I can never finish The New Yorker before the next one arrives in the mail. I still haven't found that wear-anywhere mid-heel shoe, and I despair of locating the perfect red lipstick. I'm still working on making 'hats my thing', and I can kick my coffee habit anytime I want, okay? What I do know? Gone With the Wind is the greatest movie ever, and bliss is scrambled eggs on crunchy white bread.