I had grand plans
for the first blog of the year. I was going to proudly state my New Year’s
resolutions and attempt to write a humorous yet inspiring bit about wiping the
slate clean and starting ’08 fresh. I might have even thrown in a catch phrase.
Anyone have any ideas for an ’08 catch phrase? Let me know. My grand plans were
shot to smithereens when I was hit with some New Year’s illness. I got sick and
then my daughter caught a nasty bug and two ear infections. We’re a mess in the
Hale house right now. I’m hoping that we can ride out this wave of sickness and
be done until Spring or Summer or next Winter. I’m sick of sick.
Let’s talk about TV.
Raise your hand if the writer’s strike is having a serious impact on your
normal television standards. (Mine is raised high—it makes typing a little
difficult, though, so I’ll lower it). Raise your other hand if this lowering of
standards includes adding Crowned: The
Mother of All Pageants to your viewing repertoire. After an urgent call
from my friend, Jacquelyn, insisting that I watch it, I set my DVR to record this
mother of all trash TV programs. It’s no Rock
of Love but it will do for now. I’m rooting for the Broadway-esque
mother/daughter duo team. Their mushy, cheesy love for each other and their
obvious love of all things musical theater appeals to me. I think they are a
shoo-in for the win. For those of you unfamiliar with this delightful hour of
TV, it features a competition in each episode followed by a heart-wrenching
de-sashing ceremony. Check your local listings. You know you wanna.
On a super-fantastic
note, my friend Alyson informed me this morning that Rock of Love is coming back for a new season with Bret Michaels at
the helm again. Yee-haw! I might just survive this writer’s strike after all.