(I loves me some fog.)
I don't know, it kinda sounds like fun.
All except for the writing part.
That’s right, TINY PUMPKINS.
I tried to walk away, I really did. But resistance was futile.
When Satan saw them, he was all superior. Rolled his eyes in response to my question as to whether or not he’d noticed them. And for him I only have one question, “Who wants a Mini-Cooper, huh?”
Stop us before we Tiny again.
After that, we returned home for an early dinner and set out walking to the cinema. You'll be happy to know the temperature was by then a seasonally appropriate 70 degrees. The movie du jour was the much-anticipated next Bill Murray offering: Broken Flowers.
First off, let me just say, it's a great premise. Fifty-something womanizer receives mysterious letter informing him he has an eighteen year old son who may be trying to look him up. No signature, no return address. Bill shares the letter with his quirky neighbor, Basquiat (or the actor that played him) who just happens to be an amateur sleuth. Basquiat persuades Bill to make a list of the women who could possibly have had his child. Basquiat then produces a list of said candidate's whereabouts complete with trip itenerary, map quest maps, car rentals, and plane reserverations.
Tell me, who wouldn't want to go along on this quest? Obviously, the candidate roles are some juicy oppportunities for fifty-something actresses, something as rare as hen's teeth in Hollywood these days, and some heavy hitters step up to the plate. Sharon Stone and Jessica Lange, to name a few. These vignettes are definitely worth the price of admission.
Satan and I were conflicted about our rating. We finally settled on 3.5 stars out of 5. It had ELEMENTS of a four star, but in the end didn't quite satisfy to that extent. I think Bill Murray is in danger of becomming a caricature of himself, relying a little too heavily these days on the trademark Bill Murray "deadpan reaction" to everything as well as zingy one-liners followed by the patented "ironic lip curl". While we've loved these devices in the past, they begin to wear a little thin here. Satan summed up the theory by saying Murray may "run the gamut from A to D", with all due respect to Dorothy Parker. In other words: possible limited range problems. POSSIBLE. Because, make no mistake, we WANT to like Bill Murray. We want to LOVE Bill Murray and we want him to continue making successful movies.
I've had a lovely nearly four-day weekend, with today being day four, Columbus Day. Yes, there are still those of us who actually still score a day off on this obscure holiday. My Dad came for a visit yesterday and left just now. I submitted to the obligatory barbecue sandwich (Dad's favorite food) yesterday and narrowly missed complete carb overload at the doughnut shop this morning when I persuaded Dad to drive on by rather than stop for breakfast. He settled for your basic old fashioned breakfast at an old local haunt. He enjoyed grits, I enjoyed country ham. We both, I fear, may have been a little worse for the grease.
Tonight marks our first brisk fall walk of the season, sweater required. All summer, Satan picks blossoms for me on our night walks, and tonight he picked what will probably be the last blooms on the day lilies. Bring on the fall.
I continue to be immersed in a book on CD--TEN CD's to be exact--that I checked out of the library called "The Red Tent". The book is, essentially, historical fiction which I have a penchant for, and dramatizes and expands on the story of a character in the bible, Dinah, Jacob's daughter by his wife Leah, who is mentioned only in passing in Genesis. The book is an imagining of what her life as a woman in biblical times would have been like. It has taken me three weeks to get through the first six CD's listening on my way to and from work on on my usual short day-to-day errands and trips. More than a few times, it has held me in my car in the driveway until the end of a chapter. I'm surprised at how much I'm enjoying this one.
Today was my last day of work. I have a four-day weekend to look forward to. I need it.
Not to be outdone, Satan has his own porch and his own (somewhat inferior) plants. The design of the building is such that we have two porches. I was in fact standing on Satan's porch when I snapped the picture you see here. More often than not, we porch-sit on one balconey or the other together, but there are those times when you just need your own porch. And, sometimes, you need to co-sit on separate balconies and make faces and obsene hand gestures at one another. Occasionally, objects must be hurled with alarming force from one balconey to the other at someone or another's head. But only occasionally.
My tip of the day: never cook chicken in the crockpot on the "high" setting. I learned this the hard way yesterday when I unexpectedly morphed into Martha Steward mode and zipped home on my lunch hour to toss a lovely plump chicken stuffed with apples and celery in to the crock. The recipe called for 6-8 hrs. on "low". I reasoned since I wanted the chicken ready in only four hours the "high" setting would be appropriate. Not so much. What I found in the crockpot upon returning home no longer resembled a chicken. Unless the chicken was the victim of an especially catastrophic road kill. Conveniently, the meat no longer required chewing, but simply dissolved into broth upon hitting the palatte. Furgirl became the happy beneficiary.
In other news...the family room WILL require a second coat of daredevil. It's taken me a couple of days to admit this to myself. Friday is the unhappy day. After that, Satan will embark upon phase B of the family room transformation and lay a light maple floating floor. I will post photos of that process as well.
A very vivid after:
I think I need to break away from these wimpy color choices, no?
The paint is actually still wet in that after shot. You can see the reflection of the lamp in the paint on the wall. This fabulous color transformation only took me eight short hours of work. That's right: four hours per coat. What I lack in speed I make up for in precision.
A true vivid red is not the easiest color to achieve as I learned at my Home Depot. I had to prime the walls with a god-awful shade of Pepto Bismal pink (sorry, was too traumatized to take a photo). What you see here is the primer and one coat of dare devil. The jury is still out on whether or not I'll need a second (four hour) coat. The smart money says yes.
Satan, in a very non-satany act of mercy, is washing out my roller for me as I post this.
the Amazing Kreskin of the piano. Okay, so the guy's name really isn't Kreskin. I'm happy to report he COULD play a mean piano concerto, even though he did so in a near standing position. It was awfully strange.