That's it. You get to be 68 and they close the doors, shut you down, turn off the ovens? Apparently, as that's what Conde Nasty did to Gourmet magazine.  Oh dear.  What's Ruth Reichl going to do now?

I didn't read Gourmet, or Bon Appetit, or Making Do with Scraps, or any of the other foodie publications. I get Food and WIne, but that seems to be something I get suckered into because of my American Express card, not seeming to be able to remember, at any given time, that I don't want to be receiving it. So I have a collection of dust covered, hard copies, from the last millennium languishing in my kitchen.

I do like to cook. I think I like to cook. I cook in fits and starts. Mostly I order in.

But when I do cook, I apparently, like others if the reason for Gourmet's demise is justified, get my recipes from the web. Or clog up my bookmark bar with recipes from the web. Or, have a folder of yellowed, oily, slightly ripped, dog eared recipes that I dutifully rip from the Times every Wednesday, never to be seen again.

Along with the mystery wrapped leftovers that live in my freezer.

To both, I bid, farewell.

How's your moral compass?

A friend, in response to my thoughts on contemplating what my future sins might look like said, "Sinning has got to be spontaneous. You can't plan these things. If it's too contrived, you'll look like a disingenuous sinner, which has very negative affects. I double checked the handbooks on debauchery and hedonism and they pretty much confirm that."  He's right. And funny. Of course, what he didn't know was that my idea of sinning runs along the lines of still wearing white after Labor Day.

But, if I ever conduct myself really amorally, I am pretty clear that I'd want to be an "artiste" as reported in  the NY Times "a gallic shrug, preserve of artistes" that, or gap toothed.  I actually was gap-toothed once, but a fortune was spent to correct that condition. Anyhow, it appears that those two criteria might be enough to excuse "totally unacceptable" behavior.

I did a quick survey of some folks to hear their points of view. Those I queried seemed  to be pretty clear about was acceptable and non acceptable codes of behavior. Sex with a minor—that's a no. Sleeping with people who work for you—not acceptable. (This one though, had many varying points of view…) Work for you, that's a no…work with you, that's okay…while married or in a serious relationship, uhoh…not married, maybe. Think these various and assorted qualifiers had to do with personal experience?

Yet, some of those who were clearly adamant about how wrong it is to have sex with a minor, when asked whether Mr. Polanski should do jail time, were uncertain. "It was a lifetime ago, the victim has forgiven him, he has suffered enough in his life" were a few of the responses I heard. As for Letterman, "he wasn't married at the time, the women he had sexual relations with appear not to have been coerced for fear of losing their jobs and, that gap tooth thing is pretty sexy."  (See, my parents could have not made that correction and I might have had the life experiences of Madonna and/or Lauren Hutton and/or Omar Sharif).

Of course, others thought it quite odd that it took the authorities so long to "apprehend" Polanski. He should be tried, found guilty and serve time, they said. Letterman's behavior should, they continued, be assessed for the possibility of sexual harassment in the workplace. Or, he could be made to listen, on a continuous loop, all the Clinton, Edwards, Spitzer et.al jokes he made, as well as being fodder for other talk show hosts and stand up comedians. But then again, there might be a cast the first stone conflict here…

So, if you'd like, add to my informal survey. Or admit to your transgressions. Either one works.

So sad, just when I was thinking about becoming a Matador (Matadoressa?) it appears that the art of the bullfight is circling the drain. Tis the twilight of the matadors, ah me.

Which, of course, probably is a good thing. Not only for the bull, but for those of us with such aspirations. 

Really, have you considered how you'd look in those outfits? Toreador pants are leggings without the benefit of knee high boots. And, the bolero jacket. Sparkly or otherwise it just doesn't flatter the body. It's too short to cover any waistline bulges that might make their presence known after a paella and sangria lunch. 

I strongly suggest if one is going to pick a sport to participate in, then one should take some serious note of the accompanying outfit.

Which explains, other than a profound fear of panicking and drowning, why I don't scuba dive. Lloyd Bridges looked good in a wet suit. Most others, don't. Even if I could make do with the suit, the hood and goggles look is simply not flattering. My hair and eyes, you see, are my best features.

Fly fishing is a good one. A simple shirt and slacks accompanied by a humongous pair of waders held by suspenders, while not a fashion statement, does seem to leave the body image intact.

I will continue to consider my options. 

Bowling, badminton and shuffleboard are, right now, high on my list.

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…