I lost my nerve, for a minute, when confronted by a remote-access snafu in a new workplace. What, pray tell, took the fizzle out of sassy? Well, I'll say this much to protect the not-so-innocent, it involved Google email app, which I found as intuitive as Rubik's cube in retrograde. Rather than engage in deep abdominal breathing and figure out the nesting methodology, I froze, then acted "just to get it done before the next meeting" and sent an email to the wrong guy. The job, well, it didn't work out—and email, not that one, but another, was the culprit. {"But Google," I was told, "is so affordable." To which I wanted to respond, "but you get what you pay for, you cheap bastard."} Too much aggravation for them and me. Losing my nerve, and my new job, has caused me to lose heart. And I want it back...

Anything by Iris Murdoch. Special favorites include The Sea, The Sea, and The Message To the Planet. She was a brilliant philosopher, thinker, and novelist. Sadly, she died of Alzheimer's in 1999.

Lindsay Lohan

Michael Lohan, who, among other minor crimes against humanity, rides on his talented daughter's coattails. She may have some issues, but with a papa that messed up, can you blame her?

Coffee Cup

Coffee is my vice. I started in 8th grade when I was dancing (ballet, modern, and jazz) 2 to 3 hours most nights and needed a little jolt to stay vertical and thin. I will never quit. Everything about the coffee experience is delicious, delectable, and well, innocent ... especially as compared to other vices a woman of a certain age could have. There's no "war on coffee" for example. (Unless Stumptown's invasion of NYC counts.) Nobody dies for coffee. (Well if they do, somebody needs to clue me in, okay? Because I'm not clear about it.) Coffee keeps me vertical long after the days events might have left me prostrate and sniveling instead. Coffee gives me oomph in my kick boxing class so I can slay imagined beasts and beasties. Now, cut back? Sure. Quit? Never.

Thai food. I'd cycle between the nerve deadening spicy dishes and the stuff with little else but coconut and lime flavors. Yummy!

Traction
It’s BS corporate speak. Kinda like “leverage,” it’s meant to sound sophisticated but it just sounds like the speaker is trying to say as little as possible in order to float something shady.

Hot
Not as in “warm,” but as in “sexy.” It sounds retarded. “He’s hooooot. She’s hooot.” I wanna say, really? Maybe a cold shower would help...or maybe he (or she) should go to the emergency room.

my own talk show.
I’m very opinionated and, though I haven't felt like talking much lately, usually have plenty to say. Banter and silly personal questions? No problem.

to know why nobody cares what I had for lunch.
Sure, sometimes it's rather pedestrian, like PB&J on whole grain bread. But sometimes it's verging on sophistication: something airy like a frittata with a side of asparagus and a glass of Pinot Grigio. Somebody just might find that compelling copy.

Reading in bed with my mother, about 1970, when I was five and my sister was three. I loved the art in this book. Sometimes, I'd flip through the book and tell my own story. I thought it was magical.