Today is a month since my precious little mother went to heaven. I can’t believe it’s been a month since I’ve seen her. When I’m here in LA, that’s not strange because it’s usually at least that time between my month-long visits to her.

But I call her about ten times a day, literally, so not being able to talk to her anymore is incredibly sad to me. She was always my first thought when I woke up, and I called her at the drop of a hat: to read my daily column, to let her know what was on TV almost every daytime hour, to say what I was going to do that day (or had just done,) and to tell her the news of the world. (She would have loved that Lindsay Davenport just had a ten pound baby! And that Roger Federer just played his 1,000th match…and won!)

So, I’m still really suffering. I had thought the pain would ease up a little when I was back in my basic L.A. life, but, really unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case.

May Rose Salkin at Bell Mountian Lodge.

So, I feel it’s time for another small tribute to her. Since she had spent many summers in Aspen, writing daily poems to the editor, and bringing a smile to all, (except for the town grumps, though I feel they were perhaps smiling in private,) The Aspen Times published their own tribute to my mother two weeks ago. As lovely and appreciated as it was, it was incomplete because I had missed my opportunity to speak with the reporter, which caused me great pain. I lay on the couch crying and screaming over it…for two hours!

So, I really must thank the editors of The Times for including a follow-up letter that I wrote this past week. Here are the highlights from it, which feature some of my mother’s best Aspen shenanigans, which viewers of my show may recall hearing about in detail over the years:

The short versions are these:

–She called 911 because I found a mouse in our cabin at Christiana Lodge! It was nutty, but it’s the reason we became friends with the wonderful, (and handsome, a fact that was not lost on either of us,) Aspen police force!

–One day, a bear ran towards me outside our cabin at L’Auberge, (where were stayed for the last four summers of our Aspen inhabitance ,) and by some miracle, stopped, looked at me, and ran away. My adorable little mother exclaimed, “Did you see that big dog???”

–She was upset when some “tipsters” called the newspaper’s tip-line and declared my mother was Elvis, offering as proof that “when you play her poems backwards, you can hear her say, ‘I am Elvis!’ ” The rest of us were hysterical over it, but she thought it was just “crazy.” (I’m laughing over this one even as I write.)

–One afternoon, she ran into our cabin and told me we had to hurry to the hospital. I thought something was wrong with my father, but no—the lady from the gift shop had called and said new Beanie Babies had just come in!

–When she penned a ditty about the cracked sidewalk in front of a sportswear store, they immediately re-did the offending panel, with this message “engraved” in the wet cement: “Dear May Rose, does this ease your woes?”

–And of course, what Coloradan can forget the story the Denver 9 News did on the hubbub surrounding her daily poems in the Aspen newspapers? She looked so adorable in the television feature, writing poems and laughing as she did so. The icing on that cake was that, after the segment on my mother, the anchor introduced their next report by saying it was yet another literary saga—about a long-lost volume from Chaucer!!! Who would have ever thought that the literary musings of May Rose Salkin would be the lead-in to those of Chaucer! Think of it–the man who’s widely considered the greatest English poet of the Middle Ages being preceded by my mother, the greatest middle-aged poet! In my heart, at least.

I know that I have to get back to work at some point soon, now that I’m back in Los Angeles, but the unexpected death of my precious little mother, on Christmas Day no less, while we were visiting her, has dealt me an unbearable blow that’s been hard to recover from.

I’m planning to publish a tribute to her by the end of this week, but there’s just so much to say about her, all good, that it’s taken me quite awhile to finish it. Plus, it’s hard to write with tears spewing from my eyes.

So please check back for that, because my mother deserves to be read about. And then, no worries, I’ll get back to my shallow self soon, (I hope,) and maybe even trumpet my January 14 birthday, that I’m really not mentally, nor emotionally, prepared to handle without my little mo.

I’ve heard that life goes one, so I’ll keep you posted on if that’s really the truth. And thanks for hanging in there with me. I really appreciate all my loyal readers.

[With the loss of my precious mother on Christmas, I'm obviously not in the mood to celebrate, except her life.  But I don't want to impose my misery on you guys, so I'm re-printing my New Year's Eve suggestions from two years ago.

I'm having a hard time believing in anything right now, but I've always really believed in these traditions before this week, and they have often worked for me. Here's hoping they bring you luck this year!]

I’m pretty superstitious, especially about things that bring good luck, like always knocking on wood if I even think something good! (FYI–you can always knock on your head three times, if no wood is around.) There’s one ritual I do every New Year’s Day and another I do EVERY MONTH! At the risk of having you all think I’m completely bonkers (like you didn’t already?), I still want to share them with you, my loyal readers, hoping some of it works for you, too. (Unless you’re wishing something bad for ME. Bite my tongue! Which I did as I wrote that. How does Mr. X stand it???)

Okay, the special New Year’s trick is to eat black-eyed peas on January 1. They can be canned, frozen, fresh, whatever. (Is there even such a thing as fresh ones?) You can eat as many or few as you like, cold, hot, anyway. I just heat them up, throw on some seasoned salt, and choke-down about half a cup of those suckers. It’s once a year–you can stand it.

This one I kind-of hate to tell you, but I’m hoping you all deserve some good luck. Here goes: it’s called RABBIT. There are a couple of ways to do it. First up, the specific wish. On the last night of every month, as you drift-off to sleep, think of the wish you want to come true and don’t talk. In the morning, the first thing you must say is “Rabbit.”

The other way is for good luck that whole month, so I do them both. When you wake-up on the first of each month, kind-of pop-off the end of the bed (I just schooch down to the end with my butt and gently propel myself off) while saying “Rabbit” three times. (I’ve heard it as 1, 2, or 3 times, so I just go with 3 because that covers all bases.)

I know you guys are probably just scratching your heads over all this info, but trust me on this one. I’ve been doing it since I was a little girl and I really do believe in it. I used to put a sign by my clock to remind myself, but now I just put a little stuffed rabbit there instead. So much more fun to wake-up to than paper.

HAVE A FABULOUS, SAFE TIME TONIGHT AND A GREAT START TO 2012 TOMORROW!!!

On Christmas Day, Karen’s precious little mother, May Rose Salkin, the most adorable woman who ever lived, passed away. Karen’s beside herself with grief and has to take a little bit of time off. She’ll publish a tribute to her mother as soon as she is able to resume work, which she hopes will be in a few days.

This love story is interesting enough, but fraught with pain.  I’m sure very many people will relate to the story, in one way or another, if not nearly exactly, and I think there’s something comforting in the pain to see it on the screen.

The camera work for the first ten minutes or so made me physically nauseated, and I actually thought of leaving the screening for awhile there. If that happens to you, I’m suggesting that you hang on because the camerawork gets better and the journey is worthwhile. (At the Q-and-A afterwards, we found out that some of those scenes were shot with just a hand-held camera, which explains the shakiness.)

I’m not giving anything away to say that Like Crazy is about a young couple who fall in love in college in Los Angeles, but because of her student visa, she has to go back to England after graduation.  My stomach was in knots almost the whole time.  I actually spent a lot of time thinking about the story for days afterwards.

I realized while writing this that neither of them seemed to have friends to talk it all over with, which I found a tad unrealistic. But it’s basically the true story of the director, Drake Doremus, and his Austrian wife, so I guess it can happen. I also kept wondering why they didn’t just get married when the problem of begin apart so much arose, and they were still so much in love.

There were two parts of the story I identified with.  When I first came out to L.A. as a teen-ager, and had a great time with my summer program pals at UCLA, I knew that if I went back home then, the whole thing would seem like a dream to me, so I didn’t want to leave, either.

The other was serious for the heroine here, but amusing to me, when mine was resolved.  When she’s trying to come back into the United States, with her boyfriend at the airport to pick her up and get on with their lives, she’s detained by Customs, a horrible feeling that I experienced for myself. One time, when I arrived alone in Toronto to see Mr. X open in a play there, customs took me into a private room for a grilling.

They inquired as to my business in their country, and when I stated it, they then asked how much cash I had on me!  Those who know me, know that I don’t really attract money, so I had just about fifty dollars, at most, and told them the truth, not realizing that could be a problem.  They then informed me that I was being deported!!!  While Mr. X was waiting at the gate for me!  I was hysterical and begging them for an explanation.  They said that it’s suspicious that someone would enter their country with that little money, so I must be there for a suspicious activity!!!  I explained again that my boyfriend was earning the money, and it was plenty for both of us.  I guess they never saw a kept woman before, because it didn’t get cleared up until he was brought in to vouch for me!  It’s funny now, but it was quite the ordeal at the time.

Now, back to Like Crazy. [Note: before I left L.A. for the holidays, I had written myself a note to "write like crazy" in New York.  When I saw it last night, I spent a bit of time wondering what I had planned to spend so much time writing here.  Then I realized that I meant "write" the review of "Like Crazy."]

If you’re like me, and need the storytellers to finish out their story, and not leave it up to us, then the ending won’t be satisfying. I was hoping that someone in the post-screening audience would ask what the ending was, and I got my wish–that was the first question offered!!! The panel, consisting of the above mentioned director and the two stars, Anton Yelchin and Felicity Jones, (who could play Amy Winehouse one day–just remember that you heard it here first!,) was too jokey (yet not amusing at all,) and was led by some terrible older woman moderator who seemed to just be flirting with Drake the whole time, so we never really got the answer. Since the real couple it’s based on is now divorced, I tend to think the ending wasn’t a good one in the film either.

But, outside of the innate sadness, it was interesting to witness a whole multi-year relationship in ninety minutes.  And I did leave the film with one positive thought–this story shows that anyone can adapt to their circumstances.  It’s just better if you don’t have to.

Albert Nobbs is weird and slow. But Glenn Close may just deserve an Oscar nod for her performance.

This film is like something from the mind of Ryan Murphy. For those of you not in the know, he’s the creator-producer of Glee, who’s turned so many of the regulars into gay characters, thus making everyone, actors and viewers alike, uncomfortable at all times!

It’s interesting, but kind-of stupid. SPOILER ALERT, although I don’t think I’m ruining anything to tell you guys that I just can’t believe that there could be more than one woman living as a man in the olden days, in the same little area of Ireland at that same time. It’s just weird.

Glenn Close as Albert Nobbs.

During the whole first part, I was wondering if we’re not supposed to notice that Albert is really a woman! It was kind-of obvious to me, except for the fact that I always thought that Glenn Close was indeed a man disguised as a woman!!! I swear, when I first saw her in The World According To Garp when was a kid, I was a little freaked-out! I thought she was an old man at the time! (I’m sure she’s a lovely person, but I’m just saying what you all are thinking.)

Make-up your own caption here--I throw my hands up on this one.

But when Janet McTeer, (who’s an excellent actress, so this is no slam on her thespian abilities,) came on, it was almost laughable to me. She looked like the daughter of Jane Lynch and K.D. Lang, for Pete’s sake! Or, in this case, the son of them. At least this film didn’t go the Yentl route and have the stars wear full-on chick make-up, as Barbra Streisand did in that film, when disguised as a boy. That was just downright strange as the director’s choice, which Babs also was. Talk about vanity!!!

The journey was just bizarre, and the ending didn’t make much sense to me—is it really realistic to think that, even in those hard times, a pretty girl’s only two choices in life are lesbians (or perhaps not) disguised as men? I just don’t get it. But how quickly would these characters be booked for Dancing With The Stars if it was on back then?! (They didn’t even have TVs back then, so no worries there.)

I must say that in talking it over with Lucia, and then giving it some thought afterwards myself, as I do with most films, whether I want to or not, it did become a little more clear to me. But during the screening, I was mostly just confused. I didn’t know who was supposed to be a lesbian or who was supposed to know what or what the purpose of the whole charade was to begin with. Maybe I should have seen it with Chaz Bono instead of Lucia!

To help with my understanding of the film’s message, I was never so glad to hear a post-screening Q-and-A; as one of the film’s writers, Glenn Close explained a lot of it. As much trouble as I had with understanding it now, I could have never gotten any of it when I was younger. I’m not good with sparse dialog and actors’ stares.

Ms. Close was also lauding the wigs they wore. Who needs wigs to portray women disguised as men??? Just cut your hair, for goodness sakes! Sometimes I just don’t get show biz. Now I have to go think the whole bloody thing all over again.

Tomorrow will be my last appearance on Daytime With Donna for this year. And it just might be a juicy one.

For those of you who haven’t had time to keep up with my schedule since this summer, here’s what you missed. I became the Gossip Correspondent for the internet radio show Daytime With Donna. I bring the listeners the latest celebrity gossip on select Fridays. Kind-of like an audio version of my Celebrity Sightings section on this site.

The show actually had a three-month contest to find the most popular gossip person, and thanks to my loyal readers of this E-zine, I came away the victor! All this took place during my mother’s hospitalization this summer, so it was a welcome respite..for all of us!

The lovely co-host, Nina Frye, just told me that once the craziness of the rest of this year dies down, we’ll make an official sked for my appearances on the show, so that she and I can tweet them ahead of time. So, in case I don’t have space here to let you know when I’m on in 2012, you can always follow me on Twitter to find-out. (@KarenSalkin)

So, here’s how to find us tomorrow, December 9, on the internet: At 2PM east coast time, which is 11AM on the west coast, just go to toginet.com/shows/daytimewithdonna. Then click on “listen live” or something like that. It’s easy, so I have every confidence that you’ll find it. They give a number if you’d like to call in, and an email address, if you’d like to ask a question while we’re on the air.

Again, I thank you all for voting and securing the spot for me.

I can’t believe it’s been 400 already! I think that’s even more than the number of Karen’s Restaurant Revues that I did on TV! Wow!

I don’t really have much to say about the occasion, though, other than THANK YOU!!! You have no idea how much I appreciate the readership and support. I thought I loved my viewers back in the day, but I’m even more grateful for the followers of this E-zine because you guys come from all over the world. And once you find us, statistics show us that most of you tend to stay, which is just crazy.

So, as always, please let me know if there are any topics that you’d like to read more about. I didn’t realize how much many of you were interested in my TV rants until I started receiving requests for more. (Believe me, I was happy to oblige in that category because I’m increasingly amazed by the inanity of people in that medium, especially “talent” show contestants who say that “singing is everything” to them. What about their families? Their health? Their friends? And world peace???)

Okay, let’s not get me started here on yet another rant! I was just trying to give you an example of your requests that I’m happy to follow-up on.

Now that we’re beyond up-and-running, we’re going to begin our give-aways. (Finally, right?) So, keep an eye out for those. As much as I eschew social media, especially Facebook, you’re probably going to have to “like” me there to win something. But we’ll see on that one. (I guess you can get a head start and just do it whenever you have a second, if that’s easier.)

Okay, that’s it for now. Thanks for all your continued support. And, Happy 400^th to me!!!

I’m someone who gives thanks to the powers-that-be on a daily basis, so Thanksgiving is special to me mainly for the food and parade. [Note: watching the parade is the only activity that makes me wish I had a kid. But when it's over, I go back to giving thanks that I don't have any children, as I'm sure they do that I didn't have them!]

I found this on the internet a year ago, so I'm sorry to not be able to credit the clever photog.

But, as I do like to encourage everyone to reflect on their blessings tomorrow, I do the same, as well. Here are just a few of things I’m grateful for:

Mr. X–Even when we’re not getting along, I’m pretty sure that I’m one of the luckiest girls in the world. Besides that he’s still the funniest person I know, and can make everyone laugh with just one word or gesture, I’m also grateful that he’s absolutely wonderful to my little mother, so talented and in shape, and does everything for me. I’d give you that list, but I don’t need even more girls having crushes on him than already do.

My little mo hanging in there–Even though I’m crushed about her health problems that began this past July, I’m so grateful that she’s gotten a lot better, lives in her house that we’ve had my whole life, and has her sense of humor intact. That’s a lot to be thankful for nowadays.

I finally started losing some of my herniated disc-induced weight!–Even though my back gets worse every time I move a lot. At least I’m still moving! For someone who was told that I was about to lose the use of my legs a year and a half ago, I’m doing great. Knock on wood.

That my clubbing days are behind me, yet at the same time, I’m unbelievably grateful that I can remember every second of them–Even with all the fights and stress, (from club people, partners of mine, and even the grown-ups who owned/ran them,) those were the best times of my life, and I’m always totally grateful for them!!!

That J.R. Martinez and Karina Smirnoff won Dancing With The Stars last night!–I could not be happier about that! I’m so thankful that at least one thing in life was fair. What a yin and yang life for that guy, eh?

My life in general–yes, as many people have told me, I should have had my own sitcom by now. Or at the very least, had guys with cameras following me around. So, my show biz career is at a standstill. But I’m doing great, compared to most of the world, and I acknowledge that fact every day. I feel that we all have to be grateful for what we have, and not concentrate on what we don’t have. Life’s way too short.

And, most of all, all of you–without you guys, this E-zine is just a tree that falls in the forest. I can’t thank you all enough for your readership and support.

AND HAVE A WONDERFUL, HAPPY, SAFE, AND MOST OF ALL GRATEFUL THANKSGIVING!

Some readers have sent me emails asking why I’ve written about The X Factor only once this season. It’s not that I’ve been ignoring it; it’s just that I hadn’t had time to watch it for awhile, but now I’m finally caught up. Actually, except for last night’s show because I was at the worst restaurant opening in recent memory. (The opening was the worst, not the restaurant. I wouldn’t know about that because all they served was spicy chicken skewers!!! And there was way too much smoke. From the idiot attendees, not the kitchen.)

This what we want to do, too, Simon, with more than half the show!

Anyway, here are some of my thoughts about the shows since the one before they finally announced the Final 17, mostly in order of what I witnessed on those shows.

Here’s a quote we’ve all heard way too often on this type of show: “If I go home, it’ll be devastating.” In this case, it was from a sixteen year old! That gave me an idea for a new show; how about throw these idiots into real devastating circumstances, like a tsunami, losing all their money, having their whole family killed in a car crash, (as happened to poor Abby, a Biggest Loser contestant from a few years ago, which was the reason for her weight gain to begin with…and she never complained!,) and the winner is the one who finally gets the message about just what is truly devastating!

Here’s another common lament: “This is my last chance.” I’m not really a fan of Chris Daughtry, but before American Idol, he married an older girl who already had kids, so he worked at a car rental place all day to support them, while working on his music with his band at night and on week-ends. Everyone can work or go to school or support a family while pursuing their passion. It’s never your last chance until your on your deathbed. That’s your only last chance on this level of life. I’m sick of hearing it from these contestants. Especially when they have so many other shows to try to get on if they don’t win this one! Give me a break.

Of the Top 32, that they had to cut down to sixteen, there were more than sixteen good ones. But I was sure that they’d pick bad ones anyway. And guess what??? They did! But they actually got several really good singers, as well, so that was good.

If the judges said, “I’m not convinced…” one more time, I was going to throw-up!

Simon Cowell actually said, “If you forget the lyrics on the live show, it’s catastrophic.” He needs to see my above section on devastation!

Some of these morons, like the older woman named Stacy, declare, (while crying hysterically, I might add,) “I just what it so badly.” Hey, pal–save the tears and stupidity for something really horrible!

Nicole channeling the Land O Lakes girl.

Why is judge Nicole Scherzinger greeting the contestants disguised as the Land O Lakes girl?

Yet another dumb quote: “This opportunity is not going to come again.” Yeah, honey, except for The Voice, The Sing-Off, American Idol, America’s Got Talent, and a bunch of others on cable, and now, even on the internet!!! So, cheer up—you have many more opportunities to be “devastated.”

I hate that every single contestant is so dissatisfied with their current life. Everyone says that they “need this.”"

Strapping young guys say they need this to support their families. Hey, how about working at McDonald’s? I just met a college-educated engineer, who spent most of his adult life as a radio station engineer, and when those jobs went south, he worked at Radio Shack to make money for his family. And he was already in his sixties!!! Now that’s a man. So, buck up, you morons!

See what I mean? I wonder if you can do the boob trick with Nicole, too?

About originally not choosing fan favorite, and possible eventual winner, Melanie Amauro, for the Top 16, Simon said, “How do u explain that? She sang her heart out and you’ve got to say no.” He didn’t have to say no! It was his decision. And I think that whole not choosing her to begin with debacle was perhaps fake, just for the drama. (Not fake on Melanie’s part—on the part of Simon and the producers. She was just an unfortunate pawn.)

Now to the first live show:

At the end of young Brooklyn rapper Astro’s performance, I just gushed, “Oh my God, that was great!” And I’m far from a big rapping fan.

Paula Abdul told one of the contestants, “There’s a genuine truthfulness that’s authentic about you.” That should study that prime example of redundancy in English classes everywhere. Why didn’t she just say, “There’s a real realness about your realness”?

She also told Phillip Lomax, who performed a brutal version of the Monkees’ I’m A Believer, rather than crooning, which is way he was chosen in the first place, that “That was amazing.” He was worse than a lounge singer. He was actually causing me physical pain. And then the judges made a big fuss over him!!!

The girl group that the show put together out of single girl rejects, with some name like Lakoda Rayne, (it’s not worth my time to look it up,) is like a group of Mamma Mia understudies, yet the judges creamed over them. Not hard to figure out, though, since they were the producers’ creation. It’s like betsy Ross and her pals oohing and aahing over their own quilt! Which, of course, was deserved in that case.

When I told Mr. X that we should write a movie for Dexter Haygood about if Jimi Hendrix were alive today, he replied, “If he was alive today, he’d be dead.” So true. I still think the story is a good idea. (Remember, this is copy-written, if you’re thinking of purloining that idea.)

What were the mentors thinking with some of these song choices, like I Kissed A Girl for rocker Dexter, and I’m A Believer for crooner Phillip???

Crybaby Stacy Francis declared, “I’m fighting for my life,” the most ignorant contestant statement yet! Maybe she should ask Amanda Knox what that really feels like. Or a wrongfully convicted death row inmate. Or maybe she’s just confusing herself with a gladiator fighting a tiger.

About three readers will get this one, but Mr. X and I were envisioning an evolution chart from Dan Fogler to Josh Krajcik to Javier Bardem. Google them, if you’re curious.

Nicole says everyone is her little whatever, even the ones not on her team!!! How’s that for hubris?

Drew Ryniewicz is so not full of herself. I love it. She just sings so easily and doesn’t try to show every note she can hit.

That’s it for now. I’ll try to catch up with this week’s episodes and bring you my further musings next week.