This is a song for the lonely.

OK, I realize that I normally don't post twice in only a few hours, but this was too good to wait.

Something is going on with Cher.

According to the nice article, she is selling some clothes and furniture and donating some proceeds to her own charity. She hopes to raise a million dollars. You can see the auction online. All 16 pages of it. Lots of clothes, furniture -yes. Plus wigs, paintings, awards, jewelry, books, shoes, a Hummer and a Ford truck from the movie "Moonstruck". Lots and lots of crucifixes.

When we average people want to clean out the closets and redecorate, we throw everything on the driveway on a Saturday morning and hope for a few hundred. Cher goes to Sotheby's and will probably get more than a mil. I can't handle ebay, but I think the above globe is awesome.

But here my question: Is this a cry for help, a profitable way to feng shui or a very lucrative moving sale?

Gotta give the woman props for always doing it big. Granted, if you gave her a prop, she would probably throw it in this auction...

Sometimes when I look deep in your eyes I swear I can see your soul

Life would be much easier if I could read people the way I can read my dog.

Growling, but wagging his tail is play growling.

Growling without the wagging, you should step away slowly (this is rare to non-existent with Nuschler).

One or both upper lips tucked under is unhappy puppy.

Lounging in various poses that always allow for a mama visual, usually accompanied by profuse sighing is a pathetic cry for attention, preferably a walk.

If he greets me at the door in a panicked state, pacing and running away and back to me, he's been naughty. I either need to clean something up or buy new shoes.

And, of course, if he is sitting perfectly with his ears in that cute way, he's waiting for a treat.

Homo sapiens being much more complex than your average canine, the signs are not as obvious. Alas.

As I am writing this, there is now a toy and a puppy head in my lap. You have one guess to what that means...

Oh, I also had lunch today with two friends. One of us has a house and a job, but wants a baby. Another has a house, a business, but wants a job and, in good time, a baby. The third has the baby, but needs a house and a job. Combined, we make one perfectly content person.

How far is too far, how far is all the way?

This song is from the brilliant musical Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up?, which was the first production I was a part of in high school. It has nuns on rollarskates. Too funny.


Has the world gone too far with being politically correct? Are we not supposed to have opinions?

My mom and Bec have been obsessed with the show House since early summer. I just started the first season (on DVD, which is both convenient and dangerous) and I have to say I LOVE IT. This brilliant doctor is called a bastard on every other episode (I'll keep better track for the sake of accuracy on that), but there is a beauty to his crotchety nature. He's not trying to be anyone but himself. Sure, he could be nicer. But why have we put so much worth on "nice"?

My question is this: Are we spending too much time apologizing for being ourselves and having our own opinions? Is this a Gen X thing? Or am I going mad alone?

..the moon was so beautiful that the ocean held up a mirror.

I'm up early today. I'm not a morning person. I leave that for those with natural, post-sleep energy.

I'm up because Punky stepped into something slimy after his shower. He alerted me to the slime and then showered off his foot. As I was cleaning the slime, using the intestinal fortitude I do not possess to not add to the slime, he stepped in another pile and then showered off his foot again.

Puppy does not feel well and I slept too soundly to help him. Now he's under observation and I'm a little green.

Wahoo for puppy-parenting.

On a clear day, stop and look around you...

I took a walk in the woods this morning. I needed to escape from distractions and clear my head. Nuschler needed to run, smell, poo and work out his energetic anxieties. With sunshine, a cool breeze and beautiful trees colored in orange, yellow, red and green, it was perfect.

I have been thinking about this question: Are you a perpetual people pleaser or a disciplined decision maker?

The goal is to make good decisions that make the key people happy. The older I get, the more I realize how difficult it is to see the good decision and pick the key people. So I take the people pleaser path, become miserable and start demanding that people please me, which gets me in trouble.

In the woods, I remembered my blessings. I remembered grace and joy and worth.

And I picked a few leaves for my mom. If I can't please her in big ways, I can try with the little ones.

Bill! You know I love you, I always will.

After dying my hair a lovely, dark shade of brunette a few weeks ago, I expected the people of my life to fall over themselves in shock and awe.

There wasn't much shock and only a smidge of awe. Rave reviews without the raving. Yes, yes, yes, I know, you like my hair, you complimented me, yeah, yeah. But I was looking for Shock and Awe.

Today I went crazy with the eyeliner, determined to find shock and awe somewhere. Finally, a teller at Wills goFar understood. "Wow, your eyes are striking!" Why, thanks!

Do I ask too much? Yes, always. But you rarely get what you do not ask for. At least the things you really want.

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

Today is the last day of the WB network. Some of their shows are continuing on a new network, others are gone. I realize this is rather superficial, but I'm kinda sad.

I started watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer after college. I went out, had dinner parties, or was busy almost every night of the week, except Tuesday. Buffy night. It was well-written, had awesome music and pushed the boundaries. The first time Buffy had sex, her boyfriend lost his soul, starting torturing/killing her friends and was out to finish her. How's that for consequences?

I tried watching the very first Felicity. There was a moment when I felt bad for her parents. I then started screaming, turned the tv off and refused to watch it again until just a few years ago. You are not supposed to feel bad for the parents.

While I was in Colorado, my mom and Bec kept telling me about this awesome new show, Gilmore Girls. I was in a rebellious stage and didn't want to watch it or like it. My co-worker talked about it non-stop, so I watched an episode and was hooked.

Too often with the mega-networks I feel they have forgotten that we would like to be entertained between commercials. Time and time again, the WB created characters who are smart, funny, flawed and human. They give their shows a chance to find a groove.

So, tonight the WB is airing the first shows of Buffy, Felicity, Angel and Dawson's Creek (no comment on this last one).

I'm sad, but, as always, hopeful.

Girls just wanna have fun

I'm trying to find a quote from Louisa May Alcott about people not liking to see women having fun. I can't find it, but you understand the idea.

Last night, Bec and I went shopping with a dear, female friend for clothes. We had a blast throwing things into the changing room, putting outfits together. And lots of laughter. Other women were commenting that we were having too much fun. As there were no illegal substances or alcohol involved, I would say we had exactly the right amount of fun.

So, who else needs a shopping buddy?

It's Too Darn Hot

Last evening I got the chance to play personal shopper to a friend in preparation for a blind date. It's a lot of fun to throw a bunch of clothes at someone and have them like it in the end. And look great too.

Today, I had "Kiss Me Kate" in the background of my morning routine. While I do consider myself a feminist, I still love the old musicals. While I lived in Connecticut, I would walk to the library and take out movies like "South Pacific". These movies classically had a dark or strange back story made playful by people randomly breaking into song. I saw "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" while in college and was horrified/delighted. I have only seen "Oklahoma" once because it was so disturbing. I watch "White Christmas" when I'm in a funk.

New musicals are getting better too. I have loved "Phantom of the Opera" since seeing it on stage in Chicago in high school and the recent movie, though flawed, brought me back to the theater. "Chicago" is good, but "Moulin Rouge" is better. "Rent" also makes life better.

And, yes, people do break out into song in real life. There's just an appalling lack of back-up dancers.

A New Addition: I did forget about "Grease" and "Grease 2". Bec and I grew up on the censored versions of these films, which gave a completely cool and entirely false depiction of high school. At least, for us nerds it was not that cool. And devoid of musical numbers and dance sequences.

Forgive, sounds good. Forget. I don't think I could.

I nearly forgot to vote today. Sure, it was just a primary. A few years ago, I wouldn't have bothered. Then I watched Iron Jawed Angels on HBO about the women who fought for our right to vote. I decided to make voting a priority. The day after 9/11, seems only right to go vote.

Yesterday I commented to Punky that so much of what we have lost in the last five years has been taken by our own government. He suggested that my life is not that different than five years ago. All things being connected, I really think it is. The job market, depression rates, travel, the cost of living. Yuck.

One, small sign of hope: the Dixie Chicks' song "Not ready to make nice" has been the number one song on VH1's Top 20 Countdown for 12 weeks now. Over Fergie's gross video, the Gnarls Barkley song I can't get out of my head ("I think your crazy!!!") and my obsession: OKGo's "Here we go again" (four average looking men dancing on eight treadmills-fantastic!). The Chicks are singing about freedom of speech and Bush. And the people are listening and voting for it.

Do this don't do that can't you read the sign?

I got my Sunday afternoon nap in today, but only after watching the black birds fly into my yard and then out, over and over again. Pretty fantastic to watch.

I was thinking about rules. Do you remember the sheet of instructions from sixth grade that started with "Read all the instructions first before starting" followed with a ton of silly instructions like stand up and say your name and then ended with "Only sign your name at the top of the page and ignore the other instructions"? This test of humiliation worked on me the first time. I'm just not a big fan of rules, instructions, guidelines or restrictions.

When we first started dating, Punky taught me how to play spades, played with four people. This was excruciating. First I had to learn the rules. Then the way to play. Then the strategy. We would get so frustrated with each other (he because I couldn't remember why I had played a certain card and me because I hate explaining myself), that we had a code word for when we needed to stop playing and go somewhere to fight. There were a few years when we couldn't be spades partners. Now I'm pretty darn good if I do say so myself.

However. Now he's all about the game smear. I mostly understand the rules. I kinda get how to play. The strategy, sadly, is beyond me. Worse yet, I really don't care. We played it for a few hours last night. Only once or twice was I able to play a card that resulted in what I intended. Maybe it's time to dust off the code word.

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

Every few months I have an off day in my business and spend a little time looking through the job ads to remind myself why I own my own business. Last night was one of those nights. I made a lot of calls that were not successful, at least not yet. This is normal, but annoying.

With my MS in Organic Chemistry, I am only qualified for a few jobs in Duluth as it is. Not job openings, just jobs in general, held by workers with an iron grip. Punky thinks I should be qualified to work in a medical lab. I tried to explain that making drugs and counting cells are two very different things, but he disagrees. One would think, knowing my gag reflex, that working with blood is not a great idea for me. That, and I'm done working in labs. I like the use of my arms, thanks.

The rest of the ads fell into one of two categories: 1. Work from home/sales and 2. Very specialized like cardiologist. If I could magically know how to fix a heart or a furnace, I would be golden. There was one for a professional tree climber and another for a Zamboni driver. Very tempting.

My real problem (or challenge or special need) is that I am very different on paper than in real life. I need a boss who knows what to do with me and how to leave me alone at the right moments. That boss exists. I have had it happen before.

SO. From each of you I would like two career suggestions. Feel free to be mean/funny with the first and serious/possible with the second.

We don't need no education

Thursday is the first day of school for a lot of folks around here. I always had a hard time with the first day. I had a nervous stomach and threw up more times at school than I am willing to talk about. Performance anxiety, I suppose.

Now I watch first day of school stress through Bec, who is beloved by her students. When former students figure out that I'm her sister, they go NUTS. "I love your sister!". Like she's a rock star or something. One student actually contrived a way for her to hang out with Bec via me this summer. Craziness.

So, ye students and teachers heading back to the books: Learn up real good! And, whatever you do, don't make me take a test. I may throw up...

This love has taken its toll on me

I know I'm supposed to be very productive today. Progress has been made. My car is working again. My puppy smells decent again (he got skunked on Friday night, but I really couldn't deal with it until yesterday). My house is slowly getting cleaned up. The problem is that I am just really tired.

I forgot what weddings to do you. It was a beautiful day, everything worked out, it was worth all the work, but I am exhausted. Twice this weekend I tried to take a 15 minute, recharge nap and passed out for an hour. I woke up both times disoriented and crabby.

I am working on refocusing and redirecting my energy. Part of this is to blow off things that aggravate me. I'm told I have really big buttons that are lots of fun to push. It's a process to shut them off.

I think my goal for the day will be to not pass out. Maybe get some groceries too. I'm out of coffee....

I think you're crazy

It is 1am. I should be slipping into a coma, but instead I need to unwind and chill out.

Despite all the drama, the wedding was perfect. I realize that there is drama to every wedding, but this had more than usual. I was given less than ten minutes to get make-up on the bride, who, well, a little short with me. I smiled, told her to breathe, and continued shoving brushes at her.

As you read from my previous post, I had some issues with the pastor. I had a few opportunities to talk with him before we started pictures, but I really can't hold a serious conversation with a grown man in a biking outfit who is no Lance. I resigned myself to playing nice through the service and writing a letter after, keeping the couple out of it.

When the time came for this big commitment, the pastor asked us to promise to pray for the couple, laugh with them, cry with them, be a part of the rest of their lives.

What?!

He acted like we were going to get re-baptized. And that was it?! You could tell that he had irked quite a few of the bridal party due to the barely-audible "I will" we all muttered. Sure, he asked us to pray, but he really didn't specify to whom. In trying to be spiritually inclusive, he had succeed in making us all angry. He also lectured us, the bridal party, about being superficial. As if one would get away with being a bridesmaid and show up looking like it's an average day. With weddings, the love is in the details. If I didn't love them I wouldn't have bought the expensive/gorgeous dress that perfectly matched the beautiful/lethal shoes and complimented the sparkling/gifted jewelry that was displayed nicely by my fabulous/expensive hair style.

Just cuz you can't buy love, doesn't mean it's cheap.

I feel the coma coming on and I still have seventy-five bobby pins to pick out of my hair. My favorite moment was went the couple brought their newborn out at the end and their little family was blessed. Very precious.

What if God was one of us?

I have no time this morning, but thought I would make time to write. In a few, short, hurried hours, I am in a wedding. My dress is beautiful, my fabulous hair is going to look spectacular. I gave myself the necessary mani/pedi last night. I'm mostly ready to go.

There's a little hiccup. At the rehearsal, the pastor told the bridal party that, during the ceremony, we would be asked to make a commitment to God to help out the couple. If for some "crazy" reason, we don't want to do it, we may make a spectacle of ourselves and sit down.

This really bugged me. I don't want to make a strong commitment to God in any church other than my own. Does saying yes mean I have to go to church with them? Am I then on the mortgage loan? What does this mean and why can't we be the bridal posse like every other wedding?

He also told us not to drink caffeine (or be drunk) today. Are you nuts? Drinking, sure, wait for the open bar. But caffeine?

So, I may be morally opposed and take one for the bride/groom team anyway. Yuck.