The High Bar with Warren Etheredge

A couple of months ago I did an interview with Warren Etheredge on his new show, The High Bar. While sipping on gin and tonics, I talked about my need to connect with family and shared strategies from Behind the Family Tree for how to better communicate with your own family. Check it out for a few tips and giggles.

Goodbye, Oakdale

I can't stop crying. Seriously. I keep losing it every time I turn on the TV. I just watched The Early Show's retrospective of As the World Turns, which goes off the air today after 54 years. I've been in denial about this day for months. I kept thinking some deus ex machina would swoop down and sponsor the show after Proctor & Gamble pulled the plug ( like Margo did when her stepdad had a terminal illness).

No such luck.

The Bold & the Beautiful is just too ridiculous for me to take to, so I'm left up the TV creek without a paddle.

But between the tears, I did manage to write a couple of pieces that sum up why I loved the show so very much.

Check out my humorous slideshow over at Salon, where I detail life lessons learned from a daily dose of ATWT.

Then on the Huffington Post, I talk about how the show impacted me as I moved from a gawky pre-teen to a successful career gal, all the while looking for cues from the show's themes, characters, and storylines.

Goodbye, Oakdale. You have been loved and you will be missed.

(Video: a recent tearjerker: Barbara's wedding to Henry, in which all the key players are haunted by the specter of Bab's ex and Henry's father James Stenbeck.)

Crafting memories

My latest essay has been posted on CraftStylish. It talks about a few of my treasured handicrafts, and the television shows and movies I associate with making them. My newest shawl will always remind me of Election Night 08.

HIGH-larious

Jon Stewart + Brian Williams = comedy magic

I'm mad for mid-century modern

Inspired by the new season of Mad Men, I just purchased a couple of prints from FourCrowArt on etsy. Isn't the art mad cool?

American Idol

While watching David Cook rock it out to Mariah Carey music on American Idol, I finished this sparkly blue ring. (My photo skills are eroding.)

Photo finish

I had my portrait taken a couple of days ago for an upcoming story in the local weekly (more on that when the issue hits the stands). I was nervous about the shoot and all sorts of insecurities about my appearance surfaced. How could I appear thin, attractive, and professional all at once, when I usually only feel one out of three of these qualities at any given time?

So I asked my friends and colleagues for tips. Stacya said, "Don't let him photograph you from the ground up. That's not a good angle for anyone." Kerry advised, "Neck up, chin down, face turned slightly away from the camera." I think Mariah Carey lives by that one.

Then there's Tyra. An ANTM junkie, I live for panel when she gives an impromptu lesson in the art of modeling. "There's a way to look like a corpse and still have fire in your eyes. It's the difference between this (she stares off blankly) and THIS (she narrows her eyes and they spring to life). Do you see the difference?"

I was determined not to be a lifeless corpse (which, in the world of Tyra Banks, is not redundant).

The photographer told me to wear black, white, or grey clothing, so I reached for my black go-to sweater, the one that makes my decolletage rock in the most tasteful yet spicy of ways. When I've done television interviews before, I've always been told to wear bright, solid colors so I invariably find myself in the Point of View department at Nordstrom looking for some Classiques separate that will find itself at the bottom of the sweater pile in short order.

On the day of the shoot, I artfully made up my face, pulling out the shadows and liners and concealers that I normally forego. I painstakingly blew out my hair so it was smooth and shiny.

When I got to the studio, I made sure to take a few minutes to powder my nose and comb my hair, checking for visible bra straps and lint. I was armed with a lint brush, makeup kit, hairbrush, hairspray, and even some nail polish for touch ups. I learned my lesson after my disastrous high school senior picture. I was a hick with aspirations of grandeur. I didn't know that there would be a dressing room/bathroom where I could plug in my curling iron and check out or change up my makeup. I didn't know I could take my time. I just brought a sweater to change into. Consequently, my hair looked like ass, my face was shiny, and I didn't know how to pose. You can imagine the results.

So when the photographer popped in a Morphine CD to get me in the mood and I stepped in front of the lights and camera, I channeled my best ANTM pose, straightened my back, lowered my chin, and saucily looked at the lens out of the corner of my eye. I was fierce, y'all.

I haven't seen the results but I suspect I'll make it to the next round.

Just a small-town girl, livin' in a lonely world...

I've been feeling rather pleased with myself lately. See, I love cheese, and not just the kind you eat. I also consume all sorts of low-brow pop culture with a vengeance, and I don't hide it. I own my cheese, yo.

For years, I've been counting Die Hard among my top five favorite films. I think it's the perfect action movie. Many people have taken issue with this; I've even gotten diatribes as introductory e-mails from potential dates surfing match.com. They take my love for John McClane and Hans Gruber (Is there a better villian out there than Alan Rickman? Come on.) as an opportunity to pitch a Clint Eastwood movie.

I don't e-mail them back.

But maybe I will now. Last week, Entertainment Weekly named Die Hard as the best action movie ever. Eat that, Dirty Harry fans.

And my go-to karaoke song, also a favorite, was the final song selection for the Sopranos: Don't Stop Believin'. I won't, Steve Perry, I won't. I am a small-town girl, livin' in a lonely world. I haven't taken a midnight train going anywhere but close enough.

And then there's The Office. Andy and Jim, trashed on Jager, start singing Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls. I wouldn't call Amy and Emily cheese, but they are probably my second-favorite band so even if the song was used to comic effect, I felt validated.

And that brings me to Bon Jovi, my all-time favorite band. People always, always raise an eyebrow when I proclaim my love for JBJ but I have to tell you, like Die Hard, this band knows its place in the world and does it better than anyone else. Pure cheese, yes, but also pure gold.

Back in ’87, when I saw Jon Bon Jovi swing over me at Cobo Hall in Detroit on the Slippery when Wet tour, I knew I was witnessing grade-A cheese. And I ate it up.