Robin has been on a quest. Our previous and never-admirable picnic basket fell apart after a brief life. It was a POC from the beginning and is not mourned. But its demise left us basket-less, and that simply will not do.
She would prefer something in a good strong wicker like the one in the lovely photo above, and there’s the problem. So many of these baskets look shaky in the store where you purchased them, and the handles start falling off before you get them home. Robin has found some online that looked sturdy enough, but we would have to take out a second mortgage on the house to come up with the down payment.
So what’s a person to do? Is there nothing between the poorly made and the preciously wrought?
Mr. Biden forgot something. Nothing strange there, we all forget things from time to time, and with age that trait sometimes becomes bothersome. I can personally attest to that. But this time he forgot something very important while he was on an interview program … to keep his mouth shut when no words were called for.
We all wish he’d be more circumspect, but that’s not too likely, since not being circumspect is one of his persisting traits. This episode will pass, he’s apologized and all, but it wastes precious time and energy. Americans of color deserve better than wisecracks.
A Dutch grandmother had to be taken to court to force her to remove photos of her grandchildren that she’d posted on Facebook. The plaintiffs were the children’s parents. Apparently there’s still one photo up there that she’s holding back on.
What in the world is the matter with Granny? Having to be sued? Over Facebook postings? Geeesh.
This story certainly supports Tolstoy’s oft-repeated comment: “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
Robin and I watched a streamed movie this past week that was so odd that at the end instead of wondering “What was the meaning of it all?” we asked each other “Why did we watch it through to the end?”
The movie was The Lighthouse, starring Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe. All of the wonderful elements of drama that a lighthouse can provide were there. The isolation, the overriding importance of maintaining the light no matter what, humans thrown together into a completely foreign situation and what will come of that? All were there.
But then the characters and the movie all went bonkers, and by the end my own hinges were coming loose as I fruitlessly tried to make sense of it.
So we really can’t recommend it to anyone. Unless you’re brave or witless enough to try to take a good shot at it, don’t start. For myself, I started at full-bore witless and it got me nowhere.
As rough a cob as that movie was, it did remind me that I have a favorite genre of films. A favorite that has persisted through all the generations I’ve been through so far. And that is where a group of people is completely isolated in one way or another, under stress, and we watch what happens to them all.
The setting can be an island in a hurricane as in Key Largo, or any number of diners in the desert cut off by wind and sand and distance from the outside world. The weather becomes a character, and the more violent the better.
Our 28th wedding anniversary came and went this past weekend. We celebrated by ordering takeout from our favorite local restaurant and dining at home. Such is celebrating in the days of the plague.
I look at this photo and wonder … where did I go right?