I no longer want to physically or metaphysically hurt anyone...

I'm still irritated but trash cans are safe.  My adorable children are in bed.  My husband will be home a day earlier than we feared (mostly because we forgot that today is Thursday and not Friday) and I was able to help out my parents (a real feat as they insist on being the servers and never the served).  But most of all...

I. Love. Snow.

Tonight, the world is blanketed in white snow as I watch Jay Leno say a final goodbye.  I have but one regret tonight - that I didn't take Dave to see Leno last summer.  Somehow, I think I thought he would always be there.

Anyway, thanks Jay.  You've made me laugh consistently. Your final goodbyes were sweet and heartwarming.  You are a rare breed.  I will miss you.

Welcome, Jimmy.  This skit made me laugh so loud I woke my baby.  I hold you responsible for that difficult night (but it was so worth it). 

As for my rants, well, I'm sorry if I upset anyone.  I have a difficult time separating the philosophical from the personal.  To me, healthcare arguments are about sick children, not economic policy.  I won't ever be able to forget the faces of suffering families, so please stop expecting me to do so.

My night was busy but it felt good to be useful.  I got some time with my sweet little niece.  I've lost some of my aunt-power since I became such a mediocre mom. Tonight, I felt like I had a little of my mojo back as she and I giggled our way around town. She is such a sweet, lovely little person - so full of the unique and quirky.  I love her big sister, too, but she was busy with swimming lessons.

Have I mentioned I have the best kids in the nation? I love those boys.  Wish I could give them a sister (truth be told, I'm probably grumpy this week more because of fertility issues than any of the aforementioned issues).  Yet I'm endlessly grateful for the sweet boys that make me smile every day.

Now, on to my successes.

Daily Reporting Table

Task	Completed!	Partially Complete	Not completed
Physical/Emotional Goals
2 ½ cups vegetables	X
Caloric intake < 1500/day	X
300 min/week moderate exercise	X
Sleep 8 hours per day	X
Complete a brain exercise daily	X
Clean hands per CDC guidelines		X
Professional Goals
8 hours focused work daily	X
Arrive at work before 8:30 am	X
Wear make-up and fashionable clothes	X
Leave work at work	X
Spiritual Goals
Read scriptures 10 minutes per day	X
Pray on my knees twice daily		X
Meditate 10 minutes daily		X
Parenting Goals
Absolutely no harsh treatment	X
If I say it, I have to do it immediately	X
Family meals (No TV, sitting at table)	X
One-on-one listening time	X
Limit screen time to 2 hrs or less	X
Read for 20 minutes daily	X
In their own beds by 8:30 pm	X
Home/Finance Goals
Stick to a strict budget	X
Clutter-free home	X
Social Goals
Listen more than I talk		X
Speak only positive ideas		X
Call someone on the phone	X*

*I am counting serving my parents for this one today.

Score: 22.5/25 = 90%

Please not that there is not a single task in the not completed column!

I am...

almost sad it's over (despite loving the outcome).

I am...

still shocked that K-Fed turned out to be the responsible party.

James Spader Returns to Dreamland!

This post resurrected after nearly 2 weeks...





It's been a long time since I had one of my strangely present dreams turned daydream involving my favorite celebrity. I'm not sure if this one is funny or just plain weird. Could it possibly be weirder than the baseball dream last year? That portentous dream could, possibly, win awards.

As usual, my dreams have much more to do with what I did just before falling asleep than with any aspect of real or imagined sleep-prescience. I was still annoyed about my coworker and couldn't sleep last night. So, I turned on Boston Legal while I half-read the Stephanie Meyers book, Eclipse. As the last of her trilogy about teenage vampire love, the book reads like Romeo & Juliet on stupid pills. I can't believe I've found something else to put me in the minority but the heroine in the book just bugs the life out of me. I feel hypocritical because I know that if ever anyone could end up with a controlling vampire boyfriend, it would be me - because I've pretty much been there, done that to the tune of ending up a cold, lifeless creature with a nasty temper. So, I have no room to criticize and will read the book for Book Club and listen to everyone else gush about it while I wonder how it's possible that anyone could make Buffy look like a thriving young adult with good moral fiber.


In my very, very realistic dream, I was on my mission again as a 21-year-old young woman. My companion in the mission was a previously troubled young woman but we seemed to get along well. I had all the same problems that plagued me as a real-world missionary - I don't like to tell people what to do and I get hot-headed when attacked. However, I was not the problem missionary in this pair. No - it was my companion, who had a strange affinity for a family on the outskirts of town who lived in this big house and were rarely seen in the daylight. I thought her attraction to the youngest son was worrisome and we argued about it as we left the apartment one day.


I stopped to read the newspaper headlines. When I looked up, my flighty companion was roaring off with the inappropriate son. At this point, I recognized her as Bella from the silly book and I sighed, "Oh no. Not another vampire dream."

I went back into the store and called a friend to come and get me. I waited outside and, soon, a black Toyota pulled into the lot with a baby seat in the back and a man with glasses waved at me. I collected my things and crossed to the car, quickly coming to the realization who had been sent.

"James! I didn't expect to see you here!" I'll admit my mind raced with possibilities until I remembered the baby seat. I glanced at the steering wheel to verify the wedding ring.

"Oh suckage! I have the worst luck lately! But I totally thought you were gay in all my other dreams."


I felt embarrassed, so I changed my tone, "So, enough about me. Why are you okay with the whole dream world thinking you're homosexual when you're not? Though maybe you are, in the real world. I find this all very confusing - but why the big reveal?"



"Oh - it's much easier to hide behind a socially-approved lie than reveal an undesirable truth, wouldn't you agree? I don't want everyone knowing about James, the midwestern father of 4."

"Four. Wow. Impressive. I never would have guessed."

I shrugged. I was feeling guilty about being a surly member of a great organization just because I wanted to be liked and for thinking many, many mean thoughts about the silly ex-companion who had ditched me for her vampire lover. James seemed to sense my unrest.

"So long as you remain unarmed, the world will survive your temper."

"Not comforting, James. I can't believe you're STRAIGHT in this dream but MARRIED to someone else. What the hell is wrong with my psyche?!"

James shrugged as he usually does when I dream-rant. "While I certainly find the situation regrettable, I am enormously relieved not to have been dreamed a vampire."

I switched topics, "Yeah, what's wrong with that girl? Who thinks it's okay to kill a few people just to be with your one true? How is it possible that any pair of teenagers has helped make Romeo and Juliet look like cool-headed, rational, well-meaning lovers?!"

James chuckled. "Someday, you really should consider learning the difference between reality and fiction. In the meantime, suppose you tell me what's really bothering you."

We began to converse. I've begun to realize that James dreams are really just an excuse for my psyche to talk to itself in the midst of stress. I suppose if you're going to have a split personality, you couldn't do much better than James Spader. I missed the other personas, though - Chris Walken and William Shatner were such amusing additions but they've been gone for almost 2 years...I guess I learned everything there was to know about shoes and humor in poor taste...ha ha.

I awoke with an awareness that if I ever learn to distiguish fact and fiction, my dreamscape will be a good deal less fun. I'm still annoyed that I dreamed heterosexual James Spader married. Really - what's up with that?!

Oh, Jack! Silly, silly Jack!

24 is a fantastic show. I've watched all 24 seasons (that's right, right?) and I can tell you - it's fantastic. But sometimes...oh, sometimes....anyway, this season I just haven't had a lot of time, so I've watched 7 episodes over the past 4 days but am still not caught up. Anyway, here's a little summary a la Glo for any late-comers.

******MAJOR SPOILER ALERT***********

Scene 1: Jack blows me up

Glo: aaaack! Aaaack! Jack! You blew me up!

Jack: I'm sorry. I have to go and arrest my family now. You better put something on those burns.

Glo: Aaack! Chloe, previously my favorite character and one of the most unique women on TV, help me! I need medical attention!

Chloe: I have a really weird plotline this season that has made me both weaker and less believable. Gee, I love the writers! Oops...Glo....they, like Omar, have written you out of the plot through a freakishly violent death. Better luck next time!

Glo: silence. Her blood oozes onto the TV screen.

Jack: Boy, my family sure is wack!

Jack's brother: Woo-ey! We are one wack Jack pack!

Jack's dad: Jack, off your brother. He's short and doesn't look like you at all. I'm pretty sure your mother...

Jack: Yeah, mom sure was wack.

Jack's brother: gurgle, gurgle

Jack's dad: Great. Now Jack will have exactly 45 seconds of mental distress before he shoots something and all is resolved before the next torture sequence.

Jack: You took up a whole 15 seconds! Why is it never just about me?! Does no one care about my pain?

Jack's dad: Damn. I should have told them to off each other. Then I'd finally have some peace to plot maniacally. I hate being a father.

Jack's love interest: I'm a bimbo. All the female writers quit after they offed Teri in the first season while she was pregnant. Now it's all dumb girls....look at me! I'm so dumb! I cause people to die!

A special insert by Glo:

Dear writers of 24,

For the love of mercy, please find someone who has MET an actual woman and can wield a pen on her behalf. To help you with this endeavor, I have written a smattering of real woman conversation in a scene I just watched. Please observe and seek a writer who can somewhat understand why this is better writing than your absolutely ridiculous character choices.

Love interest: Jack, do you think this car is bugged?

Jack: No. We just stole it, I thought. Why do you ask?

Love Interest: Well,...that was a strange phone call, Jack. Your father just asked me to misdirect you. He claims he has my child. Jack, I'm a bit frightened for my son. Do you think we could utilize, I don't know, the entire U.S. government to bring down the terrorist and rescue my child? I'm sure we could double-play this somehow using the incorrect address he just provided.

Jack: Wow. That's a really great idea. Of course, now the writers will have to come up with a different way to have me flinging explosives this episode, but you're right - I've saved the world several times over and CTU will coordinate with the FBI to save your child. Why don't you tell me that fake address so we can get the ruse in place?

Love interest: Sure. And if it's okay with you, I'll go somewhere safe so that my son will have a mother to come home to. Not that you're not attractive, but I have a responsibility to that child. If you ever stop being hell-bent on self-destruction, we could do dinner sometime.

Jack: That would be nice. Now I have to save the world. Your son will be returned in 1.35 episodes.

Dear writers, did you see that? Did you notice how the woman had brain cells, interpretive capability, and contributed more than sad eyes to the scene? Did you notice she had depth? I would really, truly appreciate seeing some depth in a woman on-screen. You've ruined Chloe, too, this season, so I don't hold out much hope....but I'm optimistic that by season 37, you'll have at least one woman with an IQ above 45.

Love, Glo

Jack: What about me? Does no one care about me? I just killed my brother:

Dumb chick: runs into a tree for no apparent reason

Jack's dad: I'm evil! I'm e-e-e-e-vil!

Jack: Ah, man....we're only halfway through the season. I'd better go and kill someone. That 45 seconds of humanity really brought down my kill count.


So, there you have it. A review of 24 this year. Personally, I think I'd make an awesome screenwriter. If you disagree, well, I'll just have to die violently in a film near you!

To close, an actual quote from my shoebox: Average number of contents 2. Ponder that, dear reader.

In Place of Regularly Scheduled Programming - a Very Special, Star-Studded Event

The sigh was well-timed with the 2nd run of the 8th inning. James Spader, one of my celebrity spirit guides, appeared in the empty seat to my right. His Dodger Dog seemed to perplex him. "At first, I encountered hot dogs too small for the buns. Now I am faced with a dog too big. It seems, my dear friend, that size, indeed, matters, in nearly every way."

"Everyone saw that joke coming, James," I sighed again, grateful that the Dodgers' pitcher was falling apart pitch by pitch.

"I found it funny. Very funny. The World Series of funny. Quite unlike those shoes. Where did you get those shoes?" Christopher Walken was staring at my feet through large-rimmed glasses much like James.

"Et tu, Chris?" I asked, disappointed in his hero-worship.

"Hey! The guy is all kinds of cool!" He handed me studded black nightmares. I shook my head and wrinkled my nose.

"Whoa! Those are some shod-hoppers!" William Shatner elbowed his way through the crowd, currently groaning as the 3rd run passed home base. "Make some room."

"What are you doing here?" I asked in puzzlement at the new appearance in my celebrity fantasies.

"I go wherever he goes," he said, thumbing at James. Noticing the still-puzzling Dodger Dog, Good Ole Bill reached out and snagged it. "You're never going to risk catsup on that designer t-shirt. Good thing I wore my blood donor tee."

"It seems I've picked up a rider," James said as he handed over the dog. Bill reached for my lemonade.

"So, what brings us here?" Chris asked, perusing the shoes of all my game-mates. Soon, he would be handing out personality assessments and useful tips for communication.

"I do believe that our soon-not-young friend is running out of casual date enthusiasm. What number is this now?"

"7 in 10 weeks." I sighed amidst the roar of happiness when the Padres at long last got their 3rd out. "I've had 7 dates in 10 weeks. At this rate, I will be casually dating 5% of the single men in Los Angeles by the end of the year."

Bill guffawed through his hot dog. "What's wrong with that?"

I shrugged.

James was perusing my date. "Lovely man. Terrible fit."

"He might do better on a second date," I admitted. "He lacks the manners, though."

Chris looked hard at me. "Your collection of strappies means you want somewhere to wear them - somewhere nice - somewhere you'll need manners."

"He likes art," I said, trying to rally some enthusiasm. "We have a lot in common. He likes to travel. Just got back from fishing in Mexico."

My date was anxiously complaining about the loud youth shouting behind him. It had been an annoyance to him for 3 hours. I tried to distract him - again - by asking sports-related questions, such as why the Anaheim Angels are enjoying rising success while the Dodgers continue to decline.

The three men - well 2 of the 3 - watched the exchange with piqued interest. When I looked back, James was sitting back with an unreadable expression. Chris was shaking his head as he muttered about the risks of trying to recreate Nanette LePore with the Wal-Mart collection.

"What?" I asked. After a few minutes and in much louder voice, "What?!"

"You are giving up," James said coolly.

"I'm not!" I said quickly as I looked at Bill hitting on one of the scantily clad girls in the next row. They looked intrigued and disgusted.

"You are. You have sat here and decided that, while you are excellent casual date material, you have no potential for more."

"I can't think that. It's girly. And that's so out of fashion. For your information, I am sitting her pondering how to start my own just-cute-enough escort service - hire a girl your friends will believe is really yours!"

James moved forward to be in my peripheral vision, utterly unimpressed by my attempt at humor. "I know what you see around you: good women who are busy chasing their bliss and finding it easily while you struggle to make a connection beyond the casual. You're every guy's favorite casual date. So well-mannered, easygoing, conversational, sweet, appropriate. And that's where it ends for you."

I was growing uncomfortable, so I joined the passing wave. James pulled me back into my seat immediately.

"Barracuda," Bill said, settling back into his seat next to me but still watching the wave move around the stadium. Chris, James, and I looked at him with unworded question.

"She's a barracuda." He said by way of lame explanation.

James opened his mouth. Closed it. Sat back. Leaned forward. Finally, he reached over and pinched Bill. "Is there an elaboration in our future?"

Bill sighed. "Fish. Sea. Old analogy. Back with me?"

We paused another moment before James sat back and said, "Ah, I think I can salvage this. You, my dear, are a barracuda."

I giggled and shook my head. "Sure glad you guys showed up. I'm feeling all kinds of energized."

"I chased a barracuda for over an hour once," Chris said. "Best damn fish fight I ever had."

I was laughing by this point. "Well, that's encouraging!"

James leaned forward again and touched my hand. "Here's the crux: Christopher, you look fine in those glasses, by the way. And where is that fish now?"

"Mine's hanging on my study wall," Bill said. "Gorgeous fish! Big teeth. Good battle!" Chris agreed that his was also hung ceremoniously on some now-offending to feng shui wall. Each continued to rave about the experience and their pride at catching the fish.

I pursed my lips. "What does it say about my psyche that I dreamed you guys up and then actually felt better after being compared to an ugly fish with flesh-tearing teeth?"

"Let them eat guppies," Bill said. He winked at me before turning back to the nearly-concluded game.

"In other words," Chris said softly as he, too, leaned in to touch my knee reassuringly. "The man that catches you will not say goodbye easily. But in the meantime, the barracuda swims alone, wondering why the minnows, guppies, trout, salmon and bass get so much more attention. Wait for the right hook. Then you'll bite."

"And make a lovely wall decoration," I said in mock mocking. "Now go away. I have to feign enthusiasm about this second date offer."

And, yes, this is really what I thought during the 8th and 9th innings of the Dodger game last Wednesday night....

Photoshop Me with BAD Hair!

I discovered my fantasy-lover, James Spader, canoodling with another blogger, so I stole back my man, Hugh Jackman. Then I dyed my hair blonde for some unknown reason*. The only joy that brought happened as we passed in front of Joan and Melissa Rivers. As I passed, Joan said, "I think every drop of bleach has jumped out of her hair and is burning my eyeballs!" She started to scratch at her eyes for relief.

Then Melissa had a seizure. The entire stand fell silent, except for Joan's shrieks for an ambulance. I felt warm and fuzzy that my hair had stopped the torrent of criticism for the women behind me. I hope they appreciated what really bad hair had done for them.

*That is SO not my hair. I have better taste. Sorry, Mrs. Jackman - but what were you thinking?!

Glo gets LOST

"Awwww," I sighed into the cool breeze as the waves lapped the shoreline on a deserted island where I had been mysteriously dumped for unknown reasons as I had no intention of flying over the ocean on my summer vacation.

"I'm sorry! Did you request something?" a voice said beside my elbow.

I opened one eye. Beside me stood a tanned vision of perfection in fashionable beach wear for men. I noticed that his deep purple and blue swim trunks clashed terribly with the green slipper-sandals I had on my feet.

"Wait! What?! How did I get cute shoes when I'm supposedly stranded on a deserted isle?! And where did you come from? You can't have a person with you if you're stranded!"

The handsome stranger corrected me. "There are actually 2 of us. See my exceptionally handsome twin brother, Sven. He is expert in creating shelters including alcohol-free mini-bars and fully equipped kitchens. All out of bamboo. I am Swen."

"Nice," I said in true appreciation. "And what's your gift?"

He whipped out a pan of perfectly soft yet not sticky rice krispies treats. "I make perfect cereal candy out of many brands of sugared and not-so-sugared cereals."

"Dang straight," I whispered in awe. Hesitantly, I made a request. "Is it possible I have cuter shoes more perfectly color coordinated to my environment?"

"But of course! Your blogbuddy, Lianne, has wished you cute shoes during your stranding. Sven first made a closet to accommodate them. I will go and get you some."

Swen retreats. Sweet, I thought. Those silly Internet forward thingys have come true! So, Lianne wished me cute shoes. Mrs. Charlie wished me hot twins who bake. And Cate wished me...

I looked left to see the laptop computer on the table with my umbrella-happy drink. I picked up both and happily set to blogging. In a few minutes, Sven emerged from the shelter with pink strappy sandals and a bottle of nail polish to update my look.

"May your stranding bring bliss that lasts a lifetime," he wished me. I nodded my head before closing the laptop and drifting into daydream.

I really should do those Internet thingys more often, I said with no commitment whatsoever, knowing my blogbuddies would never expect me to do what I'm told. "So, what's for dinner?" I asked Sven who then entranced me with a description of the concoctions Swen was busily preparing in our beach hutch.

"Oh, come now, a woman with your intellect and wit would never be truly satisfied by this benign existence," an intelligent, sexy, stimulating, and sarcastic drawl announced as he poofed into being in a lounge chair to my right.

I began to smile. "Now," he said seductively. "Where exactly did you want that sunscreen...to avoid cancer of course."

My smile brightened as I lobbed the bottle across to James. "Nadia!" I shouted across the waves. "I love you!"

"There, there," James Spader chided me. "Let's save our voices for all that not-yelling for help we'll be doing over the next 40 years. Now, if only someone would wish us married..."

*POP* Two wedding rings appeared. I grinned before dropping into a come-hither look. "Remind me to thank Lia should we ever be rescued," James said as he poured sunscreen out of the bottle into his bare hand.