Citizen Spitzer

I was walking up Fifth Avenue to work this morning and across the sidewalk was no other than Mr. Spitzer. When the scandal revolving around him broke the day I began my current job, 16 months ago, I thought that it was good he was knocked off his high horse. He spent the last year in "hiding" and has gone back to work I guess. But looking across the street at someone who was such a public figure made me think of the Icarus story in Greek mythology.

For those of you who did not take 3 years of Latin, Icarus was the figure who built wax wings so he could fly. His father, Daedalus, warned him not to fly too close to the sun. But he did and plunged to his death into the sea.

I believe both Mr. Spitzer and John Edwards (see my blog post last month) suffered a similar temptation with wax wings of another kind, women. I guess you could also call it rock star syndrome but still I admire Mrs. Spitzer and Mrs. Edwards (despite her using it to launch her memoirs) for forgiving their respective husband.

An old friend reminded me the other day not to throw the first stone when it came to criticizing other people's fidelity but it doesn't mean I can't use it as a lesson in my own life. Fidelity is a cornerstone to my relationship with George because it's bound up with trust.

However, I'd have to be outta my mind to look at any other guy the way I do at him. George says he has never noticed a beautiful woman walking down the street and while I tease him about that, I really believe it's true.

The First Lady's Stylin'

I'm nothing short of impressed by Mrs. Obama's stylist. The First Lady's outfits are being looked out at closely as the red carpet at the Oscars. I appreciate that her style is short on shoulder pads and comes from a variety of retail and high-end designers. Her favorite is J.Crew, which her daughter's wore at the inauguration.

Speaking of style, I've taken my work blazers off the hanger and tried them out at work. Wearing a cardigan day in and out makes me look more like Pam from "The Office" rather than the executive assistant I want to portray as I continue to mold my professional aspirations.

One of my newly vamped up outfits made someone at a meeting I covered for my freelance journalism gig mistake me for an assistant principal, ha! As if I would be an assistant principal. The paperwork, the unpaid overtime, I don't think so. I'd better off assisting an executive rather than being one myself.