For your Netflix queue:
Filmed in Rhode Island, in our very own town!
I think “quirky” and “charming” sum up this movie. The movie takes place in 1965, which makes it all the more entertaining.
I owned this dress! Really, I did. Though it was hot pink and maybe not quite that short. (No, I’m lying. It was that short).
I’m still dealing with sore thumbs, especially on the hand that operates the computer mouse, but this little bean bag wrist cushion is really comfy. If you want to check it out, click le petit cushion. I bought mine at Staples.
Does anyone else have any experience with repetitive stress thumb pain? I tried a trackball style mouse, but the trackball was designed to be moved by the thumb…which wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I’ve been googling for solutions, but haven’t found answers yet.
Imak has other products for arthritis pain, so I’m tempted to get the gloves and see if I can fiddle and type and annoy Banjo Man while wearing them.
Yesterday I took Banjo Man to see an eye specialist (result: no surgery, all is well, Banjo Man is thrilled).
We are at the stage of our lives now when we should not be let out of the house.
I had the time wrong (thought it was at 10 AM but it was at 12:30). So Banjo Man suggested we leave early and do Christmas-y errands since we were heading 20 miles north and the excitement of getting out of the house was almost too much to bear.
So off we went, to Home Goods, one of my very favorite places to shop. But it wasn’t there any more. The building was empty. How sad! Where did it go????
We settled for its cousin, TJMaxx instead, and I splurged on oven pads and ice tongs. Banjo Man drooled over the wool sweaters. I talked him out of buying a purple v-neck sweater.
You’re welcome.
Then it was time to find the special retinal opthamologist, but we’d worked up an appetite so we stopped at Wendy’s. Now, Banjo Man wasn’t driving. And he is not as familiar with the “drive up window” concept as I am, believe it or not, so he is always surprised when I get in the drive-thru lane. He was a little appalled to eat chili while on the road. In fact, he kept asking, “Aren’t we going to park? Huh? Aren’t we going to park?”
No time for stationary chili-eating! We had to see the specialist! There were forms to fill out! Despite our years of road trips, Banjo Man cannot grasp the concept of eating at the same time the car is moving.
Because I believe in all things technological, I put the medical office’s address into my GPS system and blissfully–as I ate french fries while driving, upsetting Banjo Man’s view of the Way Things Should Be Done–believed that we would glide up to the building with no problem.
We ended up at a nail salon behind a bank next to a dentist. The dental office lady suggested a nearby medical complex that was in the woods just a half mile north. In the woods? Yes, it was. There were many, many buildings. We found the “F” building, so I parked while Banjo Man went inside. I would eat my Wendy’s Homestyle Chicken Sandwich and then join Banjo Man in the waiting room.
This didn’t go well either. Banjo Man entered and exited several doors while I watched from the car. I made the same mistakes when I tried to find him. I ended up in the basement walking past utility rooms and bathrooms and doors that said “Do Not Enter”.
Now, I ask you, how do people with retinal damage find their way to this office????? I was going to ask the receptionist, but Banjo Man sheepishly pulled out a paper from the packet he’d been given which had a detailed map on it.
Plan on staying at least two hours. More info from the packet. I had my Kindle and my fake Ipod and my headphones, but I was also determined to find out where Home Goods had gone. I needed fabric photo boxes. And mini springform pans. And white bowls. So I left Banjo Man to his retinal specialist and left the buildings in the woods.
Ten miles and 17 red lights brought me to Home Goods, which had combined with TJMaxx to make a store that was crowded, dimly light and crammed with stuff. I bought white bowls and mini-springform pans and fled.
(The $6.99 mini springform pans have to go back, because one is defective. Bummer. )
I’m not accustomed to returning things, but lately I can’t depend on anything actually working properly. My favorite pens have now turned globby, so back went a newly purchased case of those yesterday. A Kensington trackball’s software couldn’t be used with Windows 7, despite stating it could. An online data safe program insisted I needed more storage space, when plenty was available. I’m not the only one having problems with these things–there are others online fuming, too. I’ve been returning things like crazy.
Anyway, back to the Banjo Man Eye Day……
On the way home we stopped at Banjo Man’s favorite supermarket: Dave’s.
I couldn’t locate a thing I needed, so I drank the free coffee and browsed the pastries while Banjo Man–with his starry, blurry eyesight from the exam–happily hunted down everything on the list. The man is amazing that way. I slipped apple turnovers and a pepperoni pizza in the cart when he wasn’t looking.
By the way, there seems to be a trend in supermarkets and stores these days to make the lighting dimmer and cozy. It’s like shopping in a cave. And yes, I do have an eye appointment of my own scheduled in two weeks, but unless I wear a flashlight on my head I don’t think I’m going to find it easier to shop in the gloom.
But then again, maybe it’s worth a try.
There is a reason I don’t work for a florist. Arranging flowers and creating centerpieces are skills that are way beyond me.
But I saw a picture on a blog of a cake stand piled high with little pumpkins and tiny white lights and some kind of big dark leaves and I thought I can do this! I have many, many cake stands!
But, alas, I did not have many, many little pumpkins. It turned out that while we were in Montana and the Midwest and Texas, everyone else bought all of the little pumpkins. And when I started searching for them, to make a Thanksgiving centerpiece for my mother’s table, they were as rare as Fourth of July paper plates. I almost bought persimmons instead, but they looked faded compared to pumpkins. Banjo Man brought home a pomegranate, thinking that might help. No, I needed bright orange little pumpkins.
I couldn’t let a good cake-stand-centerpiece idea die an easy death, so I made a trip north to a bonafide farm stand. Across the parking lot, on the other side of the fence, was a wagon with the last of the little pumpkins sprawled across the back. The owner stood there, waving her arms at two young employees and the pumpkins as if to say, “Get these out of here this morning and bring in the wreaths!”
I hadn’t moved that fast since running away from banjo players at bluegrass camp.
So, here’s the finished product. I added pine cones from the fallen Storm Sandy trees and leaves from the rhododendron plant at the front steps and walnuts from my mother’s post-dessert offerings.
What can I use for a cake stand centerpiece for the holidays? Antique Christmas tree ornaments? Huge pine cones? Ideas, anyone?
Ben Stone: [to Meredith] You have a freak flag. You just don’t fly it.
I love this movie. At Christmas the oldest brother brings home a woman who is obviously wrong for him while the family realizes that this is their last Christmas with their mother, who is losing her battle with breast cancer.
No one likes Meredith, the uptight interloper, except goofy younger brother Ben. And when the two of them have escaped the various dramas going on at the house and are on their way to drinking too much in a local bar, Ben says the “freak flag” line.
I love that line. I’d never heard the term “freak flag” before seeing that movie. Now I use it in my head all the time, though. Like when I look at these:
After the manuscript is finished (except for the final scene), I print out a hard copy and read through it. I highlight typos, name changes, badly written sentences, etc. and flag the page for correcting on the computer.
Yes, there have been lots of freak-flags in this manuscript. After I fix the computer copy, I remove the flag and stick it on my keyboard. It looks like I’m making progress, doesn’t it?
When you’re a writer, making progress is always a challenge. By the time I’ve finished, this keyboard will look like a porcupine.
Banjo Man has wanted a “My Pillow” for many months. He’s seen it advertised on television and he’s heard Imus rave about it. He wanted us both to get My Pillows, but I’ve been happy with my own pillow and resisted experimenting with something new.
Then we went to Austin. There at CVS, in the “as seen on TV” aisle, was a My Pillow. I hauled the box over to Banjo Man, who was perusing the shaving cream selections, and told him this was his big chance to own his very own My Pillow.
He wanted to know what it cost. I told him. And he was so thrilled he bought it anyway.
Fast forward twenty minutes: we are back at the condo and Banjo Man has opened up the box. It is 11 PM and Banjo Man is exhausted, but…the My Pillow needs to be activated.
Activated? I ask. Is this a joke?
No. It says it has to be heated in a clothes dryer for 15 minutes before use. Banjo Man was in a little bit of a panic. Here he finally–finally–owned a My Pillow and he couldn’t activate the darn thing because we have one of those strange, European, fancy washer/dryer combos in the closet and it doesn’t actually dry anything (in fact, I’ve been trying to sell it on Craigslist). So now poor tired Banjo Man must change out of his pajamas and back into regular clothes, find quarters and the laundry room key, and set out across the condo complex to activate his pillow.
He is a determined man. Nothing was going to stop him from a good night’s sleep with his special pillow.
That was a month ago, and Banjo Man swears that the My Pillow works. He sleeps longer, is more rested, can go back to sleep when he wakes up too early and doesn’t wake up with a sore neck.
He loves the darn thing. As does our daughter, who raves about hers, too.
If you need a new pillow, check out MY PILLOW on the website. I guess I hope Santa will bring me one now, too.
I’ve hurt my thumb.
A computer injury.
Sigh.
Banjo Man’s knee is acting up again, so we are fixing each other ice packs. We have an excellent system: I run up and down the stairs and Banjo Man opens jars and chops vegetables.
It’s working out well.
I’ve been taking a break from typing these past days. I start the new book tomorrow and need my thumbs in working condition.
I tried a new recipe for Thanksgiving: baked acorn squash stuffed with cornbread-cranberry-apple stuffing. It was dreadful.
Another experiment, roasted sweet potatoes with an orange glaze, was a bit better.
Most of the weekend was spent cleaning my office, a small room that serves as office, sewing room, music room, library and lots of other things. I took some “before” pictures, not for the blog but to embarrass myself.
These aren’t the worst ones.
The empty bookshelves were an improvement.
Sometimes, especially in the midst of deadline mania, things can get a little out of hand.
Banjo Man and I, with our salads and ice packs, are planted in front of the television tonight watching a “Downtown Abbey” marathon on PBS.
We are not exactly twiddling our thumbs, but we’re not cleaning anything either.
Happy Thanksgiving a few days ahead of time. If you’re still thinking about pies, check out this blog:
I’m going to check out her Pie Workshops. Can you imagine how fun it would be to spend two or three days making pies?
Okay, probably not as much fun as going to Bluegrass Camp, but then again…baking is easier than fiddling.
Christmas will come a week early for us this year. Why? Sarge will be here for a week, right up until December 24th.
We can’t wait.
Hurray for Sarge!
Our traditional fancy-schmancy Christmas Eve dinner will take place earlier. As will everything else.
I think we should have a party.
There will be cookies. And presents. And Sarge’s favorite vegetable: spinach casserole.
And Sarge’s favorite dessert: PUMPKIN PIE!!
There will, however, be no shrimp. Shrimp give our rough, tough Army man the creeps.
Sarge and his men head to Afghanistan in January. They will be locating and detonating roadside bombs.
I don’t know what to say about that.
Fourth of July
Glen the Banjo Man
LIVE at the Dump
