OK, I swoon a bit too. Someone who claims to have reliable info swore to me a week ago that Oprah would be running for national office soon. HYe claimed that Hillary would be the Presidential candidate and Oprah the VP. I like the ticket, but maybe reversed? I assume this is just a rumor, but it certainly derives from the crazy optimism Oprah exudes as mentioned in this article. Dream on.

Not sure what Juliana had in mind, but as a hockey fan I thought the story was great. I hope to hell that if I'm still kickin' at 101, the Joe Thornton of the day is willing to swing by the nursing home to wish me a happy birthday and give me a peck on the cheek. And if the Cammi Granato of the day can stop by and give my husband the same thrill, I'm all for it. Maybe you have to be a hockey fan to appreciate the sweetness of this story. To even remotely compare Ryan Smyth's humanity and the well-known humility and kindness of many players (of both genders) in this sport to teachers having sex with underage kids seems a bit extreme to me. Actually, more than a bit.

At risk of being deemed PI by those who found this offensive (hello - how about Darfur?) --

what a bunch of pussies!

Yup, sure wasn't a "traditional" - but it was sweet. I vote for a long life together.

Yes, middle school is a time of awakening body image and sexuality, and that is as natural as the sun coming up in the morning.

But....depending on context, the behavior of young women encouraged by adults can be downright scary.

Several years ago my husband and I were shocked when, as part of the opening night festivities at our local pro hockey game, a group of young women came out on the ice to dance. The extreme makeup and provocative costumes didn't startle me, but the sexual moves did. This was in front of 17,000 people, mainly adults, and mainly men. It was painful to watch and I couldn't wait until it was over.

I wrote a letter to our local paper decrying this unnecessary hypersexualization of these girls. The mother of one of them managed to find my phone number and called us screaming about how cruel and unfair we were to the girls. Go figure.

This spectacle was conceived by and run by adults. That's what really grosses me out. Not just natural development of middle schoolers but sexual posing encouraged and presented by adults to other adults. Ick.

Like you, Susan, my favorite memories of my brother include him in the driver's seat - of a my mom's Malibu, of a semi truck he drove for a while, of the bumper cars at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk when we were kids. And then there is the memory of the night in 1999 when he died, after flipping his company car into an irrigation ditch. He had been at a new job as an agricultural chemical salesman for a week after a year of unemployment, workers comp, low self esteem, growing debt, fights to keep his three daughters from their crazy mother. Not surprisingly, he drove back home to the country after a night of celebrating in town, at a high rate of speed, windows down, flying along the asphalt next to the vineyards. And the car apparently went off the pavement into the dirt, and he overcorrected, flipped, flew out the window, hit his head and was gone before he landed in the ditch.

Like some of the other letter writers I could be (and I guess I am a bit) pissed at bad drivers who raise insurance rates and don't wear their seat belts. I could be, and have been, pissed at my brother for leaving us at the tender age of 43 just as he was about to start an exciting new phase of his life, and just as his three lovely daughters were entering the prime of their young lives. My brain tells me this.

And yet I know in my heart what freedom he felt speeding down the backroad with the wind in his hair. Probably the first such feeling he had experienced in a very long time. So how can I continue to be mad?

When we were in high school one time he flipped a car next to an irrigation ditch. Landing right on the damned roof. He and his buddy lived to tell about it. I guess I should be grateful I had another 27 years with him after that.

And when the full moon shines, I feel him and I talk to him. The moon was bright the night he felt so free, tearing down the dirt road. Love you, baby brother.

Good grief Rob, haven't you ever met a boxer? They love babies and children. And from the sound of that little one's laugh, the feeling is mutual. I would have voted this one numero uno.

Some other time I would've read Sirota's article with more objectivity. But I just returned from a 3-day "sisters trip" to Vegas with my favorite human being. We laughed our asses off and had a great time ogling the eye candy that was in town for the National Rodeo. There's something about men, of all ages, sizes, and colors, wearing buttoned down shirts, boots, and hats, that kept us smiling. Not to mention they were polite, too (unlike the NASCAR and Super Bowl crowds I've encountered on prior visits).

Crap. I guess I'm terminally politically incorrect. Does it piss me off that Vegas is consuming more than its share of our water and other natural resources? Yes. But it's still a great escape.