Who?????

Granted, I stopped watching American Idol a couple of years ago, but I've followed it thru the TV entertainment shows and the internet. And this season, it seems there has only been a single contestant, Crystal Bowersox.

I've read about her bouts of depression.
I've seen stories of her ups and downs during this year's competition.
I've heard about her near coronation as this year's Idol and by all reports, I naturally assumed she would win.



So what the heck happened last night? And who is Lee DeWyze?



I hadn't even heard of him until Tuesday. How did he become the American Idol? Seriously, did America beat the media? And who got it right?

The New Man In My Life

He showed up one day in January, cold, frightened, and alone. I couldn't stand it. I fed him. The neighbors also fed him.



I call him Morris, like the iconic cat with the descriminating taste. Doesn't really suit him, though. Picky, he ain't! I also call him Honeyboy.

This is my front door mat, the spot he has chosen as his.



Can you tell?

He is very loving, to the point where he is hard to photograph, he wants to be petted.



He is also a bit playful.



The pictures don't quite do him justice. He is, like so many of us, ummm...fat. Picture, if you will, a football covered in orange fur. Add four legs and a head. Now mentally fill that football with lead. That should do it. He is short and full, the complete oposite of Prissy, who is runway model long and thin. Perhaps I should call him Garfield.

He really wants to come live inside, but Prissy has put her foot down! So he will sleep on my door mat, or on my car, or under my bedroom window. I think we having a grand love affair.

The Fabulocity of Frivolous Footwear

While not yet officially summer, the temperatures have been dancing dangerously close to 90 degrees, enough to pull out the summer sandals. I love summer shoes. Flip-flops, sandals, little bits of leather attached together to create some semblance of form.

When the weather first starts to warm, I begin to pamper my feet with scrubs and lotions, soaks and dips, buffing and filing. I search out new polishes for my toes and experiment with the colors.

And then I shop. I stopped at my favorite little hole in the wall that always sells cute little styles ins flip-flops--I bought a pair of black with sequinned straps and an identical pair in gold. I bought a pair of pink argyle.

Next, I found a pair of CL by Laundry in pewter with two small straps, one across the top of the foot and another across the toe. These have two inch heels and the strap around the toe is jeweled. Sexy!

I found two pairs yesterday I had to have. A pair of black thongs by Madeline Stuart with 3" wedge heels and a big, flashy, multi-faceted plastic diamond on the toe. Sparkly! I also found a pair of Steve Madden T-strap sandals in silver with silver roses on the straps. Shiny!

This morning, I slid my pampered and pink feet with bright pink toes into the black Madeline Stuarts. I keep stopping to admire them.

Forget Chicken Soup for the Soul, pretty shoes can do as much for a woman as chocolate. A flirty pair of sandals can make a woman fill sassy and special. A sexy, strappy mule can make a woman feel daring and alluring. Even fat girls feel pretty and desirable in the right shoes. And we don't have to face the harsh reality of a three way, badly lit, dressing room mirror to try them on. We can sit at our desks at work and look down at the beauty that is our feet! Or we can casually cross our legs while conversing with friends and feel a surge of confidence.

The thinner the straps, the higher the heels, the brighter the color, the better. Summertime footwear gives us back what trying on swimsuits takes away. I thank each and every designer and manufacturer that gives me this gift...it is priceless.

And to the great god women's footwear, Stuart Weitzman, I make this promise...I WILL ONE DAY POSSESS A PAIR OF YOUR SHOES...otherwise known as the Holy Grail.

The Beauty Shop

I took my mom to have her hair done on Saturday. There is nothing quite like a "beauty shop". Movie mags and gossip rags are everywhere. Brightly colored rollers lay atop tables and carts. The air is redolent with the smell of permanent solution.

This is not a "salon". The customers have done the same thing every Saturday morning for 40 years. There are an assortment of walkers along one wall and the staff takes exceedingly tender care with clientele. God bless these women who pamper women like my mother with a gentle wash and set while gossiping about shared acquaintances before gently placing them under the dryer to read about Brad and Angelina and shout at one another.

It was so very reminiscent of my childhood! It made me long for a cold grape soda in a glass bottle. Back then, the stories in the magazines were about Liz and Richard and the ladies' hair was much darker. The gossip was whispered and far juicier. A Saturday morning spent at the beauty shop was an inside look at womanhood. There were glamorous women there who had their hair colored and their nails done. There were women like my mom, hoping to look good for most of the week. (I never remember my mom painting her nails or having them done, but there was always Cutex nail polish around the house, so she must have done them herself.) There were the hair dressers (not stylists)with curlers in their own hair, waiting on a moment when another could comb them out. They wore make-up and smoked and laughed about going out on Saturday night, things I knew nothing of.

My mom knew little of make-up and styling of hair. She had my hair cut short when I was small to keep from having to deal with rolling it, braiding it, and all of the other things you do to little girls' hair. No bows or ribbons for me...a pixie cut was my destiny. My parents would occasionally step out on a Saturday night when I was the only child. My aunt and uncle and some friends would join them and share the baby sitting services of my older cousins. But some couples moved away, some marriages crumbled, and my sister came along and Saturday night became family night.

But Saturday was the day that Mom ran errands and did a little something for herself. And sometimes I got to come along.

Mother's Day

This is a very difficult holiday for me. Should I buy my mother something she neither needs or wants and will never use? Yet another pair of pajamas? More clothes for her overflowing closets? Jewelry that will collect dust in a box on her dresser? Perfume for the few times she goes out? Flowers? Plants that my father will have to tend?

Hmmm.

This year, I pledge my time. I will take my mother shopping. I will call her (not Dad). I will of myself to her. And I will make a donation to flood relief in her honor.

Plus, a nice card.

After the Flood

Tragic tales are emerging daily, and this one broke my heart.

Calling Julia Sugarbaker...

When Dixie Carter died, my friends and I ran through our favorite Julia Sugarbaker rants. There was, of course, the Ray Don speech from the very first episode that lingers still today as one of the funniest speeches ever. Then there was the diatribe on the New York Times article about Southerners eating dirt. It is a classic.

So I must now try to channel Julia Sugarbaker after reading the New York Times article about the flooding in Middle Tennessee. This is the photo they chose to show.



Because the picture of a hick in overalls walking through an inch of water is so much more defining of a flood in Nashville Tennessee than say, these images.
















You see, emergency crews were on the spot, shelters were established. People were told to stay off the roads and most listened. Though there have been 18 deaths reported, it could have been far greater. The television news crews were everywhere. Law enforcement, fire and rescue teams, friends, neighbors, and even power company employees got involved in helping. Shelters opened quickly and have been flooded with supplies. Over 7000 people have volunteered to assist in the clean-up in Nashville alone. The animal shelter put out a plea yesterday morning for supplies because they were being inundated with survivor pets; they received mounds and mounds of food, litter, blankets and towels by 5 p.m., including a donation by pop star Ke$ha who cleaned out the pet department at Sam's Club.

In one instance, a call went out for volunteers to help reinforce the levy at the MetroCenter on Monday afternoon and within an hour there were hundreds of people placing sand bags filled by prisoners at the local jail.

Looting has begun and it shames me that it has. The police departments and other law enforcement have gone on extended shifts to help curtail the bad behavior.

There are heart-breaking stories of loss and inspirational stories of survival. But, for those reading the New York Times, let's remember the important things like the fact that the Opryland Hotel had to evacuate and LP Field had four feet of water.

I know that I can not delivery a rant as well written as one written by Linda Bloodworth, but I hope I did my fellow Tennesseans justice.

You can read the story here.

Safe and Dry

My little corner of the world is dry today, and though we had some very heavy rains, there was no flooding in my area. A co-worker had to walk through waist deep water while out yesterday, but she lives farther west.

My friend Elaine had to evacuate her home and I've not heard if she has returned and the extent of the damage.

They are currently evacuating parts of downtown Nashville as the Cumberland River continues to rise.

On the news this morning, they spoke of vehicles that had been on I-40 for 20 hours with no place to go.

I must break my channel 2 addiction. Seems it was the only channel I watched over the week-end. I will never get the image of the building from Lighthouse Christian School floating down I-24 and breaking apart out of my head.


So, how is your day going?