Today is February 29. It’s a Leap Year. Last Leap Year was 2012, and what a special year that one was! When is Sadie Hawkins’ Day?
Ghost Adventures. Watched the tape I made of Saturday’s episode. A female reporter named Dylan from the Today Show was accompanying the investigation for a story, something I’ve done, as a local journalist myself for stories, with LaSpirits, an excellent batch of investigators. I really was disappointed in the girly-girl fear shown by this reporter–her hanging onto Zak Bagans, her screams when a camera moved, her reluctance to go into the rooms alone. Maybe I’m crazy but I’ve never been scared on a ghost hunt other than experiencing a refusal to sleep in a certain room in Nottoway; to sleep is to render oneself vulnerable to this and that I have a problem with; but to confront and investigate is entirely different. The feeling in the room was so negative it was smothering and I sensed it when I first walked in; only to then be told I was going to occupy the most haunted room in the house. I was fine sitting there in the dark hoping to catch evidence, but not to sleep. There’s a creepy vibe throughout Nottoway anyway; Mom and I first felt it the time we spent the weekend there in 1983.
Speaking again about “Chariots of Fire.” I had the soundtrack and I played it so much it probably warped. Got my annual performance evaluation today here at work; it was pretty darned good. Word has it that the voluntary separation invite reached its intended goal of people who actually accepted.
I love the Italian music in, “Breaking Away.” I have always loved this piece and had to post it although as beautiful as Pavarotti’s work is, find myself missing Dennis Christopher singing it to his girlfriend…
Have to comment on Marco Rubio’s latest comments. And draw a distinction. Trump is Trump. He has always been an aggressive personality who speaks his mind as he feels at the moment, brash. But I have to say Rubio’s latest counter attack was extremely offensive, especially when he said Trump has small hands and “you know what it means when men have small hands.” Raunchy and gross and it’s like he’s trying to be something he isn’t–this fits into Trump’s personality and however brash he might be at least he is an honest brash. Rubio comes across as tacky and any regard I may have had for him is now gone as is Ted Cruz, who really has shown himself to be a sleaze bucket. Rubio and Cruz are both desperate now and it shows. Do you know how reassuring I find it that Mexico, China and some of the European countries are getting really angry at Donald Trump and the possibility of his becoming president? For the last seven years we have tried to make the world like us at the expense of being American and if the Europeans and Asians and Mexicans don’t like us now, too bad, they won’t be able to jerk us around. And you can bet when the chips are down, we will be the first they run crying to for help.
Well, here’s the actual Oscar nominating procedure. Pray tell, where exactly does it say it’s done by a batch of old white men? Sounds like I wasn’t so far off the mark regarding the actual process that allows thousands of members to vote for nominations…oh boo hoo…
Comment? Who, me? Nevah!
It really was a super nice weekend. I slept through most of the Oscars soundly and from the clips that I saw, I’m glad I did. Awakened just in time to see Leonardo DiCaprio win his first Oscar and cringe at his stupid acceptance speech. Had to laugh at the irony when he claimed they had to fly all over the place because they couldn’t find a spot with snow–due to climate change brought about by…jet fuel among things. Really funny to tie into Obama and his climate change malarky championship when he has flown all the way to Hawaii for a gold game and returned the same day back to Washington. Isn’t it amazing how Hollywood knows so much more about everything than we do; isn’t their condescension to us lesser beings profound and so inspiring? Cher, Raven Simone, Whoopi Goldberg and Al Sharpton have all promised to leave the country if a Republican is elected president. God, could we ever be that lucky…if a fund were being taken up to pay for their air fare, I honestly believe that I would contribute and say au revoir! (And don’t let the door hit you on the derriere as you leave.) I found the rap song used for the Oscars’ closing credit such an exercise in phonyism. The clips I have seen of Chris Rock’s monologue to me are disastrous; poor delivery, stupid material, not groundbreaking and my overall impression of this is not so much a wish for inclusion as it is a wish to completely take over. But it is funny to see liberal Hollywood being accused of racism. It really is. I’m not surprised Mark Rylance won over Stallone. # 1, Stallone probably lost because his black co star wasn’t nominated; and #2, I have been impressed with Rylance’s work for some time now. Fine actor, but he, too, made stupid remarks at the press conference when he said Chris Rock’s monologue was ground breaking for blacks. And that leads me to the nominating process…since when is it a bunch of old white men nominating people-am I completely uninformed? I thought it was all the fellow actors who belonged to the academy who voted to nominate and then voted on the nominees? Must google that to see if I’ve been laboring under a misconception.
Yesterday after Mass while entering Dorignac’s, bumped into Dr. Kidd’s husband, Casey, a really nice guy. When I told him I was there to buy red beans fixings, his face became irradiated and he cried, oh please send some over to us! He was joking but I clearly saw a male’s true love of red beans written all over his face. My batch came out creamy, spicy and rather delicious if do say so myself, so I filled a container that would hold a full plate of rb’s and brought it to Dr. Kidd today asking that she give it to Casey. I hope he enjoys it. Such a lovely family, he, Dr. Kidd, Samantha and little Oliver. I told him how beautiful Samantha is becoming and he said, yeah, that worried him as a Daddy. Good guy to the bone. She’s not quite three.
Seven after 11 AM, Sunday morning and can finally stop to post on my little blog that will turn two in three weeks. Impossible, how is been that long? It’s certainly been fun; hope the same for you, fun, lively, and deeper things.
Yesterday ran errands and did carry some groceries up the stairs but they were light bags and I made several trips as opposed to carrying them all inside in one fell swoop, probably not the brightest of ideas. Stopped at the library to fetch Lincoln Douglas and Preston Child’s latest, released in fall 2015: “Crimson Shore.” Already hooked. This one has Pendergast and Constance Greene, his ward, now grownup and his assistant, journing to a small seaside town in Massachusetts, not far from Salem. The job is to find a missing invaluable collection of wine, and, as these two writers make up names for exotic Yoga principles practiced by Pendergast, I will keep Karen MacNeil’s, The Wine Bible by my side to verify there really is a 1907 Chateaus de.de.de., etc.
Last night watched two movies I enjoyed very much. First, “Chariots of Fire,” that I’ve seen a few times but somehow enjoyed it even more watching last night. Such a good story, and beautifully filmed and acted. Can’t believe it’s been thirty-five years since I saw it and was so glad it won Best Picture. This was followed by the really excellent, “Breaking Away.” Every time I’ve tried to watch this movie in the past, something distracts me or calls me away from it, but I did get to see it all last night and it was a joy. It’s from 1979 and I kept thinking all those young men were around my age or maybe a little older and younger than I was at the time and I wonder how they are now? Did we ever think we’d get to this age. And it was how young people acted back then; movies are so different now about young people. This was a wonderful, well acted story, refreshing and enjoyable. I loved it.
Well, cooking for the week and most of next week also. Roasting half a chicken over potatoes, onion, carrots, mushrooms with a soupcon of garlic and green onion, in chicken stock and red wine; smells heavenly. Made a batch of heart healthy Chili Mac with whole grain elbow macaroni that’s waiting to go into the oven for about 45 minutes; and in the midst of all this madness, awakened this morning wanting to cook a pot of creamy red beans which are slowly bubbling on the stove now.
Mass was beautiful this morning, absolutely beautiful. I keep getting these visions when I close my eyes in the pew after receiving Communion. You remember the first one I told you about. Today was strange and beautiful and totally undeserving, but I was standing with Jesus at the mouth of his tomb with Him; we were looking outward towards all these cliffs and mountains that He wanted me to see; He was like a wonderful, kind big brother to me, and I suppose in the scheme of things, that’s exactly what He is–to all of us. The sun was hitting all those rocks and they glowed golden umber. Complete peace.
Well, going to settle down and watch the taped Ghost Adventures I didn’t watch due to Breaking Away; and then read Crimson Shore. While at the Library, also picked up the latest Laura Child’s, a cozy series set in New Orleans. Carmela Bertrand runs a scrabooking shop in the French Quarter with crazy regulars who attend her classes; her best bud is Ava Grieux, a beautiful nut who runs a Voodoo Shop called JuJu Voodoo. It’s just fun, and light, and it cracks me up when Child’s Bertrand, who loves to cook, whips up some “New Orleans dishes.” Almost, but not quite. Someone dear walked up to Communion with me this morning. God bless him.
Teddy says hi.
I know there seems to be this ironclad rule of thumb re criticism, especially when it involves cultural mavericks in the movie industry who go around with stubbled chins, rumpled clothes, awful clothes, who were once considered wunderkinds, bad boy bad asses defy the establishment types…that we cannot criticize, make observations or say anything that might be interpreted as disparaging against this sacred cows of maverickisms…if that is a word I didn’t just invent. But I gotta say, just because I’m not supposed to, and referring to the trailer I saw and mentioned yesterday…that I never realized how much of a dog Maya Rudolph is. My God, she startled me. Here’s another sacred cow to kick: Tina Fey doesn’t send me into gales of laughter. So come ye forth ye sanctimonious protector of women whom other women criticize and bash me; don’t care.
Where there’s a will there’s a way. Put on a pair of Playtex rubber gloves this morning, sat on a chair and divided the garbage between two bags light enough to carry out. Will be using smaller bags from now on; glad that’s over with.
Been having the envie to do something with the old stereo that has beautiful mahogany mood; but I’ve been wanting to do a red Chinese lacquer job on it; my grandmother, Mimi, in California was once given the most beautiful red lacquered Chinese tea set. It was an octagonal casket inset with depressions that held Chinese tea cups with a teapot in the center. But the outside of the basket was something I held for the longest tracing my hands over its lacquered finish that gleamed in a way I couldn’t figure out; glowed with the richest red hue and shone with that black halo that comes with Chinese lacquer. There were dragons and flowers on it; it was just gorgeous. I would love to do a project like this, but the sentimentality of the old stereo stops me a bit; yet I know, with the bamboo front insets that cover the speakers, it would be lovely if I did it right.
It’s a beautiful day; it would be a lovely day to be on water; in retrospect, given the diagnosis I’ve just learned, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go kayaking that intended day. Sat next to Dr. Scharfenburg at Grand Rounds yesterday; he is an elderly retired faculty member who still attends the sessions; he always sits next to me and I consider him m Grand Rounds buddy. I told him about my back and he said, Jeanne, honey, spondylolisthesis is not a good diagnosis to have. It isn’t, not really, but explains a hell of a lot. I’m just remembering receiving some football blocks that slammed me against a hearth and then a bathroom towel rack that really couldn’t have helped at all.
Why do I so want to tell you today to please read, “The Prophet,” by Gibran today? Or is also scripture, the part that says, Do not cast your pearls before the swine. My footnote: just because you know a swine for a swine doesn’t mean you have to make up for knowing this about them for the rest of your life.
I haven’t seen “Trumbo” and will watch it on cable, I’m sure. But I have to say as much as I like Brian Cranston, the clips of his performance in this remind me very much of an imitation of Daniel Plainview.