Let others ask the questions that may never be answered. A silent night is falling in Blacksburg and while things may not get back to normal for the longest of time tomorrow is just a few hours away and it is, as Anne Shirley said, "a brand new day without any mistakes."

Let us use that fresh new day to remember the tragedy and to celebrate our own friends and family, and turn our attention to that sleepy little town of Blacksburg, VA and its family of 26,000 plus Hokies and ...

Put your heart in...
Put your heart out...
Put your heart in...
...And leave it there with a hug and a squeeze.

Much love to the students, faculty, staff, parents, alumni and friends of Virginia Tech.

From a gal from I-81 exit 245.

Armed and Famous

I thought I'd seen it all until I turned on the television last night and found

Latoya Jackson... armed...

Wee Man... armed...

Ponch (Erik Estrada)... armed and clearly has a bit of trouble separating reality from his days back in the eighties running around as a ChIP. Then again, so do the drug dealing grandmas and wife-beating rednecks who populate Muncie, Indiana (where the show is shot-- pun intended).

All I can do is shake my head at the concept, but that isn't stopping me from watching it again tonight.

Favorite Photos of 2006

It's New Year's, I'm 2 blocks from Times Square, and I'm sick. :( No worries, though. I've put my time in bed to good use and put together a slide show of my favorite photos of 2006. Some I took, others were taken of me, all represent great memories of the last year.

Happy New Year, all. See you in the '07.

And that's all she wrote...

Unless you've been living under a rock for, oh, the last six or seven years or so, you know that today marked the world's collective step closer to the end of the greatest literary phenomenon this side of the one that started with "In the beginning":

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

That's right. Today, Joanne Rowling revealed (in a hangman game no less...ominous?), the name of the seventh and (so she says) final installment of the Harry Potter series. And from the moment the first hints of the story broke this morning on CNN.com, the internet was all a-flurry with the fervent speculation that has followed Harry and his merry band of magical misfits since the very first books were cracked and the lines were read almost a decade ago. Will Harry find his parents? What really happened that night...? Will Harry get the girl? Which girl would that be? Is Dumbledore really dead? Is Snape really evil? Will Harry return to Hogwarts (which, I, for one believe will happen. A) Ms. Rowling suggested in several interviews that she was, in fact writing about Harry's last year at Hogwarts and she's usually very careful about what she says and B) if the witchcraft, the evil, the warmongering, and the growing hints of sexual activity among teenagers that have crept into the books as they've progressed wasn't enough, the whole idea of turning Harry into a high school dropout would be just the magic- pun intended- ticket to send the last remaining parents/religious/ general conservative groups that haven't endorsed burning the whole bloody lot of books scurrying to the nearest match factory... Ms. Rowling truly dodged a bullet with those Weasley twins back in book 5). Will Harry defeat Voldemort? And, of course, the biggie...

Who. will. die?

Since Ms. Rowling has put us all on notice that at least two (possibly more) main characters are on the equivalent of literary death row (with no stay of execution in forseeable sight) of course those internet rumours are also running rampant, with the possibility of actual, monetary, betting just around the bend. If I do happen to run into a Vegas bookie willing to take cash from me for this, my money is squarely on:

1. Draco Malfoy
and
2. Ron or Hermione (but not both)

Yes, I know it's harsh to kill off some of the most beloved characters in the books, but Ms. Rowling's prepared us for a bloodbath (or the AK equivalent) almost since day one. These are not books for children, Ms Rowling has said over and over again and there's not always a sunshine-and-daisies, happy ending for Cinderella when Cinderella is being written for an adult audience. It would cheapen the experience at this point to give the truly loved characters a reprieve and off someone like, well, like Hagrid or Professor Flitwick. Fine, people do like them and they play an important role in Harry's universe, but come on. Even if these books hadn't been written in the wake of 9/11 and the War on Terror, these are dangerous times for Harry and his crew and the rest of the wizarding world and we all know that in times of war it is, most often, the young (often just of-age) individuals who make the ultimate sacrifice. Since this is the seventh book, Harry and co. are just now old enough to legally fight, and we've seen the progression of death (boy from school, father-figure, closest mentor...) creep ever closer to the innermost circle of characters. It's only a matter of time before it's going to hit him (and us) right where it hurts. Kleenex would be best served, now, to enter a corporate partnership with Scholastic Books and market a whole line of character-themed boxes. I have a feeling we're going to need them.

What people aren't talking about today is the death knell that also falls on the real world with the final flourish of Ms. Rowling's pen as she sends the whole damn lot of pages (all 700 or more!) to their final, forevermore, printing. By the end of the summer (if those other internet rumors are to believed), the long wait will be over. And so to goes the fun and magic (there's that word again) of the serial aspect of this whole phenomenon. Knowing from the outset that the entire story would be told over the course of seven books, the the world waited and counted down each edition in anticipation unprecedented for a book. While waiting, we speculated on websites. We gossiped. We went to www.JKRowling.com and clicked all over the place, hoping to unlock some hidden door and find the answer to the entire mystery. Some filled in the blanks with their own versions of what would happen next and some of those versions turned into novels themselves (and some of those aren't half bad). In this internet age, it took a book, an ink and paper book, to bring the world together and have it held its collective breath.

And now, were just about to let it all out.

Future readers of the Harry Potter series won't "get" the whole concept of having to wait, year after year, for the Hogwarts Express to roll back into Platform 9 3/4 for another school term. They will have the luxury of pulling each book from the shelf or the boxed set at their own pace, and not the author's/ publisher's/ publicist's and the entire story from the Boy who Lived to the Man who... ? will be told to them over days, perhaps even hours, instead of the multitude of years those initial readers had to invest. And they'll know how it all ends before they even open the very first chapter of the very first book for the very first time, which, of course has to affect how the whole thing is viewed from here on out.

In an era of instant gratification, when we troll the internest to find spoilers on what will happen on our television programs next week, it is an absolute foreign concept to invest the time we invested in a series of books to which the ending hasn't been hinted at or revealed.

And the veil of secrecy and aura of mystery clearly added to the fun.

I don't care how implausible it is...

One of these days I will turn on Little Women and Jo won't refuse Laurie and Beth won't die.

Happy 2

I meant to say something about this last night, but I forgot. Euphoria, maybe, or just it didn't hit me until I put the new pants I bought last night on this morning.

I am now a size 2. Well, 4P if you must get technical, but we all know that petite sizes run one size up from "regular girl" sizes and, at 5'3"/ 5'4" (depending on which doctor you ask), I ain't getting any taller. So, I'll live in petites, be glad that finally someone realized that just because you're not super-model height doesn't mean you want to look frumpy, and shut my damn mouth about it.

The funny thing is; my body shape has obviously changed and my clothes hang off me, but the scale says I'm heavier than I've been in a long time. Muscle, I know, but seriously, WTF? Where's the justice in that?

Still, I should be happy with what I have (and hope for a big Christmas bonus so I can go and restock the wardrobe). I spent too many years tied to that number on the scale, so I know just how addictive it can be to keep seeing 130, 130 and all you want to do is get it into the 120s, then 110s, then 100s (and then someone stops you and that isn't at all pretty or fun). I know I should toss the scale out the fire escape, but that might hit one of the crackwhores who has taken up residence on my stoop this week and, well, wait, what would be wrong with that...?

I heart the NYSC. Yes, it kicked my ass, but it also helped me lose a little of it. :)

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Match (dot) com

Let's just get it out in the open. I've rejoined Match. Quite honestly, I've missed that kind of human connection, the bar scene is doing nothing for me and I can't just sit around and wait until certain people... well, I'm just not going to sit around and wait.



I'll take a kind of you show me mine and I'll show you yours stance when it comes to actual screennames, but I did work damn hard on my profile and felt I should share that at least. By posting it here, I'm also doing a kind service to those of you with significant others (read, wives and husbands) who may question why you're trolling internet matchsites. If you can explain that away, I'd like to see you take on Craigslist's casual encounters page in your hometowns.



I'll take suggestions on the profile. Constructive, of course. I don't want to die decrepit and alone, so I'm open to a group effort to find me a man. :)



Blossoming in NYC

Somewhere along the way, I picked up the motto "Bloom where you are planted" and I put that into action each and every day. I'm a bouquet of energy, confidence, and grace that adds life to any given situation. I'm a military brat by birth and a former "professional nomad," so adaptation has been the standard for most of my life. Lately, though, I've settled down and am making the most of New York. Maybe it's time to bloom where I'm planted while putting some roots beneath me...

As you can tell from the photo, I'm more of the "cute" variety than the drop-dead-model type. The first thing people notice is usually my million-watt smile that I've been told will eventually freeze like that. I'm an educated public relations professional who loves my job and can't say enough good things about it. I work hard, but maintain that important life balance.

The word "Wallflower" is missing from my personal dictionary. I'm outgoing, assertive, and can find common ground in most situations. I'm the girl my friends put at the "random" table at their weddings because they know I'll have strangers feeling like family before the first course is served. I'm the first on the dance floor and the last to leave the crazy old uncle's side when he's telling his war story for the eightieth time. I love to laugh loudly and freely. Comedy clubs are a passion. I love to listen to live music. I love museums. I love Central Park on summer Sundays. I love the theatre. I love the ballet. I love to travel. I love life.

So, let's talk about love...

Though I want the fairy tale, knights on white horses aren't usually found riding up Broadway. Fantasyland aside, do I have a "type?" No, not an absolute, but after more than a decade in the dating game, I've started to narrow it down a little. Knights notwithstanding, who makes the short list? He is: smart, fun, funny, habitually employed and a fan of both fine dining and the rare trip to a greasy diner. He's as comfortable sipping champagne at a gallery opening as he is listening to a local band and drinking beers in Greenwich Village. He appreciates good conversation over Sunday brunch and knows where to find the best pancakes and mimosas in town. He likes the Union Square Farmer's Market and can get lost wandering around the stands there on a Saturday afternoon. He brings his A-game on every date, just as he would expect me to do. He is socially adept and treats people with respect. He likes kids, but doesn't have any. He is kind to animals and the elderly. He not only lets me watch football with him on Sunday afternoon, he explains it... over and over again. Even though he lives in New York, he doesn't have to be a Yankees or a Mets fan, but he supports his team through the good and the bad. By the way, I love the Orioles... that's never going to change. :)

He's into movies and his Netfliks account includes a whole host of selections, from Hollywood's golden-age classics to Hitchcock, to SNL-alumni comedies. He doesn't think my long-standing crush on John Cusack is outdated now that I'm in my twenties and quoting the Lloyd Dobler "goal in life" speech from memory earns serious points. His name IS John Cusack (hee)

His musical tastes are eclectic and blend the modern with the more classical selections (and by classical, I mean both Mozart AND the Beatles). He is just as willing to sit through the opera as he is to give a dollar from time to time to the musicians in the Subway. He is willing to go and do "cheesy New York touristy" things every once in a while... Statue of Liberty, Daily Show, Today Show, etc.

He admits his fears and doesn't make fun of mine. He doesn't say "I don't like that" about anything LEGAL without at least trying it once. He likes adventure.

No, he loves adventure.

Adventure in life, adventure at work and adventure in a relationship...

And bonus points if his taste for adventure leads to renting a white horse and taking a ride up Broadway

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