Liar, Liar....Who's next?

   Since Oprah has heard the Letterman and Armstrong confessions, when is O.J. going to appear for his interview?   That one I might watch. 

The Crush

  Today would have been Elvis' 78th birthday.  Five years older than Dorothy.  She had an intense crush on him: she absolutely loved him, the first and only star she felt so deeply about.  One time, reflecting, she seriously asked me if I thought she would ever meet him in person.  She had grown so stunning at this time in her life, I thought it possible that she might well meet him, and said so.    Now I wonder.  I'd like to think so, but I can only wonder.

TMI !

 Dear David Letterman, Why, oh why, at this point in your life did you have to spill your guts---and to Oprah at that.  She is the pope of the world, but did you really need to jump the shark to seek her forgiveness.  You didn't have to become an antichrist, but your antiestablishment, renegade attitude was the foundation of your appeal.  Did your psychiatrist advise you to do  a mental cleanse, and for that matter why do we need to know that you are in therapy?   And isn't that supposed to be enough to enable you  to avoid a public humiliation?   You didn't exactly jump on her couch, but it's even ickier to lie on it and await her absolution.  Maybe you thought you were too old to be cool, and that's all you had.   Who's next---Kid Rock, emnem?   I'm grateful Gary Cooper and John Wayne are safely entombed with their character intact.  Mental stability, self assurance----the Last Frontier.

Break-in Bad

  Twice I have broken into my own house, the two occasions about 30 years apart.  The first time was in 1969, and my first-born child was just 3 weeks old.  It was morning and I'd fed  the baby, put her back in the crib in her bedroom, and run downstairs to put in a load of laundry. When I came back upstairs, the door into the kitchen had locked, as was the front door---I was locked out!  The front of the house has steps so the windows are not as low as you might think, but I managed to look in and see the little thing alone in the crib, her very life at stake.   I was afraid she would die, being left alone, or the house would burst into flames, kind of a normal way of thought for a first-time mother, I guess.  To compound matters, I was still wearing my nightgown, and even more problematic, the gown was one of those flimsy silky trousseau types; I did not see myself flagging down motorists, or running next door for help.  Not wanting to leave the baby, I went around back, dragged a garbage can to the front of the house beneath the window.  It was summer, and the window was up, though the screen was locked.  I found a screwdriver in the garage and used it to pry the aluminum side strip off the window, was able to push the window up, and quickly and easily pulled myself up and in.  Tragedy averted.
     Forward to about 15 years ago, and a similar  scenario presented itself.  I'd ridden over to the high school to correct examinations with a teacher performing the same task, and when she dropped me back off at my house, I  realized that since I hadn't driven myself, I'd left my keys, all of them, in the house.  Locked out again!  But this time a precedent had been set, so I thought I'd just repeat the process from years before.  I got the screwdriver, dragged  the garbage can to beneath the same window, climbed up on it, disassembled the parts of the sash, pushed up the window (again it was summertime) and climbed in.  Well, almost in.  Whereas before, I simply slipped through the opened window, seemingly effortlessly,  this time was different.  Entering from the window meant I had to place my  hands down on the floor while the rest of me  was still  outside.  Fully dressed this time, my fervent hope was that no passing motorists would notice me.  I could have used a little boost, but definitely did not want it.  I had to heft the rest of me through the window frame, leaving a portion of  my skin on the dismantled aluminum frame.  Entering meant crawling up, over, and down all at the same time, and I have to say my body moved in segments.  It had seemed so easy the first time.   The lesson learned is that things are not what they seem, nothing stays the same, and thank heaven for cell phones if I ever lock myself out again. 

N.Y.'s Resolution

YOLO

Bad Medicine?

  He was a licensed medical doctor and appeared on TV to relay health strategies for the new year, so his advice must be worthwhile.  One of his helpful hints had to do with the difficulty in administering medicine to children.  Kids don't like the taste of some liquids, so pills might be a better option.  And since kids often have difficulty in swallowing pills, the doctor's suggestion was to have them practice by swallowing a TicTac.  It just seems so wrong, on so many levels, doesn't it? 

Word to 2013

I've seen several other lists of words to avoid for 2013, mostly because of fatigue from overuse.  I would like to add: 
 1) babybump----how was pregnancy ever described previous to the coinage of this graphically repulsive term?
2) amazing-------especially when someone replies to the question asking how you are feeling, and the answer is "I feel amazing!"   Really?
3) I'll return with more later: I need to go throw acid on the TV.
   ......I just heard some reporter talk about "kicking the can down the road." I don't even think they know the actual reference, but it's in vogue to say it.
  ***AND, now that it's a new year, the media is providing us help with our New Year's Resolutions.  They suggest for weight loss to park your car at the far end of the parking lot and walk into your building. and to take stairs instead of  elevators.   Since it's still dark when many arrive at and leave work, and since stairways are usually in secluded areas of buildings, we need to wait for media suggestions on how to deal with crime.  We'll worry about avoiding being mugged after we drop a few pounds.