AIN'T LOVE GRAND

I'm a sucker for love. And happily, I've often been lucky in love. I fall in love easily, with tremendous excitement and smiles and.... have been blessed by being loved by some of the very best. For me, falling in love is what the greatest essense of life is all about. For anyone who has never loved richly and passionately and freely and openly, I can only wish that someday they do so. NOTHING is better.

For my purposes here, however, I have to tell you about my latest love. He's about my height. He has a wonderful, pleasant face. When he approaches me, he has a smile that goes from ear to ear. He's definitely adorable and whenever I see him, I sort of jump for joy. Watching him walk towards me, I too, can't help but grin. Suffice it to say, I simply love it when I see him!

Who IS this new love of mine, you ask? Why, Myles, that's who. And, just who is this Myles?? Get this... HE'S MY LAST STUDENT OF THE DAY!! Thus, everyday, when he walks towards the classroom, I'm waiting at my door, clapping and hurrying him in, so that as soon as he and I are finished with our work I CAN GET THE HELL OUT OF SCHOOL lickety split! Everyday, I tell Myles: YIPPEE! YOU'RE MY FAVORITE STUDENT! He already knows why. Both of us are thrilled given both of us know that in a mere 5 minutes, we can pack up our belongings and kiss the day goodbye. Talk about being on the same page!

So... although Myles is a terrific kid, a great student and is becoming a lovely young man, my REAL attraction to him is that he spells freedom. Freedom to end my school day! No wonder I love him. Besides, once I get home, I can then spend all the time I want enjoying the REAL loves of my life.

MOVIE CRITIC FOR LOSERS

Honestly, I can't believe what loser choices I make for viewing movies on TV. Actually, loser choices for OTHERS. For me... well, they simply turn out to completely entertain me! Which isn't saying much for my viewing standards.

Apparently I adore films aimed at 16 year old immature boys. Some standard, huh? For instance, I'm the only woman my age to adore Jack Black. And, in particular, Jack Black in SCHOOL OF ROCK. I found Jack to be a guy with one hell of a hilarious outlook on life in this film. Bear in mind, however, I amuze easily. I'm also a major fan of THE 40 YEAR OLD VIRGIN. I roared while watching this and... I watched it plenty of times.

As of today, I have to add yet another crazy ass movie to my list of FILMS FOR LOSERS. I was doing laundry, and was headed to begin giving myself a manicure, when I began channel surfing for a movie to play in the background. Nothing struck my fancy until I got to HBO, which was running a movie that I had never before heard of. Let alone seen. Enter: GRANDMA'S BOY. Is THIS ever a film for losers. YOU would hate it. I, of course, loved it. Go figure. In fact, here's a review quote I found on the internet: "A gross-out comedy that’s more gross than comedic, Grandma’s Boy is lazy and unrewarding."

See? I TOLD you it was a loser.

That not withstanding however, I couldn't help but chuckle right out loud. I'm a sucker for cheap thrills, I guess. No wonder... 20 minutes into the film, the star gets into a compromising situation that I'm too embarrassed to even describe for you. Suffice it to say, the guy is caught by his friend's mother during his private moments in the bathroom. YOU would have been disgusted. I was doing a belly laugh. Doris Roberts was the Grandmother and Shirely Jones was her roomate. As for the other stars in the film, I have NO clue whatsover who they might be. Including the leading role of the BOY.

Consequently, my best advice is:Don't ever go by me when it comes to reviewing films. I'm a loser. Although... you can take it to the bank that CASABLANA and AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER are by FAR the best love stories ever. Then again, so is GONE WITH THE WIND.

HOLY SH^T

Holy Ba Holy... you should clock my heart rate right now. It's been over an hour, but still it's pounding like a hammer to nails. What could cause such pumping action, you ask? Get this... I almost burnt down my entire house tonight!

Actually, not ME. Rather, it was the floor pole lamp in my living room, that was about to do in my otherwise perfectly wonderful abode. I swear... I FREAKED. I couldn't beLIEVE what was going on.

It all came about as follows: I came home from a wonderful dinner party, got undressed, piddled around the kitchen, etc. Then, as on all evenings, I decided it was time to call it a night and close down the house in preparation for going to bed. I went through my regular little routine of taking bedtime meds, grabbing a drink to bring to the bedroom, and turning off the switch to this floor lamp in the living room. THE NEXT THING I F-ING KNEW, there was a MAJOR pop of the 3 way bulb in the lamp, fireworks began sparking and flying all over the place, crazzzzzzy sounds began coming from the wall plug and dark, deep smoke started billowing out into the entire living room, creating the most horrible stench you can imagine. YIKES. I felt like I was in a mock exercise for my local fire department except the firemen, unlike me, would have known exactly what to do.

OH MY GOD, I thought. MY HOUSE IS ABOUT BURN DOWN TO A MAJOR CRISP. AND, A HUGE FIRE IS ABOUT TO DESTROY EVERYTHING I OWN. EEEEEEEKS. Being heavy into survivor mode, I then thought, WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO?? OH MY GOD. HELP.

I ran my ass quickly to the kitchen sink, wishing I had a WAY LONG fire hose to pull out, but luckily I had the wherewithal to realize that wasn't an option. So instead, I grabbed a HUGE metal bowl, filled it as high as I could and RAN to the burning/smoking bulb and it's vicious odor. I stood on my tip toes as high as possible and POURED THE WATER RIGHT SMACK OVER THE TOP OF THE LAMP, DOWN INTO IT'S BULB SOCKET. As the water went in, indeed, it put out the burning insides, BUT THEN, the next thing I know, the water went down the pole a bit, and then came spilling out of the on/off switch, draining black water right smack onto my Berber carpeting! God... I felt like I was going from bad to worse, but then I was thinking: the hell with the carpet and odor... at least the exploding light bulb was no longer on fire and yippee... I WAS GOING TO LIVE. Just be sure however, I ran right back and repeated my water saving efforts, this time also adding the ever important survivor technique of PULLING THE PLUG OUT OF THE WALL.

Oh my God... this was simply a crazy experience, to say the least. Not to mention: SCARY AS SH^T. Finally, I opened all the doors... screw the 35 degree temps outside... and began airing out the foul smell, SO glad that my house was still in tact. I also laid down towels, trying to absorb the black water deal, calming myself by saying: Don't worry. Call Jason, the carpet cleaning guy on Monday and bingo. It'll be fine.

As a final touch, I carried the pole lamp out to my front porch, concluding it's better to keep it out THERE overnight rather than having it inside my house. That way, it could burn down all the surrounding homes if it wanted... it just couldn't burn down MINE. Yeah, yeah, I know... mighty neighborly of me, but... like I said. I was in survivor mode.

So.... basically, all's well that ends well, but of course NOW I'm headed to bed with a whole NEW meaning to: Lights Out.

MORNING SICKNESS

Whoa. Was I ever sick. I can't beLIEVE how sick. Talk about taking me by complete surprise. All I know is I went to bed Sunday night feeling just spiffy. Next thing you know, boom. I woke up at 5:30 in the morning SO sick, it was scarey. I thought maybe I was dying. Luckily, I wasn't. I just WISHED I was.

I'll spare you all the gory details, but suffice it say I was spilling my guts. And, it's a good thing I love my bed, because that's where I lived for the past 48 hours. It's also a good thing I love to sleep, because that's all I could possibly do during that time. I literally couldn't even move for two days. This afternoon was the first time I could sit up since Sunday night.

Which worked out well, since I'm just now barely able to watch TV. And, while I HATE soap operas, there's a pretty good one being played out in a Ft. Lauderdale courtroom regarding where Anna Nicole is to be buried. Trust me... if you're not already sick, this proceeding can MAKE you sick.

Therefore, since I'm heavy into making myself well again, I switched channels thanks to a friend who told me Nate Burkis was on Oprah today. Now, if HE ever showed up at my house I'd get well so damn fast, it would make your head spin. God, is he stunning. And smart. And talented. And... talk about personality! One look at Nate's face and you just KNOW you've reached heaven.

Which is a great place to be, given I'm only now coming back from hell.

AHHH... TO BE YOUNG AGAIN

Wow. Talk about time flying when having fun. The first shot here is a picture of me that Robin brought along when she visited this weekend. It was taken 13 years ago at my brother's 50th birthday party. I was a mere 45 years old then. The photo brought be back to younger days when I was a wife, mother, step-mother and yes, a sun-worshipper, too. Take a look at that bronzed skin! To this day, I still miss my pool. But, better yet, take a look at my high priced curly hair! God, I loved that. I'd love to have it again, too.

But, alas, what I now have instead, is what you see in the picture just below it. THAT photo was taken a couple of days ago. When looking at it, I became well aware that my 60th birthday will occur just about a year from now. Which believe me, you'll hear all about when the time arrives in May '08. Yet in spite of my being older in the 2nd photo, I have to say.... there is something about the expression in my face that I kinda like. When looking at it, I sense a peace of mind and graceful aging.

I'm getting old, I know that. But at 45, I was on top of my game. Menopause had brought me to a wonderful new place. I was on the brink of a lot of creativity. I dared to take risks. Hormonal changes heightened my sexuality and my inner strength was gearing up for some mighty powerful life changes. I felt as if I was at a place where I approached what could be me. Not what should be me.

So, while indeed I'm aging, being where I am today has nevertheless brought me a serenity and independence I never imagined I'd be able to recapture. Emotional roller coaster rides have once again returned to blissful, grounded stability. Listening to my inner voice has been honed to pretty much a reliable science. Mistakes, few as they may thankfully be, have become life lessons. Yessiree... I have a great faith in myself and a strong belief I am way ahead of most of the crowd when it comes to intelligence. Okay... so modesty needs a little work. Whatever.

To what does all this boil down? NEWS FLASH: I'm definitely One in a Million. Youth or no youth. Subsequently, for all those Linda Wannabees (what? there aren't any??) sorry, Charlie. No way you can even come close to the real deal. Older and wiser, life is currently good for me... so good in fact, that the only pain I ever suffer is knowing that while I spoke to my brother on HIS 59th birthday, he'll never be able to speak to me on mine. Damn, I miss him.

FIRST WOMAN PRESIDENT

Sorry Hillary... no can do. Barack has been at the top of my list since before he even announced his candidacy. To me, Obama is WAY impressive. I love his looks. Wait. That counts, right? I love his brain, education and work experience. I love his oral skills... oops, I mean his oratory skills. And, I love his statesmanship. If you ask me, Obama's demeanor spells Presidential Promise, Leadership and Respect all over the place. Talk about political charisma.

Here's my thinking: on September 12th, the world was eating out of the palm of our hand. Worldwide, everyone was STUNNED at what happened to the greatest world power on the face of the earth. Thus, our country had treMENDous empathy and yes, a lot of political support. NOW, however, thanks to Georgie Boy, we are so hated and so deep, down in the gutter in the eyes of the world that it makes me sick to think of what he's done. The stupid bastard.

So... who to bring back the power and respectability of America? Obama, yes. Even Bill, yes. But Hilary? Uh... no. My take is: not Hillary, nor any of her opponents, nor anyone from the other parties can do for us, what I suspect Obama can do. On the other hand, it all matters not. For, the REAL person bright enough to do what needs to be done isn't even in the race. Sitting down? With all due conviction, I nominate Maya Angelou.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're thinking I'm out of my f-ing mind. That may well be. But, that still doesn't mean she isn't the wisest woman in America. Case in point: the following Guide to Life for Modern Day Women. Now HERE'S a lady who's got her head on straight. And, here's her guide which contains all the wisdom a woman will ever need. What Maya offers to women, I have no doubt she can offer to the office of the Presidency. Not to mention, to the world, at large.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
enough money within her control to move out
and rent a place of her own...
even if she never wants to or needs to.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a youth she's content to leave behind.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a past juicy enough that she's looking forward
to retelling it in her old age.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill,
and a black lace bra.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
something perfect to wear
if the employer or date of her dreams
wants to see her in an hour.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
one friend who always makes her laugh...
and one who lets her cry.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a good piece of furniture not previously owned
by anyone else in her family.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal that will
make her guests feel honored.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a feeling of control over her destiny.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to fall in love without losing herself.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
How to quit a job, break up with a lover and
confront a friend without ruining the friendship.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
when to try harder... and when to walk away.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that she can't change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that her childhood may not have been perfect... but its over.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she would and wouldn't do for love or more.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
whom she can trust, whom she can't,
and why she shouldn't take it personally.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
where to go... be it to her best friend's kitchen table... or a charming inn in the woods...
when her soul needs soothing.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she can and can't accomplish in a day...
a month... and a year.

MAJOR/MINOR

I had such a great time last night. I had company for dinner honoring the visit of my cousin, Robin. It's been about 5 years since I've seen her and I was so excited about her arrival. I was thrilled when she first walked in the door. Then I was FLIPPED when I saw how much weight she lost! Wow. Now HERE'S a girl who can follow a dietary regime. Which of course is where, as much as I love Robin, we part company. Regardless, I was going on and on about how terrific she looked, what her secret was, etc. etc. I wanted all the details. Turns out she cut out all whites... flour, pasta, breads, rice, and sugar. Basically, the Sugar Buster Diet, I guess.

It was only about 37 minutes, and several topics later, that Robin kinda added another minor piece of information...

OH YEAH. I ALSO RUN 5 MILES A DAY!!

Are you KIDDING ME??? That's something to add as a mere AFTERthought??? You think that's MINOR? I nearly fell off my chair. HOW DARE YOU tell me you follow a pretty good diet, only to THEN add the part about running 5 miles a day!

I mean, come on now... the first part could easily be done. THE SECOND PART?? That takes major MARathon training!! Geez... that's kinda like the love of your life finally giving you an engagement ring and within minutes, telling you: OH. I FORGOT. I MEANT TO TELL YOU I HAD 2 CHILDREN WITH A STRANGE WOMAN, WAY BACK MY LATE TEENS. What a deal breaker THAT can be!

'Twould be better from the onset to just never mention the topic ALtogether, if you ask me. Which is why I suspect the sugar busting in MY life will have to be kept at a bare minimum. Hell, if I have to ALSO run miles and miles, I'd rather wait an extra 13 months and just let the weight come off at a much slower pace. Not to mention, simpler. On the other hand, look at Robin and then look at me.

But wait... Claudia doesn't run and SHE looks pretty damn good. I think I'll practice HER success secrets to weight control rather than Robin's. I have a feeling Claudia's will be much more to my liking. Let alone a reasonable possibility.

BACK IN THE GROOVE

When raising my family in many moons ago, music was a driving force in our home. No wonder. MTV had just come about, my live in help was heavy into George Michael, and the kids themselves kept me pretty much up to date about what was happening in the world of music. Naturally, they heard all my favorite artists/songs playing over and over, and I taught them best of Rock and Roll that I possibly could. Case in point: to hate Heavy Metal and to respect Elvis Presley. I also shared with them the best of classical symphonies and yes, the best of rock operas. Just last weekend, my son told me how little he appreciated the stage production of TOMMY when we had taken him, but what can you expect from a then 12 year old. NOW of course, he's duly impressed.

For personal reasons I think, once I left South Florida, the frequent sound of music never permeated my new home like it used to. Even when alone in the car, I'd tune into NPR way more often than I played my CDs. But, today, right out of the blue, things seem to have taken on a new dimension.

I was busy in the kitchen, prepping for dinner guests tonight. The closest CD player is the one in my dining room... it's part of the battery operated portable TV that I keep for power outtages, etc. Which got me to thinking: I NEED 3 CD players in one small house?? Apparently, I do.

In the meantime, I decided I wanted to listen to the radio and spent about 6 minutes trying to tune into NPR. Bingo. I got the signal. It was then that I noticed there was a CD inside, all ready to be played at the tap of a button. So... I tapped it. Turns out, the CD was one of the many I personally mixed a couple years ago. Except THIS one was the absolute best.

It had ALL the best music I've ever heard and loved and in no time flat, I was singing, strutting, cooking and smiling. I was into heavy duets with Ray Charles, Bruce Springstein, Conway Twitty, Tina Turner, Wynonna Judd, Kenny Rogers, Paper Tiger, Ivory Joe Hunter, Bonnie Raitt, Beach Boys, etc. etc. I'm so telling you... I deserve a GOLD MEDAL for this ingenious mix. And, this genius deal of mine goes on for over an hour and a half! As we speak, Bruce is serenading me to BORN IN THE USA. I can't tell you how happy listening to this CD is making me.

What I'm NOT so happy about is Michael Jackson. When his tune, BLACK AND WHITE was playing, I couldn't help but think how he absolutely f-ed up his life. And, my listening pleasure as well. I was totally into MAN IN THE MIRROR, THE WAY YOU MAKE ME FEEL and THRILLER. Talk about a wasted life. HOWever... there are plenty of other artists who have won my rockin' romantic heart and to them I say: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. The joy your music has brought me is timeless. Better yet, it's DEFinitely helping me to get back in the groove.

FOOD POISONING

Actually, it was more like ELECTIVE food poisoning. As it happens, I bring an apple to work each day, and usually throw in a small pack of Peanut Butter crackers, too. Hence… my food routine from Monday through Thursday. It's only AFTER I get home, that I get to eat REAL food. Like, meat, chicken, salad, whatever.

Today was different, though. I had to leave school and go directly to the car dealership to pick up my wheels, which I left yesterday for servicing. Oh… and by the way, when paying the several hundred dollar tab, it struck me as completely shocking when the cashier looked up at me, checked me out... and proceeded to tell me how much better I now look with my attractive new hair do! HUH?? How did SHE know? Turns out, she was viewing my driver's license, which showed my crappy hair and/or picture from 4 years ago. EEKS. I've GOT to update that shot IMMEDIATELY!

Anyway, while writing my check, I began to get a really sick feeling in my body. Not from the usual angst due to the depletion of monies from my checking account, BUT from the sudden realization that my sugar was dropping due to not having yet eaten. EEKS. It was 4 o'clock and I had completely forgotten about food! Talk about an astonishing event!

Which is why I chose to poison myself. DELICIOUSLY poison myself, but toxic, nonetheless. I left the dealership and RACED to the first place I passed to grab something to eat. Turns out the first place I passed was, what else? Burger King. Also known as: major dietary pollutant and overall lethal cuisine. BUT, I have to tell you... as poisonous as this fast food may have been, it was by far THE tastiest meal I've had in a lonnnnng time! WAY more delectable than the Food Network would EVER recommend. Let alone the medical community.

Regardless, I quickly ordered a Junior Whopper with cheese, french fries and what the hell... throw in a small chocolate milkshake. And just as quickly, I downed this feast in utter delight! Talk about Poison Heaven. I have to admit: I so loved this meal WAY more than I should have. Indeed… every bite of the 50k caloric and heart clogging bit of it, went down with sheer ease and pleasure.

Yes, I felt horribly guilty. But interestingly enough... I was able to cope JUST beautifully. In fact, I just may have to try this gastro-bliss yet again in another 2 years. Given the restraint from my 4 year craving for some KFC, occasional food poisoning, it turns out, is not NEARly as deadly as I imagined. Actually... I highly recommend it. And, besides everything else… you get to walk away with a pretty snappy looking crown.

BEDTIME

A while back I told you that I love my dining room table. But I have to say that equally, I also love my bed. I've had it for a zillion years but I love it as much now as I did when it was just brand new. It's king sized, definitely firm and oh, so welcoming. Which, now that I think of it, is pretty much the way I love my men, too. But... why go there.

People closest to me, know I've spent YEARS trying to find just the right bed linens to strike the exact look I was going for. I bought linens, I made linens, I switched linens; I've basically done everything imaginable with linens to create the feeling I wanted. I tried country flowers, I tried monotones. I tried a scarlet and gold regal look and I tried a simple sage and white deal. I tried the hotel design and I tried the spa inspired design.

FINALLY. A few months ago, I came up with the finished, definitive look and all I can say is: Thank God my search is over. It was getting mighty tiresome, not to mention mighty pricey. The picture here shows you what my bed now looks like. Actually, what the winter scheme looks like. The summer scheme is down in my basement waiting for the change of seasons, but I love that look just as much. Currently, the style consists of several different sized/colored/textured pillows. The top spread is made of beautiful multi textured fabrics, my favorite one being the cream colored satin borders. Underneath the spread there is a down comforter covered in a cream colored duvet and finally, a white fitted sheet with a white bed skirt. What I really love about the spread, and what you can't see in the picture, are the different textures of all the fabric strips. Velvet, satin, silk, etc.

In the meantime, beds are pretty important to me. Not only for the obvious recreational activities that take place in one; but also, beds provide me with one of my all time favorite OTHER activities: naps and good night sleeps. Man, do I love getting my beauty rest. You'd almost think I'd be a glamour queen by now, given my dedication to sleep. But, whatever.

Further, I also love getting INTO a bed. Into a good looking, well made up bed. Thus, while I simply hate doing it, I do in fact, make my bed every day, nevertheless. That way, whenever the time is right for me to eventually climb into this pleasuredome, it's pretty, it's inviting and it's comfy. Bottom line: I literally love being ... lured into bed.

Which reminds me: if you too, love being lured into bed and more importantly, can meet my personal requirements for lure-ifcation (I made that up) then geez... maybe we should talk. At the very least, maybe you can pass me the pillows so I can finish making the bed.

I'M CONVERTING

Well, okay. It's not really ME that's converting. It's my mp3 files that I'm trying to convert. And, it's no easy feat, let me tell you. Unless maybe you're a computer geek, I guess.

Many months ago, I won an item on eBay that 1.) I love and 2.) would otherwise cost hordes of money. It's a 3 disk seminar from The Learning Company entitled VICTORIAN BRITAIN. So up my alley. This company apparently puts onto disks several hours of fabulous lectures, seminars, courses, etc. Kinda like attending a college class, except instead of a stunning college aged kid sitting next to you, you're sitting by yourself in the car, in your house, or wherever. Big difference, if you ask me.

In the meantime, I was so excited the day the disks arrived. I couldn't WAIT to pop them into my CD player and begin the course on one of my all-time favorite topics... British History. Yippee. I opened the package, took the CDs and placed the first one into the CD player in my bedroom. I was thinking: what a great way to fall asleep. Listening, learning and just like in a real college class, starting to doze. Uh... not so fast, Linda.

No sooner had the CD begun to play than I realized... EEKS. NO SOUND. HUH?? I GOT SCREWED? Actually, no. I saw immediately that the disk was spinning and playing. What I didn't see was that the CD was in an .mp3 format and not in a .wav format. Thus, no WONDER the player couldn't decode the lecture. Duh. Thus... how to resolve the conversion problem??

I tried several different methods, including copying the CD onto a new one and then converting it via my burner software. Hmmm... didn't work out so hotsi totsi. I went to method 2, but that didn't work either. After a LONG time of trying to figure out the best way to get my desired results, I concluded that what was needed was to copy the CD onto my hard drive and THEN do the conversion. Bingo. It worked. Except NOW... instead of 24 condensed .mp3 files, I have now instead, 24 HUGE megabytes of .wav files. Which means, I'll have to copy all these files onto what? About 28 zillion CDs?? Geez. Serves me right for being the last American on earth not owning an iPod.

So... while I'm thrilled the format conversion is now complete, I'm almost imagining that all spiritual leaders, can TAKE HEART. Were reLIGious conversion such a challenge, everyone would surely stay put. Which probably would make priests, preachers, rabbis, etc. all very happy.

THE PRINCELY SON

The King may be dead, but the Prince is alive and well. In other words: Elvis may have been King, but it's my son who is a Prince. And why not? I handed him life on a silver platter, didn't I?? And let me just tell you... I haven't had a single regret about it, either.

As promised, my son and I had a simply fabulous time together this weekend. True, he arrived later than expected, but the important thing was, his plane DID arrive. And, by now... his plane has departed. Damnit.

I so hate when he leaves. When I wrap my arms around him for the last good-bye hug and kiss, it's like a bit of me is leaving as well. He, of course, is looking forward to returning to his apartment, friends, graduate classes, etc. I on the other hand, am looking forward to wanting to go put my head in a vise. Well, okay. Not quite that bad, but almost.

I loved every song we sang to the personally mixed CD's I keep in my car. (long ago, I taught him to love every rock and roll song I did!) We buzzed all around the city singing along to Bono, Wynonna, Cher, Fats, Billy, Tina and Elton. We visited friends and family. We ate some delicious foods and best of all, he made for me, a couple of 3 dimensional puzzles of world famous monuments. A trick I learned way back when: Keep his hands busy, and you keep his heart happy. I have several of his creations in my house, including a couple of his absolutely fantastic pieces of pottery. We also had many great laughs while listening to Howard Stern on the Sirius Radio he brought to me the last time he was here. Naturally, I gave him my ususal edict to stay away from emotional and/or behavioral whack jobs and to always, ALWAYS wear a condom. I also reminded him never to marry a woman who isn't wildly crazy about me.

One of the best parts about my son is that he is so much like me. And, trust me... I love myself a lot. Which only means, I love him MORE. Afterall, what could possibly be better than spending time with me?? Or, as in this case, with a clone of me. Besides, we really do have FUN being together. I remember going to his graduation last May. He took me to something he'd always wanted to see, yet never had. He took me to... ready for this?... a Monster Truck Jam at the Ocala Speedway. SO not a place I ever imagined I'd be, let alone enjoy. But... as it happened, we really did have a lot of fun. Score 700 points for the Cooperative Mother.

Anyway, my son is probably the finest piece of work I ever created. He can make me nuts at times, yes; but it's well worth it, given he can also make me very very proud. Am so telling you.... this kid is a prince of a guy.

WHAT AN A HOLE

Nice way for a mother to speak of her son, don't you think? But really, today I can't help it. In actuality, I am absolutely wild about my kid. Maybe even more than a lot of parents, for all I know. He's my all time favorite person to be with for a zillion reasons. On the other hand, he can also piss me off. Kinda like today. What an freakin' jerk he is. Sometimes I can't believe he's mine.

Case in point: Earlier today, I woke up, tap dancing all around the house, prepping for my son's arrival this morning. I got up, got dressed, straightened the house, arranged all the fabulous things I bought for him and was calculating how soon I needed to leave, to be at the airport on time. It was then that I got a phone call and noting my caller ID, I realized this can't be good. If my son's on the phone, that could only mean one thing:

He's not on the plane. Sh^t.

Sure enough, my little precious face, (almost 25 years old) slept through his alarm and bingo. He missed his flight. The significant thing about all this is: I shouldn't have been the least bit surprised. Leave it to Sonny Boy to somehow screw up scheduled plans. Of course, HE'S got a great outlook on things. His basic outlook was... Don't fret, Mom. I promise I'll make it up to you by being sure the two of us have a simply fantastic time together! MY basic outlook was: WHAT AN A HOLE YOU ARE. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU MISSED YOUR FLIGHT??? God, what an idiot.

Okay, so this isn't the end of the world. He'll arrive 3 hours later and boom, we'll go from there. BUT, this is exactly the reason I'm the only mother in the world who absolutely wouldn't let her son become a doctor. Especially in a specialty that had potential of life and death. OOPS. I FORGOT THE SURGICAL BLADE INSIDE THE PATIENT'S BODY?? UH OH. HMMM... NOW, DON'T WORRY, MR. SMITH. WE'LL FIGURE THIS ALL OUT. As if that'll somehow comfort the mourning Smith Family.

In the meantime, the best thing about my son and I is that we can be absolutely direct with each other. He never ends a conversation with me without telling me he loves me. And, nor do I. Today, however, I also added a tag line: WHAT AN A HOLE YOU ARE. Speaking naturally... out of sheer love and devotion. And a mere bit of occasional reality.

COMPARE AND CONTRAST

Don't be blonde, 36 years old and in Hollywood. Regrettably, you might die.

When I heard that Anna Nicole died today, I couldn't help but think of Norma Jean. AKA Marilyn. Both women were 36, both were bombshells and while Marilyn was in Hollywood, California, Anna Nicole was in Hollywood, Florida. I’m sure I needn't tell you that both were apparently emotionally troubled and yes, probably on drugs. EEKS. It's almost eerie.

It's also a major shame, given Anna's daughter is only 5 months old. On the other hand, if it can be found that Anna Nicole is, in fact, entitled to the $435 million Howard Marshall left to her, then Danni Lynn might become one hell of a rich little girl. Of course we still have no definitive idea who the father is, but trust me… both men are keeping their fingers crossed.

It blows me away that Anna Nicole is even famous. Talk about a whack job. To me, compared to Anna, Marilyn was Mother Teresa. For, Anna Nicole was so bizarre that I, myself, would be afraid to even accept a phone call from her for fear the looniness could become a transmitted disease, if even through telephone wires.

In the meantime, I am sure we will hear aLOT more about this death... and I can't even imAGine what path it may take. I'm just hoping the craziness of it all is now a thing of the past. But something inside of me says: Forget it. It's just the beginning.

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Growing up, I lived in a home where the master suite was on the ground floor. MY room however, was on the second floor. Thus, I've been climbing stairs from as far back as I can remember. The master suite of my parent's present home is also on the ground floor. Which means, once again, I was climbing stairs to get to what used to be "my" room. However, in this newer house, the spiraling staircases are separated by a big entry hall; meaning there are two stair cases with which to contend. Which of course presented quite a dilemma for me. Which one to use for going up? Which one for coming down? And, can one of them be used for both?

The answer of course is NO. In my mind, only one staircase can be used for one direction. Meaning, you can only go up on one and only come down on the other. It's a kind of law to which I religiously adhere no matter where I am. Upon refection, I think this law came from my days in Junior High School. The rule in B Building, where almost all 7th grade classes were held, was: Go up on one side of the hallway and come down on the other side. I guess this one directional flow helped move the students along without too much traffic/body crashing.

I think about this Junior High School law every day when I now go to work. My present classroom is on the second floor hence there are two staircases, each separated by again, a big entryway. My personal law for getting to my classroom is simple... go up on the left staircase, come down on the right. Any other way of travel is not even up for consideration.

What really gets me, though, is how everyone ELSE using these staircases has no clue about the up/down directional law. THEY use either staircase no matter WHICH direction they're going. And, often... they use the same one for BOTH directions. Yikes. They never HEARD of the Stairway Law? Whoa. That's amazing to me. Talk about tempting the hands of Stairway Gods!

Besides, I bet these other law-breaking teachers and students don't suffer from the peri-menopausal disease that I now do. It popped up right out of the f-ing blue: Fear of escalators. IT'S CRAZY, I know. But truly, it's a real disease! And, it presented itself right out of NOWHERE. One day, I'm happily stepping onto a down escalator, and boom. The next day I'm a frozen idiot. I CAN'T MOVE. I CAN'T TAKE THE FIRST STEP. I CAN'T GET ON. I'M DOOMED FOR LIFE. Pay me a million dollars, and I swear, I simply can't get on a down escalator. I haven't gone down one for YEARS, now. Don't ask. It's a major hassle but there's just no overcoming this disease.

One day, I'll have to tell you the story of it's onset. But for now, you can just imagine how THRILLED I am that school has stairs to climb rather than an escalator to ride. In SPITE of how my knees creak with every ascending step. And... reGARDless of who is or who isn't following stairway laws.

LEGGS

A crazy thing is happening to me.... I'm losing weight. However, that's not the craziest part. The TRUE craziness is that I'm losing weight IN MY CALVES. And, in my thighs, too. Huh?? People actually lose WEIGHT there?

I'm almost beginning to wonder if maybe I have some horrible life threatening disease because really... in a matter of a month, today it was confirmed: I've gone down an ENTIRE dress size. Now THERE'S a first. There are a few possible explanations up for consideration, but since this is SUCH an astonishing phenomenon I decided it doesn't even matter WHY.

If only my Mother were still alive. Being way more vain than I, she'd take one look at me right now now and boom. She'd start tap dancing all over the place in a matter of minutes. All over the city, too. For, I think my mother was always a bit disappointed that while the shapeliness SHE was hoping for was along the lines of svelte, the shapeliness I was sporting inSTEAD, was more along the lines of oh... I don't know... BULKY maybe??

On the other hand, my Mother always adored my face. And, my legs. So, if only she were here tonight, I'd have to ask her what the hell is going on with my calves and thighs. EEKS. THEY NO LONGER FIT into my curent, beautifully selected, colorful and seasonal LEG WARDROBE! This can really happen??? My legs are becoming anorexic??

Apparently, my legs have simply become wayyyy to slim for 1.) my knee high socks to stay up, over my calves, and for 2.) my thigh high stockings to stop drooping south. Jesus. Of all the places to lose weight, THIS is where it's choosing to occur??

As it happens, tonight is the second anniversary of the death of my Mother. In her memory, I'm going to services as well as providing the delicious refreshments after the service. And, guess what? I've now BECOME my Mother!!

You should see me. I have on a stunning knee length dress. I'm wearing heels with beautiful cream colored stockings. I'm wearing patent leather open toe shoes, just like Mom always did, when putting on the ritz. I'm also wearing some of my favorite glitzy jewelry... an exquiste cocktail ring she gave me long ago. My hair and makeup are impeccable and one look at me, and I'm so telling you... my Mother would kvell. I can hear her right now... YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL. Of course, that's a mother speaking, but boy, would she be proud. I miss my mother alot. But, in all fairness it's not only because she was such a good, loving mother to me. I miss her for what she may also consider even more important... BECAUSE SHE CAN'T SEE ME ALL DOLLED UP TONIGHT! Dolled up AND weight loss. Now, for what more could a mother ask?

UNORTHODOX

As it happens, I love my dining room table. I have had it for over 25 years, and while it's far from fancy, it's a piece that I love. It's made of a 7' x 4' piece of glass, atop a beige colored marble base. Both are my amongst my favorite materials. And, as it makes for a wonderful table setting for 10/12, it also makes for a fabulous work room. Just one of the reasons why people find me unorthodox at times.

Most people would NEVER do every art/paint/craft/sewing/collating/building project known to mankind, right smack in the middle of their dining room. But ME? Of course I do! Actually, I HAVE to, by virtue of my living in such a small house. But... I'd probably do it regardless, even if I lived on an estate. Never mind the cream colored upholstered chairs. Never mind the berber carpeting. All the better for making my projects a bit more challenging.

My latest art project is one I've just completed. You see a picture of it up above. It's a 3 dimensional piece and I think I kinda like it. I was watching a craft show on TV the other day that sparked me a bit, so I figured I'd give it a try. WHAT A HOLY MESS. But, of course that didn't keep me from creating my masterpiece. To make this, I had to do A LOT of papier mache -ing. (News Flash: despite sounding French, the technique is actually given to us by the Chinese) The papier part was easy. The mache-ing part (IS there such a word??) was totally outta control . Water, glue, a zillion strips of paper, more glue, runny water bowl, even more glue, foam bases, etc. You should have seen me trying to answer the ringing phone ... gooey hands dripping like a faucet should give you the idea. After the form was mache-d, I let it dry, did a base paint and then merely embellished until... Bingo. You're done. As we speak, it's hanging on one of the windowed walls in... where else??... my dining room. The top piece is hot glued to the base and the base is hanging from a nail in the wall.

Anyway, the point of all this is: Had my son, let's say, ever done such a project in the living room, I'd have gone ballistic. WHAT?? YOU'RE MAKING THIS HOLY MESS HERE IN THE DINING ROOM?? WHAT THE HELL KIND OF HOME YOU THINK I RUN HERE?? SINCE WHEN DO WE USE THIS AS AN ARTS CENTER?? I FEED PEOPLE ON THIS TABLE, FOR GOD SAKES!! And, that's just the part I can repeat. Trust me... anyone other than me, doing this... I'd have called in the Looney Police in a heart beat. But, since it's ME... well then, it's another story altogether. It suddenly becomes a perfectly FINE thing to do. A perfectly ACCEPTABLE thing to do. And, a perfectly unorthodox thing to do.