These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Click here to see the American Humane holiday collection
December 11: Favorite holiday tradition
I kick off Christmas over Thanksgiving weekend, when I write out my cards. I always send cards that promote a charity. Most people were sent a critter card that supports American Humane Association. Those who do not celebration Christmas or aren't that into puppies and kittens received a card from the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. (Those were harder to write out, because I miss Williamsburg more than I realized.)
I like starting the holidays by reminding myself what matters -- the people in my life and causes I care about.
Life just feels weird these days. It's spooky warm for mid-December. The rest of the country is all about Donald Trump, but that blowhard feels barely relevant with everything that's going on here. Protestors are disrupting the Loop, and streets are being closed to traffic as the police try to keep the peace.
My cat, Joey, is dying. My friends have been disappointing me as of late. Toys for Tots is falling shortof its 2015 goal for the Chicagoland area.
At last! Something I can have an impact on!
I had to go to Target anyway to get Gerber baby food for Joey.* There I found this absolutely awesome display of tiny Our Generation puppies. Each is barely 4" tall and fits easily in your hand. I bought two and deposited them into the Walgreens box. It felt good. I like imagining the little one who connects with their tiny new puppy on Christmas.
*He needs as much moisture as we can get into his diet.
My friend Barb isn't feeling well. She's battling the flu and it makes it hard for her to focus. I'll assume that's why my birthday celebration was so underwhelming.
A month ago, she contacted me to make plans for my birthday dinner. I told her that since we had tickets to see Beautiful, a play I desperately wanted to see, for December 9, we could just figure on celebrating then. She was good with that. "I'll make the dinner reservation because it's your birthday!" she wrote back.
November melted into December and I didn't hear from her. Had she forgotten? I didn't want to appear pushy -- after all, she was buying me dinner and giving me a gift. On the other hand, I had been waiting forever to see Beautifuland didn't want anything to interfere.
Last weekend, while I was farting around on the internet, I discovered that the Loop restaurants in the theater district were booking up fast. Not only is Beautiful playing at the Oriental, Lion King is back at the Cadillac Palace. The nicer restaurants on Randolph are going to be busy between now and Christmas.
So I went ahead and booked dinner at 6:00 at 312. That would give us a little over an hour to eat and then get into our seats to catch the 7:30 curtain.
At 6:10, she texted me that she'd be there "in a minute." She rolled in at 6:20. I didn't have time to finish my sausage and mushroom risotto. (Too bad, because it was delicious.) She also wasn't terribly present. I wanted to talk to her about my poor old tomcat, Joey. I thought she'd be receptive because in 2012, I went through the death of her beloved Max with her. She wasn't interested in letting me talk about it. Instead she wanted to gossip about a woman we both know. I felt dismissed. Like an after thought.
Like I say, she was sick, fresh off an afternoon trip to the doctor, in fact. And she did get me a lovely gift -- a pair of glass and pewter salt and pepper shakers that are really adorable. But still, I felt a little empty at the end of the evening.
Saw the Carole King musical, Beautiful, last night. What a lovely heroine she makes! She's talented, she's humble, she's good, and she's highly relate-able. You watch and say, "I've been her!" Or, "She's just like my friend!"
And the music! Of course, "Beautiful," and "It's Too Late," and "You've Got a Friend" and "I Feel the Earth Move" and "Natural Woman." The songs that have made Tapestry one of the most popular albums of all time. But there's also her older stuff with Gerry Goffin. I've always especially loved "Up on the Roof."
If you get a chance to see it, do. You won't regret it.
Cinnamon. And now I've got this wretched piece of pop running through my head. On a continuous loop. "One potato, two potato, three potato, four. Open up cinnamon, I want more ..."
WWW.WEDNESDAY is back! To participate, and to see how others responded, click here.
1. What are you currently reading? Brief Encounters by Dick Cavett. The sequel to Talk Show (see below). It's more of the same, which is to say I'm enjoying it even when
it annoys me. I got this one -- signed by the author! -- for my
birthday.
2. What did you just finish reading? Talk Show by Dick Cavett.
This collection of essays covers the waterfront -- politics, show
business, pop culture and grammar. Reading it is like having Cavett's
voice in your head. Since he's so bright and so funny, that's a good
thing. There are times when he's a bit too smug, a little too in love
with himself, but I forgive it because I've always kinda had a crush on
him.
Either my oldest friend of my nephew. For they are massive Beatle fans. And I am uniquely qualified to select the perfect gift for the Beatle fan on your list.
Spent much of today on trains. The el to Amtrak this morning, Amtrak back home tonight. I enjoy the train, especially now that the wifi is so steady, but it was a long-ass day.
The client invited us down to meet their lawyers and listen to a presentation on regulations in financial services marketing. It wasn't scintillating, but it is relevant to my job and therefore it held my interest. Coming back, I treated myself to business class.
It's quieter in business class, with most people either snoozing or doing paper work, as opposed to coach, where travelers tend to blab and move around more. This gave me the opportunity to eavesdrop on the woman sitting across the aisle from me.
She is a nurse from (I'm guessing) St. Louis who is in Chicago for some kind of training this week. She's staying at the Silver Smith, which is a very, very nice hotel. She is, I guess, a few years older than I am. I gleaned all this from the call I heard her make to her mother, who, it seems, is recovering from some rather serious illness. Her mom was interested in the minutiae of her daughter's life, which is how I learned that she's a nurse, she did rounds this morning, and had a toasted cheese sandwich for lunch before boarding the train.
The daughter complained about her sister's Christmas card, telling her mother that Sis shouldn't have published their mother's health struggles. Then she updated her mom about her pets and ... oh, yeah! ... her husband.
It was the kind of call you could tell this dutiful daughter made regularly to her mother.
Today would have been my own mother's birthday. I miss being able to make those calls.
December 8: Post a picture of Christmas decor
These are three of the four cardboard cutouts we gaze at in my office. (The fourth is Santa, and he decorates our little office frig.) They are decades old, purchased at Woolworth's back in the 1980s. I adore them.
Sorry the photo is so blurry. I took it with my phone.
I always wanted to spend Christmas with Andy Williams
December 7: Your Most Memorable Christmas
Unfortunately, my most memorable Christmases were the bad ones. The tense ones. The worst one was when I was in high school.
My icky grandmother was an alcoholic. It would be easy to attribute all of her bad behavior to booze, but that's not accurate. She was a brittle, angry woman before she drank, and a brittle, angry woman after she got sober. But this story happened to take place while she was drinking.
She had to host a sit-down Christmas Eve dinner at her home every year. My mother offered to have a buffett at our house, but Grandma refused. "Tradition is important." OK. As far as I saw, the tradition was that every year she resent how hard she worked to prepare food for us ingrates. Also, when I tried to help, she scolded me for my ineptitude and shamed my mother for neglecting to teach me domestic skills.
The previous Thanksgiving, just weeks before, I tried to help with the dishes after dinner. My older sister scalded me with the sink spray hose. I screamed (in pain) and my dear, sweet Grandma said, "For Christ's sake, Gal, aren't you EVER quiet?"
So now it's Christmas Eve. I remember the dress I was wearing (green, boatneck). I was sitting on the floor admiring the gift she'd given me: a big, potted jade plant. I was very into plants at that time.
"Thank you, Grandma," I said to her blissed out form. Really, she was loaded. Not present at all. "Thank you, Grandma," I repeated. She never looked at me. I gave up.
Then, when the dinner dishes were cleared, I went into the living room to sit with my dad and uncle. None of the menfolk ever helped in the kitchen ... Grandma had just told me barely a month ago that I was noisy and inept ... and she didn't seem to notice I existed anyway, so why bother?
The next day -- CHRISTMAS, mind you -- she called and tore into my mother. Who turned around and tore into me. I was rude. I never thanked Grandma for the plant (which she "paid good money for"). I didn't help in the kitchen. I'm ungrateful. I don't care about anyone or anything but myself.
Thank God we didn't all have to gather together again until Easter.
This was not an isolated incident. As the old comedians liked to say, "I got a million of 'em." So now you know why I am very happy to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with friends, not family. Being with my friends in the Keys is like wrapping myself up in an eiderdown quilt, whereas being with family feels like being scraped with sandpaper.
I don't want to hear that you take up two seats because you are claustrophobic. You take up two seats because you are rude.
By taking two seats when you paid for one, you are stealing. Oh yeah, I forgot, you're "claustrophobic." So if you're lactose intolerant, you get to take two cartons of almond milk for the price of one? No, that would be stealing. Just like you're stealing when you take up two seats after paying for one.
You're just rude. Embrace it. Admit it. Then change it.
1. List 5 things you want to do before the year ends. First, see some of the big year-end movies. Second, try on my jeans and see which ones fit and throw those that don't into the Goodwill box. Third, take that box to Goodwill. Fourth, write up Christmas cards for my coworkers (I've already mailed by personal cards). Fifth, update my pedi.
2. What color are your pants? White. (I'm still in my nightie.)
3. Favorite motivational quote.
4. When was the last time you drank coffee? I can't even recall when it was, but I hated it and vowed never to do it again. And I haven't.
5. What was the last thing you ate? It was last night. I ate way too many sweets at my movie group's Christmas party. Chocolate chip cookie? Cinnamon roll? I don't remember which was last.
6. Favorite animal. Cats. Specifically my cats, Joey and Reynaldo and Connie.
7. Favorite song. It changes. Right now, it's "Christmas Holiday" by Andy Williams. If you ask me again on January 2, the answer will be different. But this time of year, I'm all Andy.
8. Last movie you watched? The Bishop's Wife. (See post below)
9. Any turn ons? Of course.
10. Any turn offs? Of course.
11. List 4 big words off of the top of your head. Train, TV, toys, tree. (Not big enough fer ya? Sorry!)
12. What are some meaningful movies? Good goobies, there are so many. Bonnie & Clyde, because it's about America's love affair with money and celebrity. Mary Poppins, because it's about charity and acceptance and love. A Hard Day's Night, because it gives us a credible version of the lads' personalities and shows them in concert at the end. The Way We Were, because it illustrates the importance of, "to thine own self be true." I could go on, but I'll spare you.
13. 2 most important people in your life right now? My incommunicado and very troubled oldest friend is top of mind. And my friend John is very dear.
14. What are 3 things you want for Christmas? I don't want things. I just want an uneventful trip to Key West, to find my friends down there happy and healthy, and to have a pleasant holiday.
15. When was the last time you read a good book? I really loved The Voice, the first volume of James Kaplan's massive study of Frank Sinatra. His life was filled with love, hubris, lust, loss -- and he poured it all into his singing. Soon I'll start on volume 2, The Chairman, which was my Christmas present to myself.
16. What was the last thing you studied? Hmmm .... I suppose that would be FDR. I was inspired by the 2014 Ken Burns PBS series and researched him more.
17. Do you have any nicknames? Yes
18. Favorite kind of perfume? (fruity, alluring, etc.) Sweet spicy. My favorite of all time is Black Pearls, but alas, it's been discontinued.
19. Do you have any international friends / friends who live out of state? Out of state? Yes. International? No.
20. What is something unique that you do every single day? Lately I've been watching old game shows, like What's My Line? I love how elegant it was! The women panelists wore gowns. The men in the audience wore ties. It was the 50s, but it feels like it's from a galaxy far, far away.
21. If there was a movie based on your life, what would it be called? Let's call it The Gal Herself.
22. When was the last time you bought a gift for someone? I ordered two vintage magazines (Photoplay from 1964 and 1969) for my oldest friend's Christmas gift.
23. Are you a shopaholic? Yes
24. What are some songs that always make you feel better? "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire. "You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor. "She Loves You," by the Lads from Liverpool.
Last night my classic movie group had a special Saturday night meetup to celebrate Christmas. And we celebrated it with Cary Grant. As an angel. There is nothing in the history of cinema as appealing as Cary Grant as an angel.
He was perfectly cast as Dudley in The Bishop's Wife. He is clever and deft and handsome and charming. He can figure skate like an Olympian and play like a concert harpist and create a bottomless sherry bottle and write a bitching sermon. All women are infatuated. All men find him simpatico. Dogs and children adore him, too.
My meetup buddy, Joanna, brought a pair of friends to the event. I found them highly intimidating as they chatted about architecture and art in a way that was completely over my head. I hope she doesn't bring them again. I know this is on me -- this feeling inferior -- but still, they harshed my holiday buzz.
Instead of sitting with Joanna, I chatted with another regular, Barbara, and a newbie, Steven (I believe). Steven is very young -- the green side of 25 -- and just moved back to the United States from Switzerland, where he spent the last decade, living with his parents. A classic movie fan, he sought us out, hoping to meet new people. I hope Barbara and I didn't freak him out. Two post-menopausal women openly lusting over a dead guy.
December 6: Your Favorite Ornament
I'm not putting a tree up this year, so it doesn't matter that my
favorite ornament won't be displayed anywhere. In fact, alas, it no
longer exists.
I created this styrofoam snowman with my own two hands at my classic film club's first-ever Christmas party back in 2013. He was top of mind because we had our 2015 gettogether last night. Instead of crafts, we had cookies and juice. I'm always touched by how much work and care our moderator puts into our meet ups.
This ornament met an unfortunate end. When I looked at him, I saw a charming snowman. My diva girlcat, Charlotte, looked at him, and saw three of her favorite targets of prey: pom-poms, pipecleaners and elastic bands. She dispatched him with brutal efficiency.
Feeling rather Christmas-y right now. I accomplished three rather delightful things on my to-do list.
1) Made Andrew's Christmas a little happier. Andrew is a 7-year-old boy who goes to daycare in the children's home next door. In a world where all kids seem to want are electronics, Andrew asked for books and a gift card to The Book Table, our local independent book store. So I picked up a Disney Inside Out coloring/puzzle book and a $10 Book Table gift card. It felt really good.
3) Dropped off a bag of goodies for the food pantry. Included
with the standard soups and beans were chicken broth and lots of tea.
The broth? Because people will need it to baste their Christmas turkey.
The tea? My aunt sent me a big box of tea for my birthday and there is
no way I can drink all of it. They're tasty and fragrant and I want to
share. So I packed up the ones with the most distant exp. dates and
threw them into the bag. Nice to add something a little luxe and
seasonal to the mix.
This is the stuff that reminds me what Christmas is all about. For me, doing good brings me closer to Christ. It's such a feel good. I highly recommend it!
We're setting the Wayback to the autumn when I just turned four. Mattel was the one brand name I knew. Mattel made Barbie. Mattle made Chatty Cathy, the doll that talked. Mattel knew what I wanted.
So when the commercials said, "NEW from Mattel!" naturally they had my attention. When I saw him, they had my heart.
Blaze. The most beautiful thing ever. A pinto rocking horse who didn't just rock. He bounced up and down, too! And, when you pulled the string, he neighed and whinnied. He was my ideal. I didn't just want him. I loved him.
Then the Sears catalog came. I gazed at the black-and-white photo of him for what felt like hours on end (but, considering I was a fidgety four-year-old, it was probably five consecutive minutes). When we went shopping for something boring at Sears, I broke away from my family and my parents found me in the toy department, talking to Blaze. He was set at the top of the shelf where I couldn't touch him. But at least he wasn't in a box, so I could see him. He was dazzling.
My mom told me later that was when the deal was sealed. After catching me talk aloud to my horse in the toy aisle of Sears, they knew what Santa was getting me.
I will always, ALWAYS remember coming into the living room on Christmas morning and seeing Blaze under the tree. To me it meant Santa and magic and love were real.
Saturday 9: Boulevard of Broken Dreams (2004) 1) The "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
video begins with the gentlemen of Green Day dealing with car trouble.
If your car overheated, what's the first thing you would do to remedy
the situation?No freaking clue. I'm the least car-savvy person on earth. I haven't driven since Ronald Reagan was in office, and don't even have a license anymore. 2)
Thinking of cars, lead singer Billie Joe Armstrong has had his share of
trouble behind the wheel and was busted for driving well beyond the
speed limit. Was your last ticket for parking, or was it a moving
violation?See above 3)
Billie Joe says "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" was inspired by the Edward
Hopper painting, "Nighthawks." Tell us about a piece of artwork that
you enjoy. (Yes, the macaroni picture frame created for you by your
nephew counts.)This is Thomas McKnight's Lake Shore Drive. It hangs on the wall behind me as I answer these questions. I have three framed McKnight posters in my home, but LSD is my favorite and it's representative of McKnight's work. It feels like life is going on in the rooms he paints, and you could just dive in and start living an alternate, fairy tale existence.
4) Let's go back to childhood. Was the home where you grew up located on a boulevard, an avenue, a street, a lane or a road? Avenue 5) This song won Green Day a Grammy for Record of the Year. What positive feedback have you received recently? One of my neighbors called me "an angel" after he saw me helping someone. That made me smile. 6)
Green
Day uses their Facebook page to let more than 32 millions know what the
group is doing. What's the last thing you posted to social media? I shared the Tribune blurb that BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN IS COMING TO CHICAGO!!!!! 7) In 2004, when this song was popular, Ken Jennings had a still unbeaten string of 74 wins on Jeopardy! What game show do you think you'd do well on? Who Wants to be a Millionaire 8)
Also in 2004, Lance Armstrong was in the midst of his own Tour de
France winning streak. Now we know he cheated. Tell us about a time you
broke the rules. All day, ever day. There's a village ordinance that says I can only have two cats and yet here I am with three. I'm a lawbreaking rogue, that's all there is to it. 9) 2004 is when Morgan Spurlock released Super Size Me, his documentary about eating nothing but McDonald's for a month. What's the last fast food restaurant you visited? Friday night I had a cheeseburger from Five Guys.
My oldest friend and I both love our cats. We have since we were little girls (back then, hers was named Smitty, mine was Tommy). It's the first of many bonds we have shared since Kindergarten.
When we were in Las Vegas, less than two weeks ago, she knew how worried I was about my old boy, Joey. I mentioned it to her often. As we were leaving, and she bemoaned returning to reality, I said I'd be willing to stay a day longer if only I wasn't so worried about my ancient tomcat. That was Monday.
Wednesday I sent her an email, letting her know how concerned the vet was about his condition and how worried I was about getting the results of the bloodwork. I heard nothing back.
Thursday, she sent a little text wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. Friday, nothing. Saturday, nothing. Sunday, nothing, Monday, nothing. Tuesday, nothing, Wednesday nothing, Thursday afternoon = I get a chatty email about how she has to meet with her counselor at the program she's in for her depression, and how much she's enjoying the Al Capone book I recommended to her while we were in Las Vegas.
Not a word about Joey. No question as to how he's doing. Also, no mention of the protests that went on throughout the Loop after the Laquan McDonald video was released. I know those demonstrations got national press coverage and she knows I work in the Loop.
I was hurt. I was offended.
I resent the Wednesday (day before Thanksgiving) email and said, "Was surprised when you didn't respond."
She replied she must have dumped it without reading it, that she's glad Joey is doing better, and she understands about the Loop because of the terror attack in San Bernadino.
Um, no. Joey is not doing better. Joey is dying. And no, she doesn't understand about the Loop because San Bernadino is an hour from where she lives and works and I'm in the Loop every day, twice a day. (And added that I was happy she was enjoying the book and that Robert St. John was my favorite character in the Capone saga.)
That was yesterday afternoon. I haven't heard a thing since.
I don't know what to do with all I'm feeling.
I know that she's fighting depression. Biochemical depression that makes it almost impossible for her to function. She's learning to deal with it. She's adjusting her life to meds and positive self talk. She's working on it. I know she is. I appreciate it. I applaud it.
So she can't take my calls because she's too busy and she dumps my emails without reading them.
Maybe that's what she has to do to keep her head above water. She's admitted contemplating suicide more than once over the last two years. Perhaps this self absorption is her self preservation. Maybe expecting her to get over her depression is like asking her to get over her heart disease.
I don't know what to do. I don't know how to handle this. I love her and I don't want to put a foot wrong. I want to stand up for myself without hurting her.
I wish I was back in therapy myself, just so I could ask a shrink what to do.
It changes. This year it's "Christmas Holiday." There's an urgency, an eager anticipation that really appeals to me this year.
"Yuletide! Good cheer! Christmas is here!"
While the song may change year-to-year, my favorite holiday artist never does. Andy Williams. Between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day, I want to hear Andy Williams every day.
When I was a kid, I fantasized like mad about spending Christmas with Andy as his family. I knew them from his annual holiday show: they were a big clan, they sang, they never fought. Of course, in 1976 the ex-Mrs. Williams shot her lover, so I guess no one is as they seem.
But let's not allow that pesky reality to harsh our holiday buzz!
December 3: How/when did you find out Santa isn't real
Throughout the Christmas break from Kindergarten, I started questioning.
• Why does Santa use the same wrapping paper and gift tags as my mom?
• Why did the kids down the block get so much less? Does Santa give less to kids in big families?
My mother remembered it as me "challenging" her, but at this point I still believed. I wanted answers, that's all. For the following Christmas, my mom purchased separate "Santa paper" and the gift tag became just squares of paper that she wrote with her left hand. In retrospect, I'm touched by how much work she put into maintaining the illusion.
Alas, by then (first grade) the jig was up. Too many kids at school were starting to question at well. I don't remember their specific queries, but they were different than mine. That meant there were a lot of unresolved issues! For me, the last straw was the adhesive where price stickers had obviously been. If elves made this toy, why does the package have a price sticker?
So, just before Christmas in second grade, my parents sat my sister and I down in my room and told us the truth. My dad -- in a move remarkably thoughtful for a man who was so uncomfortable parenting -- read us a condensced version of the New York newspaper's "Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus" editorial.
"Yeah, yeah," I was thinking. "Now get out of my room. This is weird."
My older sister, however, was a different case. A third grader, remember. She was shattered. She cried, really cried. Red face and snots.
It was not the first time I thought she was an idiot.
What I wanted then, I still want now: Homemade gingerbread! Men would be
optimal, but I'll happily accept a gingerbread loaf or plain old round
cookies.
My niece is an exceptional cook and simply refuses to make it for me.
She says the kind I'll "settle" for are not the type she wants to make
and she simply doesn't have time to make them the way she wants to. It
also amuses her that I want them so badly. Last year she gave me ginger beer.
The year before that it was a box of a gazillion little store-bought
gingerbread stars. I don't recall what she did in 2013, but I'm sure
this year she'll come up with yet another way to taunt me.
As I write this, there's a mass shooting unfolding in San Bernardino. Just days ago, there was a mass shooting in Colorado Springs. Both of those instances are tragic. But they aren't what this post is about.
My hometown is being held together with chewing gum and twine. So, what's going on here in Chicago takes precedence over what's going on out west.
We'd all heard about "the tape." After all, the incident happened a year ago. The existence of the dashcam video was well known. We knew that, when we eventually saw it, it would show a kid being shot 16 times by a cop. BUT we also had been told that after watching the video, we'd feel conflicted. We would understand how a cop could feel threatened enough to fire. The shooting victim was a big kid, high on PCP, waving a knife threateningly.
I believed that. Because I like cops. I like firemen and the military, too. I like people who are willing to go into harm's way on my behalf.
Last week we finally saw "the tape." It only took a moment to see we'd been lied to. Multiple police cars surround a kid who is walking up the middle of the street, a knife with a 3" blade in hand. He is not waving the knife menacingly. It's at his side. He had been slashing tires, and now he's obviously trying to get away.
A cop gets out of his squad car and shoots. The kid goes down. The cop empties his gun, firing 15 more times in less than 15 seconds.
Watch it and there will be no doubt in your mind. You know you're witnessing a murder.
Each of those multiple cop cars contained two officers. None of those policemen did anything to try to stop their fellow officer or save the kid.
It is chilling.
The kid, Laquan McDonald, was not a hero. He got high, grabbed a knife and went out to destroy property for his own amusement. I'm not in favor of this behavior. But, being a civilized human being with a funtioning brain, I also realize vandalism should not be punishable by death.
The city is furious.
• At the police dept., for tacitly protecting the cop after he fired and not the citizen they are sworn to protect.
• At the state's attorney who took a year to charge the cop.
• At the mayor, who didn't release the tape antil last week, and that was because a judge ordered him to do so.
And so the city protested for three days. At City Hall, on State Street, and most famously along the Mag Mile on Black Friday. I'm proud to report that both the protesters and the police behaved as well as can be expected, far better than I thought possible. We managed to escape the destruction that plagued Baltimore and St. Louis.
The result is that the CPD is under tremendous scrutiny. Rahm Emmanuel fired the police chief and appointed a prestigious panel to examine police practices and culture. While I support this move, the timing scares me. With ISIS threatening to disrupt our shores with terrorism, I'd prefer to have an experienced police chief at the helm, and right now we don't.
What I wanted then, I still want now: Homemade gingerbread! Men would be optimal, but I'll happily accept a gingerbread loaf or plain old round cookies.
My niece is an exceptional cook and simply refuses to make it for me. She says the kind I'll "settle" for are not the type she wants to make and she simply doesn't have time to make them the way she wants to. It also amuses her that I want them so badly. Last year she gave me ginger beer. The year before that it was a box of a gazillion little store-bought gingerbread stars. I don't recall what she did in 2013, but I'm sure this year she'll come up with yet another way to taunt me.
Oh, Magoo, you've done it again! Yes, it's Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol (1962).
Love, love, love this. It's funny. It's witty. It's imaginative. It's touching. It's remarkably faithful to Dickens and, remarkably, it's just an hour long.
If you have a child in your life, I highly recommend you watch this together. It's an easily accessible introduction to the Scrooge tale. And if you don't have a kid in your life, well, what the hell, enjoy it anyway.
