"You about to get fired up?" "Just a little."

Like a lot of folks this past week, I was saddened to hear about Dixie Carter's, or rather, Designing Women's Julia Sugarbaker, passing.

I remember watching it, growing up, probably in reruns, and it was a part of so many girls' childhoods like my own. I assumed it was a Southern Thing like I once thought "Walking in Memphis" was only a popular song in Memphis; I had no idea really that it's popularity extended reached beyond the Mason-Dixon line.

But then I got to college and was asked by some Northern friends if I wear blue suede shoes on the plane home, and I understood that other people, even those raised outside of Tennessee, like the song. And just this past week, while looking up scads of YouTube videos of the Sugarbaker sisters and their design firm and reading internet tributes, I understand that Ms. Julia Sugarbaker's feminist and outspoken tendencies but of course, Classiness-capital-C, endeared her to loads of tv viewers, regardless of geography.

I remember this particular clip from the original in the 80s: (It's lengthy but don't let that deter you)



It's one that has been making the rounds on blogs, etc. and with good reason. Who would have thought Julia Sugarbaker and Lady Gaga would have something in common? When Southern women have the reputation for passive sweet-as-pie-ness, Dixie Carter's character has done wonders in dispelling the mythology. Forget Auntie Mame- I aspire to be Julia Sugarbaker. Hear hear.

Let's Hear it for New York

One of my college friends came to visit last week, on an exploratory visit to potentially move here, her first ever time to New York. She was a wonderful guest, one who was open to any and all suggestions about what to do here, and most importantly, she did not demand we eat out every single meal, thereby saving me a lot of money and pride for not having to turn tricks near Lincoln Tunnel.

We were walking around one day, in between pit stops to St. Patrick's and Times Square, when I told her what I've told many of my friends who ask me to be honest about living up here: "I can make a case on why you should live here and why you shouldn't. It depends on what argument you're looking for."

I make the argument to myself everyday, and it's very much like my reaction to Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind." I was discussing the merits of the song with a friend on Gchat one day. "However," I typed. "Alicia Keys is wrong. These streets don't make me feel brand new. I feel dirty and used up a lot. And, she's lying- there is a LOT you can't do. For instance, find a credible journalism job."

Then one week later, I could not stop from tour jete-ing and twirling around out one night when it came on twice within 15 minutes, maniacally happy that I live in the Greatest City in the World.

I'm Auntie Mame and then Eeyore, beyond delighted to occupy some of the most coveted real estate, and then mopey and grey the next.

I make an excellent tour guide, don't you think?