Screen Memory

One of my favorite things in my possession these days is a deck of cards containing psychiatric disorders on them -- each one has the name of the disorder on the front, explanation on the back. While some people love medical books (I enjoy these too), I find myself turning to the DSM for fun. I diagnose myself and friends with various disorders of the mind. Surpassing my love of astrology, psychiatric disease thrills me. Nothing pleases me more than when a new disorder makes its way into the DSM. The latest -- complicated grieving disorder, a condition that asserts itself when there are too many deaths at one time for a person to process or when mourning becomes interrupted by another crisis. I have seen this for years! Now it has a name.

Naming something is crucial, I think. The nameless terrifies far more than that which lends itself to narrative. If I can tell myself a story, I feel a bit better, no matter how hard the road. Someone once asked me if I was raised in a seminary since I have a Bible verse for all situations. Most recently Jesus wept has come in handy, although I have recently employed Today we will be in paradise (Jesus to the thief on the cross), and Like a dog returneth to its own vomit, a fool to his folly. (probably the most frequently used in my arsenal). My own name means "Who is like God?" and my middle name means bitter. It's a lot to process. I've never really liked it, always wishing for something, well, cooler. But it's my name, you see, and that's got to be enough.

For my commenters -- like or dislike your name? Meanings?

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach, is Joy."
Fra Giovanni

Cocktail Hour
Mojito video to follow soon!

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Tuesday! My deepest condolences to the anonymous commenter whose mother died yesterday. In response to your comment, my mother has been dead for a long time and yet she still has a deep impact on my life. I believe I write about her to understand myself.

All Those Wicked Birds

When my sister doesn't understand something, she says, "I can't famine it." I love this malapropism, along with her latest one. When she threw out some spoiled shrimp from Wal-Mart for the garbage to pick up, she called and said, "The vultures have transcended on the yard." A guy was at the house, cleaning the carpets and said he had never seen anything quite like it, all those wicked birds! He also picked up a floor lamp which disintegrated in his hands. Again, nothing quite like it in all his years of carpet cleaning. I remember Mother picking out that lamp, circa 1983. The surprise was not that it pooled into a puff of dust, but that it had stood that long, costing all of eight dollars.

Years ago, I remember Mother taking me, Beth, and our great-grandmother for a picnic by the Brazos River. She bought KFC and forgot the forks, so distraught was she over her latest affair, a few year debacle with her boss. Both of them married, she had been serious whereas he had not. She brought her love letters they had exchanged and stood on a big scary rock by the river while weeping and tossing the letters into the river. I came up with the idea that we could use our drumsticks to eat the mashed potatoes. Beth didn't want to do this because of the grease, but Mother proclaimed it genius. "You do what you have to do," she said, scaring us all with her proximity to a fall. My great-grandmother sat quietly, her bunioned foot up on a bench, a scarf tied around her face like Doris Day. "The moon is so bright," she said. I got nervous, despite my quick thinking with the drumsticks. None of us could drive if something happened to Mother. We got home late, greasy and tired. Even now, I can't quite famine it.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"If you don't believe in ghosts, you've never been to a family reunion." Ashleigh Brilliant

Cocktail Hour
Hung was genius, just as I had hoped! Will write a review later this week. Feeling that Entourage is very very tired. The problems are recycled, the boys are still not men. I hate to say this about what used to be a favorite, but truly a yawn.

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Monday!

Road Trip

As we approach the mid-point of summer (the dreaded July 4, not a favorite holiday with its insistence of get togethers, fireworks, and way too much heat), I think about vacations -- the good, the bad, the ugly. I don't travel well, tending toward the opposite inclinations of my family who all loved to go places. From my earliest memory, I recall my mother combing the Saturday travel bargains in the newspaper (remember the days before Cheap Tickets when you went to travel agents? I do. I'm old, and it's cool.) But I've always been more inclined to the staycation (as Charles pointed out, an overused term -- anything involving a day off work is a staycation now) and dread being pulled from predictable routine, my great love.

So best vacations? Ones that include urban centers, lots of excess money, and no pressure or expectation. Worst vacations? Too many people (I don't particularly favor traveling in groups), too many plans crushed into a small space, and limited resources that have to be continually stretched. I'd rather go somewhere for two days and not have to worry about money than a week with a continual eye on dwindling funds. I also love when someone you love shows you the old haunts (ala Charles and Lana story) or early in love road trips (ala Jason and his lovely KittyKitty Bang Bang). So anyone going somewhere wonderful this summer? Share!

Cocktail Hour
My very favorite show, Hung, premieres tonight!

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Sunday!

It May Be Lost

I'm using this as a prompt for my post tomorrow -- favorite and/or worst vacation. Give me some responses and I'll post mine Sunday.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost." G.K. Chesterton

Cocktail Hour
Tomorrow -- Hung, HBO. Watch it. Seriously.

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Saturday!

Live Bait

Happy Friday!

Power To The People

Happy Thursday!

Heidelberg House

Happy Wednesday!

Cages And Black Leotards

I don't know much about Miley Cyrus beyond the usual stuff on television, the horror of Hannah Montana, and the fact that unlike most pop stars, Miley can sing with the voice of a fifty year old two pack a day smoker. She's quite good, quite country in this way. So all the brouhaha over the upshot revealing underwear or not and her newly sexualized image seems interesting as a cultural discussion. God knows when I was in high school lamenting the horror of Billy Ray Cyrus singing "My Achey Breaky Heart," I never imagined he would continue to spawn until he managed to have a kid who could support him. I never thought he would be linked with the words "cultural discussion." The man who popularized the Kentucky Waterfall is now posing with his daughter in creepy Vanity Fair pictures (I don't say that in a bad way -- I like creepy) and now has us asking the question -- is Miley acting appropriately?

Who knows? Given her bizarre child star life, it's hard to gauge what might be a good course of action. Do we need seventeen year olds writhing around in cages and black leotards? Dear Lord, I thought this was tired when I did it. And maybe that's where I come down on the whole debate. I'm all for costumes and artistry and being yourself. I'm all for the right of girls and women to own their sexuality. But how about becoming an adult by making an album to which adults might want to listen? Miley's current incarnation seems a waste. She doesn't seem to be pushing the proverbial envelope in any interesting ways. She could, however, make a decent album. Hannah Montana is all about persona, about shifting from one person to another. Perhaps she could start there.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I think if humans had genuine courage, they'd wear their costumes every day of the year." Douglas Coupland

Cocktail Hour
Music suggestion: Recovery Eminem

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Tuesday!

Detroit Grafitti

Happy longest day of the year! Back tomorrow . . .

Happy Father's Day!

My dad wasn't a morose type, but once he did say that when he died, he'd come back and flick the lights to let us know he was still here. Last night, a table lamp came on without me touching it. I turned it off. In the morning, the lamp blazed again. Pretty cool, Daddy! The night before, I saw a special on CNN about a man with a rare cancer who formed a council of dads for his daughter in case he died. He assembled seven guys who knew him to serve as dads for his young twin daughters since his prognosis was bleak. I admire the idea, but I'm so glad he didn't die. While a council of dads is a sweet notion in a dark time, it doesn't really address what a dad does. No matter how well meaning, nobody can substitute for a dad (by this term, I mean the person who raised you -- biological or not). Nobody loves you like your daddy does. Nobody.

When we were kids every Friday in the summer, Daddy would take me and Beth to Taco Bell. We'd have slept late and watched All My Children. A few minutes before Daddy got home for his lunch break, we'd take out the Windex and pretend to clean the house. Daddy would say, "Since you munchkins have been working so hard, I'm going to take you out to lunch." I'd order the same thing every time -- Nachos Belle Grande. My favorite part was the lone sliced black olive on top of the sour cream. When the drive-through crew forgot, we'd roll back around and get the black olive lest I be heartbroken. Looking back, I think of how hard Dad worked all week and how tedious this must have been. But he never acted put out, he always acted really excited to be getting Taco Bell on a Friday afternoon, a few more hours to go in the work week. Now the lights flicker to remind me of those times, the hot summer days burned into my memory like an overexposed photograph, the faded images of something only you know to be wonderful.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"My father died many years ago, and yet when something special happens to me, I talk to him secretly not really knowing whether he hears, but it makes me feel better to half believe it." Josefowitz

Cocktail Hour
Summer cocktail video to be posted soon.

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Sunday!

Full Disclosure

I've never used an internet dating site, but my friends tell me it's tricky because everyone is using pictures that are not exactly in real time. Well, real time ten years ago. Writers do this too with their book jackets. Many of us tend toward the embalmed look and in the interest of full disclosure, my next book will have a picture that is two years old. So honesty is a difficult proposition in the face of subterfuge. But my question today is one of long-term friendship -- how much honesty can they endure? Do you, dear reader, tend to address issues in non-romantic relationships or let them fester until the relationship dies a slow death?

I'm not a huge tell all type of person. I don't hold back, but I usually don't volunteer information. My policy isn't Don't Ask, Don't Tell, it's more like Ask, Get Told. I'm not much for delivering the hard apple of truth. But I will not provide fake reassurance if I am asked a direct question. Mostly, the friendships in my life have provided the easiest and most reliable of comforts. But in rare instances (three), they have died a long, painful death, much of it from not being able to communicate. So on this Friday in June, I ask you for your stories about friendship -- how do they prosper or when do they become obsolete? Hope you're having a great weekend!

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering." Henri-Frederic Amie

Cocktail Hour
Documentary suggestion: Trinidad

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Friday!

Life Is

For years, I've seen a guy at a bar with a tattoo on his arm that says Life is . . . Something. I can never make out the last word because I never get close enough to see what life actually is. The font he chose doesn't lend itself to spying. This bar, a brew pub from any of my normal haunts, has a strong hippie vibe and the guy with the tattoo looks like a young Bob Dylan and wears a shirt that says Zero and carries around the kind of books that I used to aspire to read, like Being and Nothingness. I'd like to say that the young Bob has a disdain for technology, but I saw him texting last time with his Life Is arm. The book this go around was by Rollo May. At least some things don't change.

So what is life? I have no idea. Maybe seeing the tattoo would be a huge disappointment. Maybe I don't want to know. I've always liked word tattoos (no worries, I am not getting one because all the things I want to say are truly depressing and don't need to be inked onto my body as they are already burned onto my mind and heart). Last time I thought the tattoo said, Life Is Good. Maybe I'm projecting because I believe it to be so. Despite everything, life is good.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Hope is necessary in every condition." Samuel Johnson

Cocktail Hour
This weekend I have a little surprise for this section of the blog -- stay tuned!

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Thursday!

The Real Housewife Of Detroit

In the polluted world of reality television, The Housewives franchise has done extremely well. I haven't watched any of them except the New York ones which like my short-lived addiction to Top Chef, played during my gym time. This show took me to a city I love, New York, where women who were definitely not housewives said totally stupid shit like, New York City is my playground and I never feel bad about being privileged, lines my women's studies professor, Martha Nichols, would have referred to as "drivel" which was her favorite comment in the margins of student papers. Man, did I love her! She not only made a way where there was no way, she poured cement for a sidewalk for others. Alas I digress, but the question remains: Why and how does a show about housewives who are not really housewives in the traditional sense of the world work? Answer: Much like All My Children on speed. Mother Theresa these darlings are not. Locked in a Sisyphean yelling match about who did what to whom, they wear on the nerves in a way that a pebble in the shoe feels good for a minute. None of them stop to consider whether there feelings or arguments are important. I suppose the fact of the camera removes all doubt.

This guilty little truffle reveals some of the worst of women -- vanity, pettiness, cruelty, and hubris beyond measure. Even Bethenney, ostensibly the down to earth fan favorite, describes herself as a brand. Which is fine. I wouldn't mind having made a bunch of money teaching women how to drink my margaritas and lose weight. Note -- if you use the recipe on this blog, you will not lose weight. That's not how drinking works in my experience. If you want to lose weight, don't drink and eat less. I know this is not what anyone wants to hear so that might explain why I am not a real housewife or a brand. That and I don't like to fight with other women despite the societal belief that women are always out to backs tab, take your man, or run you down into the ground. I do like to clean and write, though. If there's a show for this type of excitement, I'll sign up!

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Never despair." Horace

Cocktail Hour
Documentary suggestion: Piece Of Work: Joan Rivers

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Tuesday!

The Power Of Thinking Big

There's an old self-help book, The Power Of Thinking Big, that makes me laugh when I hear it in my sister Beth's car. Don't talk about your ailments, the reader implores. Why? It bores people. Even though I don't really agree because I don't mind hearing gory details about illness, I know that most people don't want that kind of information. So what do you talk about? According to old-fashioned lore, not politics, religion, or sex. Although in this age where most people seem pathologically unable to hang out with people who disagree with them (big problem if you ask me), it seems that talking about any of the above would be boring. Celebrities? Also tired.

I don't like small talk. Unlike your ailments, it does bore me. I find a lot of social occasions crushingly boring and those who know me know that I'd rather have an intimate conversation with one or a few trusted friends than be at a party, trying to circulate. I want to cut through the polite bullshit. I don't mind harmless gossip -- let's face it, occupational hazard of being a writer. I love good stories. So for me, the power of thinking big is all about being present and transparent. Don't ask me something for the sake of being polite. Ask me what you want to know. Or tell me a good story. I'll listen and follow you to hell and back, provided you want company.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I wear the chains I forged in life." Charles Dickens

Cocktail Hour
Movie suggestion: Please Give

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Sunday! Thanks so much for all the kind words about the new template and a special thanks to Jason for mentioning the links and Totall for the date mention -- working out all the glitches!

Drink Your Way To Health

Happy birthday to my dear Miss R, Robin of the beautiful red hair and lovely pictures and beautiful poetry. I will post a picture of us together soon and of my great present from her, the stuffed ulcer doll.

Not until we get a break in routine do we recognize its significance. After spending most of the spring studying plot, I've been trying to define it for myself and what I know is the following -- plot is the device that both breaks a system and exposes it. All of life is an evolving ecosystem. That's why say the Tipper and Al divorce seems so shocking -- a forty year ecosystem seems like something that will last forever. And while some marriages and friendships and family bonds do last, they are forever changing lest they stagnate and die.

I don't like change and often make the same joke Woody Allen does-- Change equals death. But the fact is that it's necessary and hopeful for how can we see and appreciate anything without it? Nostalgia, that pain from an old wound, gives way to joy. We know what we have had and what we have. As the old proverb says, We love the earth, but we cannot stay.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Drink your way to health." Crazy Water slogan in the 20s

Cocktail Hour
Mojito making secret -- mortar and pestle for the mint.

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Saturday!

Night Parties

I don't like summer. I can't help it; it's too wholesome. Caroline Knapp has a brilliant essay on this subject in her book, The Merry Recluse, which sums up my feelings quite well. But I do like the sense of strangeness that summer brings, the long days, the odd memories of childhood, the David Lynch-like aspects. I spent most of the summers of my teenage years as a lifeguard. The night parties were the best, sitting on the stand when the sun was down and watching the lights flash in the water as people passed through like quicksilver. So, dear readers, what do you like about summer?

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"After silence, what comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music." Aldous Huxley

Cocktail Hour
Favorite summer drink secret -- the trick to gin and tonics is simple; use both lemons AND limes. Lots of ice. The quality of the gin isn't as big of a deal as everyone thinks. Gordon's was good enough for Ernest H!

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Friday!

No Way Out

Today I give you a picture of the Heidelburg Project, one of my favorite places in my beloved Detroit. Since I'm immersed in a big project and have summer brain (a condition that makes thinking about more than one piece of writing near impossible), today's post is this: What have you learned in the past five years that you consider really important or helpful? Mine can be condensed to No way out but through and with writing, It takes as long as it takes. See you tomorrow, my gremlins!

Michelle's Spell for the Day
"Where there is no love, pour love in, and you will draw love out." St. John of the Cross

Cocktail Hour
Now that Nurse Jackie has ended, I look to the future -- Hung premieres in a couple of weeks!

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Wednesday!

Nurse Jackie Season Finale

Nurse Jackie ends its season two with two little words: Blow me. Season One was all about creating Jackie's world, setting up the Lego pieces that would tumble in the next round. I love Jackie, a pill-popping angel of mercy with all too real sins of hubris, stealing, and who traffics in betrayals, large and small. Played by Edie Falco, this is no Carmella Soprano, the role she played to perfection for almost a decade. Hair cut short, eyes lined, vanity disregarded, she plays an adult woman who looks likes she's in her forties. God, what a relief to see an actress who can move her face! And doesn't have to look Barbie doll perfect for men to desire her. And desire and its attendant evils provide all sorts of genius complications for our Robin Hood-like nurse. She's very good at helping those in great need, but her morality day to day is what may generously be called situational. Like William Hurt said in Broadcast News about his own moral line -- "That sucker just keeps moving."

By season two, Jackie's addiction is stronger, her situation uglier. She's physically addicted to opiates, a big change from the first season in which she uses them for emotional escape. She's stooping lower to get her fixes, making worse decisions which result in her world getting more and more claustrophobic. The shape of addiction in this series is like the walls that closed in on some of the women convicted of witchcraft in Salem, a type of death that fascinated me as a child. Jackie can push the walls back at times, but they are still moving toward her. Worse yet, she's still functional and nowhere near the bottom of her run. Despite the intervention of her only real friend and her husband, she's unwilling to accept a vision of herself as an addict. We leave this season with Jackie locked in the bathroom, escaping the mini-intervention, trying to picture herself saying those words familiar to all those who eventually surrender and laughing at that image. I've often thought that God's not-so-subtle way of telling us that we need to change our lives is through symbolism. If you're engaged in an activity that involves copious amounts of time in bathrooms or by dumpsters (my friend A's theory that every illicit affair eventually includes having sex by a dumpster), you probably shouldn't be doing it. Nurse Jackie is all about the enclosed spaces of the heart; the people you meet there, the loneliness of all involved, and the metaphorical (and in the case of Jackie and Thor trying to keep Sam awake after his relapse, literal) tap dancing involved in keeping it all going for as long as possible, not realizing you can open the door and step out into the sun.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
Favorite lines from last night -- Dr. O'Hara
"Don't tell me you've been reduced to prayer."
"Let's go repent. It might be fun."

Zoey --
"I hope so." Upon Lenny asking if the watch gift was for years of service

Eddie --
"Anyone who knows you knows they don't know you."

Cocktail Hour
Single suggestion: "Not Afraid" Eminem

Bendictions and Maledictions
Happy Tuesday!

Find Yourself

A lot of people I know are eager to see Eat, Pray, Love. I can cast no judgment; I saw Grease Two in the theater three times. Seriously. On the subject of Eat, Pray, Love, I read the memoir, but I didn't buy the premise. The narrator, deciding she has spent her life connected to men, must "find herself." I hate this expression. Where in heaven's name have you been hiding from yourself? I have a pretty new-age bent from time to time given how I was rasied (with psychics, magic, astral projection, and just plain crazy time), but even in the worst circumstances, contrivances to know who I am never have worked for me. The times I found out what I was really like where times when I got whacked up the head by life in good and bad ways, not situations of my choosing.

I believe you can clear space for change. But I also believe that most wisdom and change comes as a result of dealing with what is in front of you. I'm not one of those go on a journey types. But like I said, I don't judge. If a journey makes you understand yourself, well, then bon voyage. As a person raised by a woman who loved nothing more than to be in motion, I am a body at rest. My travel is more the dog on a chain type, in the same predictable ruts. It may not be loads of fun, but I know who I am.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"As we acquire more knowledge, things do not become more comprehensible, but more mysterious." Albert Schweitzer

Cocktail Hour
Bookslut Miracle Boy and Other Stories by Pinckney Benedict
www.bookslut.com

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Monday! Thanks for all the kind words about the new chapbook. Working on options for the cover of Love One Another Constantly. Will post them later this week and you guys can weigh in on which you like best. Rest in peace, Marvin Isley!

Sunday Picture

Love One Another Constantly

Hi guys! Happy Saturday -- hope everyone is having a great weekend. To address more comments, I'd like to thank Dave for his report of seeing The Exorcist II. Loved the details! And also missing the Walking Man's blog, but he's on hiatus so I send my love that way and a Coney date awaits!

In the good writing news category, I won second place in the Nerve Cowboy chapbook contest this year! I'm very happy to say that Love One Another Constantly will be published this fall. I'll give you guys all the details as the time nears. I"m dedicating this one to my constant Detroit crew (you guys know Jodi and Mark and Robin) and with special acknowledgment love to Charles, Lana, Jason, Rob, Tim, Heff, Cheri, Laura, Dave and all those who read. comment, and keep me writing. I'm working on a longer project today, but I'll be back tomorrow. If you dare, visit my Detroit photography blog, Detroit Proper. Like the city itself, it longs for your company. Happy Saturday!

Perfect Games

As the week winds down, I'd like to give kudos to people who I think are groovy cool. I always consider Memorial Day weekend the unofficial start of summer, so I hope you have lots of fun waiting. I'm not a huge fan of summer, but I do like the whole drinking/sitting in the shallow water of a baby pool combination (this is especially great if you do not have a baby). '

Detroit Tigers -- Perfect game on Wednesday! Called poorly. Armando G. keeps his cool, acts with that quality we always talk about but almost never see -- good sportsmanship. In some ways, this is even rarer than a perfect game. Gets rewarded with a Corvette. Sometimes you do win even when it doesn't look like it.

Lana Gramlich -- thanks for the offer for computer help! You're a sweetheart. My friend Hank said that friends help you move, real friends help you move bodies. I would also add that real friends offer to help fix your computer.

My dearest Jodi -- always sweet, positive, and brings me tons of happiness with her comments. For that, you are getting a copy of Imperfect Birds! Anne Lammott is the best. I met her once at a writing conference in line for food and dropped a small tomato on her out of nervousness. She was very cool about it.

And congratulations to my darling Stacey who eloped! Many years of happiness to you and your new groom.

See you Saturday, my dears!

Love Letters

Elizabeth Taylor is releasing her love letters from Richard Burton this week which thrills me since they are one of my top ten couples ever. You get married to the same person twice? A big bucket of crazy. And crazy is what makes love so grand. That and eloquent letters from Richard Burton, a brilliant actor even if he was reduced near the end of his life to acting in Exorcist Two for his booze money, wearing a belt on his head and saying, The tone is getting deeper. This type of sad act shows you the evil power of the demon rum.

I read an article that says divorce lawyer have started using Facebook as evidence of infidelity. Depressing. All those gorgeous faithless love letters reduced to WTF and LOL and BTW and pictures of downing cheap beer in clothes that will eventually go into the Oh Lord, Did I Really Wear That? category. I'm obviously not advocating infidelity, but I am suggesting that perhaps we have lost some much needed mystery in our world. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Not me, Richard and Liz look like they are having a blast. I'm more afraid of not having any fun and people thinking I did.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"It may be -- I hope it is -- redemption to guess and perhaps perceive that the universe, the hell which we see for all its beauty, vastness, majesty, is only part of a whole which is quite unimaginable." William Golding

Cocktail Hour
Novel suggestion: Imperfect Birds Anne Lammott

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Wednesday!

Affliction

Giving advice is a thankless task, spurred on by hope, that evil thing with feathers that makes us keep on keeping on. Every bridal shower I've ever attended has included the advice on how to be a good wife, keep the spark, make it work. This is usually followed as long as one continues to put on the bridal shower lingerie. And of course, at the end of things, advice abounds. Fast, like ripping off a band-aid. Take your time, you'll find your way. Don't do it by e-mail. Pretend you died. And at the beginning of love -- send flowers, call all the time, don't call, play hard to get, don't play games, etc. And while most of us love giving advice, taking advice is as rare as a hen's tooth. Some of the best advice I have received: Recovery is eighty percent (Willie Nelson on playing guitar -- it applies to everything), Take care of the little things, Wade (Wade's brother telling him to deal with his bad tooth -- he doesn't and ends up pulling it out himself with pliers, not pretty), and Eggbeaters are not eggs (myself to myself after trying a low-carb fiasco).

Today is a take care of the little things day. Like the great Nick Nolte who plays Wade Whitehouse in Affliction (side note -- in the past week, I've seen two disturbing fashion trends -- people wearing t-shirts that say Affliction in big letters and women wearing gladiator sandals which are great if you want to look shorter, fatter, and as if you are going into battle), I can ignore the day to day while focusing on bigger issues over which I have no control. And like the actual Nick Nolte, I've never been a fan of real life. Like those arty pictures of men holding infants where neither the man or infant has a shirt on and appear to be staring at the most beautiful object in the distance, I always feel it is a Bit Much. But even after feeling knocked around more than the cast of North Dallas Forty (another great Nolte film), I know the best thing is to breathe and start at the beginning. As I was told when I was learning to do yoga and when I was learning to shoot a gun, if you don't breathe, you will faint. You have your fear and like the poor, it will always be with you. Even so, a good exhale can help.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"The afflictions to which we are accustomed, do not disturb us." Claudian

Cocktail Hour
Nurse Jackie -- one more episode -- so good!

Benedictions and Maledictions
I'm having computer problems right now so please send good thoughts this way. If you emailed me about books or anything else, please resend your e-mails so I can send/answer. I've lost some addresses and information and need to do a virtual and psychic reboot. This will help. Happy Tuesday!