The $700 bag of candy.

It's all gone now.
This is the bag of candy that I stopped to get at the BJ's on Powerline and Commercial.
A bad person grabbed my purse from the front seat of my car while my back was turned. (Stupid me, I didn't lock it for the thirty seconds it took to return a cart to the cart corral.)

In my purse?
My beloved iPad, a cell phone that was less than six months old, prescription sunglasses and less than $5.00 in cash.

Replacing it cost $700.

I'll never be so careless again.

That Smell

Last weekend, John and I enjoyed a three-day weekend on the West Coast. Friday night on Fort Myers Beach (fabulous sunsets, groovy Key West vibe) and Saturday night with our good friend Lynda King who lives on Sanibel Island when she isn't buying and selling TV stations.

We had such a good time! We talked about how restful it is and how much we enjoyed ourselves all the way home.

Fast forward. Friday morning when I got into my car to head to work, I noticed an odor. The Ford 500 has a door drainage problem and sometimes, when it rains hard, the back doors fill up and make a noticeable slooshing sound when I turn a corner or step on the brake. If I don't drain them regularly, the car can smell a bit musty.

Ten hours later, at the end of the work day, the stink was noticeably stronger and even though it was dark and I was tired, I opened both back doors and lifted the little rubber flap at the bottom to let the water out. And then I drove home. The smell abated some during my 30 minute commute but now I think I just got used to it.

On Friday nights I have other things on my mind and so I forgot about it until Saturday morning as we were going out for our bike ride. John wanted to check it but I didn't bring my keys with me and generally, we take his car for errands, etc and so the Ford remained sealed up until Sunday morning.

Sunday morning, John remembered and took his set of keys to my car so that when we finished the bike ride, he could check it out.

He said he almost dropped to his knees when he opened the car door, the stench was so bad. Initially, he thought it had something to do with my slightly damp carpet (damn Ford doors) but then he followed his nose to the back of the car.

A noxious cloud of putrid headed for the heavens as soon as he opened the trunk.

The culprit? Two forgotten Publix shopping bags full of shells gathered on Sanibel. Seven days of warm, damp closed conditions combined with rotting pieces of marine mollusk inside the forgotten exoskeletons created a vile funk that permeated the area.

Another few days and our neighbors would have surely called police, confident that we had a body in the trunk.

A quart of Febreze, some fresh air and a little time cured our problem...and our forgetfulness! 

Long lost weekend

Ten years ago...from NyTimes magazine.

Loving life in South Florida.

Inappropriate? You tell me.

After the Royals took Game Two from the Orioles at Camden Yards, I heard one of the broadcasters close out the post-game by saying "We are watching something special here, folks."

It has been such a magical post-season and the statement was uttered in a poignant way so I tweeted it.

And almost immediately, a former co-worker from WMAR, tweeted me back.

Honestly, for a second I was taken aback. It's no secret that I got fired from KSHB. And it's also no secret that I'm a Twins fan. I have enjoyed the Royals winning ways -- and although I did spend a year in Baltimore and some fun evenings at Camden Yards, I'm a Midwestern girl and decidedly in favor of the Royals winning it all.

My response:

Was that wrong?
Was my former co-worker being predictably snarky?
Should I have just left it alone?

Maybe so.

Surprise Bluegrass

We spent Sunday afternoon at MacArthur State Park. And happened upon this delightful scene.

My Sunday nirvana

Exploring where we live with John.

This is MacArthur State Park in Palm Beach County.

How to tell better TV stories by watching commercials

You can't watch a post-season baseball game without seeing this commercial a gazillion times.

Storytelling lessons from Budweiser puppy commercial | Poynter.

John and I loved this sketch. Miss The Frightened Family? Me too!

End of the 6th inning.

Big game this weekend.

It's official. Writing is good for you.

Check it out:  You don't have to be a serious novelist or constantly reflecting on your life's most traumatic moments to get these great benefits. Even blogging or journaling is enough to see results. One study found that blogging might trigger dopamine release, similar to the effect from running or listening to music.

Great story about competitive TV markets

Local TV’s Battle Royal | Broadcasting & Cable



I've been lucky enough to work in some of these markets.

KTVA reporter quits on-air, reveals herself as owner of Alaska Cannabis ...

My colleague and former co-worker Kevin Finch weighed in.

Dolphins game. Shenanigans.

Rainy season

Broken umbrella. Barefoot boy.

Dear NFL: Get your act together or I might have to break up with you.

This was in my newspaper this week.  Here are some of the tough questions Dave Hyde asks in his column:

"Once upon a time, the antidote for such ugliness was to escape to the games. Enjoy Sunday. Soak up the fun. But now? Is it just me who's having trouble seeing the fun and games as just fun and games anymore?

Can you enjoy football the same way when even the NFL testified in federal court one in every three players will suffer mental problems in their retirement?

What does it say that America's biggest game not only cripples players during them but increasingly leaves them with mental problems for life? Or can you set that aside to enjoy your football weekend?"

I hate the thought of Mark Cuban being right (again). Remember when he predicted the demise of the NFL in May? His rationale was not based on the bad PR of wife and child abusers, rather the gluttony of the owners who will fill every night with football.

Kind of like when ABC saturated prime time with "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" in 2000. I still remember my friend Matt Zelkind, the news director at WKRN, initially giddy at the early ratings and then moaning in anguish when the network gurus considered the show like crack or heroin and gave us three doses per week.

The Incognito saga was shameful and I hated that it involved the team I am trying to love. Then along came Ray Rice. And Adrian Peterson. And a host of other less-famous accused abusers.

Domestic violence accounts for 85 of the 713 arrests of NFL players since 2000 in a database compiled by USA Today.

On the way home from work Friday, I listened to Dan Le Betard interview Don Van Natta, the author of an unfolding story detailing how the Ravens tried to cover up the whole mess.

"The NFL's billionaire owners, who pay Goodell more than $44 million a year, are said to be supporting him as he navigates the worst crisis in NFL history and as some league sponsors, most notably Anheuser-Busch, are jittery. Carolina Panthers owner Jerry Richardson is asking the owners to sign a petition of support for Goodell; at least three have apparently done so. For his part, Goodell has told friends he'd never resign, and he said he's confident his job is not in jeopardy."

Get this fixed, Goodell.  Or get out.

Have you seen me? (I might have questionable mental capacity)

This is not a rant about that makes-me-shudder phrase now used by newspapers and network reports to describe Someone-Who-is-not-Where-He-or-She-is-Supposed-to-be.

It's about the secrets families tell police departments when it happens to that certain Someone.

People disappear in South Florida and elsewhere. They don't GO MISSING. And they never WENT MISSING. They got lost. They left their troubled families. They vanished. They were kidnapped. They intentionally  hid. They got sucked into drug and prostitution. They wandered away. Unfortunately, sometimes, they got murdered.

When someone disappears, a family member contacts a local police department and suddenly medical privacy goes out the window. 

Here are some phrases from south Florida police department news releases about missing people:

• Deputies are looking for a missing West Park man who suffers from advanced Alzheimer’s disease. (Name redacted), 72, has been missing since just before 4 p.m. from the area of 3500 S.W. 40th Avenue in West Park
• The missing person is a twenty- year- old male that has no physical or medical conditions. He jumped into a canal after arguing with family members and then threatened to kill himself.
• The missing person is a twenty (20) year-old female that has a low mental capacity. On Saturday, July 12, 2014, at approximately 5:00 p.m., she was engaged in a heated dispute with her grandmother and fled.
• (Name redacted) was last seen at home in the early afternoon. Ms Laura suffers from Dementia, is of questionable mental capacity, and is very child like. She is not a danger to anyone in the community. (Name redacted) left home without her medication.
• The Police Department is requesting your assistance in locating this missing adult. She suffers from schizophrenia and has not taken her medication.
• The Police Department is requesting your assistance in locating this endangered child, (Name redacted) was last seen at the location above at approximately 8p.m on 07/19/2014. She was wearing an orange blouse and white short pants. (Name redacted) suffers from depression and according to the family, she has a slow mental capacity.
• And my personal favorite: The missing person suffers from an un-diagnosed mental condition. Unknown if also under the influence of drugs or alcohol.   Missing person walked away in an unknown direction.

In almost every case these alerts are regurgitated on local news...either on broadcast, digital, social media. Or all three.

And it always makes me uncomfortable.

Do we really need to throw up a photo and include the "un-diagnosed mental condition" in our script?

I think not.

Summer vacation = OVER!

I'm back. I took the summer off to think about whether or not I really want to keep this blog going.

I guess I do.