And the Winner Is

Mary, from Finding Joy in Simple Things has won a signed copy of my friend Vicki Forman's fantastic new memoir This Lovely Life. If you didn't win, don't waste any more time-- go buy, borrow or perhaps even steal (just teasing) this book. It's life-changing. Really.

Thank you to all for commenting on my blogaversary and for all your wise words and support each time I post!


On another note, and I feel like I should make this writing very very small, but I felt almost sick to my stomach all day watching and then thinking about the Michael Jackson memorial. Call me an iconoclast, but the amount of hoopla around the death of this man was obscene. The helicopters, the traffic, the non-stop coverage, the tearful speeches, the aggrandizement, the sermonizing -- well, it just made me feel incredibly low and depressed. I am a fan of MJ -- or was, before he died twenty years ago. I saw the Jackson 5 and at least four other solo concerts growing up in Atlanta. I get that he was a talented superstar and also deeply troubled. What bothered me most about today, I think, was the feeling that so many of those who spoke had been a part of the man's demise, the gradual whittling away of soul and personhood that we all witnessed as he cut up his face, changed his skin color, his voice, his hair, his persona. I mean -- what the hell happened to him and who watched and allowed it to? I think it was these same sycophants who stood up on the stage today, in front of his glittering coffin and the sad spectacle of his brothers, ridiculously outfitted with those sequined gloves.