in bed with cancer

I'm not making any speeches, my mother told me. You know what's in my heart.

mommi

my mom is responding well to chemotherapy. she is focussed on slowing or stopping the disease and she is great and wonderful and beautiful.

every night i light a candle for my mother. then i get in bed and cry.

hell hath no fury

yesterday she tossed a load of snow from the office. it fell behind dave, and in front of me and florence. a splash of rath on west 66th.

my good qualities

and, i have luscious lips.

good at....

I can add numbers in my head, I estimate time, distance, size, age, pretty much anything that can be counted or measured. I draw animals, and I love to cook. I'm smart, and I feel comfortable talking to pretty much anyone. I'm a good sleeper.

valentine

"i miss you," i said again, and again i cried. "i'm heartsick," i said. " i love you," i told him, and he whispered to me, and sang our song. "mom, doorbell," said hope. "it's flowers, " she said, "don't you want to see them?" me, on the phone, in the bedroom, listening to my husband say my name. when i cracked the door, i saw the clutch of bright pink tulips. just like david to send a beautiful display, a wordplay.

bondage blues

I told Emma I'd go with her and Swo to Rock N Bowl. But I'm worried my arm can’t take it. My hands will hurt. What if my shoulder separates? Have I ruined it, carrying the camera? Why is it suddenly worse? I like'm pulled up over my head with Dguy. Was it the handcuffs?

tsunami photo

the drowned woman is really an awful sight, but if we can't even process one death, what does 140,000 mean?

newspukes

Bahar said his second cousin died in the tsunami so I lit a candle for her. Then I lit a candle for the five children in Bahar's story. It is too much to think about all the souls lost Christmas weekend, but too little not to.

some news guys cry

This one will be a three-hanky, said Duncan, as we sat down to watch his story about funerals for National Guardsmen. "27 year old Christopher Babin had recently married, recently fathered a child. His mother wept for the entire service," went the narration. Duncan touched his eyes and then gave in to his own tears.

newspukes don't cry

They said journalist should witness and report; not cry. But how should you not. The only way is to kill your heart while you shoot your footage, interview the survivors hoping for their tears, feed the story, report it life from the spot, again and again. -- Delvi Sinambela, Indonesia

there's a girl at MOMA

who resembles my stepdaughter, or what i imagine she looks like since her nose job. Broad chin, pretty face, curly red hair, dressed simply, with a largeish sling-type bag. she has blue-green eyes, but i think my husband's daughter has brown.

I wonder if she goes anywhere by herself, like this girl in the museum.

Nobody escapes clean, I want to tell her. You can not face him?

Inquiring mind want to know: Do you think he'll live forever?

quite possibly the worst place on earth

new nominee: Tal Afar, Iraq, according to chris hondros, embedded w/ marines there.

the shipping news

Nothing's moving on the river or highway, it's 41 degrees and raining. I overslept, if a person can oversleep when they have no assignment, grinding my wisdom snaggletooth, both monkeys safely under my arm, the heating pad stripped of its cover beyond the reach of my toes. What time is it in Louisiana?

RATHERGATE

“I love you but I have to park a satellite truck here,” I told a guy driving an SUV with press plates. Miraculously he smiled and drove on, turning left on West 57th, leaving me to defend the last parking space on the corner of 10th Avenue.

CBS had announced their “Rathergate” findings. Unfair, inaccurate. Four people fired, and a blight on Dan Rather’s legacy.

The sat truck parked, I looked for my crew among the half dozen tv teams staking out the CBS broadcast center at 524. W 57th. We strolled down to 555 w 57th, where 60 minutes is located over the BMW dealership, glaring at a crew that started to follow us, and calling them sheep, until they drifted back to the pack.

It was cold in lee of the building. “I forgot my gloves,” I told the crew, “and I ran right down here without a shower.” Circle of stink, I’m sorry. In the car were my nice warm boots, but on my feet were a suede pair, with 4-inch heels, and that’s what I was wearing when Andrew Heyward, President of CBS news, emerged. I recognized him by the moustache and nice topcoat. “Here he is, I told the crew.”

“Mr Heyward,” I greeted. Will there be more resignations? (he didn’t respond). I fed our grab shot from the satellite truck.

We were back in front of CBS the next day. I bought hot chocolates for the crew. A security guy talked into his Nextel while Dan Rather sneaked in the back way.

I thought about the joke about the village where the carpenter is known as Joe the carpenter, the guy with the juicer is known as Tony the juice guy, and one guy who engineered the road, established the library and grows orchids said, you make one mistake and you’re known for it forever. The guy’s name is Roger the pigfucker.

When Leslie Stahl came out from w555, I asked her, “how’s the fallout affecting you?” “Not good,” she said, getting into a limo.