Random Thoughts

1. Is it a requirement for all female U.S. Olympic gymnasts to have high, squeaky voices?

2. David Beckham really is some serious eye candy. OK, yes, the tattoos are totally unnecessary and trashy, and he's a ginormously full-of-himself multibillion dollar global athlete celebrity. But I don't have to know him. All I have to do is enjoy looking at his pics in the latest issue of 'Men's Health' mag.

3. Speaking of 'tattoo', I happened to catch a rerun of 'Fantasy Island' on the TV Land channel the other night. I guess I can admit it now: it was one of my favorite shows of all time in high school. Cornball then, even more cornball now.

4. A three-course dinner involving something flambe' on a regular work night? Just for me? All alone? Hey, why not! The fruit flies were circling vulture-like over some overripe peaches in the fruit basket, and a local grocery had sirloin pork chops on sale, and some fingerling white and new blue potatoes were starting to sprout eyes in the pantry. Here's how it went down: Sear the salted & peppered pork chops, deglaze the pan with prechopped jarred shallots (a nice, time-saving discovery), add a couple glugs of brandy, carefully tip the pan into the flame and POOF!! Simmer that a few seconds. Toss in the sliced peaches and a chiffonade of basil, parsley and what little thyme I could find in the weedy jungle I call the garden. Drizzle on a little honey. Pour all that over the pork chops and put the whole pan o' goodness in the oven while I shower. Meanwhile boil potatoes (minus the eyes!), smash, throw in a block of cream cheese, buttermilk and some leftover heavy cream, salt, pepper and some chopped chives. Steam some green beans in the microwave. Sincerely wish hubby was not working second shift so he could share all this with me.

5. The 'Dmitri The Lover' phone message tapes are pretty funny. In a pathetic way. But disturbing, too. There are some real psychos out there. Made me think of how a relationship can start out and then spiral into the toilet. Made me think of all sorts of stuff. I also remember a story I recently heard about a woman who was stalked by one of these arrogant, damaged-goods spawns for 10 years after ending the relationship. {{{10 YEARS}}}. Look, just shoot the bastard. Or hire a professional if that's too messy for you. You were basically in prison for 10 years, how can the real slammer be any worse? At least there you get three meals a day and don't have to pack up and constantly move. If that's how things still are for women, and if one of these types ever threatens me or one of my own again, I will consider the consequences of first degree murder. Gladly.

6. Is it really already August 21st? In the mornings there's a coolness and a scent in the air that hints of September. I'm not remotely ready for summer to be over yet.