I hadn't golfed in awhile, so yesterday was my first chance to wear my new golf cap. Here's me on my way to the Newport Beach Golf Course. It was a lovely, sunny and warm day and I hit enough good shots to make me want to make golf a regular part of my plans again. Either that or I think I did after drinking 2 beers to "loosen up" my shoulders. To lessen my panic about embarassing myself in public, I hit the driving range a few days last week. I can't tell you how good it felt to get out and do something physical for a change I've been spending way too much time working and veging on the couch I quickly came to realize.

And in more good news, my Obama '08 stickers and lapel pin arrived!

The stickers were described as being lapel stickers - I figured I could wear them on days when I didn't want to use the pin; however, they are a bit bigger than I expected. Whoever thought they were lapel size must be fond of zoot suits.

New episodes of old TV shows are trickling in after the writers' strike. The Thursday night NBC comedy line up returned with My Name is Earl, 30 Rock, The Office and Scrubs. I don't what the writers were doing during their time off besides whining alot, but they sure weren't honing their skills or brainstorming new ideas. All 4 shows were disappointments. Here's hoping they get back into stride soon.

I may have stumbled upon a gem of a book with "A Little Trouble With The Facts" by Nina Siegal. Publishers Weekly describes it as:

"Chick lit meets Raymond Chandler in this slick debut about a Gotham gossip girl's rise, fall and resurrection in New York circa 1999. Sassy, brassy journo Valerie Vane—née Sunburst Rhapsody Miller, born to a pair of hippies—wants to be famous and does so the old-fashioned way: by tossing gossip bricks. She's quickly scooped up by the style section of the Paper (a thinly veiled New York Times), but becomes undone by cocaine nights and her social-climbing no-good boyfriend. After a drug-fueled rage that gets her mug on all the trashy tabs, Val is relegated to the obits desk. There, the disgraced writer learns to be a real reporter, investigating the mysterious death of revered graffiti artist Malcolm Wallace. In the hunt for his killer, aided by her dark and handsome source, Cabeza, Val uncovers corruption that will put her name back on page one—and her life in danger. Siegal, a former journalist, blends glamour and gutter into a delicious cocktail, equal parts behind-the-scenes dish and crime novel. With a tantalizing if undeveloped side plot involving Val's long-lost relatives, a sequel would be both logical—and welcome."

I don't know where I first read about this, but I used my handy-dandy iPhone notes feature to write the name down . . . I'm about 60 pages into it, and loving every bit of it . . .