A Decision

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NCIS New Orleans

i don’t watch a lot of network series anymore. But I tape, “NCIS: New Orleans,” every week because I do enjoy it. They do a pretty good job about not messing up the local culture and terms, they film on location in some really wonderful spots and I like the cast and the chemistry between them. Tonight should be good: they go on a New Orleans ghost hunt, and I’m pretty sure they filmed outside, possibly inside, the Mortuary, an old funeral home at the foot of Canal Street near the cemeteries that I pass (before the construction) every morning and evening on the way to work and back. It’s supposed to be haunted anyway. This should be a good one. I love their headquarters, and I like Pride. And LaSalle, (played by Lucas Black–that little kid on, “American Gothic” back in the 90’s, now all grown up). Might be a good episode to watch with the windows open and the Halloween lights in the dark.

Last night fell sound asleep at 8:15, awakened wide awake at 11:10. Tried, and tried, to get back to sleep, alternating between bed and the recliner, and couldn’t, so I watched television, and finally at around 2:30, got into bed, reset the alarm clock to 5:30 AM, and fell into a deep, deep sleep that made it so hard to rise. But the autumn wind was sailing through during the early hours…brings to mind, I want and adventure. I want an adventure of the kind Daddy might have had. Like solving a cold case from so long ago, like that double murder in the Lutheran Church on Canal Street. Need a bit of a jump start, I’m thinking, to shake things up. But I know, watch what you wish for–all totaled, I’ll also take peace.

No Pity

I would like to go on record to state that, just like the majority of film actresses these days, that I think Jennifer Lawrence is a clueless fool. Maybe not fool, but stupid? Well, it’s suddenly de rigueur now for all the little actresses to come out with their horror stories about the casting couch, etc. now that Harvey has been exposed, and not of his own volition. In the past months, while in the UK touring for her latest film, Professor Lawrence strongly implicated that Hurricanes Harvey and Irma, because they hit Texas and Florida, were God’s cosmic punishment for electing Donald Trump president. After all, they were red states. So, natch. Well, I have noticed that during the catastrophic wildfires destroying California’s wine country, so Conservative has been arrogant nor presumptuous or self-righteous enough to say God was punishing California because it didn’t carry Trump, or for its liberal agenda. That has not occurred to Ms. Lawrence?

But the real kicker about this bubble brain is how she announced yesterday at a meeting, in the spirit of “sexual victimization,” how she “was forced to participate in a nude lineup with other actresses while their bodies were evaluated for possible roles. She was told to lose 15 pounds, but a man there said nonsense as she was completely “f-able.” I’m supposed to feel sorry for this bimbo for this? She could have walked out fully clothed, she could have kept her dignity and her integrity, but I suppose she wanted the possibility of fame and a movie role far more. Sorry, no cigar in the pity section for her, nor others like her. It is most ironic to me that the “feminists” who make movies about women, or act in them, film some of the most sexually exploitative demeaning thing about women.

And you know what, Meryl Streep is one of the biggest phony hypocrites of all.

There Are Better Ways To Spend Mondays

Than to have Hillary Clinton stories, but honestly. You know, she is still on that endless book tour promoting, “What Happened.” Simple answer: you lost, girl. However, she’s been in the UK and the Brits of the press are not giving her the syrupy, sloppy easy time the American MSM is, but they have been holding her feet to the fire, especially with regard to the way she treated Bill’s victims of sexual assault, etc.

So, she has cancelled some interviews because she…broke her toe. And she’s wearing an ortho boot. For a broken toe. And, she claims that she broke said toe, “running downstairs wearing high heels and fell over backwards.” Pray tell me, how do you fall backwards and break a toe? On stairs. I hate to admit the times I’ve broken toes in my life. Big toe, little toe, second toe. Believe me, I was always going forward when it happened. This woman is making a complete spectacle of herself with this book, the tour, the constant barrage of she would handle things differently than Trump.

What if an Oscar nominated actor lost to another actor and kept jawing for nearly a year about why he should have won, what he did better than the other actor, and just didn’t let it go? In my eyes, she is now like a joke, actually, she never was that much above it before, and its laughable, really laughable. As Mimi used to say, she has no prize.

Sunday, Rain, Boots And Beer

Thank heaven, outside after a few rumbles of thunder, there is a wide waterfall of silver rain falling. It is supposed to be 57 degrees tomorrow with a high of 72. Cool all week. Can it be so? Open window season? Ah, listen to that rain fall.

It’s Sunday, and I have cooked and am cooking for the week. Made spinach pumpkin curry my way, i.e., with chicken, carrots, turnips and cream added with a smattering of green onions. At the moment, chicken breasts resting on layers of onion, turnips, apples and carrots are slowly roasting. Autumn veggies.

Abita, a local brewery, usually very fine, for years always marked the fall by frewing Fall Fest, a red sort of beer that was delicious. This was followed by their Christmas Ale, another reddish sort of brew also delicious, then followed by the Mardi Gras brew, the wonderful Abita Bock. Millenials must have taken over because they don’t do this anymore. We get, blueberry ale, Pecan ale, crap ale. Yesterday, I asked the beer guys at Joe W’s–these youngsters are very knowledgeable if they knew of a beer comparable to Fall Fest. This adorable young man with black hair, black eyes, black brows and black bear thought a minute, and said, Yes, “St. Arnold’s.” He showed me this and told me it was a microbrewery in Texas. Fall and football and beer go together, so I bought a six pack. Can or bottle he asked me, always bottles, said I. Well, dear one, this brew is the reincarnation of Fall Fest, even to the beautiful color and incredible head. Actually, I think it’s better, so delicious and refreshing in an iced glass.

Yesterday, there was a tap on the storm door and it was the mail lady delivering something for me. A an adorable pair of gray combat boots, arriving just in time for the cool weather.

Reading , “The Seance,” but still under the spell of, “The Winter Ghosts.”

I have to say that if the Cubs and Yankees go the World Series this year, I thought it might pose a problem for me, but after judging what was in my heart, you know I’m going to root for the Cubbettes.

Sorry, Darling

But I’m afraid I’m in one of those I Am Dreadful Funny Wicked Moods this evening. I’m just laughing as I did the dishes thinking it’s going to be a bit of a stretch to see someone who was someone who died for the rights of man previously, putting the same fervor and worry over a seam that isn’t straight. Forgive me…I laughed.