OK, I don't really talk about Oprah on my blog; in fact, I just did a search and I've only mentioned Oprah like five times in 406 posts (I did not check the archives to the 'old' Manic blog though).
But this a.m., Tukey and I were laying in bed, after I started cleaning out my closet and got sidetracked by my bed. I mean, after all, it was just lying there, my bed, looking so forlorn and lonely, I just felt the need to crawl all up in it and snuggle with Tukey while we debated the pros and cons of watching Blues Clues vs. Oprah. Somehow, I won out and we tuned in to Oprah (Oh yeah, I know how--I lured him with the fact that part of the show was being filmed in Disney).
Anyway, so I just spent the hour from 9 a.m. to 10 a.m. bawling my freaking eyes out over Oprah's Cheers To You episode where she surprised amazing women. If you could have heard the noises I was making. At one point during my crying-but-happy-crying love fest for Oprah I really did think, "Oh my gosh, if anyone could hear me right now, they wouldn't know if I was seizing/having an orgasm/crying/laughing/shouting at the TV just because/cheering for the Olympics/God Knows What!" Tukey kept asking me, "Are you crying? I see water on your face," and I kept explaining I was crying because I was happy that all these good people were on Oprah and that the one lady who raised five children on her own also put herself through college, and then nursing school, and then Yale School of Medicine and because of Oprah, her loans of over $160,000 were going to be wiped out! I was crying because of the lady who helped 570 families adopt or be strong enough to keep their babies, and she helped that many families become families! I was crying because... well, maybe I was crying because it was any excuse not to go back into that black hole of a closet and continue the wretched job of excavating the wreckage that is my wardrobe in the hopes of finding any summer items that remotely will fit this fat a$$ of mine.