Cable offers new adventures in slime

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The station is WWOR, Channel 9, from New York, now delivered to us through our cable system.

It's not an x-rated station. We don't subscribe to it. It comes free with our basic package, and like most every other TV station, it's packed full of news and talk shows and re-runs.

Last Thursday at 7 a.m. the station showed "James Bond Jr.," followed by "Widget," "Head of the Class," "It's a Living," "Jenny Jones" and "Nine Broadcast Live."

Nine Broadcast Live is the subject of this column.

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When THE catalog arrives

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The new Victoria's Secret catalog arrived sometime last week, but I haven't been able to get my hands on it until now. The men in my house love the thing. They must have a sixth sense, a kind of male E.S.P. Either that or they secretly phone ahead to find out when the catalog is being shipped, because they always know the moment it's in the mailbox, and grab it the second it arrives.

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Irish family feuds are no joke

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Two Irish jokes:

What's a well-balanced Irishman? A guy with a chip on each shoulder.

What's Irish Alzheimer's? It's when you never forget everything except the grudges.

It's not nice to tell these jokes, I know. They perpetuate a stereotype and make light of a terrible disease.

But the jokes make a point. I've never met an Irish family where everyone gets along.

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Church could say `come home'

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The ad has been running in newspapers for more than a month now. "Rediscover the Catholic Church." It isn't a bad ad. The words are all in the right places. The intent is clear.

But the message is strained, because the tone is formal and distancing. "More than anything, we can show you how to rekindle your relationship with God. We can show you an approachable God, a merciful God, a God who gladly welcomes those who come back to Him."

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Sloppy Kids Made by Mom

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Sloppy Kids Made by Mom

She told me, when my children were babies that once I started picking up after them I would never stop. "If he's old enough to get a toy out of a toy  box, then he's old enough to put it back when he's done with it," my mother-in-law said. 

And I said, "You're absolutely right.”

But when she wasn't around, I didn't heed her advice. I'd look at the mess on the floor, Fisher Price people everywhere, Legos under…

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Group's goal is to help kids conquer hate

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It was just another breakfast. I didn't want to go.

Eight a.m. is too early for small talk and smiles. I enjoy sitting at my kitchen table, reading the paper in silence, then facing the day.

But Karen Schwartzman from the Bank of Boston called and lured me. She said I'd get a chance to meet Margot Stern Strom, who is not only the executive director of Facing History and Ourselves but one of its two founders.

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Lessons in a summer garden

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Lessons in a summer garden

t must be a byproduct of age. It must develop like a taste for lobster or pate, or like gray hair, slowly, but inevitably. How else to explain it? When I was young I used to hate working in a garden; now I'm old and I love it. Why?

When I was a child, you couldn't lure me outdoors. My mother tried. She bought me a package of bachelor button seeds and a planter at the five-and-ten and brought in from outdoors a pail full of loam and said, "Here, now you can grow your own garden." She must have believed that once I saw life spring forth from seeds I had personally buried in dirt I would be awed and treasure all life that emerged from the ground. But it didn't work that way. I didn't have any interest in the seeds…

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Molly: Tale Goes On

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Molly: Tale Goes On

"How come you don't write about Molly anymore? Does she still jump on people? Is she still devouring the back steps? Does she still drool?"

McSoley trains dogs. He sent me his book, "Dog Tales" when we got Molly. I read the book, studied it, memorized it; I even tried to follow it. "Yes, Molly still jumps on people," I told Mr. McSoley. "Yes, she still drools and as for the back steps - no, she doesn't eat them anymore but that's because they're practically gone."…

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Pen pal's letters one of life's treasures

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Pen pal's letters one of life's treasures

I have accepted his words and his love, the way an infant accepts food. I've never wondered at them before. His letters have arrived sometimes in clusters, sometimes separated by weeks. I've relished them all. They are breezy, newsy, funny, warm, full of joy and wonder and life. I've shared them with my husband and children and answered some, but not all.

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