Sunday, July 15, 2018
I thoroughly enjoyed this documentary. It restored my faith in America and reminded me why I'm sure we'll survive this Trumpy nightmare. It was also delightful -- well worth $6 to see Ruth Bader Ginsburg watch Kate McKinnon's impersonation on SNL, and oh! The real life love story she shared with her husband! If that doesn't touch you, you're not human.
Instead we laughed a great deal. We talked about TV, her kids, the Cubs, Frank Sinatra's penis ... I miss her. I don't laugh with anyone like I do with her.
I hope she's OK. I'm going to try to get her on the phone more often. Perhaps I can get her to open up a bit more. And besides, it makes me happy to talk to her, to remind me of the decades-long connection we share.well.
Saturday I saw Joanna with my movie group. I was recovering from a bout of diarrhea, so I didn't join her for drinks afterward. Perhaps I should have, for she looked different to me. Older, smaller and more vulnerable. She's usually so sophisticated, so stylish. It's as though the problems she's had this summer have diminished her somehow. She had to say good bye to both her cat and her dog this year -- such a cruel coincidence -- and I'm not sure her business is doing well. We're meeting up again soon. I'll have to go out of my way to spend some time with her afterward. (And avoid potato salad. I think that the potato salad, while delicious, could have been the culprit that messed with my digestion.)
Saturday, I saw Joan Crawford rock the hell out of a pair of glasses.
The joy I got from this little detail makes me hope I can get myself to The TCM Film Festival this coming spring. It's a wallow for classic film fans, and I think I would enjoy it extravagantly.