The O.J. Verdict

Yes, I actually cheered when the judge sentenced O.J. Simpson for last year's armed robbery and related crimes in Las Vegas. I especially liked the part where the judge said that (I'm paraphrasing) at first, she couldn't decide if he was simply arrogant or ignorant but now she knows the answer. He's both.

The judge made it clear that both the jury that convicted him in this felony trial and her decisions in regard to sentencing had nothing to do with carry-over feelings from his murder acquittal 13 years ago. Maybe that is true. For the sake of our judicial system, I hope it is. All people deserve a fair trial.

When it comes to O.J., I've lost all reason and sense of fairness. I think he is a thug and a murderer. He has lived a life that includes sports hero worship, phenomenal financial riches, beautiful women and children. Yet, he is a destroyer --he destroyed families, including his own.

Shackled and smug at the same time, he asked the court for mercy. In some ways, he received it. He will serve a minimum of 9 years before chance of parole. He could serve up to 30-plus years.

I'm betting Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman begged for mercy too.

Handy People

My father is the ultimate handy person. I have never lived anywhere that he didn't build or remodel something. I am 45-years old and the trend continues.

The closet in my childhood bedroom is about 1/8 the size of the closet in the home I shared with the husband. Needless to say, I haven't moved all my clothes here (and I need to get rid of a lot) but for this transition period, I need enough to get through various situations including appropriate items to wear to job interviews and to church.

We bought one of those portable, snap-it-together clothes racks on wheels. Flimsy and useless. I hung a few things on it and it fell over. My dad and I picked it up and later it snapped. I'm not talking coats or anything heavy -- just a few sweaters, etc.

Yesterday, he went up in the garage loft and hauled down some spare lumber. (Doesn't everyone have a stash of timber ready to go?) Plus, it was about 10 degrees outside. He made this super-sturdy closet rod and mounted it in the laundry room. It's very large.

If he had surprised me with a Mercedes, I would not have been as happy.

Farm Girl

"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." Benjamin Franklin

My normal body clock awakens me between 4:00 AM and 5:00 AM. I force myself to stay in bed until 5:00. I used to envy people who could sleep late but I've learned to appreciate this quirk. In many ways, it is my favorite part of the day. I relax with coffee and the newspaper. I watch the local news. I relax and plan my day before the hyperactivity kicks in.

I like to go to bed early. My oldies tease me about a curfew and we laugh about how ridiculous this is since I usually go to bed around 9:00 PM. Don't be jealous of my exciting habits!

My sleep cycle is a lot like farmers. I might have made a good farm girl except for that pesky part about working the farm.

"L" is for .....

I'm in turmoil and the other night I thought it was funny to make the loser symbol across my forehead. One of my besties thought it was appropriate to pinch me in response. It hurt but she made her point. She is probably the only person I would allow to get away with this.

Making that "L" across your forehead is not necessarily a bad thing.

"L" is for:

Love. Past, present and future.
Loss. What was and what could have been.
Laughter. If you don't experience belly laughter on a regular basis, you should live with my oldies for a while.
Leaving. Sometimes you just have to go.

Please Don't Interrupt Jeopardy

I'm addicted to Jeopardy. I shout out the answers even when I am alone. I get increasingly louder as the show progresses.

Usually, I do not answer the phone while it is on. I enjoy that 30 minutes.

Last night, my mother felt the need to tell me something IMMEDIATELY. Of course, this was right before the Final Jeopardy question.

I found the nerve this morning to ask her to please not do it again.

A Simplified Christmas

For the first time in at least 18 years, I will not be celebrating Christmas in my usual fashion. I will not be organizing a family photo, addressing and mailing hundreds of cards, decorating every room, trimming a live tree or hosting any parties. I will not be buying gifts and wrapping for hours. (Ok, I might buy the dog a new toy.) I will not be coordinating schedules to accommodate other people. I enjoy doing most of these things but this is not the year for it.

I am not skipping Christmas. I'm already listening to holiday music. I will help my oldies trim a small tree. I will keep my mother and sister company while they do their annual candy making. I will help my mother prepare a holiday meal. I will enjoy the children's Christmas show and the choir's cantata at church.

Tradition and rituals are important to me. This will be my first Christmas making some new ones.

Can You Bench Press Your Car?

The only reality show I watch is "Dancing with the Stars." My parents tried to get me to watch "Survivor" the other night but I pulled myself up to my full height of 5',3 1/2" and said, "I don't want to and you can't make me." (This spine of steel crap only goes so far when they're bailing you out but they let it slide.)

I got to watch the semi-finals and the grand finale of "Dancing with the Stars" with my father. Here are a few areas where the generation gap comes into play:

He thinks Samantha Harris (the co-host) has arms that are too muscular. He makes running comments about not wanting to face her in a fight or how she must go out every morning and bench press her car. I think her arms are amazing. She has muscle definition and no underarm flapping. I know you're not supposed to covet things but secretly I covet her arms.

He thinks her voice is too deep and sounds like a man. He does a mean impression of her which sends me into a fit of giggles. I think her voice is sultry in a Lauren Bacall kind of way.

Too bad the show is over for now. My dad and I will have to find someone else to critique and/or admire.