Have you looked at your bookmark bar lately? Go ahead, take a look. I’ll wait.

Pretty fascinating read, isn’t it? A chronicle of “Did I really think that was important?” “What was I thinking?” or some variation on that theme.

I, for one, clearly haven’t found a diet plan I like. If however, you’d like to know what are the latest, greatest, highly touted, scientifically founded, fool proof and guaranteed, just ask me.

Likewise, any interest in green sauce? With shrimp, lobster, haddock, halibut, or monkfish? Or 236 variations on pasta bolognese? Maybe, an Indonesian satay? Got ’em all.

Trips to take, plays to see, exhibits to go to, classes to enrich. If I alphabetize them, would that make them actionable?

On line-dating sites. Do you have any idea how many on-line dating sites there are? Wish I had thought up that concept.

Yeah, I do have the requisite bookmarks to demonstrate that I am politically aware, news savvy, literate. Those will always stay bookmarked. I would hate to think that my legacy, when my computer is unearthed in an archeological dig, in the year 2100, was, hmmmm. this one was untraveled, culturally bereft, dateless and clueless.

No, no hip hip hoorays for me.

The only success I've encountered in the past few months is getting from point A to point B without a total panic attack; my GPS being my new best friend.

How long does "success" have to be maintained to still be considered "success"?

"We met on line" they tout. "It was love at first sight." "Within fifteen minutes we knew." "We were married the next day." Now, I'm not a betting person, but I just don't feel that optimistic about this. Too cynical?

"I have been on this food plan for 2 weeks, three days and have lost half my body weight." "Really, you can get used to living on air and sunflower seeds." "I have emptied my closet of every article of clothing I own and am prepared to go outdoors draped only in a couple of strategically placed band aids." 

This, of course, takes us directly from success stories to inspirational stories, which morph into a magazine article, which gets expanded into a novel, then a made for TV program, finally rewritten for the big screen. Remember Erin Brockovich? I think I have seen her on late night television doing insurance ads. Alternatively, the once upon a time 'succeeders' are resurrected, being gleefully dissected in their fall from 'success grace', as the latest cover story in the National Enquirer, People or Us.

Which is precisely why I am so delighted with my decision to attempt nothing new. Navigating from the kitchen to the living room and recalling what I was looking for when I entered, is about as much success as I can tolerate.

Contemplating, considering and plotting next years sins.

Not exactly.

But it does appear that every generation attempts to make some sense of "how did I get here, what am I doing here, and how do I get out of here?" quests.

When I was a thirty something, I was a full time mom,  a part time graduate student, a full time wife, and part time playground sitter, trying to make all those things balance. Our challenges were chronicled in the birth of Ms. Magazine, the writings of Betty Friedan, Germaine Greer, Gloria Steinem.  We were challenged to look at our choices, consider these choices, and make more informed choices. Or not. 

All this while serving up Sara Lee mini coffee cakes and coffee. 

Fast forward to the 21st century and we now seem to have "spiritual cowgirls" and "spiritual superheroines" leading the charge. Or so we are told in a recent article I read "seeing yourself in their light".

I want a piece of that.

I am reasonably certain that I can take my superheroine cape out of storage, unfurl my yoga mat, and dispense a lifetimes self-help reading list worth of advice.

My beverage and snack selection is to be determined.

Interested?

I really wanted to buy one, but you know that any article of clothing that comes in "one size fits all" has got to make you look fat.

Anyhow, the latest research suggests that your home might not be your castle, but rather your very own Petri dish. Can you imagine?

Actually, knowing this is a good thing. There is a relatively new site out there,  www.healthystuff.org which is the go-to place to learn about the potential toxins in just about every household product, toys, egads, even your pocketbooks.

And why would you care?

Well, it appears that the dogs' toy might contain lead, the household cleaning products are linked to infertility and your pocketbooks? Perhaps they put that on the no-no list because they thought, after seeing your handbag collection you might need some chastizing and motivation to cleanse.  Okay, not true. What they did find in over half of the 100 pocketbooks tested they had a percentage of lead that are bad for the environment. Only those pocketbooks bought in Kmart. Kidding. 

Spending quality time meandering around the grocery store is, for some, very meaningful. After finishing up my lastest best seller, and before starting a new one, I, for one, would be  delighted to read the ingredients in my cleaning supplies, toys, and other objects.

If the government required them to be listed. But, at present, they don't.  You know have a resource to check it out.

Your welcome.

As in Dowd and her column Blue is The New Black.

Slow day in the political pundit world? Decided to leave John Edward's paternity issues alone? Obama's dissing of Kanye West to rest? Palin and Bush just simply too b o r i n g?

Don't get me wrong, more often than not I love Maureen. Although, I, for one, couldn't get through her "Are Men Necessary." And I also, for one, don't want to be lumped into a definitive statement as to whether or not I am happy or less happy than I might have been, want to be, could have been, should have been, at any other time, in my time, am.

Aging is scary enough.  Being told that it is compounded by aging poorly, based on the evidence of the obsession of how one looks; that older men are less likely to remain widowed; and that even if one has choices, the choices leave us unhappy– are all singularly and collectively, not comforting.

But are these statistics true? Are these two quickly referenced studies valid?

So I looked up this fellow she quoted, Marcus Buckingham. Lots of self help books under his belt. Motivational speaking engagements, too. Go team go. So I wonder, is it self serving? If Buckingham writes a book about women circling the drain of sadness, is a pep rally far behind?

So, Maureen…pretty certain that all the various and assorted shades of grey, as it relates to happy, is still the new black.

Mind boggling. Baffling. Insane. Who generates this stuff, and more importantly, why?

Of course, I’ve put on my spam filter, which it appears to me, has the same effectiveness as the lint filter in my dryer. Barely adequate.

What could possibly be the odds of ANYONE purchasing, forwarding, using, or wanting any of the products in these emails. In the past two days, just to see what was coming into my in box,  I’ve marked as junk 207 items. That’s 100 of these a day. (Clearly receiving these junk items didn’t diminish my cracker jack math skills.)

They tend to be divided into 3 categories. There’s the younger, softer, smoother, unlined, skinnier, toned new me, variety. The insurance, home mortgage, car payments, language learning, and investment ideas group. And, lastly, the ones that are my personal favorites, send us your PIN number and we can deposit the zillion dollars that we are holding for you in an escrow account.

So back to the original question. Why?

If I could understand how money is made by the spammer I think, no make that know, that I would seriously consider participating. Indeed, if I received an email explaining to me how I can make money doing this (spammer are you paying attention here?), I would  most definitely read it.

And then I’d send it on, and on and on and…