Hooooow many times have I seen Annie? It must be a number in the hundreds. Add to that the number of times I've listened to or sung the music, seen the play...and, oh, yeah - there was that time I DIRECTED THE SHOW IN HIGH SCHOOL. Well, technically that was the sequel, but still, I was immersed in the story for like 4 straight months. So imagine my surprise when tonight, I'm just sitting here, minding my own business, being mom of the year by ordering pizza, cuddling up with the girls and having an Annie-watching pajama party - singing along with every single number and... what? Tears? What the...? Tonight, I saw a completely different story. See, there's this girl. An orphan. Let's call her...Annie. She's a pretty good kid, looks out for others, sings very sweetly. She's living in hell, but it's all she's ever known. She can imagine something better - she just doesn't know how to find it. She makes a couple of attempts at escape, but finds tha
It has been said that I am easily amused. Little things fascinate me. I like to know how things work. I like factory tours and behind-the-scenes stuff and those specials on Discovery Channel. I was definitely brought up this way: I remember my brother telling me about a conversation he'd recently had about "Jet Puffed Marshmallows." Topics covered were: What does "Jet-Puffed" mean? How big-a-jet are we talkin? What keeps the marshmallows from exploding when "jet puffed"? Several weeks ago, the girls and I caught an episode of the rarely aired Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. In that one episode, the inimitable Mr. R shed light on two very interesting processes when he visited a sleeping bag factory and a dollmaker's workshop. Have you ever thought about how a sleeping bag is assembled? Me neither, but now I know, and I am a better person for it. So here are a few jobs I would like to shadow for a day (or watch Mister Rogers shadow them), because ev
Philip Seymour Hoffman was found dead today, and I am heartbroken. He was found, they say, in his underwear, with a needle in his arm, on the bathroom floor. It's that part that gets me the most. I believed him to be a creative genius, capable of depth and believable on-camera-grit than most, and his talent will be missed. He leaves behind a successful career, an admiring public and a family who loved him. But the hardest part to process isn't the how or the why. It's the where . The bathroom floor. The dirtiest place in the home. It is not made to comfort a resting body. The bathroom floor is cold, hard and lonely. And yet at one point today for Philip, there were no offers more appealing than stretching out on the bathroom floor and calling it a day. Philip's death made headlines. But there are so many that don't. I am privileged to know a family who has been standing between their loved one and the bathroom floor for years. They are waging an insp
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Raindrops on Roses
Wiskers on Kitens
You know what I don't like...
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
corny cousins and their wives
Things I hate
when family lives in the path of destruction