A guy/man/boy who interned at the White House with me raved about how Nick Hornby perfectly captured men's feelings on commitment and long-term relationships in High Fidelity. (This said guy/man/boy had a journalism degree from Northwestern University, no paying job after unsuccessfully trying to start some Internet business with his friends and leopard-print sheets on his futon. I'll let you decide what category fits him.)

Partially because I really have no clue about men's/boy's/guy's feelings on commitment, I went looking for the book at the library a few weeks ago. I didn't find it, but I did find About A Boy. And I did enjoy Hornby's male perspective - a male character bluntly told a single mother that her son told her he needed a father figure not because he actually needed a father figure but because he wanted to 'win' an argument.

The same male character was wholeheartedly committed to doing nothing and having as few emotional tangles as possible while living off the royalties from the Christmas song his father wrote. In the end, he cracked and fell in love and enveloped all the messy commitments THAT entails. For me, the ending was sweet and funny and one big HA to all the men out there who think family is more trouble than it's worth.

So, in conclusion (as Crystal would say) when High Fidelity makes its way back to the Woodstock Public Library shelves, I will be checking that one out, too.

My heart sank when I saw aproned volunteers from Helping Paws Animal Shelter collecting money outside Wal-Mart on Saturday. I was supposed to be collecting money for the 3-Day. And, I had about $1,050 left before I met my fundraising goal, so this was rather important.

I introduced myself to the volunteer at a door and signed in at the customer service desk. They said nothing about the double-booking, so I set up my little table and smiled as people walked by. I got some donations, but the Animal Paws ladies seemed to be attracting more attention. (sigh).

When there was a lull, the volunteer asked me if I was sure I had the right day. I assured her I did. I had rolled out of bed after attending Danielle’s wedding the night before - which was exactly what I knew I was in for when I had signed up with Wal-Mart weeks ago.

I was contemplating whether it would be rude to ask if she would mind concentrating on one Wal-Mart entrance so I could have the other to myself. People were getting confused as to whether we were with the same organization (obviously not), and I wasn’t sure it was right to hit up the same people twice for donations to different causes.

But another Helping Paws organizer came to the same conclusion before I worked up the nerve to say anything. When that volunteer’s shift was over, she didn’t assign a new volunteer to my door, but simply asked when I was going to be done. It seemed Helping Paws was standing outside doors at several Woodstock retailers that day and she didn’t think it was right to complain to Wal-Mart about the double-booking since they were so supportive in the first place.

I agreed. And I appreciated Helping Paws’ thoughtfulness.

In this bad economy, there are so many charities and good causes competing for a (perhaps dwindling) amount of donations that it would have been easy to be petty about the double-booking. I’m glad we could both be up-front and gracious about it with each other.

AND, I collected just over $250 in the 4.5 hours I was there, so all in all, it wasn't a bad afternoon.

Oh, and if you’re interested, you can donate to Helping Paws here.

I have dyed my hair for so long I'm no longer confident what my natural color is. Every once in a while I get those teeth-whitening strips in a futile attempt to combat the effects of excessive coffee, tea and soda drinking. And generally, I paint my face and toes.

I know some people might find it shallow to worry about appearances too much, but given the expectations of the society we live in, I figure people who press that line too hard are either 1) naturally gorgeous, 2) so far from gorgeous that they don't have the time or money to do anything about it, or 3) oblivious. So, like everything else, keeping up appearances and taking care of myself is part of the great balancing act of life.

Some days are better than others.

I'm going to a wedding this afternoon, so I thought I'd try a spray tan to avoid being pasty-white in a dress. My past skin-coloration efforts have included tanning beds (which despite what some say, make me worry about skin damage) and self-tanning lotions (OH HOLY STREAKS).

If I went less extreme, I didn't really seem to get results. I tried to use self-tanner to fix some tan lines that had been branded in as faded sun burns just before my wedding. Those tan lines are clearly visible in my wedding pictures. (Yet another upside to divorce: no one really needs to see those anymore...)

So far, tho, I'm pleasantly surprised with the salon spray tan. It's a nerve-wracking process for a person who refreshes news Web sites every 5 minutes with the expectation that new news will have been reported and who fights annoyance when sources aren't immediately available (I have deadlines, people. Deadlines.)

The tanning spray has a leisurely deadline - perhaps because it's essentially sugar water (as the attendant told me when I asked if I really needed to hold my breath while being sprayed). The only possible oops-es I've found thus far is a faint blotch on the underside of one arm, which I'm not sure is really that visible, and little white spots in the webbing between my fingers. And, really, who is going to look that closely at the webbing of my fingers?

It develops within 3 to 6 hours - which puts me becoming "medium" tan within an hour of this wedding. So if horror upon streaky, splotchy horror strikes, I will be fervently exfoliating just before Danielle walks down the aisle.

Yes, yes, I often am THAT person. I'm not actually GOOD at being superficial.

(For those who have never had a spray tan and are curious: Multiple jets mist you up and down inside a square chamber the size of a bathroom. They had me watch a little video first that suggested holding my arms away from the body and flexing my wrists and spreading my fingers to avoid white lines. I was sprayed for 14 seconds from the front, turned around, and was misted from the back. They have you put a blocking lotion on your fingernails and toe nails beforehand, and afterward, you just blot off the excess.)