Big Wheels Keep On Turning

I suspect that someday I'll be hanging a sign in the back window of my Honda Civic to annouce how many miles we've rolled over together. If you got a good thing...don't mess with it.

That's right, you can call me Cougarella...

About a month ago I started receiving email advertisements in my inbox for a local Santa Clarita watering hole that has a reputation as a 'cougar' hangout. For those of you who aren't up on the hippest lingo (and since I'm using the word 'lingo' I totally resemble that remark), a 'cougar' is a middle-aged woman who spends her days (and nights) in pursuit of hot young men. For centuries, men have been chasing women half their age, and we never gave them a predatory name. But when women start thinking what's good for the gander is good for the goose...that's when the name-calling and finger-pointing begins.

I'd like to know how I got on the list of Santa Clarita cougars. Am I being discriminated against because of my age? And more importantly, should I be thrilled or devastated that I'm being included in that particular group. Yes, I have on occasion had impure thoughts about Justin Timberlake, but I don't remember sharing that with anyone. Oops! There goes that theory.

High Kick For The Sidekick!

If my life were a movie it would be a romantic comedy starring Sandra Bullock, and I would be the sidekick. It's an honorable profession and those that do it well, like Ed McMahon, make the star of the show shine. We lost one of the best sidekicks ever today. I know Ed was the host of 'Star Search' but I think of him best as Johnny Carson's sidekick. Ed's in Heaven now, reunited with Johnny and making all of his jokes seem funnier with his uncontrollable giggle. Godspeed, old friend.

A Classic By Any Other Name...

I caught the last half-hour of one of my all-time favorite films on Saturday night. Random Harvest stars Greer Garson and the dashing Ronald Coleman. I believe the word dashing was invented just for Mr. Coleman who was kind of like the George Clooney of his day. And the beautiful Greer Garson who wasn't shown to her full potential in a black & white film because of her gorgeous mane of red hair.

If you haven't seen Random Harvest, you're missing a rare treat to enjoy a classic women's film of the 1940s. Get your hankies out, because this one is a delight based on amnesia, mistaken identity and true love. Oh yes, it's cheesy like Velveeta, but every once in awhile, who doesn't need a little processed cheese in their diet. It's good for the soul.

Bo's Big Ole Tub O' Butter

We've taken a lot of adorable photographs of our family dogs and cats over the years, but I have to admit none of them has ever had their house -- the most majestic house in the United States -- be such an incredible background for their portrait. As my mom's friend Lisa would say, "Bo Obama has fallen into a tub of butter."

An Enchanted Vegas Weekend

I had a day off work last week. It doesn't happen very often. I always say I'm going to sleep in on my day off, but usually I'm so excited about having a day off that I don't want to miss a moment of it sleeping, so I'm up before the crack of dawn.

And so we went to Vegas. No, it's not the time to be going to Vegas, but that's never stopped us before. So we loaded up the car and headed off down the road.

We went back to one of our favorite haunts -- the Green Valley Ranch Resort. It's in Henderson with a marvelous view from the pool area of the Las Vegas strip. For those of us who have reached a certain age, ahem, it keeps you out of the mix of drunken bachelorette parties and dudes in baggy shorts carrying three-foot long frozen margaritas. I'm sure it has an appeal for some demographic, but I'm fairly certain I'm old enough to be that demographic's mom.

We weren't as thrilled with the hotel as we have been in the past. We're still giving it a thumbs up, but economy has taken its toll on all of us and it's the little things that seemed to have been overlooked there. The phone on the desk in the room didn't work, the lighted mirror in the bathroom was burned-out, the television remote needed new batteries and was constantly fall apart, and room service on Sunday morning was an hour late. But I think the worst of it all was that they no longer have big white cushy terrycloth robes waiting for you in the rooms. I was a big fan of those robes.

We had a new strategy for playing the slots -- and it worked -- to some degree, at least we came home with money in our pockets -- which we consider to be quite a victory. I even bought a new 'big bucks' coin purse for my 'winnin's'. It has 'Show 'em The Bacon yer Out There Makin' emblazoned on the side. I filled it up with change.

We had a big adventure on Saturday as we took the 1:00pm shuttle from the hotel down to the strip, and found out about a place where they sell same-day tickets for Vegas shows at a discount price. The ticket line was out in the sun and heat, but the broker provided large yellow umbrellas for everyone in the line. The moment I put my umbrella up, the wind caught it and turned it inside-out. I did battle with it on my own for a few minutes like a crazed Mary Poppins. I was laughing so hard at my plight that I could barely speak when the girl who worked there came over and attempted to lend a hand. I nearly poked her eyes out attempting to wrestling my wayward umbrella to the ground. I apologized, but I knew that an apology coming from someone who is nearly crying they're laughing so hard is truly insincere, so I'm not sure she ever knew how grateful I was. The Handsomest Man Alive missed the whole umbrella death match and nothing seemed amiss to him when he joined me in line. Until the people behind us put up their umbrella and more wrestling took place -- which caused me to break into uncontrollable laughter -- again. I don't think they thought much of me either.

After a brief wait in line, we were able to get tickets to KA -- the Cirque du Soleil show at the MGM. It was my second Cirque du Soleil show and I have to say, there is nothing better. It was everything you could want in a Vegas show -- heart-stopping and amazing! I can't imagine doing that for a living.

But it seems like every Vegas weekend is over so quickly and it's back to work just as if I never left. I'd like to get in touch with the guy who thought of the five-day work week. There's got to be a better way.

Today's photograph is part of a "Fallen Princess" series created by an artist. Learn more about it here.

Let's Hear It For The Cat Lady

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman of a certain age who has never been married should be living with 56 cats.

I am an unmarried woman of a certain age, and there are more people that I'd like to mention who would verify that I'm a tad eccentric...if not all the way crazy...so it stands to reason that what I really need is 56 cats.

I'm not going to fight it any more...I am a crazy cat lady.

I had no idea when I was living with Goldie that I was a single woman. Goldie turned 'me' into a 'we.' When people asked me about my weekend, I'd answer" "we slept late on Saturday." No further questions were asked. When people invited me out somewhere I really didn't want to go, I'd respond, "We're staying in and watching something on PBS." And I had a great time hanging out in my apartment, reading books, and watching the television. Goldie did her thing. I did mine. I was never alone -- or so I thought. But now my apartment seems empty. I feel extra special needy and I'm afraid I'm going to make a nuisance of myself to friends and family. Sometimes, late at night or early in the morning when I'm not quite awake, I'll catch a glimpse of a phantom cat tail in the bathroom. It'll startle me into full consciousness, until I realized that it's just my mind playing tricks on me with light and shadow. I know eventually I'll adjust to being a crazy cat lady with no cats, but in the meantime I have to say that I had no idea how difficult it would be to live without six pounds of cranky tortoiseshell fur underfoot. No, I don't worry about racing home after work to feed a sick cat anymore...and no, I don't have to run the vacuum cleaner as often, but it's just not the same being a 'me' and not a 'we.'

So I'm finally ready to admit the obvious -- I am a crazy cat lady.

The photograph above is of eccentric actress and crazy cat lady-in-training, Evan Rachel Wood, going through airport security with her cat. I used to do the same thing when I traveled with Goldie. People would coo and tell me she was the most bee-YOO-tiful cat in the world. Goldie would look them dead in the eye and hiss loudly and passionately, much to my secret delight. That's right, don't mess with me -- I'm traveling with my cat. That's right, we're flying across the country.

Meanwhile, the most famous crazy cat lady in the world, Susan Boyle, has been reunited with her cat, Pebbles. Doctors report that Pebbles is going to go out on the road with Susan for the duration of the "Britain's Got Talent" tour. Go Pebbles!

Frances Ring isn't a cat lady or anything close to crazy, but I was delighted by this article in the LA Times about the former typist to F. Scott Fitzgerald. I am always a fan of hearing someone tell their story in their own words. I also missed celebrating the anniversary of Miss Jane Marple at the end of May. She is a founding member of the spinster hall of fame, if not an honorary crazy cat lady.