of figure skating that I can watch at 5:00 am in the morning while I'm getting ready for work. Can you think of any nicer way to start the day?

Me neither. Brackets, schmakets…

While the cat's away....

Sarah's got jury duty today, so I'm taking over and guest blogging. She'll never notice. Can you imagine what kind of trouble I could get into if I only had opposable thumbs? Spring has finally come to the Santa Clarita Valley and I've been leaving the comfort of my fuzzy cup on the sofa for the thrills on the patio. There are many wonderful plants and herbs that I enjoy nibbling behind Sarah's back. The deliciously-scented jasmine is a favorite, and I often receive a visitor of the male feline persuasion. He's very athletic and can scale the wall in a single bound. I love having the place to myself and have few complaints. But I do have to tell you that the stuff she's been feeding me all these years that she calls 'Fancy Feast' isn't.  I'll blog again, when my captor...my servant...Sarah is out of town.