This is still me for the next few weeks:
Busy on the road and in the air, I just am not posting enough. Regrets, but I am visiting Mom frequently in the Bama home and setting up fabulous residency in our Panama City Beach home. The best news in the zone is I will continue teaching college there. Big smiles and lots of relearning happening . . . like how to drive and pump gas and not insult an Alabamian. The latter is hard to avoid. I should know, I am one . . . sort of, again.
So. CBS has advised the musician types at this evening's awards party to not show body parts. Something like that. What does this mean? Is this an award show for accountants or high school teachers? And when did we decide that body parts were all scary for the "innocent youth" watching these events?
Straight up, Carl Rove's shiny bald head and frightful droning on Fox News is much scarier.
So, I have totally spun darling Kanye's absence tonight as not a slap at the corny-whiteys-who-run-the-pop-music-machine. He will no-show because he wanted to wear this on the red carpet:
So not Kanye anyway.
Meanwhile, a blizzard hits the northeast as I storm on with my relocation actions. All is so, so good. And I wouldn't change a thing.
Kisses,
Joyce Marie
