Everyone is all abuzz about the Casey Anthony acquittal. She was found guilty only of lying to the police but not guilty of murdering her two-year-old daughter. Even the jurors knew she was probably guilty, but the prosecution didn't prove its case. Sadly, it's hard to prove certain things after too much time has passed. And circumstantial evidence is also hard to prove. But anyone with even a modicum of common sense knows that a young woman who parties and dances and drinks and smiles and has a good time on a nearly daily basis while even separated from her child, who is "missing" with a nonexistent nanny--that dog don't hunt. I've seen what happens to a mother whose child has died accidentally. It's not like on tv, where people get brave and bounce back and move on with their lives almost overnight. It's eternal soul-destroying grief. It's such a thorough erosion of the capacity for happiness that not even pills and alcohol can stem it.
Whiplash from sudden change of topic: I just finished reading the newest Janet Evanovich. She left it deliberately vague and ambiguous at the end, which is an irritant. Her books are hilarious, and I can hardly wait to see who they cast as Lula. Lula makes the books. If only Loretta Devine was about 25 years old, she'd be perfect.
Esteemed Spouse is off playing golf for the second time this week. I'm in my home office, needing to grade papers, but light-headed still from the paint fumes. I never dreamed that the paint smell would last so very long! It's better than it was, but still not the fresh air I wish I was breathing.
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