I spoke to Michael Jackson.

No, not that Michael Jackson. Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I think I pointed out to just about anyone with half an ear that I was assigned to write about an illegal immigrant crossing into the border who stopped to help a 9-year-old boy whose mother had crashed the car.
Illegal immigrant rescues boy

I was working on it Friday up until I had to leave work for the airport. It made Yahoo! most popular stories for a while. I've rarely worked on anything that got so much attention. On Monday, I got a call that a talk radio host out of L.A. by the name of Michael Jackson--though he talks more like Robin Leach than "the Gloved One"--wanted to interview me for five minutes. I basically just rehashed the story and stuck to the facts as best I could. I'm sure I stuttered here and there. Unfortunately, when I called in to be on-air, I hadn't had a chance to catch up on the latest reports. So, I didn't know the boy and his mother's names had been released. I didn't say anything inaccurate; I just could have elaborated more. I often have these moments where I feel like a performer who's finally getting his chance on opening night and he trips a few times on stage, clumsily getting through his scenes. Oh well, someday, I'll be that poised, sophisticated woman I imagined I'd be. Anyway, made for a very out of the ordinary Monday.

Hmmm...I just found someone mention me by name on some right-wing blog. Figures I'd get a name drop on a blog with "lone wackos" in the URL. I helped two other reporters on a story last year about how Arizona voters were deciding who to vote for their Congressman/woman by interviewing people on the street in Scottsdale. According to this blogger, I'm another example of a MSM journalist who is pro-Democrat and pro-illegal immigration and can't be trusted. Writing articles, you put yourself out there to be dissected. But being on a conservative blogger's page just cracks me up. Those wacky right-flying folks.

I went to a special speed training session with my marathon group at a local high school track. I want to trim more time off my runs if I can. Also, I felt guilty about the high-calorie fest I had over Thanksgiving. I'm sure I gained weight. But boy, this speed training is kicking my ass. You have to run at 80 percent of your fastest effort. And when you get to that point where your momentum peters out but you still have to round the curve and get to the finish line, your sides hurt like HELL. I shopped at Trader Joe's after. Through the whole shopping, I still felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. This exercise is supposed to get you out of your comfort zone. Man, why can't I stay in the comfort zone? In fact, I'm ready to book a suite there.