So Hillary is out. Or will drop out. Or has been voted out. Or is sticking it out. Or has outstayed her welcome.

So many lenses through which to view this historial event. Pundits, journalists, politicians, voters and every blogger in between has two cents to share.

What do Shameless readers think? When you look at this event, what do you see?

In the midst of a strange story about potentially false allegations of sexual assault:

According to clinical psychologist Dr. Gregory Hamovitch, incidents like this are unusual.

“It’s quite rare. If anything, under-reporting of these kind of events is more likely than overreporting,” he said.

The angle could have easily gone the other way. It’s a relief to read this odd twist in the case and not have get my back up in defense of all of the women who do tell the truth and aren’t believed. We’ll see how the rest of the story pans out as the details unfold, but for now, I’m just glad to have women’s stories affirmed, even if this one turns out not to be true.

Really. I swear. Under all of this salty snow, a whole world of green is waiting to burst into life. The first sign of the impending thaw is Seedy Saturday - happening this weekend.

Before you head over to the Shameless party in the afternoon, pop in to Seedy Saturday to trade your seeds with other gardeners, discover amazing food, get information about green gardening and so much more!

Best. Saturday. Ever.
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Apologies to Ellen Page if this costs her a shot at spokeswoman for Minty-White International, but in her pre-Oscar interview with Barbara Walters it was clear that she had not succumbed to bleaching her smile. Her teeth looked good - healthy, normal - but also kind of weird for TV. The person I was with (who does not obsess over teeth as much as I do) actually pointed it out first.

We’re so used to seeing bleached teeth on screen that regular ones stand out like a wad of spinach. If you find yourself with the kind of free time necessary to start watching for this, you’ll see what I mean.

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So I was seething after Zoe’s post alerted me to a horrific, anti-woman piece written by a woman, but some other newspaper activity has calmed me a little.

An article in the Toronto Star reports that a New York Times Magazine piece described Ellen Page as “a tomboy – her on-screen persona is sharp, clear-eyed, determined and self-consciously original.”

The following week, a professor at Sarah Lawrence College sent in this response:

“It is unfortunate that we have no other word available to describe this strong, independent young woman than to refer to her as a tomboy. This continues to convey to girls that growing up clear-eyed and courageous is being like a boy.”

Fancy that!

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I’d wager my winnings from Hot Flash that we’ll all agree this video is creepy. Yes, it has the dreaded “breast-bared-but-nipple-censored” thing going on, but exactly how and why it’s so disturbing may be up for debate.

From Treehugger:

“This send-up of the new greenwashing trend in advertising will give you a good belly-laugh, if you don’t pause to consider the tragic fact that even human milk is not free from chemical contamination.”

First I thought it was clever. Then it offended me. Now I’m just confused. What do you think?

It’s 7am. You wake up with chills, body aches and a crazy sinus headache. You’ve been sweating and snotting all over your pillow. Burning sandpaper scrapes down your throat. Meetings are set. Deadlines loom.

Delirious with fever, you see an angel and a devil sitting on your shoulders. One tells you to call in sick and sleep it off. The other tells you to suck it up and go to work.

Which piece of advice did your devil give?

Whether we see calling in sick as smart or slack says a lot about how we value work vs. health. Two competing TV ads for cold and flu medication have me thinking about how illness fits, or doesn’t fit, into the workplace.

First there is the “Take a Benylin Day” ad, in which a woman debates “should I stay or should I go now” after waking up sick. No outfit can sass up how miserable she feels, and she ends up flopping in bed with a book.

Then there is an Advil Cold and Sinus commercial, in which a woman pops pills to clog up her schnoz so she can swim like a prostar and “go go go!” on with her high-impact lifestyle.

Benylin wants you to chillax; Advil wants you to suck it up. (Both of them want you to use drugs.)

Calling in sick is tough. In a culture where work is valued above all else, the stress of asking for a day off can outweigh the symptoms we seek to heal.

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Maybe you are still looking for a last minute stuffer for your very own stocking, or maybe you plan to make 2008 the year you take charge of your health. Either way, for many gals who deal with chronic pain and confusion due to endometriosis, ovarian cysts, fibroids, painful periods or any other pelvic trouble, the following treats will be a welcome addition to the coping ritual.

A hot water bottle cozy. When your pelvis feels like its being ripped to shreds by a meat grinder, the last sensation you want is impersonal, corrugated rubber pressing into your tender region. The luxurious cashmere one pictured here looks heavenly, but a hand-sewn flannel pouch or a knit “sweater” would be just as sweet and snugly.

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In a past life, before Amélie, I passionately hated the movies. For a while I thought it was a sign of ADD: I couldn’t sit still for a 2-hour film without chipping the concrete floor with my impatiently tapping toe. More recently I’ve realized my aversion to movies was one of the many bruises I suffered at the hands of the stifling jockocracy in which I was raised. The road to recovery is long. Even last weekend, when the opening credits of a wonderful, low-budget, gardening documentary came up, I had a flashback of helicopter blades, machine gun fire, plastic cleavage and fart jokes.

When I was growing up, going to the movies was in the same category as watching the guys play sports - it was the only thing to do. It was also an activity where my girl friends and I were expected to be passive, but still flirty, spectators. Sure, it was more fun than hanging out alone, but it was far from fulfillment and far from fair.

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