WanderingAmylessly 2.0

When my dogs speak, I listen. I also pull off an amazing feat of canine ventriloquism. I initiate conversations with my dogs and, in grand style, respond as I believe they would if they could move their mouths in cgi-enhanced fashion. What are you looking at? What are you pointing at? You do it too. You know you do. My real question is: what do your dogs sound like? Mine have the same voice, really -- a high-pitched fast chatter, not unlike The Chipmunks, waffling between sarcasm and dimwittedness, depending on the moment. I'm nutty, but I'm not going to spend the time it would take to master the art of pup-speak and discern between the two. And I'm certainly not going to bother perfecting a raspy Scottish brogue, although wouldn't that be adorable to have a Scottish Terrier and a West Highland Terrier bantering in the backyard like Sean Connery visiting Shrek in the swamp. Just think what kind of a road show we'd have if they'd wear kilts and play the bagpipes?...

It's taking every ounce of effort not to fake an illness and take the day off. My boss is gone. The weather's hot and sunny and perfect. I can barely keep my eyes open. And so far, I have absolutely nothing on my plate, workwise. The lack of work may change. In fact, I'm certain it will. Maybe I should get out while the getting's good. Contemplating playing hooky from work is kind of like imagining what you'd do with a boatload of lottery winnings. In this case, actually quitting my job isn't really an option. I'll have to settle for daydreaming about spending the day soaking up rays, sipping lemonade, snuggling with the pooches, maybe catching a flick at the cinema. Anyone up for Horrible Bosses ?

Streaming video. 24 hours a day. My husband and kid have left for their trip. Netflix is my babysitter. I'm enjoying a day-long movie bender, watching while I clean house and do laundry. Light on the folding and cleaning, heavy on the vegetating in front of the TV. Here's what guilty pleasures I've enjoyed so far. Quantum of Solace Sweet November Maid in Manhattan Four Weddings and a Funeral Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back I think tonight's going to be a marathon of The Tudors. Truly pathetic. Yes. You don't have to point it out. Edited to note: I love Kevin Smith. But that Jay and Silent Bob business? No thanks. I ditched it after 20 minutes.

The Iowa State Fair just announced its newest fair foods being introduced at next month's fair. Doncha wish you lived here? Are you now planning a road trip? Fried Butter on a Stick The ultimate Butter Cow tribute, butter dipped in a honey flavored batter and fried golden brown on a stick. Chocolate Covered Fried Ice Cream on a Stick Found at Oasis Concessions at the Pioneer Livestock Pavilion. Peanut Butter and Jelly on a Stick A tasty skewered version of this childhood favorite. Found at Salad Bowl on the upper balcony of John Deere Agriculture Building. And it's not on a stick, but it's worth a mention: Red Velvet Funnel Cake A chocolate-flavored version of a Fair favorite, complete with a cream cheese glaze. The Best Around located at the Triangle. What building's the Pepto Bismol-on-a-stick in? Where's the location of the nearest portaJohns? I'm waiting for the follow-up news story...

Info no one really needs to know. Taken straight from the Internets: What's up with Rob Pattinson's hair? (People magazine) Sci-fi women more than hot babes (CNN) Accused penis cutter poisoned husband's soup (KSEE) Love it or hate it, self-checkout is here to stay (MSNBC) Man allegedly force-fed iPhone to girlfriend (MSNBC) Help! I accidentally killed my crazy neighbor's cat (Slate.com)

I think EGO. I hear UGH. Tim and I were talking last night about what possesses men in positions of fame and power to think that they can do whatever the hell they want, and they get a free pass because they're, well, THEM. And then when they get caught with their pants down, sometimes literally, they're all incredulous about the intrusion into their private lives. They blame the media, the paparazzi, a tortured childhood, addiction, their significant others. It would never occur to them that they, themselves, might want to take a look in the mirror and re-evaluate their own actions and behaviors. Tiger Woods. Lance Armstrong. John Edwards. Anthony Weiner. Charlie Sheen. And if they can't take the heat, maybe they should get out of the glaring spotlight that they willingly stepped into in the first place. The one that made them famous enough to land the hot babes and the drugs and the big endorsements and the public platform in the first place. I so do not feel sorry for th...

I've been prepping for my upcoming week of movie-watching by scouring IMDB for possible rentals. I've discovered something. I don't like blond men. I just might be the only girl in the world who doesn't think much of Brad Pitt. Or Matt Damon. Or that Swedish guy from True Blood. I like 'em dark and handsome. And, evidently, hairy. Colin Farrell Joseph Fiennes Gerard Butler David Boreanaz Alan Rickman (I miss "this" Alan. I might have been in my teens when he was "this" Alan.) Jake Gyllenhaal Rob Lowe

Not Letterman. Certainly not Leno. Jimmy Kimmel? Nah. Hands down funniest guy on late night TV has to be Craig Ferguson. He makes me cry, he's just that funny. I love his delivery, his excellent timing, his sarcastic edge. And of course I love his Scottish accent. He could probably just sit there and talk in his accent about absolutely nothing, and I'd crack up. He's hysterical. He's also on at midnight. Which is why I never watch him. I think I'll start DVR'ing and watching at a more reasonable hour. I have to get up at 5 a.m. And I'm old. He does have some clips on the CBS web site and on YouTube. Perhaps my favorites feature him interviewing another Scot, Gerard Butler. But nothing beats his monologues, which critics have described as more a storytelling session than a series of one-liners. Like this one

Ever since I went to the latest (and final...sniff, sniff) Harry Potter movie last weekend, I've been -- in my head -- talking with a British accent. I've had to be careful so as not to have it burst forth during work meetings. I can't even say Harry Potter normally. I feel the need to say "Haaaarrrayhhh Pottahhh." I feel the distinct urge to drink tea. And place my groceries in the boot of my auto. And declare everything to be "Brilliant!" I'm going to miss those kids. I can't wait to see what the young actors do as grown-up stars. I wish them well. I'm nervous for them. I want them to find success apart from, or perhaps in spite of, their early career adventures. And, with Tim and Henry off on their excellent adventure to Colorado next week -- and me with a new subscription to Netflix -- I feel the urge for an appropriate movie marathon. Lots of men in silk and women with big hair and corsets and cleavage giving Oscar-worthy performances. A...

Name 5 places you'd like to live 1. Iowa City: I love it here. Great schools, fantastic cultural events, good friends...who could ask for more. 2. St. Louis: Having my kid grow up close to grandparents would be wonderful. I've also loved the cultural vibe of the city ever since I interned at the paper there in the mid-'90s. Question is...would my inlaws and I still be speaking to each other if we lived that close?? (I'd say the same thing about my own parents, too...but I don't want to live near them because if I had to live in Kansas again, I would cry. A lot. There's no way I'd send my kid to school in a state that doesn't want to teach evolution, for criminy sake.) 3. Monterey, Calif.: Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Too bad the state's bankrupt and marred with active earthquake fault lines. Loved visiting. If I had a zillion dollars and felt daring with my welfare, I'd plant roots there in a heartbeat. (I could probably say the same about an...

Brainstorm 10 titles to your autobiography. 1. Wandering Amylessly (of course) 2. Caffeinated: The Highs (and Lows) of an Ordinary Girl 3. Scattered 4. I'd Rather Be Elsewhere 5. Short and Sassy 6. I'm Not Your Maid or Your Personal Chef 7. Tales of a Love Triangle: Semicolon, Em Dash, and Me 8. Images in the Mirror are Happier Than They Appear 9. Screaming Inside: I Know All the Bad Words and I'm Not Afraid to Use Them 10. Life Doesn't Have a Handbook, But What About the Cliff's Notes?

What's something you've always wanted to do, but have been afraid to? I'm afraid of a lot of things. A lot of the time. But hey, I read a quote from Mark Twain once: Do the thing you fear most and the death of fear is certain. I've always wanted to: 1. Get my nose pierced 2. Get a tattoo (just a small one, Mom!) With these, the major hurdles are fear of pain and fear of alienating Tim. It irritated him enough when I chopped my hair off. I'm not sure he could handle more piercings and body art. 3. Quit my job Not like I haven't done that before. But I'd love to work full time on a book. I could get published. Really. I might have to self publish to do it. Major fears associated with this: bankruptcy, failure. 4. Take a cruise My luck, I'd have hideous seasickness the whole time. That's the only fear. Well, that and the fact that a while back, people kept disappearing from cruise ships, never to be heard from again. 5. Be open and honest I'm proba...

What could make me feel older and more out of touch than these words coming from my 7-year-old: My bad. AND Oh snap! I still am not sure I can properly use those in a sentence. But I have decided that what makes me grow older faster (by the second) than anything else is having to explain how babies get created. I've had to be increasingly descriptive each time H's inquisitive self gets revved up. Guess we're both growing up.

Nothing makes me more naturally manic than oodles and gobs of sunshine and warmth. I was just noticing today a spring in my wedge-sandaled step, the urge to chatter about nothing in particular, and the general feeling of giddiness that a bright, cheery, 80-degree day in May brings. No need to alert my docs. A little hypomania never hurt anyone. If it spurs me on to clean my house, it's probably a great thing. Enjoy my great mood (while it lasts). I know I am!

This is my new favorite song. Enjoy...

First Catherine Zeta-Jones. Now teen actress Demi Lovato. Both recently announced that they had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I wonder how many other public figures have been diagnosed yet are keeping quiet? The stigma won't fade until people speak up. For an interesting column about the disorder on Huffington Post, click here . The author also maintains a blog. Read it here . And as if my mommy guilt wasn't already overwhelming, here's something to add to it. It's a story on a new study that finds children of parents with bipolar disorder are four times as likely to develop mood disorders as children of parents without the disorder. Wonder what studies show about the link between reading articles like this and becoming stressed out?

People Magazine revealed today that Catherine Zeta-Jones has been treated for bipolar II disorder, following the life stressors brought on by dealing with husband Michael Douglas's cancer. Read the story here . As the story reminds us, bipolar disorder afflicts about 6 million Americans. I'm glad to see the actress putting her beautiful face on the disorder...to show that, see, it can happen to anyone. It's also nice to see someone taking care of herself and apparently following treatment. Just a week or so ago, we had this headline in our local papers after a man fatally shot a law enforcement officer in an Eastern Iowa town: Man had long history of mental illness, substance abuse . He had been battling bipolar disorder for 30 years. The battle never ends for anyone. Sometimes there's a lull in the action. Other times, the fighting's harder than ever. Unfortunately, there are usually casualties of one kind or another.

Wow. It's been a while. I've had bronchitis and a sinus infection. My dog had an intestinal blockage and a back injury. My family life's challenging. Work...well, no comment. Even my Jenny Craig consultant abandoned me. (Although she really took a "leave of absence" from her job and I'm highly conceited for thinking it's all about me.) The past few weeks have been less than stellar. Here's to brighter days ahead. If nothing else, we can countdown to summer vacation in June...a week at the beach in North Carolina. Can't wait!

Never have I been more excited about and looking forward to an 8-hour car trip that I have today, 1 day before my vacay begins. It's turning out to be a day of grouchy messages from managers and conversations I wish I'd never heard. And now, I find out there's a Charlie Sheen virus spreading rampant on Facebook. Stop the madness. Spring break, here I come.

I just saw a woman's foot in the stall next to me in the bathroom, tapping away. Later, I watched the owner of said foot walk out of the bathroom, bopping away with her iPod earbuds in. Is one's life so in need of a music soundtrack, one must not put down one's portable music player to do one's bathroom business? Really? I've heard of people talking on the phone, too. If you are ever on the phone with me while you're in the can, hang up on me. Seriously. I'll forgive you. I do not understand the kind of urgency that anyone must feel to both converse and well, you know. I've also seen women applying makeup while driving their cars. I've seen men playing trash can basketball while on a conference call. There are probably people out there who listen to their iPod in one ear while listening to a conference call through another, while driving and applying makeup. Throw in "passing through the drive through for a quick bite of lunch" and you have...