Tonight I'd like to write out a prayer. This was written by a teacher from my boarding school, Hampden DuBose Academy. Most of the teachers were maiden ladies who had dedicated their lives to serving the Lord at the Academy. They were outstanding women of God, totally devoted and hard working, under less than ideal circumstances at times. They didn't have the usual freedoms we enjoy, they were really locked into the system and confines of the school, but their freedom was in true service, born of their love for God. Inspiring.
Miss Evelyn Stone was the English teacher and a dorm supervisor. She also handled the school office as secretary. Amazing. She always looked as neat as a pin, the hair and dress of a real lady. I have no idea how she managed all of her responsibilities so gracefully. Rather than being the most popular teacher, I think Miss Stone was held in high esteem by the students; we had a healthy respect and admiration for her. You didn't mess with Miss Stone.
Most of the teachers have gone to Heaven, including Miss Stone, after 69 years of ministry at the Academy. The teachers were close friends with one another and it was agonizing for them to lose their best friends, one by one. I miss her. She penned these words in 1999, seven years before her death. The prayer was sent to the alumni upon her passing.
My Prayer, Lord,
When Thou seest that my work is done,
Let me not linger on with failing powers,
Wasting the weary hours;
A workless worker in a world of work.
But with a word just call me Home,
And I will come right gladly.
Yes,
Right gladly will I come. ~Evelyn Stone
Isn't that breathtaking? Somehow, her words touched me so. You know that something like this could only come from the heart of a woman who had walked with her Lord for many years. So many people have made a difference in my life, she was one of them.
KEM
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
You know all those Toyotas being recalled? All those gazillions of them? Yeah, well, I own one. No, I lease one. We leased it December 31, 2009, about 9:00 PM. Meaning, we were the last customer at Autoway Toyota not just for the entire year, but . . . hold the applause . . . for the entire decade. How hair-brained can you get??
I no sooner drove the car home and sat down to eat a snack after the exhausting and hunger inducing transaction than I read in the newspaper (I generally like the newspaper for company when I eat) that Such and Such Toyotas were having a little problema. Namely, that the accelerator sticks . . . sometimes. Groovy, can I return my car and get my money back now? This is just pure KEM bad luck or whatever you want to call it. I lease a car and 10 minutes later I'm reading that I might get behind the wheel of that baby and never stop, just fly on down the highway forevermore.
Accelerating things are not, ahem, my thing. In Old Amsterdam I got on an ANCIENT elevator, the first one ever created, FOR SURE, in an ANCIENT tall hotel. Amsterdam is plainly an ANCIENT city. Naughty, too. Some older ladies in the group were with me and we were only trying to get to our floor in the hotel. But, honest to goodness, that elevator started accelerating, gradually at first, but picking up speed ferociously. I could feel it, I could hear it, I could see us blasting out the roof of the hotel. We would be in the papers the next morning. As always in a crisis, I voiced our doom. One grumpy old lady looked madder than a hatter, because I think she was terrified, too. Well, falling into stitches is what I do best, so I broke into hysterics of laughter. Which made grumpy lady, oh, so ultra grumpy.
Old things are not my thing either, such as machinery. As a little girl in Michigan we'd go to this ANCIENT amusement park on Lake Michigan. Silver Beach. The old rickety roller coaster terrified me because of its age, not because of some magnificent thrill factor based on the actual ride. I knew perfectly well that the thing was going to do a nosedive while I was aboard. And I'm talking about the roller track, crash-bang-boom. Same thing at Wildwood, NJ, boardwalk. There was a water coaster and I stood and watched people who held no value for their lives creep up that steep coaster that was just bound to collapse any second now. Then I would jump in the next car. Honestly, is the whole world totally senseless?
Well, I read all about the floor mats and the faulty parts and what have you. And what to do should the unforgivable happen to you. Listen up, now, you don't pump the brakes, horrors no, you slam the brake pedal down once and for all and shift the car into neutral. All the while catching up on your prayer life. Then I guess you neatly maneuver to the accident lane with the idea of avoiding ten thousand collisions. Sounds like a blast. Mike thinks I'm a big dork because I'm not going to drive my car fast on the Interstate until I am invited back to Toyota to repair this mess.
Well, really, after our smart car purchase, we were on our way to Val-Toad's New Year Eve's party. But trying to pick the right color for the car was just draining, thus having to stop home to eat, oh yeah, and make salad to take to the party, which was totally pointless at this late hour, Please, have some salad with your Key Lime pie. That surprised me, not being able to pick out a color, because when I picked out a car 7 years ago I simply said within 2 seconds of walking on the lot, I'll take that one, and pointed elegantly. At the time I had been running all over town and beyond trying to find bathroom tile for a redo. It amused me that I could pick out an automobile in 5 minutes flat when it had taken me 50+ hours to track down the right tile. But find tile I did. Way over in Sarasota, and it's made by Villoroy and Baush (or whatever that fine china is). It's a neat feeling to have dishes on your shower walls, sort of.
Oh yes, so we did get to Val's finally . . . barely before the stroke of midnight. We were going to watch the ball drop but somehow the station was playing a crazy man who was going to hurtle his car over a bridge that had the middle taken out, you know, just to see if he could whiz on over to the other side without dropping into the ocean below. Watching some crazy man take his life in his own hands was not my idea of ringing in the New Year. I really didn't want to see this little experiment fail. Oh my, it was the biggest deal, and all but KEM were fastened to the TV set. KEM wandered into the kitchen where Val-Toad, a famous cook, had a plate of the best little meringue puffs you ever put into your mouth. The insane dare devil was making me such a wreck that I started popping meringue puffs into my mouth, pop, pop, pop, they go down easy, all the while glancing furtively toward the TV. The build up and suspense was more than I could take. The next thing I know, Where did all the puffs go? It was called nervous eating. Hope no one else wanted any.
Okay, I wasn't going to blog tonight, not really, but that was my exciting New Year's Eve, all in a meringue puff. My little lady I help gave me Benadryl, because it helps you sleep. I kept forgetting to try it, but last night I popped the little pink pill. It's marvelous to help you sleep and I became drowsy instantly and slept and slept and felt so much better today. Yahoo! I might try it again tonight. Besides, remember the Target pharmacist told me not to buy the name brand sleeping tablets but just to buy cheap old store brand version of Benadryl, which I didn't. I didn't buy anything.
I keep ending my paragraphs abruptly. It's kinda fun.
My hair is carrot colored. I told the lady at Fantastic Sams that I didn't want it too red. So she opted for orange instead. Honestly, do you have to spell out EVERYTHING?? Then I told her, NO OLD LADY POOF on the sides. I said, I don't mind a little height on top, but the sides must be sleek. So she went right ahead and combed all my hair back on top, like I had just emerged from a 1970's or 50's beauty parlor, Poof City. Yet she herself had height on her short hair, but modern and edgy, combed straight over to the side, longish . . . really cute. I was disgusted, let me tell you. The second I walked outta there I smashed my hair forward and flat with my hands. This lady was German and she should know better.
Get a load of this. Right after my hair appointment I went directly to my neighborhood where I grew up. We were visiting with neighbors and darling children. This is a neighborhood that never loses that old-timey friendly feel. It has sidewalks and everything, love it, love it, love it. People actually USE their neighborhood Well, this girl I hadn't seen in years walked over and another neighbor had just told me that this girl bought a Fantastic Sams. So, big mouth here says, HELLO??, you own a FS and I just got my hair done at one for the very first time ever, like one hour ago. She said, Did you like it? I said, Of course! Well, I DO like the actual haircut. Next time I will say, BROWN HAIR, forget any trace of red, (see, I was thinking a smidge of red brightens the complexion and all). And I will say, Get edgy, Girl, and poof is outer than out. Now, the real test comes tomorrow when I wash this mess. Then I will know if the hair cut works.
Everyone have a SUPER weekend, ha, ha. Go Tony Dungy's old team.
This was a very far-out blog.
Carroty, meringue popping KEM
I no sooner drove the car home and sat down to eat a snack after the exhausting and hunger inducing transaction than I read in the newspaper (I generally like the newspaper for company when I eat) that Such and Such Toyotas were having a little problema. Namely, that the accelerator sticks . . . sometimes. Groovy, can I return my car and get my money back now? This is just pure KEM bad luck or whatever you want to call it. I lease a car and 10 minutes later I'm reading that I might get behind the wheel of that baby and never stop, just fly on down the highway forevermore.
Accelerating things are not, ahem, my thing. In Old Amsterdam I got on an ANCIENT elevator, the first one ever created, FOR SURE, in an ANCIENT tall hotel. Amsterdam is plainly an ANCIENT city. Naughty, too. Some older ladies in the group were with me and we were only trying to get to our floor in the hotel. But, honest to goodness, that elevator started accelerating, gradually at first, but picking up speed ferociously. I could feel it, I could hear it, I could see us blasting out the roof of the hotel. We would be in the papers the next morning. As always in a crisis, I voiced our doom. One grumpy old lady looked madder than a hatter, because I think she was terrified, too. Well, falling into stitches is what I do best, so I broke into hysterics of laughter. Which made grumpy lady, oh, so ultra grumpy.
Old things are not my thing either, such as machinery. As a little girl in Michigan we'd go to this ANCIENT amusement park on Lake Michigan. Silver Beach. The old rickety roller coaster terrified me because of its age, not because of some magnificent thrill factor based on the actual ride. I knew perfectly well that the thing was going to do a nosedive while I was aboard. And I'm talking about the roller track, crash-bang-boom. Same thing at Wildwood, NJ, boardwalk. There was a water coaster and I stood and watched people who held no value for their lives creep up that steep coaster that was just bound to collapse any second now. Then I would jump in the next car. Honestly, is the whole world totally senseless?
Well, I read all about the floor mats and the faulty parts and what have you. And what to do should the unforgivable happen to you. Listen up, now, you don't pump the brakes, horrors no, you slam the brake pedal down once and for all and shift the car into neutral. All the while catching up on your prayer life. Then I guess you neatly maneuver to the accident lane with the idea of avoiding ten thousand collisions. Sounds like a blast. Mike thinks I'm a big dork because I'm not going to drive my car fast on the Interstate until I am invited back to Toyota to repair this mess.
Well, really, after our smart car purchase, we were on our way to Val-Toad's New Year Eve's party. But trying to pick the right color for the car was just draining, thus having to stop home to eat, oh yeah, and make salad to take to the party, which was totally pointless at this late hour, Please, have some salad with your Key Lime pie. That surprised me, not being able to pick out a color, because when I picked out a car 7 years ago I simply said within 2 seconds of walking on the lot, I'll take that one, and pointed elegantly. At the time I had been running all over town and beyond trying to find bathroom tile for a redo. It amused me that I could pick out an automobile in 5 minutes flat when it had taken me 50+ hours to track down the right tile. But find tile I did. Way over in Sarasota, and it's made by Villoroy and Baush (or whatever that fine china is). It's a neat feeling to have dishes on your shower walls, sort of.
Oh yes, so we did get to Val's finally . . . barely before the stroke of midnight. We were going to watch the ball drop but somehow the station was playing a crazy man who was going to hurtle his car over a bridge that had the middle taken out, you know, just to see if he could whiz on over to the other side without dropping into the ocean below. Watching some crazy man take his life in his own hands was not my idea of ringing in the New Year. I really didn't want to see this little experiment fail. Oh my, it was the biggest deal, and all but KEM were fastened to the TV set. KEM wandered into the kitchen where Val-Toad, a famous cook, had a plate of the best little meringue puffs you ever put into your mouth. The insane dare devil was making me such a wreck that I started popping meringue puffs into my mouth, pop, pop, pop, they go down easy, all the while glancing furtively toward the TV. The build up and suspense was more than I could take. The next thing I know, Where did all the puffs go? It was called nervous eating. Hope no one else wanted any.
Okay, I wasn't going to blog tonight, not really, but that was my exciting New Year's Eve, all in a meringue puff. My little lady I help gave me Benadryl, because it helps you sleep. I kept forgetting to try it, but last night I popped the little pink pill. It's marvelous to help you sleep and I became drowsy instantly and slept and slept and felt so much better today. Yahoo! I might try it again tonight. Besides, remember the Target pharmacist told me not to buy the name brand sleeping tablets but just to buy cheap old store brand version of Benadryl, which I didn't. I didn't buy anything.
I keep ending my paragraphs abruptly. It's kinda fun.
My hair is carrot colored. I told the lady at Fantastic Sams that I didn't want it too red. So she opted for orange instead. Honestly, do you have to spell out EVERYTHING?? Then I told her, NO OLD LADY POOF on the sides. I said, I don't mind a little height on top, but the sides must be sleek. So she went right ahead and combed all my hair back on top, like I had just emerged from a 1970's or 50's beauty parlor, Poof City. Yet she herself had height on her short hair, but modern and edgy, combed straight over to the side, longish . . . really cute. I was disgusted, let me tell you. The second I walked outta there I smashed my hair forward and flat with my hands. This lady was German and she should know better.
Get a load of this. Right after my hair appointment I went directly to my neighborhood where I grew up. We were visiting with neighbors and darling children. This is a neighborhood that never loses that old-timey friendly feel. It has sidewalks and everything, love it, love it, love it. People actually USE their neighborhood Well, this girl I hadn't seen in years walked over and another neighbor had just told me that this girl bought a Fantastic Sams. So, big mouth here says, HELLO??, you own a FS and I just got my hair done at one for the very first time ever, like one hour ago. She said, Did you like it? I said, Of course! Well, I DO like the actual haircut. Next time I will say, BROWN HAIR, forget any trace of red, (see, I was thinking a smidge of red brightens the complexion and all). And I will say, Get edgy, Girl, and poof is outer than out. Now, the real test comes tomorrow when I wash this mess. Then I will know if the hair cut works.
Everyone have a SUPER weekend, ha, ha. Go Tony Dungy's old team.
This was a very far-out blog.
Carroty, meringue popping KEM
Thursday, February 4, 2010
KEM is now a redhead. Which works since she is Lucy to Val-Toad's Ethel.
You wanna know something? I don't feel well at all tonight and so I can't blog. I need a month in Bermuda and nothing short of that is going to do me any good at all.
VERY eventful day, but catch you later, 'gator. The main thing is that not two days ago someone I'd never met before told me I looked 31 or 2 (immediate new best friend for life). This made me pleased. HOWEVER, today, pride before the fall, not two days later, I see in the Fantastic Sams mirror that I look 97 if I look a day. Every salon has mirrors that, when you foolishly take a glance, make your hair stand on end, so what on earth is that point of THAT?? Not kidding, the bags under the eyes and the lids over the eyes, the crepe-y neck, the sagging jowl, the complexion lowered to the floor, sallow in color. Did I hit all the high points? Hideous. Depressing. True. And may I add, the fluorescent lights cast a freakish pallor over the whole agonizing and frightening image. Why do these places buy trick mirrors? I think it's so we think we look so awful from the start that when the hair job is done, we think we look improved by comparison? Well, we don't, I mean, I don't.
Oh, CDW had really weird migraine, they're catching, I'm telling you. In her very own inimitable words:
KEM Dearest,
Oh my goodness...I thought (like your sister, KEM adds) the blue dots were on your hands too! I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking that! I thought you had some chemical reaction or paint or something...the way you told about it didn't make me worry. I was going to ask about it, but the snow and your package kept making me forget...sorry I'm such a rotten friend.
BUTTTTTTTTT, interesting that it might be migraine related...I had something similar this last week. It was during the snow and Mary was home...because I told Mary I was dying. I had a giant C in my left eye that was rainbow in color and it was reverberating...a flashing giant rainbow C. It was crazy...I had to lie down and tell Mary to keep watch of me. I never got a headache...just the weird aura. Then later that night I got a backwards rainbow C in my right eye. I went to bed...and did not die. amazing. We are some kind of weird, aren't we? :) Glad to be in good company.
KEM here. It's true, we're all dying. And it's true that these psychedelic migraines don't generally come with pain, although last week pain preceded my blue spots migraine. The pain was forgotten because of the Annie Moses Band concert, bless them. So, I hate to say it, but I think I'd rather have the "take me off the planet pain" migraine than the "my eyes are disintegrating" migraine. Take your pick. It you're going to take my eyes, take me, too. Well, that's a very bad attitude, but in my condition bad is the only option.
Going to go sleep to my heart's content and wake up a new, fixed up woman,
KEM
You wanna know something? I don't feel well at all tonight and so I can't blog. I need a month in Bermuda and nothing short of that is going to do me any good at all.
VERY eventful day, but catch you later, 'gator. The main thing is that not two days ago someone I'd never met before told me I looked 31 or 2 (immediate new best friend for life). This made me pleased. HOWEVER, today, pride before the fall, not two days later, I see in the Fantastic Sams mirror that I look 97 if I look a day. Every salon has mirrors that, when you foolishly take a glance, make your hair stand on end, so what on earth is that point of THAT?? Not kidding, the bags under the eyes and the lids over the eyes, the crepe-y neck, the sagging jowl, the complexion lowered to the floor, sallow in color. Did I hit all the high points? Hideous. Depressing. True. And may I add, the fluorescent lights cast a freakish pallor over the whole agonizing and frightening image. Why do these places buy trick mirrors? I think it's so we think we look so awful from the start that when the hair job is done, we think we look improved by comparison? Well, we don't, I mean, I don't.
Oh, CDW had really weird migraine, they're catching, I'm telling you. In her very own inimitable words:
KEM Dearest,
Oh my goodness...I thought (like your sister, KEM adds) the blue dots were on your hands too! I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking that! I thought you had some chemical reaction or paint or something...the way you told about it didn't make me worry. I was going to ask about it, but the snow and your package kept making me forget...sorry I'm such a rotten friend.
BUTTTTTTTTT, interesting that it might be migraine related...I had something similar this last week. It was during the snow and Mary was home...because I told Mary I was dying. I had a giant C in my left eye that was rainbow in color and it was reverberating...a flashing giant rainbow C. It was crazy...I had to lie down and tell Mary to keep watch of me. I never got a headache...just the weird aura. Then later that night I got a backwards rainbow C in my right eye. I went to bed...and did not die. amazing. We are some kind of weird, aren't we? :) Glad to be in good company.
KEM here. It's true, we're all dying. And it's true that these psychedelic migraines don't generally come with pain, although last week pain preceded my blue spots migraine. The pain was forgotten because of the Annie Moses Band concert, bless them. So, I hate to say it, but I think I'd rather have the "take me off the planet pain" migraine than the "my eyes are disintegrating" migraine. Take your pick. It you're going to take my eyes, take me, too. Well, that's a very bad attitude, but in my condition bad is the only option.
Going to go sleep to my heart's content and wake up a new, fixed up woman,
KEM
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Two of my best friends have birthdays this week. Bob turned 83 and J. turned 91. I hope they have many, many more birthdays. Some Bible teachers are saying the Rapture will take place and the Day of Judgment will begin on May 21, 2011. They've done the math, straight from the Bible, and this isn't just one person saying this. Of course, we've all read the verse about not knowing the day of Christ's return. I don't have a good handle on this, but it does seem obvious to me that things are catapulting toward some sort of a climax, as evil regimes rise and things in general wax worse and worse. Anyway, if the end is near, we may all have about one birthday left. Mike says people have always said the end is right around the corner. Well, we are supposed to be looking so we aren't taken by surprise. Besides, the whole earth scoffed Noah right into the ark.
Tonight I made a dinner from the Better Homes and Garden Magazine. The recipes were by The Barefoot Contessa lady. Big winners. Both recipes were simplified versions of my usual recipes, specifically, Parmesan Chicken and Caesar Salad. Fewer steps, same taste, just like the all day blueberry dessert that, in the end, tasted exactly like French Toast with blueberry syrup, made in 15 minutes. Mike and stepson thought the salad dressing was too tart. Why is that, because I used extra lemon?? I loved it. The chicken was good, you had to dip it in flour, then egg, then bread crumbs. For once I didn't have a noivous breakdown because I doubled the amount of flour, egg and bread crumbs. What's worse than being in the middle of all that flour and egg goop and then running out of bread crumbs? I make my own bread crumbs in the blender, so trust me, nothing is worse. Had to throw out some leftover, but that beats the alternative.
Okay, so I canceled my expensive hair appointment for tomorrow. BECAUSE. Because I was clipping coupons during Andy Griffith and came across Fantastic Sams coupons. There is one right up the street and I'm going for it. Yes, I am. $$$$
The eye doctor told me that my blue spots, since they went away, were migraine related. Was talking to my sister on phone tonight and she interpreted my blue spots story to mean that big blue blotches really did surface on my hands. No, no, no. It only LOOKED like big blue splotches appeared on my hands. My eyes and brains (what brains?) were playing tricks. So, unless this happens again, I am okay for now, and I appreciate Sweet Tulsa and Miss Orcas for being concerned and offering tips. Friends are so lovely.
Mike's and my anniversary is Sunday, the 7th, Sunday. I always can't remember when it is, the 7th or the 8th. That's because my sister used to have an anniversary on February 7th or 8th, I never could keep us straight. Mike is insulted. But that's okay, we are going to celebrate on the 6th. We are going to spaghetti dinner at my parents' house for the Super Bowl and I was informed today they were ordering anniversary cake from Carolyn's Cakes and what kind of filling do we want? We want almond. White cake, white icing. Oh, yum. Go, COLTS! Tony Dungy's old team, of course. Tony Dungy for PRESIDENT! He lives here in Tampa, even after the dumb old Bucs fired him. And I think I don't have any brains.
If it is possible for me to become an even worse housekeeper, which I thought not, I have become one the last week. I think blue spots have eaten all my brain cells, even though I just said I don't have any brains, now you know why . . . now what? Whatever, I can't command myself to do ANYTHING. I need to live communally, so I have one task, like housekeeping or gardening. The modern woman has so many tasks to do and I can't multi-task, so I don't task at all. Sad.
Let's go study the Bible, seriously,
KEM
Tonight I made a dinner from the Better Homes and Garden Magazine. The recipes were by The Barefoot Contessa lady. Big winners. Both recipes were simplified versions of my usual recipes, specifically, Parmesan Chicken and Caesar Salad. Fewer steps, same taste, just like the all day blueberry dessert that, in the end, tasted exactly like French Toast with blueberry syrup, made in 15 minutes. Mike and stepson thought the salad dressing was too tart. Why is that, because I used extra lemon?? I loved it. The chicken was good, you had to dip it in flour, then egg, then bread crumbs. For once I didn't have a noivous breakdown because I doubled the amount of flour, egg and bread crumbs. What's worse than being in the middle of all that flour and egg goop and then running out of bread crumbs? I make my own bread crumbs in the blender, so trust me, nothing is worse. Had to throw out some leftover, but that beats the alternative.
Okay, so I canceled my expensive hair appointment for tomorrow. BECAUSE. Because I was clipping coupons during Andy Griffith and came across Fantastic Sams coupons. There is one right up the street and I'm going for it. Yes, I am. $$$$
The eye doctor told me that my blue spots, since they went away, were migraine related. Was talking to my sister on phone tonight and she interpreted my blue spots story to mean that big blue blotches really did surface on my hands. No, no, no. It only LOOKED like big blue splotches appeared on my hands. My eyes and brains (what brains?) were playing tricks. So, unless this happens again, I am okay for now, and I appreciate Sweet Tulsa and Miss Orcas for being concerned and offering tips. Friends are so lovely.
Mike's and my anniversary is Sunday, the 7th, Sunday. I always can't remember when it is, the 7th or the 8th. That's because my sister used to have an anniversary on February 7th or 8th, I never could keep us straight. Mike is insulted. But that's okay, we are going to celebrate on the 6th. We are going to spaghetti dinner at my parents' house for the Super Bowl and I was informed today they were ordering anniversary cake from Carolyn's Cakes and what kind of filling do we want? We want almond. White cake, white icing. Oh, yum. Go, COLTS! Tony Dungy's old team, of course. Tony Dungy for PRESIDENT! He lives here in Tampa, even after the dumb old Bucs fired him. And I think I don't have any brains.
If it is possible for me to become an even worse housekeeper, which I thought not, I have become one the last week. I think blue spots have eaten all my brain cells, even though I just said I don't have any brains, now you know why . . . now what? Whatever, I can't command myself to do ANYTHING. I need to live communally, so I have one task, like housekeeping or gardening. The modern woman has so many tasks to do and I can't multi-task, so I don't task at all. Sad.
Let's go study the Bible, seriously,
KEM
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
The TV was on to keep me company, even though I was practicing the piano. Got up to hear what dear Robert Osborn had to say about the movie of the night, which turned out to be The Best Years of Our Lives. Oh, dear. I think that's one of those movies I always see the end of or maybe the middle, but never the beginning. So I sat down to watch the beginning. Which, two and three hours later, turned out to be the middle and ending respectively. Plus, my back has been bothering me and no need to practice piano in pain.
Well, I love that movie. I love the time period, the clothes, the hair styles, the neighborhoods, the way the houses are decorated, the civility (for some of the characters), the drugstore, the elegance of it all. The kitchen in the sharp apartment had me fascinated. It looked so white and sunny. I'm not one to like a modern over-done kitchen. Like Don Aslett, America's housekeeper, likes to say, My grandmother churned out the best food you ever tasted in your life and she did it with one mixing bowl and one pot. Well, that's the gist of what he said.
And I love actress Teresa Wright. My favorite movie of all time is Alfred Hitchcock's Shadow of a Doubt. And interestingly, that's Alfred's favorite movie he ever made, too. I think that's saying something. Miss Wright starred in that, it was her fourth movie and she was so great in it. But she wasn't nominated for an Oscar, how absurd. However, I learned something I never knew tonight when I Googled her. In her first three movies she was nominated for Oscars all three times. No other actor has ever done that (she won once). And she should have been nominated a fourth straight time for Shadow, just ask KEM.
There was a remake of Shadow of a Doubt a while back. Oh brother, how pitiful. The only thing, the ending was done better than the original, I have to admit that, it was more suspenseful, really brilliant. But that's all the credit it gets. Who on earth can compare to Joseph Cotton, he was terrifying in Alfred's Shadow.
Okay, watching a three hour movie that was not in the plans has set me behind . . . 3 hours for the movie and another hour to Google and blog all about it. That's four hours gone forever. Watching this movie I noticed something about Teresa Wright, something I never noticed before. I'm afraid she didn't have the world's best posture. Rats. Good posture is one of my quirks. I was very sorry to see this and will have to watch another of her films, maybe Pride of the Yankees, to see what in the world was going on. However, she is so beautiful and talented that if it's really true she had poor posture, I shall just have to get a life. Right? Good posture is a gorgeous thing, I think. You know who has great posture, Ekaterina Gordeeva, that's who. Watch her ice skate sometime.
Sometimes I wish I didn't notice things.
KEM
Well, I love that movie. I love the time period, the clothes, the hair styles, the neighborhoods, the way the houses are decorated, the civility (for some of the characters), the drugstore, the elegance of it all. The kitchen in the sharp apartment had me fascinated. It looked so white and sunny. I'm not one to like a modern over-done kitchen. Like Don Aslett, America's housekeeper, likes to say, My grandmother churned out the best food you ever tasted in your life and she did it with one mixing bowl and one pot. Well, that's the gist of what he said.
And I love actress Teresa Wright. My favorite movie of all time is Alfred Hitchcock's Shadow of a Doubt. And interestingly, that's Alfred's favorite movie he ever made, too. I think that's saying something. Miss Wright starred in that, it was her fourth movie and she was so great in it. But she wasn't nominated for an Oscar, how absurd. However, I learned something I never knew tonight when I Googled her. In her first three movies she was nominated for Oscars all three times. No other actor has ever done that (she won once). And she should have been nominated a fourth straight time for Shadow, just ask KEM.
There was a remake of Shadow of a Doubt a while back. Oh brother, how pitiful. The only thing, the ending was done better than the original, I have to admit that, it was more suspenseful, really brilliant. But that's all the credit it gets. Who on earth can compare to Joseph Cotton, he was terrifying in Alfred's Shadow.
Okay, watching a three hour movie that was not in the plans has set me behind . . . 3 hours for the movie and another hour to Google and blog all about it. That's four hours gone forever. Watching this movie I noticed something about Teresa Wright, something I never noticed before. I'm afraid she didn't have the world's best posture. Rats. Good posture is one of my quirks. I was very sorry to see this and will have to watch another of her films, maybe Pride of the Yankees, to see what in the world was going on. However, she is so beautiful and talented that if it's really true she had poor posture, I shall just have to get a life. Right? Good posture is a gorgeous thing, I think. You know who has great posture, Ekaterina Gordeeva, that's who. Watch her ice skate sometime.
Sometimes I wish I didn't notice things.
KEM
Monday, February 1, 2010
Very strenuous day, how 'bout you? My assignment was to buy 8 pairs of stretch pants (underwear) at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart, to me, epitomizes unpleasantness. Please don't throw spoiled eggs, but Wal-Mart is the antithesis of everything I hold dear to my heart. Except the clerk who helped me was lovely.
Okay, so you can see I'm in a great mood today. The highlight is that CDW finally did pick me out of the litter. Well, first she mentioned the child Mary thought I was. But I wasn't. I didn't count that one since CDW was influenced. So then CDW decided maybe she should branch out from examining the faces of only girls who had short hair. That was a good slick move because even though I sport short hair now lo, these many years, as a child I had hair all down my back. Problem solved. We are both convinced that if she had only entertained children with long hair, that she would have found me instantly. CDW pointed out, to be sure I would know who she was talking about, that the bangs were swept across the forehead to the side, kinda piece-y. That interested me, never noticed in so many words before. I like it, maybe I should take picture in to hairdresser and say, Do this. Of course, I should make her find me first.
My sister texted me today that she has lost a few pounds. I said, How did you do it? She said, Not by eating pancakes cooked in bacon grease. That was disappointing to hear. Maybe she's doing it by stirring half 'n half into her hot chocolate.
KEM is on the verge.
KEM
Okay, so you can see I'm in a great mood today. The highlight is that CDW finally did pick me out of the litter. Well, first she mentioned the child Mary thought I was. But I wasn't. I didn't count that one since CDW was influenced. So then CDW decided maybe she should branch out from examining the faces of only girls who had short hair. That was a good slick move because even though I sport short hair now lo, these many years, as a child I had hair all down my back. Problem solved. We are both convinced that if she had only entertained children with long hair, that she would have found me instantly. CDW pointed out, to be sure I would know who she was talking about, that the bangs were swept across the forehead to the side, kinda piece-y. That interested me, never noticed in so many words before. I like it, maybe I should take picture in to hairdresser and say, Do this. Of course, I should make her find me first.
My sister texted me today that she has lost a few pounds. I said, How did you do it? She said, Not by eating pancakes cooked in bacon grease. That was disappointing to hear. Maybe she's doing it by stirring half 'n half into her hot chocolate.
KEM is on the verge.
KEM
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Six pieces of bacon. That's what I ate tonight. The brand is Sunday Bacon and I take that to heart. And I ate four fluffy pancakes cooked in bacon grease then smeared with butter and syrup. Farewell, fair friends. Maybe the glass of fresh squeezed orange juice will save me. And at least the syrup was Log Cabin, NOW WITH NO HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP! That has to count for something. Nice time of year in Florida when friends are trying to unload the overload of citrus from their back yards. I'll take it any day.
The lady I take to grocery is COMPLETELY disciplined in her diet. No fat allowed, she considers it an abomination. Boy, she'd better not get wind of my recklessness. Even her skinny cat is on weight control cat food. I can't help it, the more fat the merrier, within reason of course. Tonight I was less than reasonable, but I can fix that tomorrow, provided I live to see it.
Only saw one pale blue blotch today. Looked from the computer to the white woodwork under the window and there it was, winking at me. Mystery blue spots. When and where will the next one appear? My friend in Washington called to tell me she discussed blue spots with her sister, the nurse, and I am now expected to call the doc right away.
My current fun is that I sent CDW, in her surprise boxes, my first grade class picture. Her assignment is to pick me out of the bunch of cherubs, all the girls with prim and proper dresses, boys looking presentable, everyone with folded hands on desk and sweet smiles. CDW'S first guess, with consensus from her daughters, was who most people pick, Judy S. It is a compliment that they should say I am Judy S. So CDW'S next pick, strike two, is a girl with the same haircut as Judy S., only with blond sunny highlights in the hair (Judy has dark brown hair). CDW was calling all her sleuthing powers into play, knowing I grew up in the swimming pools, three times a day.
I have more fun with this because once for a lesson with my AWANA class, ages 3 and 4, I brought in this picture and asked if anyone could identify KEM when she was in first grade (the point of the lesson long forgotten, unless it was to show how cross the teacher looked in the picture, it's hilarious, but that Jesus loved the little children). Well, the holy terror of my class came right up front and took the picture in his fat little hands and studied each girl's face intently. Out of the 15 girls in the picture, he pointed straight to me. This is so amusing because the only other person to pick me out on first try is my nephew. I know, this is juvenile, but it's cheap entertainment for me, if you come to my house you will probably be accosted with this picture game. Even my husband picked Judy S. In fact, I can't wait to tell Judy S. We grew up on the same Avenue, she lived a few blocks up the street and, as life plays out, we now live a few blocks from each other in this, our present neighborhood. DTD baby-sat her girls for years. Judy S. told me a couple of times that she hoped her daughters would turn out just like DTD. Good going, DTD!
So, the bad little boy broke into a huge grin when I did back flips that he had picked correctly. CDW tells me one of her daughters originally picked a little girl out to be me but CDW poo-pooed her choice. Now, of course, I can't wait to find out if Mary was right and she can be listed with young people of Great Observational and Deducible Skills.
So, I hope CDW doesn't throw in the towel of frustration. She went so far as to suggest I was absent on the day of the photo and that I am kidding her. Not so. She plans to extract revenge by sending me her class picture and I get to choose. At least the picture is stirring her beloved memories of the combined elementary schools smells of ink, candy and cleaner, so this is not a total loss.
Arteries more clogged than before,
KEM
The lady I take to grocery is COMPLETELY disciplined in her diet. No fat allowed, she considers it an abomination. Boy, she'd better not get wind of my recklessness. Even her skinny cat is on weight control cat food. I can't help it, the more fat the merrier, within reason of course. Tonight I was less than reasonable, but I can fix that tomorrow, provided I live to see it.
Only saw one pale blue blotch today. Looked from the computer to the white woodwork under the window and there it was, winking at me. Mystery blue spots. When and where will the next one appear? My friend in Washington called to tell me she discussed blue spots with her sister, the nurse, and I am now expected to call the doc right away.
My current fun is that I sent CDW, in her surprise boxes, my first grade class picture. Her assignment is to pick me out of the bunch of cherubs, all the girls with prim and proper dresses, boys looking presentable, everyone with folded hands on desk and sweet smiles. CDW'S first guess, with consensus from her daughters, was who most people pick, Judy S. It is a compliment that they should say I am Judy S. So CDW'S next pick, strike two, is a girl with the same haircut as Judy S., only with blond sunny highlights in the hair (Judy has dark brown hair). CDW was calling all her sleuthing powers into play, knowing I grew up in the swimming pools, three times a day.
I have more fun with this because once for a lesson with my AWANA class, ages 3 and 4, I brought in this picture and asked if anyone could identify KEM when she was in first grade (the point of the lesson long forgotten, unless it was to show how cross the teacher looked in the picture, it's hilarious, but that Jesus loved the little children). Well, the holy terror of my class came right up front and took the picture in his fat little hands and studied each girl's face intently. Out of the 15 girls in the picture, he pointed straight to me. This is so amusing because the only other person to pick me out on first try is my nephew. I know, this is juvenile, but it's cheap entertainment for me, if you come to my house you will probably be accosted with this picture game. Even my husband picked Judy S. In fact, I can't wait to tell Judy S. We grew up on the same Avenue, she lived a few blocks up the street and, as life plays out, we now live a few blocks from each other in this, our present neighborhood. DTD baby-sat her girls for years. Judy S. told me a couple of times that she hoped her daughters would turn out just like DTD. Good going, DTD!
So, the bad little boy broke into a huge grin when I did back flips that he had picked correctly. CDW tells me one of her daughters originally picked a little girl out to be me but CDW poo-pooed her choice. Now, of course, I can't wait to find out if Mary was right and she can be listed with young people of Great Observational and Deducible Skills.
So, I hope CDW doesn't throw in the towel of frustration. She went so far as to suggest I was absent on the day of the photo and that I am kidding her. Not so. She plans to extract revenge by sending me her class picture and I get to choose. At least the picture is stirring her beloved memories of the combined elementary schools smells of ink, candy and cleaner, so this is not a total loss.
Arteries more clogged than before,
KEM
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