12:31 a.m. Today I had a day full of love. Wall-to-wall; overflowing with sweet things; love. Some days you get a lot of it. Allow me to wallow and to splash and get bubbles up my nose.

There. My topic for today is gratitude. Some days you just feel grateful. For two quivering flowers in an abandoned lot with delicate x's in the center of their faces.

2:41. Later. And some days you can't write about love. Today is one of those days. Instead, I'll write about Regis. I don't know how well Kathie Lee is taking his new success with the smash runaway game show -- the only way I could get up early enough to see that morning show would be if an earthquake threw me out of bed.

And even if I could get up, I can't tolerate people who are wearing definitive underwear talking to me so early. They are strapped in and they've already slapped icy astringent to their bare cheeks and by God, they're going to talk, loudly, and in complete sentences.

When I first wake up my hair hurts if I even try to move it sometimes. I feel a deep, wounded hatred toward whatever comes out of the radio if it comes on when I still need more sleep. So morning TV is simply out of the question.

So, I may not be a regular viewer of Live with Regis and Kathie Lee, but I was a guest on the show three different times a few years back. I remember thinking the first time I saw Kathie Lee that she seemed like a very large insect -- her elbows and knees were articulated and brittle and the rest of her frame looked as if it were being bruised by the weight of her cherry-red light-wool suit.

I think she was the first professionally thin person I've ever seen up close. Not naturally thin or sickly thin or obsessively thin -- but no-nonsense, terrified-about-job-security thin. She must go to spas to bone up the way other execs go to seminars and lectures.

The first time I was on, she had a minor emergency with her panty hose and she was in a panic. I had an extra pair with me. I was pretending to be a handy housewife, after all. She took them and thanked me, but I don't know if she tried to put them on. It's just as well -- they would have seemed like transparent cargo pants on her pencil-thin legs.

But I must tell you that she was the nicest lady. Preternaturally jumpy and certainly on the lookout for stalkers and weirdoes and slatherers, sure. But whenever I had to stand between the two of them and make something clever out of styrofoam and Velveeta, Kathie Lee was girly and giggly and actually lots of fun, whether the cameras were on or off.

Reege, on the other hand, was pretty much tired of the show and hoping for bigger things. He is the kind of person who looks over your shoulder at the person behind you when he's talking to you.

And the big thing I remember from the haze that was a live morning show is that Reege has a gift for finding the rhythm in your prepared light TV chatter -- and wrecking it. I had long segments each time involving before and after and how-to bits, and I remember once when Reege stopped me in mid-pudding and said something like,

"Hey! Wait a minute. Why would any woman want to stay home and make stuff like this? I mean, haven't you ever heard of a supermarket? Am I right? What's the story with all this do-it-yourself? Don't you women work these days? Audience? Look, Joy told me this morning before I left for the studio that if I wanted dinner I'd better make the reservations -- I mean, she doesn't have time for this stuff -- ladies? Does anybody really try to save a measly nickel when you can save time? What's the story, Nancy? Why do you do this? What do you have to say to all the women in America? Can you tell our studio audience why in God's name they should rush right out and buy your book just to save a buck? No, no -- let her talk -- you go ahead now -- tell us why, Nancy Birnes. Tell us why you do it.

Well, let me tell you ... I had nothing. No words. The lights were melting my whipped cream snow scene and the phrases I'd rehearsed wilted in the glare. Kathie Lee giggled nervously. Reege waited and looked over my shoulder at the guy with the watch.

I don't know. We've all moved on now. Kathie Lee got the attention she craved. Reege got to prime time. I found the web and eventually, I found my voice. We all have our reasons.

And nobody seems to have the right answers when Reege starts hammering away. All you can do is lower your head and mumble the immortal words of Patrick: "I like string."