Planning Ahead

It began with a joke I made during a recent sit down with my financial guy. We talked about my spending over the first six months of the year and my biggest expenditures came back-to-back – first my Connie Cat's surgery and then my trip to the TCM Film Festival. Yeah, I bought a new mattress and bed, but that came in distant third. 

 

As we discussed this, it washed over to me that my lifestyle is different from my friends. "Elaine went to Paris, Lisa went to Ireland, and I went to vet." I thought it was funny.

 

"You know," Jonathan said, scrolling through my financials on his screen, "If you wanted to go to Europe, we could make that happen." My spending over the last two years has been less than we projected. I'm OK with that. We still have two+ years of Donald Trump with his fakakta tariffs and international adventurism and insistence that "affordability" is a Democratic hoax. To say I don't trust him with our economy is an understatement of almost epic proportions, so I'm good with being conservative with my personal finances. 

 

But Jonathan got me thinking about my future and what purchases would make me happy. I need a nice new winter coat, but I think that will be my only big fall/winter apparel purchase. I love my sweaters, but I already have a shit-ton of them and I got two pair of boots last winter.

 

There's a new refrigerator on my horizon. But I neither want nor need bells and whistles there. I'm dragging my feet on this more out of reluctance to toss more steel and copper into the landfill than financial concern.

 

I want to visit my niece and little Violet a couple times before the year is over. I'm attending Noir City Chicago for several nights and I'm headed to Wrigley Field to see my guys, and while I will be spending a lot, it's not on a par with a trip to Europe. 

 

I don't want to go to Europe. I just don't. I'd like to go to Springfield, IL to visit Abe, but that's a hotel and an Amtrak ticket.

 

I am looking forward to the TCM Film Festival in 2027, and I'm excited that I can do it in an elevated way. I know what hotel I want to stay at: The Loews Hollywood. The location is perfect. While I don't think I want to upgrade my room – I'm really not in the room that much – I would like to take advantage of room service more often. Jonathan says I can afford it.

 

But most of all, there's Meeow Chicago. When I'm at the Loews, Connie and Roy Hobbs will be enjoying luxurious digs, too. They can share a suite with a skylight and a climbing tree and boxes to hide in. Best of all, they will have staff attending them from 7 am to 7 pm each day and will be monitored overnight. I'll get photos and text updates every day. I've emailed the owner, who outlined their protocol in case of emergency, which I find comforting.

 

I will have more fun in Hollywood knowing Connie and Roy Hobbs will be under constant scrutiny and care. I take my responsibility to them very seriously. I may not want to go to Europe, but I want to do this, and I'm grateful I can afford it.

 

 

 

Sunday Stealing

Answers these questions when you don't have anything to blog about ... 

1) Describe your typical weekend, and tell us how this weekend has been different. I eat out a lot on weekends. This one has been no different. The highlight of Saturday was ribs, so I'll try to grab something healthier today.

2) What food hits your bliss spot? Prime rib. I haven't had it in more than a year, but I practically dream about it.

 

3) Where did you stay on your last vacation (hotel, Airbnb/Vrbo, friends/family)? The Loews in Hollywood. It's a very nice hotel, but that's not why it's my home-away-from-home in LA. It's literally attached to four of the theaters that participate in the TCM Classic Film Festival, which makes it hard (but not impossible) for me to get lost. Really, I have no sense of direction in the best of times and when I'm in my classic film haze, blabbing with my tribe, I am positively ditzy.

4) If you had a personality eraser, what part of yours would you erase? After reading #3, you might think I'd try to erase the part of me that's so easily distracted. But no! I'd like to erase my lazy streak, which is as wide as it is long.

 

5) Think of your friends. Tell us about the first one who popped into your head. Nancy. Maybe I thought of her first because I owe her an email. Anyway, we were coworkers long ago and I happened to run into her (almost literally) on an escalator more than a decade later. I consider that a lucky accident. Nancy is smart and interesting and now married to Paul, who is sweet and funny. They are a nice package deal.

 

 

Sunday Stealing

The $80,000 Meme

Premise: A philanthropist awards you $80,000 with the stipulation that you must spend half on yourself and half for the benefit of others. 

1. Of the $40,000 you must spend on yourself: 

a. First you throw yourself a lavish birthday party. Tell us about it. This is hard because it's not something I can imagine myself doing. Also, my friends tend to be in factions. For example, my friends Nancy and Paul have never met my friend Elaine. So I think what I would rather do is plan a getaway with just one friend and do New York right. Starting with first class airfare to and fro. We'll each have our own room at The Four Seasons, have spa treatments right there in the hotel, then go to a Broadway show. Dinner at Sardi's because that just sounds so glam. I'd love to see a game at Yankee Stadium, too.

b. Then you take off on a cruise. Where are you headed? I'm not really attracted to the idea of a cruise, either. But I know I'd enjoy the TCM Classic Cruise because it's all about the movies. Because money is no object, I'm booking a deluxe oceanview stateroom all to myself.

2. Of the $40,000 you must spend for the benefit of others: 

a. Who would be on your gift list? What would buy them? I'd love to help my oldest friend find a new living arrangement and get her healthcare ironed out. Her life is a mess, and it would be great if my money could help her find her way out.

b. Which charities would you support? Oh, wouldn't this be fun? I think what I would like to do is sponsor shelter animals. So many organizations have dogs and cats that have been there forever and are, let's face it, not going to be adopted. They're too old, they aren't cute, they have chronic medical issues ... I would find tremendous satisfaction in providing these animals with safety and comfort for life, and enabling the shelters to use their resources to helping more dogs and cats.

 

 

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Fun, Fun, Fun (1964)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) This song is about a girl who borrows her father's Ford Thunderbird. When is the last time you drove someone else's car? It was my cousin Rosemary's car. We were on a highway headed to Florida for a trip to Disneyworld. This man was President. (I was a terrible driver and don't do it at all today.)

2) The teen in question is well known for ability to drive "like an ace." If we were to ask your high school classmates what they remember most about you, what do you think they'd say? Nerd.

3) She told her father she needed the car to go to the library but used it instead to meet friends. Can you recall a time your parents caught you in a fib? Yes. I was in junior high and went to a party at Nancy's house. Nancy's parents weren't home and I knew I shouldn't stay. My mom was very strict about unsupervised parties. Anyway, I was too embarrassed to leave. When I got home, my mom asked me about Nancy's mom and I made up an elaborate tale about her hair and her bathing cap (Nancy's family had a pool). My mom ran into Nancy's mom at the grocery store a day or two later. Such is life in a small town. Being caught in the lie was mortifying.

4) For this girl and her friends, fun centered on cars and fast food. What did you and your friends do for fun during your teen years? The mall! Every Tuesday, Korvette's (the big department store) ran an ad that announced which record label was on sale that week. We'd spend days deciding which albums we'd snag for just $5 each and then on Saturday afternoon we'd take the bus over. In addition to Korvette's, we'd stop at either Orange Julius or McDonald's and maybe the movie theater. We saw the same movies over and over (The Sting, The Way We Were and Cabaret stand out in my memory). The mall is still there, but many of the smaller shops stand empty. The movie theater is now a Best Buy and Korvette's is Kohl's. 

5) Legend has it songwriters Brian Wilson and Mike Love got the idea for this song from a Salt Lake City disc jockey. He told them he'd lent his T-bird to his daughter so she could go to class at the community college but discovered her deception when the car was ticketed in front of a fast food restaurant. Can you think of another song inspired by true events? Abraham, Martin and John.

 
6) As in the song, the disc jockey punished his daughter by taking her driving privileges away. Were your parents strict when you were growing up? Not really. But they didn't need to be, either. The hijinks in #3 were about as naughty as I got.

7) This song was recorded on January 1, 1964. The Beach Boys had to work on the holiday because they were under pressure to meet a February release date. How did you spend New Year's Day 2026? I don't recall, but I bet I stayed in my pajamas all day.

 
8) 1964 was a great year for Capitol Records. They had chart-topping hits by the Beach Boys, Barbra Streisand and, most spectacularly, The Beatles. The Capitol Records Building in Los Angeles is considered iconic and it's a stop on tourist bus tours. Have you ever been to Southern California? If yes, what did you do? I just got back from Hollywood! I was there for the TCM Classic Film Festival and the movies kept me very busy. But I saw the Hollywood sign and the hand and footprints at the TCL Chinese Theater.

 

 
9) Random question: What's the last compliment you received? The aesthetician marveled at my unlined skin. Of course, I've been seeing her twice a month since February, so I'm not sure if she was complimenting me or herself.

 

It wasn't all movies

I socialized quite a bit when I was in Hollywood for the TCM Film Festival. I enjoyed it, and I learned a lot from it.

Spending time at Mel's. This iconic diner, right off Hollywood Blvd., is very convenient to both the festival and my hotel. I had two rather important meals there. 

The first was dinner with my oldest friend's daughter. I held her as a baby and now she's a tall, willowy woman. She's got a good job she enjoys with an LA ophthalmologist and lives with Jose, the 30-something she brought along. I was glad he was there. Her mother is a mess and it was valuable to hear his take, which is more objective than her daughter's or mine. Some of what he told me was legit disturbing – maybe I'll post about it later, maybe I won't – but it was important for me to hear. This situation is bad and my ability to impact it is maddeningly limited. I have to accept that, and try not be sucked into my friend's crazy.

I was happy to see that my friend's daughter and Jose are committed to one another and are really working at their relationship. They have even taken a couples' vacation to Vegas with her dad! I admit I never liked her father, but that's not the point. It's completely natural for her to want to have a relationship with him, and I think it's great that Jose encourages her in this while also supporting efforts to help her troubled mother.

Then there was "the kick-off breakfast." A rather tight group of TCMFF regulars meets on the first morning of the festival to catch up on their lives and compare notes on what they're looking forward to in the festival line-up. Last year I happened upon it rather accidentally. It meant a lot to me that this year I was specifically included. That felt good. Especially because of Doug. He's the husband of Laura, a passionate baseball fan like me only she roots for the Dodgers. I respect her commitment as she does mine and we have a nice time together. Doug has always been another kettle of fish. First of all, he loves John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and all that toxic masculinity. Online, he almost shits a brick when Jane Fonda's name comes up (and it comes up rather often in classic film discussion groups). And, during the first year of the festival after covid, he mocked those of us who wore masks (as per the rules) "sheeple." 

The thing of it is, last year he got such a kick out of listening to his wife and I fan girl over baseball that he actually now looks forward to seeing me. He hugged me every time we ran into each other throughout the festival. He gave me a pin. It's some cowboy actor I couldn't identify but that's not the point, he wanted me to have it. We even had a fun time together in line later, waiting to see Modern Times.  

Do I agree with Doug on just about anything? No. But this turn of events makes me happy. It's better to have someone out there liking me than disliking me.

Gazing upon the fountains.  There's a restaurant called La Piazza at The Grove shopping center in Los Angeles. The Italian food is very good – I had carbonara – and it was nice to dine outdoors. 

My lunch partner was Tina. We worked together a million years ago, back during the Clinton administration. She now lives outside Los Angeles and is happy to see me and get a little dose of Chicago when I come out for TCM.

I'm always surprised and gratified that she enjoys spending time with me. It reminds me of the olden days, when I was the "go-to" girl at the center of every project at the advertising agency. That's how Tina still sees me. She always was and still is gorgeous – thick black hair down her back, great clothes, slim figure. In the looks arena, she always intimidated me. But her career never really took off and after she had her first baby, she left the workforce. She and her husband are still together after all these years – no mean feat – and their two kids are both embarking on careers, so I don't think she regrets her choice at all. Yet she told me that her daughter asked who mom was dining with today and she described me as "super talented" and said she admired me. Wow. And here I thought I was a fat spinster who sold candles at a card shop, while Tina is living the LA lifestyle! 

There's a lesson in there somewhere. 

 

And that's a wrap!

 

Eleven movies over four days. What a celebration of cinema! Not to mention a reunion of fellow film nerds. My vacation may have ended very badly (see post below), but that doesn't mean it was a bad time.

 

Here are the movies I saw in the order I saw them: 

 

Modern Times (1936). I don't much like silent movies and my sense of humor is more verbal than visual. The only Chaplin I'd ever seen before was a few minutes at the Museum of Science and Industry when I was a kid. Yet I loved this. It's the adventures of a kindhearted Tramp during the Depression. It's funny, romantic and rebellious. The intro by Tony Shaloub (Mr. Monk) reframed the movie and helped me appreciate it. He recommended rewatching movies we loved as children (when he fell in love with Chaplin and Laurel & Hardy), that while we remember the slapstick they probably have more heart and pathos than we understood. 

 

 

The Mouthpiece (1932). A pre-code talkie I'd never even heard of before! A flamboyant defense attorney, Vince Day, will do anything to win the case and gain greater fame and publicity for himself. He seems the inspiration for Richard Gere's lawyer in Chicago. The (unrequited) love of a good woman changes his heart and he does the right thing. The ending was satisfyingly ambiguous. I can't wait to see it again.

 

Letty Lynton (1932). Okay, NOBODY has ever seen this one before! This Joan Crawford crime drama was wildly popular when it was first released but then it's been tied up in litigation and disputes for the last 90 years! Seeing this unicorn was the highlight of the festival for many. I liked it, didn't love it, but it was exciting to be part of the crowd seeing it for the first time since the 1930s.

 

Strangers on a Train (1951). A Hitchcock that I've seen many, many times. I always enjoy how twisted it is, but seeing it on the big screen with an audience was a thrill. Even better, it was introduced by CAROL BURNETT! She's always been a massive classic movie fan, and this one has personal meaning for her. I couldn't get close enough to get a photo, but at 93 she's still very funny and sharp. 

 

Pal Joey (1957). The world premiere of the 35 mm restoration and it was gorgeous! Tina Sinatra introduced it and I'm glad she got to hear us all spontaneously applaud when her father performed "The Lady Is a Tramp" for Rita Hayworth. It's a classic musical moment, and Daddy's Girl Tina was justifiably proud. This was a highlight for me.

 

A Face in the Crowd (1957). Andy Griffith is a folksy TV personality who lets power go to his head until he becomes The Demagogue in Denim. This film was introduced by conservative author and commentator Jonah Goldberg, who shocked me by saying that this character reminds him of Tucker Carlson (ouch). While it's easy to see this film as an indictment of right-wing media types who promote Trump to a gullible public, Goldberg and TCM's Ben Mankiewicz explained it's more than that – it's about how willing Americans are to be misled. That Trump is a symptom, not the disease. And I get it because this movie is almost 70 years old. We've been here before. A searing movie and thought-provoking discussion. If you've never seen this movie, FIND IT! It's free on Tubi and available on Amazon Prime and it's even more relevant today than it was in the year of my birth. (Plus you'll see a dimension to Andy Griffith you never guessed existed.)

 

All the President's Men (1976). More than a tribute to Redford – though he deserves all the posthumous accolades he's getting – this screening was a celebration of intelligent filmmaking and a free press. Former White House counsel John Dean (!) introduced the film and took questions afterward. I can't believe I was so close to history! My favorite moment was when he shared with us that The Nixon White House always knew Mark Felt was Deep Throat. It's just no one ever asked them.

 

 

Signage promoting the festival on Hollywood Blvd.

 

I'd Rather Be Rich (1964). My oldest friend and I saw this movie on TV when we were little girls and I was excited to revisit it. I enjoyed it thoroughly, even though it's fabulously stupid. The plot is all about misunderstandings and sex and mistaken identity – kind of like a less smutty episode of Three's Company. The hair was poofy, the clothes were gorgeous and Andy Williams was charming in his only film role. It was introduced by Kate Flannery from The Office, who clearly loves movies like this as much as I do.

 

Anastasia (1956). I was disappointed by this one. It was opulent, but slow moving and I admit I was bored. Yeah, I know: Oscars and Golden Globes. Blah, blah. 

 

Rope (1948). My second Hitchcock of the festival was definitely a highlight! First of all, I'm just captivated by this movie, which starts with a murder on a bright sunny day. So it's like Columbo – we know who did it and we know why they did it, the tension comes from watching the killers try to hide their crime. Then there was Mario Cantone (Anthony from Sex and the City). He was hysterical. Since the movie is clearly patterned on Leopold and Loeb, he yelled, "GAY HITCHCOCK!" Here he is cracking up Professor Jacqueline Stewart. Cantone was also insightful. He reminded us all how hard it was for gay actors in the 1940s and that he believed keeping a real-life secret infused John Dall's and Farley Granger's performances with desperation.

 

On the Town (1949). Closed out the Festival with a grand old MGM musical. Three sailors see all of New York – and find love – during their 24-hour shore leave. I've always had mad affection for this confection ("New York, New York, a wonderful town/the Bronx is up and the Battery's down/the people ride in a hole in the ground/New York, New York!") By late Sunday night we were all pretty punchy. The intro by TCM's Dave Karger started out rather high-brow, talking about Leonard Bernstein and the challenges of filming on location. Soon it devolved into silliness, with Karger, Cantone and Kate Flannery leading us in a game of "Shag, Marry or Kill" with the film's leads: Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra and Jules Munshin. Sorry, Jules.

 

Here's hoping the Paramount merger doesn't fuck everything up and we'll all be together in Hollywood for 2027.

 

 

 PS As soon we got home, we heard Ted Turner had died. That felt like a death in the family. Without Ted Turner there would be no CNN, no 1995 World Champion Atlanta Braves, and most important to a legion of old movie nerds, no Turner Classic Movies. I wish we'd been together when we got the news. We could have toasted him.

Magical thinking

I've been back from vacation for a week and have yet to post about it! I'm beginning at the end. I don't fly well. In fact, I'm fucking petrified the whole time. I will not get on a plane without knowing there's Xanax in my purse. I want to be able to knock myself out if the terror becomes too great. When I asked a shrink what we should do about my fear, she said that everyone had irrational fears and instead of berating myself for being afraid, I should be proud of myself that I still fly. It would only be a problem, she reasoned, if it had an impact on my lifestyle. I'm proud to say I didn't take my Xanax once through the tale you're about to read. 

I did fall victim to magical thinking, though. I have a rule for myself when I fly – I never change my originally assigned flight. Let American Airlines offer me money or miles to take a later flight. I won't do it. I truly believe that if I do, I am opening myself up to bad luck. No, it makes no logical sense. Just as it never made any logical sense that if I was watching or listening to a baseball game and Anthony Rizzo came up to bat, I had to stop what I was doing and concentrate on helping him. Superstition, magical thinking, wackiness ... call it what you will. 

This time I was right. I broke my own rule and very bad things happened.

I got to LAX at 8:30 AM for my 10:30 flight home to O'Hare. As I checked in at the kiosk, I got the news: there was no crew and my flight was delayed six and one half hours. Not only would I have to hang around in the airport for hours, I wouldn't get home until after midnight, CST. That was unacceptable. My girlcat had been ill* and I wanted to get home.

American Airlines recommended a flight taking off in little over an hour to Tuscon, where I'd change planes for O'Hare. I was reassured that, since I'd be landing at the gate right next to my flight home, it would be smooth.

Well, they didn't lie about that. The flight to Tuscon was short and uneventful, and yes, the gate was right there. I had time to snarf a breakfast sandwich and bottled water before boarding for my flight home ... and entering hell.

•  First, I was in a middle seat. Between a couple. Who kept talking to each other and passing things over me as though I wasn't there. I asked them if they wouldn't prefer sitting together. No, she's window and he's aisle ... and they're both dreadful. Because we were three fat people in a row, it was hard to move. I had a difficult time getting to my Xanax but I thought, "oh, well, you got this far and you're almost home. It'll be fine."

• As we flew east I monitored the Cubs game on my phone and saw it was delayed. Storms in Chicago.  But the game was not cancelled, so I knew the rain was expected to stop soon. I didn't think it was as big a deal as Mr. and Mrs. passing their reading glasses back and forth over me. "These are yours." "No, these are yours." "Wait a minute, you were right!" "Where's the case for the glasses?" etc.

• The pilot came on and acknowledged the storms, saying we were going to circle high above them for a while until they passed. Because we were, as Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz, "beyond the rain," what I could see out our window was sunny and fine. I don't know how much time had elapsed before he came back on and scared the living shit out of me. "We're running low on fuel so we're going to touch down in St. Louis." Oh, great! I could fall out of the sky!

• When we got to Lambert, we there wasn't a gate for us. That many flights to O'Hare had been rerouted. So we had to sit, and sit, and sit. I had downloaded The Very Best of Linda Ronstadt for the flight. I shall never listen to it again, for fear of PTSD. Finally we started moving. We were not taking off, however, there was no available runway for us. It's just there's a law about how long we're allowed to sit on an unmoving plane, so we had to get off. We were warned not to wander far, though. We'd be taking off within the hour. 

• Well, they didn't lie about that. Just after midnight, we were corralled back onto our flight and we all took our original seats. (Me in the middle.) It occurred to me that this would be the time I would have gotten home if I'd followed my rule and just hung out LAX all day.

• We took off and then – you can't make this shit up – within minutes the pilot came on and told us we were going back to St. Louis. There was smoke in galley. I sniffed the air and yes, it did smell like something was burning. My new husband said, "Gee, I hope they'll make us use the chute."  I hated him.

 

No, I didn't.

Actually, I was more frightened when I heard we were out of fuel. Though it's not a feel good to pass firefighters in the aisle as you disembark.

 

•  By now it was 1:20 AM on Tuesday. At the gate we were told to line up for hotel and meal vouchers and that we would be rebooked for a 9:30 AM flight to Chicago. OK, this is simply not acceptable. I worked in Chicago for more than 40 years. I know how busy the Lambert-O'Hare corridor is, especially on a weekday morning. People arrive at O'Hare and are in offices for their meetings every day before 9:30 AM. So I told them I wanted to be booked onto the first flight of the day to ORD.

 

•  That was 5:50 AM, boarding at 5:15. Not enough time to deal with a hotel. In a perfect full-circle moment, I was looking at killing hour after hour in an airport again. So be it. I want to go home. It really wasn't that bad. It took some time to find the baggage office – at this hour all the carousels were down – and explain my situation to the nice, lonely lady who worked there overnight. She explained to me that I would have recheck my bag and go through security again but I'd likely be first in line. Then she emphasized this – DO NOT USE THE KIOSK. CHECK IN THROUGH AN AGENT. She explained that according to the app, I was somehow still on the original flight from LAX to ORD and the kiosk won't "know" me.

 

•  I read. I wandered. I drank a lot of water. As soon as the agents began their day at 4:30, I was there. I thought it would be easy. HA! These four women – who had no one else to wait on, just me and one confused looking couple who just arrived – treated me as an adversary. They wouldn't let me finish a sentence! I tried "Yes, but I was told ..." but they insisted I had to try the kiosk before they would even speak to me. No "I'm sorry." Not even a "Good morning." Just "you have to use the kiosk first."Oh, and the kiosks weren't up yet. 

 

•  So when the kiosks finally came on, I gave one a shot. It insisted on charging me $45 to check my bag to O'Hare. NO FUCKING WAY.  I had been a good, uncomplaining sport until this moment. "I am not paying this!" I announced. Loudly. Your voice can really carry through an otherwise empty airport. Finally someone looked at my printed boarding pass. "The Tuscon flight," she said to herself as she read her monitor. Apparently our ill-fated flight was famous. She checked me through. No apology though. When I complained to American Airlines, this is the only thing I mentioned. My treatment here was the only thing I couldn't justify, the one thing they absolutely could have prevented.

 

• I got through TSA very easily and was home by 8:30 AM. 24 hours after I checked out of my hotel in Los Angeles. I now know why the Pope kisses the ground when he lands. 

 

I am proud of myself that my Xanax remained untouched. I did all this without it. I feel empowered. Angry, exhausted, and traumatized. But empowered, too. 

 

  

*She's so healthy now, I needn't have worried. 

 Photo by Briana Tozour on Unsplash

 

WWW.WEDNESDAY

 

WWW. WEDNESDAY asks three questions to prompt you to speak bookishly. To participate, and to see how other book lovers responded, click here. 

PS I no longer participate in WWW.WEDNESDAY via that link because her blog won't accept Blogger comments. I mention this only to save you the frustration I experienced trying to link up.

1. What are you currently reading? A Good Life: Newspapering and Other Adventures by Ben Bradlee. I returned to this memoir, which I first read more than 25 years ago, because I'm about to see All the President's Men again, this time at the TCM Classic Film Festival. Bradlee was managing editor of The Washington Post, portrayed in the film by Jason Robards in an Oscar-winning performance, and was, so I thought during Watergate, the sexiest older man on the planet. I realize now that when teenaged me was crushing on that older man, he was younger than I am today, and this amuses me.

 

He did have a good life, an eventful one. Polio survivor. War hero and journalist. I am curious to see how the reminiscences/opinions of a man born in 1921 will sound to me today. 

2. What did you recently finish reading? Agatha Raisin and The Love from Hell by M. C. Beaton. #11 in the series, and I didn't really like it. Everyone in the story annoyed me – save for the minor recurring characters like the vicar's wife, Agatha's housekeeper, and one of the town's policemen. The plot actually takes us to a French monastery, an excursion that felt at best inauthentic. I'm not sorry I read it because it contains plot points I'll need to know if I return for #12. But I was disappointed.

3. What will you read next?  I don't know

 

  

I prefer my drama on the screen

 

The TCM Classic Film Festival is almost upon us! My flights are booked. My hotel reservation is confirmed. Three of my four airport limo rides are lined up.* My girl cat, Connie, is healthy so I will miss – but not be worried about – her when I'm gone.

Thursday will begin with breakfast at Mel's with fellow festival goers. I'm seeing a former coworker for lunch at The Grove. Then Thursday evening the movies start. Four glorious days of old movies on the big screen!

It's Wednesday that's the problem. I had been looking forward to dinner with my oldest friend's adult daughter the night I arrive. She is in her late twenties now and has really gotten her life together. She's working on her relationship with her boyfriend, she has a good job as an optometrist assistant, is consulting a nutritionist to get to the bottom of her long-standing gastrointestinal issues. I held her as a baby and want to hear more about the positive direction her life is taking.

Of course, my oldest friend (her mother) is fucking everything up. As is her wont. 

After a period of being incommunicado, last week she resumed emailing and texting me. She can't stand her living arrangement. She wants to sell everything† and move back here. She has major health issues but can't get it together to submit her application for Medi-Cal. She says she really needs to know that I care about her.

Oh, for fuck's sake! I keep thinking about all the times I've reached out to show support but my efforts have gone unacknowledged. (I don't know why, exactly, but this one remains a bur under my saddle.) 

I responded as I always do. "Get yourself healthy. If you need help paying for therapy, let me know. Don't even think about coming back here because you'll still hate the weather and miss your cousin. Instead of searching for a new boyfriend, try to make friends."

Her response was a slap in the face. She doesn't want "a boyfriend," she wants someone to care about. She then attached a self-serving list of all the people she has "taken care of" during her adult life. They were all either her family or the family of men she's been involved with (I'd call them "fucks" and "fuck adjacent.") None were friends. Yet here I am, a mere friend, and she expects me to prove that I "care?"

Also, that list of people she's taken care was quite a re-write of history. More than one person she named extended themselves mightily for her, not the other way around, and at least two provided her with a roof over her head. When the person you're talking to doesn't share your reality, it's hard to find common ground.

My oldest friend lives in Hesperia, 90 minutes away from LA. I didn't invite her Wednesday night's dinner with me and her daughter because the logistics are beyond me. I only have about three hours to spend that evening – after all, my festival festivities begin Thursday morning – and I don't drive. 

Her daughter said she would get her mother there. But now I don't want to see her mother at all. I'm too angry.

Here's the push-pull of it all. I have known my oldest friend since Kindergarten. More than 60 years. I have loved her and have so many dear memories. So much laughter. So many treasured moments.

But for the last 15 years, this relationship has been hideously unbalanced. I feel an obligation to her and the times we shared, so I do what I can. 

But dammit! I'm sick of her drama! I've waited all year for this film festival – and with the Paramount deal, it may be the last one – and I resent her for throwing shade over it. I know she's bipolar, I know she's unhealthy. I'm sorry all of this is happening to her.

Still, there's a limit to how much I can give when I get so precious little in return.

 

*Gotta take care of #4 today. 

†This is stupid. She was evicted from her last apartment over unpaid rent and her car was repossessed.  

The tiny center of my universe

My cat Connie is only 6.5 lbs. Yet she has dominated everything this month. Making her well has been my sole focus.

She had surgery on April 2. Since she received stitches, she had to wear the cone, I couldn't let her roam around the condo when I wasn't watching. She could get stuck or slip out of it. Also, she had to stay very clean, and left to their own devices cats can slip into the dustiest part of the house you just can't reach. So when I wasn't home or was asleep, Connie was locked in the bathroom for her own safety. She's such a sweet, adaptable girl! She never cried. She just made do with her makeshift litter pan (a shirt box I lined with a small trash bag) and her water dish (a Lean Cuisine tray, because it was shallow and wide to accommodate her cone). I kept her carrier in my bathtub because cats like small spaces and I thought she might like go in there to sleep. I enjoyed our special "girl time" together before bed, when I'd slather on moisturizer, brush my teeth and put in my mouth guard. 

It was also in the bathroom that she got her meds. I squirted two different liquids down her throat – an antibiotic and a painkiller. Then I had to apply ointment to an area which was an assault to her dignity and mine. Yet she never resisted. I think on some level she trusted that I was trying to make her well.

On April 18, the vet finally removed the stitches and declared her well. No more meds! No more cone! No more time in solitary confinement in the bathroom! There was much rejoicing.

I'm grateful. Grateful that it wasn't more serious. Grateful that I had the resources to get her the medical attention she needed. Grateful to get my bathroom back! Grateful that she's well in time for me to go to the TCM Film Festival next week. Grateful that she is her sweet little self again.

Most of all, I'm grateful to be able to sleep soundly again. People with human children – how do they do it? Do they just reconcile themselves to worrying for 18 to 21 years?

 

Boomerang emotions

Happy. Sad. That's been me this past week. 

First the happy. I spent a lovely afternoon with Elaine. We celebrated her birthday by exploring the Art Institute of Chicago – she keeps trying to civilize me – and then having a fancy lunch at Remington's, a new-to-her restaurant.

I had a good shift at the card shop. Emily, my new boss, wore a Cubs hoodie to the store in celebration of Opening Day. Obviously a bond was forged.

Then I got a pair of invitations. Laura, a Los Angeleno movie lover I met at last year's TCM Film Festival, wants to know when I'm arriving in town for this year's festival. She's having a breakfast that first day and hopes I can join her husband and their friends. The second is from Bob. He and Patty are locals who also attend the TCM Film Festival. He's retiring on April 3 and this weekend his wife is hosting an Open House in his honor. 

I miss my late friends Henry and John so very much. Every day. New people can't replace them, of course, but it makes me happy to know that there are opportunities out there for camaraderie. 

Now for the sad. My girlcat, Connie, is sick. As recently as Tuesday night, she was fine. I distinctly recall her racing around, leaping and playing, after her dinner and, frankly, her evening shit. Wednesday she was quiet, eating but not at all social. Thursday I had to convince her to eat. Today I can't get her to take food or water. She doesn't want to cuddle puddle with Roy Hobbs or get a tummy scratch from me. I suspect she's constipated. I'm worried that she could become dehydrated. So tomorrow morning we have the first appointment (8 AM) at the vet. Tonight is going to be a tough night. I am so worried about my little girl. She has never been healthy. When I first adopted her, she was recovering from malnutrition. She has a heart murmur. Now she's a senior citizen – 14 years old, the equivalent of 72 in human years – and things could go south quickly.

It's such a tight rope I walk with her. Connie is so shy with strangers, so frightened of leaving the house. Taking her to the vet causes her terror so I don't want to do it unless absolutely necessary. So I waited until I knew this wasn't some passing blip. I just hope I didn't wait too long.

I love my girlcat very much. 

Photo by Mirela Vasile on Unsplash 
 

 

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: You Make Me Feel So Young (1956)

 

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) This morning, do you feel younger or older than your years? I have a slow-healing bruise on my forearm and my knee is achy. Also, when I hear all the bitching that Bad Bunny is a "dumb" or "silly" name, I can remember people saying the same thing about The Beatles in 1964. It's like everything old is new again, and I feel every moment of my 68 years.

 

2) In this song, Frank Sinatra tells us that every time he sees his lover's grin, he's happy. What's something you can reliably count on to lift your spirits? Feeding the cats. They are so cute at mealtime! Chatting with me to make their menu selections known, herding me into the kitchen, supervising food prep ... I love how communicative cats always are individually, but at mealtime they coordinate and double team me. 

 

3) The lyrics mention hide-and-seek. What games did you play when you were young? I don't recall ever playing hide-and-seek. The games I remember were the outside games – SPUD and all the permutations of tag (stoop tag, freeze tag, etc).

4) Frank Sinatra was a fan of Campbell's chicken and rice soup, believing it helped his throat feel better after an evening of performing. Is Campbell's soup in your kitchen right now? Yes. BTW, in her memoir, Streisand repeatedly rhapsodized about her love of Campbell's Tomato Soup. The marketing whore in me sees a campaign here. Somebody should reach out to Katy Perry or Kelly Clarkson. Maybe Reba. If one of them will also swear by Campbell's, we've got some commercials to make.

 

5) Frank's favorite dessert was a slice of lemon ricotta torte. He believed every meal should include "a final flourish." Do you more often indulge in or skip dessert? I'd be more likely to skip the meal than the dessert.

 

6) At Sinatra's home in Palm Springs, CA, you'd find a less sophisticated dessert. He always kept Entenmann's Crumb Cake on hand for his young granddaughters. Share a memory of your grandparents. My grandpa thought I was pretty great. Every knock-knock joke I learned at school was hilarious. Whenever he saw me with a book or comic book, he'd ask me to read aloud because I was so good at it. Every little girl should have a cheerleader like my grandpa.

 

7) In 1956, when this song was popular, Frank was tooling around Southern California in a blue Continental Mark II. That model was known for its interior of hand-stitched imported Scottish leather. 70 years later, Scottish leather is still used in luxury cars because it's both soft and durable and the production methods minimize environmental impact. If you could splurge on something right now, what would it be? A luxury car, jewelry, travel, clothes, something else? (No responsible answers allowed!) A luxury 2026 BMW is about $100,000, which is an awful lot of money to imagine myself playing with. In fact, I can't. After all, I'm a gal who has $1.25 cans of Campbell's Chicken Noodle in my cabinet. So I'll imagine that I have approx. $10,000 earmarked for fun. I'd take myself on the TCM Classic Film Cruise. To have my own private, deluxe stateroom (with veranda) for five nights would be $8,650. That includes all the movies I can handle, plus meals. I'd have to fly to/from the port in San Diego, and I'm not going economy, so that's about $1,000. One of the ports of call is Catalina Island, a place I'm curious about. Ah, like the song says, I'm California Dreamin' on such a winter's day.

 

 
8) Also in 1956, The Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Forbidden Planet were popular at the box office. Do you have a favorite sci-fi movie? Not really.

 

9) Random question: What were you doing three hours ago? Taking a nap. Which was stupid because it's after midnight and I'm wide awake.

 

Thursday Thirteen #446

Movies are my passion. I just checked out my Letterboxd stats for 2025, which gave me a deep dive into my film watching.

1. I saw 176 movies this past year, an average of 3.4/week.

2. My watch vs. rewatch ratio: 55% of the movies were new to me, 45% were rewatches.

3. The average running time of the movies I watched this year: 1 hour/48 minutes. 

4. My biggest movie-watching day is Sunday. I think that's because my movie group meets on Monday and I'm catching up. 

5. My biggest week of movie going was April 21-27. 13 films in all. No surprise there, since that was the week of the TCM Classic Film Festival.'

6. There was one week in May and another in October when I watched no movies at all. The reason is simple: BASEBALL!

7. The oldest movie I saw this year was from 1930. The Divorcee, starring Norma Shearer. It was considered scandalous at the time and it's still rather frank about extramarital sex. I love pre-code movies (movies made before the Production Code of 1934).

8. Four were released in 2025 – Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere, Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale, One Battle After Another and Sorry, Baby. You may not have heard of Sorry, Baby. I liked this little indie film about a woman recovering from trauma. The writer-director-star, Eva Victor, was the darling of Sundance and has been nominated for a Golden Globe. (PS Nothing bad happens to the kitten. You need to know this.)

9. The 50th of the 174 movies I saw this year was Misery. It was a special 35th anniversary screening at the TCM Classic Film Festival with Kathy Bates and Rob Reiner. I attended two Festival events with him and he seemed like a sweet, joyous man. His murder makes me so sad.

10. The 100th was Mrs. Miniver (1942). It was a movie group selection. I liked it well enough (I gave it 3.5 stars) but others in the group loved it. Mostly, though, our conversation about the movie was memorable because of what Betty revealed. She asked why Mrs. Miniver didn't just grab the Nazi's gun. I said, "She's a suburban housewife. How would she know how to use a gun?" Betty shrugged and said she had a FOID (Firearms Owner's ID) card and usually carried her gun. I do not find this news comforting. If you knew Betty, you wouldn't, either.

11. The 150th was The Locket (1946). Oh, this psychological thriller is trippy! It has a flashback ... within a flashback ... within a flashback. It made me question everything I was watching. What if one of these narrators is that famous unreliable narrator? 

12. This year I gave 16 movies a full five stars. Of those 16, my fellow Letterboxers nearly agreed on two, giving both Psycho (1960) and It's a Wonderful Life (1946) 4.5 stars. The online community disagrees with me most vehemently on Jailhouse Rock (1957). Letterboxers give it an average of 3.2 stars. They are simply wrong. Elvis getting everybody on the whole cell block to dance to the "Jailhouse Rock" is one of the most iconic musical numbers of all time – right up there with Julie Andrews twirling around on that mountaintop and Gene Kelly stomping in puddles. I will die on this hill.

13. The star I spent the most time with this year was Robert Redford. I watched 8 movies that he starred in and one (Ordinary People) that he directed. Many of his movies were suddenly available to stream after he died in September. 

 

Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.