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| The hotel pool screening |
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.
| Learn more about the theater here. |
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| The hotel pool screening |
I'm finally feeling better -- a week after returning home from Hollywood. I had a lovely time, but the weather was awful (I kept hearing Sinatra's voice: "She hates California, it's cold and it's damp.") Many of us fell victim to a virus, too. My old boss, Aaron, works in Hollywood and we were going to get together and catch up. He had to cancel on my first night because of a bug, and I think I took it home with me. Rumor has it 50 TCM festival goers reported being sick on social media -- but to be clear, I don't know for certain that's true. I do know that I started feeling shitty last Saturday night and by the time I got home on Monday, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed. Where I've pretty much stayed for a week.
Which doesn't mean I didn't have a great time. Fourteen movies at five different venues over four days. Surrounded by other passionate cinephiles (OK, movie nerds). What's not to love?
I was back at the Hollywood Celebrity Hotel again this year. They did everything they could to make us TCMFF-ers feel safe and welcome, and I appreciated it. My room was also warm. I spent all day chilled as I rushed from venue to venue, and then the movie theaters themselves were entirely too cold, too.* So it was completely wonderful to burrow under the covers.
On Day One, I got together with my Chicago crew -- Karen, Betty, Will and Guy -- at the opening reception. Karen and Will competed gamely in the classic movie trivia contest. They didn't prevail, but they represented us well. Saturday 9: I Won't Be the One to Let Go (2002)
Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.
Thirteen facts about the Hollywood sign. I spent five nights in Hollywood and this sign seems to float overhead, adding a little glamor to what can at times be a pretty tacky place.
1. When it was first built in 1923, the sign had nothing to do with the movie business. It was an ad for "Hollywoodland," a real estate development.
2. The letters are 45' tall and today they are made of metal. They were originally constructed of wood and metal, but the wood couldn't withstand the elements and in the 1940s were replaced with 100% metal.
3. The letters are painted in a bright white and outlined in black for maximum visibility.
4. The Hollywood sign sits on land that is part of Griffith Park.
5. While it can easily be seen from countless vantage points, tourists can hike up to the sign along a trail through Griffith Park.
6. If you'd rather ride, the Hollywood sign is a stop on many of the sight seeing bus tours.
7. Earlier in
2000s, a developer wanted to build homes nearby, but that idea was nixed
by the City of Los Angeles. To protect it, the sign has been declared a cultural landmark.
8. Because it's so iconic, it's often been the target of vandals. Most notably, in the 1970s it was changed to read "Hollyweed."
9. It was repaired quickly by the Hollywood Sign Trust, a charitable organization created for the sign's upkeep.
10. In 1978, Alice Cooper donated $30,000 to the trust in memory of Groucho Marx.
11. In case you're thinking of doing a little mischief up there, know that the letters are now protected by security sensors.
12. The sign was infamous in 1932 when 24-year-old actress Peg Entwistle leapt from the "H" to her death. Her suicide note said, "I am afraid I am a coward. I am sorry for everything. If I had done this a long time ago, I would have saved a lot of pain. P.E." No one knows for certain why she did it, but her career was progressing so her reasons were likely personal, not professional.
13. It was also once hit by a drunk driver. Back in the Roaring 20s, a man lost control of his car and it rolled down the hill into the "H." The car was totaled, but the driver survived and the "H" was repaired.
Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.
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Photo by Isabella Fischer on Unsplash |
I have felt awful since Monday morning. Congested, tired, headachey. No fever, though, and none of the dastardly gastrointestinal upset that plagued me during my 2020 bout with covid.
No, this feels like the garden variety flu. As awful as I feel, I'm grateful that it's not serious and that it didn't ruin my movie-going. Monday was my travel day, and I hate flying so it's not like this had a negative impact on my TCM Film Festival experience.
Something seems to be going around Los Angeles. I was supposed to have lunch with my darling former boss, Aaron, last Wednesday and he had to cancel. He was battling a bug, too!
Oh, well. If you'll excuse me, I have to roll over and go back to sleep.
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 can 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.
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 can 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.
It was this evening that I saw him. A big, rather dirty tom. He certainly looked well fed. He was wary of me as I took out the garbage. I interrupted him as he made his way across our property to the neighbor's.
I called out to him and began trying to make friends when it hit me: I can't. I don't have time tomorrow to take him to the vet or the animal shelter to see if he's chipped. I leave for the airport at 7:00 AM.
I want to believe he's not lost and on his way to his own yard and home. Maybe he'll be safe soon enough.
I hope so.
As much as I want to, I can't save them all.
Photo by Jack Blueberry on Unsplash
I've been upset with our interim minister lately. She's been pushing us to give up our church building. She says we're "too attached to an edifice," that we spend too much on upkeep,* that the Sunday School is too cramped ... Yadda yadda yadda. I don't care. I love this building. Our congregation has been worshiping on this spot since 1909. It's sacred to me. Besides, she's a short-timer who will move on sometime this spring, when our new full-time minister formally accepts the offer that's been tendered. So just shut up with this "edifice" talk and let me worship where I feel closest to God and community.
I'm being unfair, I know. We were a mess when our previous minister was canned. As a congregation, we were divided about his dismissal. Some thought he was insensitive to church employees and guilty of neglecting the administrative part of his job. Others felt dismissal was too severe a punishment for infractions that had nothing to do with stewardship. Our interim minister did a very good job of calming the waters and bringing us back together as a congregation.
And she's good on the holidays. Her Christmas Eve sermon resonated with me. It was an unconventional musing about what she'd do if an angel appeared before her. It was warm, funny, and made me feel closer to her because what she imagined she's say to the angel sounded quite a bit like my personal conversations with the God.
Today, for Easter, she talked about the Resurrection in a highly original way. She began by comparing/contrasting the discrepancies in the Bible. Matthew, Mark, and Luke seem to contradict one another on how many women came to the tomb, to whom Jesus first appeared, etc. She said, and I heartily agree, that these details shouldn't distract from the message: Christ rose.Instead, she said, she wondered how the Resurrection felt to Jesus. He'd spent three days away, three days in the realm of the dead. Was He confused upon His return? His wounds hadn't healed -- after all, He let Thomas touch them -- so was He in pain?
Resurrection must have been uncomfortable for Jesus, she reasoned. So we should expect it to be difficult for us when we reinvent ourselves, emerge from a bad patch, come through the rain. The important thing is that we maintain our focus on love and compassion, even as we navigate our new paths. His example is there for us to learn from.
Maybe because it's Easter, but I suddenly feel lighter. I heard the 1982 song "You Are" on the radio today. It was one of "our" songs, popular during the good times in my long, complicated relationship with a tortured man. I avoided this song because when I heard the refrain, "... and I'd do it all again," I felt it was mocking me. In real time, I felt I had no choice but to love that man and once I committed to him I had to stay. If I loved him enough I could heal him and us. My devotion and loyalty were rewarded with cruelty and violence.Yet today when I heard "... and I'd do it all again," I didn't feel angry, or rueful, or foolish. I felt like it no longer matters. It was half a lifetime ago. Yes, this relationship changed me, even damaged me. But I came through. I had my personal rebirth today, too, so I can finally forgive him for what he did, and forgive myself for all I accepted and how long I stayed.
It feels good.
*OK, that one's valid.
Saturday 9: Easter Parade

The thirteen top places we shop. According to the National Retail Federation, this is where we spent our money in 2022. At $460 billion, Walmart is #1 by far. I'm surprised. I expected it to be Amazon ($219 billion).
Amazon, Target and Albertson's are my go-tos. I also go out of my way to shop at least once/month at the little mom-and-pop on the other side of town. What about you? Where does your retail money go?
Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.
... to be MAGA in that every day is a new dawn and you have no memory of anything that went before.
There is much gasping and handwringing over the "political persecution" of Donald Trump. How now we are a "banana republic" with a "weaponized" justice department. How convenient to have forgotten that they voted for a man who made "Lock Her Up" his rallying cry in in 2016 and never let it go.
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| November 2016 |
A year after the election and he's still obsessed with investigating and punishing her.
This man's brand is pettiness and using power to "settle scores."
So I prefer to think the 38% of Americans who oppose the indictment just have remarkably short memories. Otherwise I'd need hip boots to wade through the hypocrisy.
PS I can 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.
Also, unlike Mary/Laura, I don't want a best friend dropping in at all hours. Mary had Rhoda, who lived upstairs. Laura had Millie, right next door. Many times, on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Rhoda would drop in as soon as she heard Mary was home from work. On The Dick Van Dyke Show, Millie was always coming over to gossip over coffee or compare notes on the carpool.
No thank you. I would hate that. First of all, I'm a slob and my home is not visitor-ready at all hours (OK, it's never ready). Secondly, I value my alone time. Too much perhaps. I've learned since covid lockdown that just because something is comfortable doesn't mean it's good for me.
Which leads me to Elaine. I think she wants to be my Rhoda or Millie. Or, since she's just a couple years older than me and likely grew up on MTM, too, maybe she wants me to be her Rhoda or Millie.We saw each other a couple weeks ago for her birthday. It seems that every day since she's got ideas of other things we can do together. She's nice, she's interesting and imaginative, we have many common interests. So all this is nice, right?
It just feels like too much. If I see one of my friends once each week, that's plenty for me. (This week it's Nancy. I think. She may cancel, and if she does, that's OK.)
But Elaine is a good person, and her heart is valuable. So today I'm going to send her a nice long email to keep the dialog going and to let her know she matters.
I'm not Mary Tyler Moore after all. I'm really a cat. I'm loving and devoted, in my way.
The weather has been cold and rainy lately. So the clear skies and 50º+ temps were beckoning me. I was going to put on my headphones and listen to the Yankees game (EST) as I walked the mile to The Dollar Store. Then I'd listen to the end of the Cubs (CST) game on the way back. Sunshine and the crack of the bat! I was happy.
I noticed, though, that there was something hinky with my phone. It said that today was Wednesday, February 1. It was also very quiet. No alerts or texts. Scariest of all, every time I tried to open the MLB app, it told me to "try again later."Oh, no! I need the MLB app. So I uninstalled it and then went to install it again. I could not get into the Google Play Store. "Try again later."
Oh, no! I tried to download it via my laptop. I couldn't, because according to MLB.com it was still on my phone. But I'd just uninstalled it!
So I called Consumer Cellular. They really are as nice and accommodating as they are portrayed on the TV commercials. The customer service rep told me to first try this and then try that. Neither worked. She had to send a code to my phone for security reasons before we could go further. My phone wasn't accepting her texts. So she sent it to my email -- my laptop was working perfectly -- and she tried some things on her end.
"Your phone isn't connected to The Tower," she reported. She explained there was a problem with my wifi. Perhaps all I need to do is reset my wifi password.
Only I don't know my wifi password. So I'd have to call Xfinity. The Consumer Cellular service rep said she'd wait.
I couldn't get a live person from Xfinity to help me with my password because -- wait for it -- there was a wifi "connectivity issue" in my neighborhood. That would be fixed by 5:30.
Two hours.
On the plus side: after more than 40 minutes, we now knew the problem wasn't my phone. On the negative side: There goes the sunshine.
I was bereft.
At this point, while I was settling in to watch baseball on my TV, my oldest friend happened to call. My emotions were complicated (see the post below). On the one hand, I didn't feel like dealing with her because I'm pissed at her. And I've just wasted 40 fruitless minutes on the phone with Consumer Cellular, which never enhances my temperament. On the other hand, I've been friends with her since Kindergarten. She's more than earned the benefit of the doubt.
We talked about an hour. She's already having sex with her new beau, which bothers me. Not for any puritanical reasons -- I think sex is normal, natural and fun and besides, they're both senior citizens. There's no risk of pregnancy.
It bothers me because, of the two of us, she's the puritan. She wrings her hands and clutches her pearls when people fall into bed. I know impulsivity is a symptom of her mood swings. So this is a red flag for me.
On the other hand, she's happy. She feels as pretty as she is. She has renewed hopes that her upcoming surgery will improve her quality of life. Best of all, she isn't counting on her cousin for help after surgery, which is good because her cousin doesn't fail to disappoint.
By now the issue with my wifi is corrected, but the ballgames are over. I saw little of the Yankees or the Cubs. It's after 5:00, the day is over, and I haven't eaten anything all day.
So instead of walking two miles, I walked a couple blocks and picked up a thin crust cheese pizza from Lou Malnati's. Because I had gut trouble this morning, I skipped the vegetables I was going to have as a side dish in favor of mashed potatoes. Pizza with mashed potatoes on the side is not part of any diet plan, but I felt I deserved this after the frustrating, intense afternoon I'd had.
And this is why I'm fat. The end.