From this time alone I bring you some pretty groovy movies I had never seen.
Lemon Sky
New York Times Review: http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/126994/Lemon-Sky/overview
Control
New York Times Review:
http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/354855/Control/dvd
Ten More Good Years (sad movie, so don’t drink prior to watching)
Need I say more. Here’s another pic of Chuck, we were spooning and watching Sesame Street on Thanksgiving morning.
Here’s some other pics from our morning walk.
Banana and Bacon sandwich.
The bacon crisp. The banana barely ripe.
Slice the banana, 1/4 inch thick, and saute in a little butter.
Once heated through, layer the banana on a piece of buttered bread and lay the bacon over the bananas. Slide another piece of buttered bread on top and panfry until bread is golden and slightly toasted.
I was writing out a Christmas card for my g’ma and after filling out her address I started to write her name on the envelope. But I couldn’t make the pen move. I couldn’t write her full name.
The problem is I don’t know my g’ma’s full name. I don’t. I do not know her last name. I remember two surnames she has had in the past, but I can’t recall this new one. I don’t remember the new guy’s first name, either. Hmmmm.
I just wrote my note inside her card and since we don’t really know each other, it was awkward and shallow. But, I tried to jazz it up as much as I could and kept my audience in mind. My g’ma in old, really old. She’s a farmer’s daughter from Texas with big hair and country sensibilities. My note is on the inside flap of a Snoopy Christmas Card. Behold, my note.
Grandma,
I sure do miss you. I miss everyone is Texas, it will always be home to me. Forever. It’s really beautiful in Philadelphia and the people are friendly, enough. No place will ever have people as friendly as the people in Texas. Take care and I love y’all.
Yours ever,
Sweet
p.s. Whatever, Martha! is hilarious. I will officially begin referring to my new friends Alexis and Jennifer (always paired) and recounting our many adventures throughout the day. We’ll probably have a three-way one night, but just for the hell of it. They’re making cootie-catchers right now! I so want to be at that party. (if you don’t know what a cootie catcher is…here’s your link to make one, http://www.wikihow.com/Make-a-Cootie-Catcher.)
-go to the pharmacy pictured in episode 70 of Always Sunny, Bertolino Pharmacies. How exciting for me.
As it stands I’m still expected to understand French. I am now calling French embassies, here and abroad, to arrange meetings. When I call these embassies, they are speaking French!!!!
I sound ridiculous asking for an English speaker. What a fucking mess. Of course, I quickly Googled for translation sites and pulled this phrase together:
Je ne parle pas du français. Seulement anglais.
The next problem is that I’ve never had French classes. Only 100 years of Spanish. (p.s. I don’t speak Spanish either, but I can ask for the bathroom and say "I don’t speak Spanish.") So, my interpretation of this phrase is through my Anglicized Spanish pronunciation. Terrible. Who knows what I was saying. I have a feeling the Parisian on the other end surmised that I was a French illiterate because she quickly switched herself to an English tongue. God bless her.
This too shall pass. I’m not going to let this faze me.
Yes, you read correctly. It’s 9:30AM in my wonderland and I’ve already been put in my place. How have I gone my entire life not knowing there’s a difference between phase and faze? I didn’t think faze was a word. But it is and it’s not some new, hip urban slang that all the rappers are using on MTV. It’s a bona fide word, with a very different meaning than phase. I bet most of you smart chicas knew that.
“The group’s comments are prosaic and we are not fazed.”
BTW, I had to look up prosaic, as well.
When will the learning stop? My head hurts.
This weekend, Chuck and I went for long stroll. We stopped for a spell in a little park. As it turned out the park was/is a Viet Nam memorial. There we were; I was sitting on a stone ledge reading and Chuck was laying about. We were your average J Crew image. Not exactly. We’re a little loose around the edges. But you know that.
Chuck–>
After a bit, we picked up our bodies and started to wander around the park and head back home. Chuck needed to use the loo and in turn I needed to clean up his loo. While I was picking up the package I was startled by a shriek. Deep inside I thought Charlie must be eating someone. To my relief he was digging a whole. He’s always been a digger, no big. It’s just dirt.
But, this time was different. This time was a big deal. That shriek came from a lady in the park with us. She was “mortified” at what Charlie had done. She was near hysterical and I was near bored. I was laughing and trying to calm her down. I thought she was scared of Charlie, since he looks like a wolf, he gets fear as a reaction but can usually calm people down with his kooky ears.
Not this time. I finally deduced that she was pissed that Charlie had dug a whole. She went on and on about how he was defacing a federal monument and how she wanted my name and phone number. Stranger Danger!!!!
I don’t think so. I’m not giving this crazy bitch my info. As we were walking away she yelled, “Gypsies!!! Stay away….mumble mumble.”
Bottom line. This Gypsy and her wolf will visit the Memorial whenever we want. Suck it.
Over text last night, my dad asked what my plans were for Thanksgiving. You should know, I’m in Philadelphia and Dad is in Dallas. I told him I plan lay around and watch Lifetime movies.
He wrote back, "Sunny here. Go for a walk."
