November 30, 1995
Dear Everyone:
Spotted my first two
Christmas-Tree-in-the-Front-Windows
on the way home last night.
I guess the Season is officially under way.
Haven’t done any decorating myself yet.
I usually get the lights up on the patio fence the weekend after
Thanksgiving; but, regrettably, I spent all of that week in bed,
sick as a dog. I had caught
a cold.
“That’s the third
one this year!” I complained to “Jeannie”, who shrugged, “I get two or
three every month.” Not a
lot of sympathy there.
We had planned to
spend Thanksgiving in
Fresno
with “Marshall”. But by
Wednesday morning, I knew I couldn’t drive for four hours and cough up
hairballs at the same time; so I sent “Jeannie” by herself and stayed
home in bed, watching
daytime television.
Truly boring stuff.
“Jeannie” and
“Marshall”, by all accounts, had a great time.
They visited
Yosemite
National Park, newly re-opened after the idiots in
Washington
finished their little
dog-and-pony
show. They went
shopping. Their idea of
“shopping” is wandering in and out of shops all day, looking at
everything, and quite possibly buying nothing.
Between my still-sore back and the cold, I knew that I wouldn’t
be able to enjoy any of that and would only make them quit long before
they were ready to. Better I
should stay home.
“Marshall” had
ordered a “complete Thanksgiving dinner” in a box from a local grocery
store. It included a turkey,
stuffing, gravy, vegetables, pie, etc., etc., etc...serves 8-10.
Needless to say, they had some leftovers.
In the meantime, I had a small plate of fettuccine, which I
couldn’t even finish, the cold having destroyed my appetite.
Looking on the
bright side: While most
people groan that they gained a few pounds over Thanksgiving, I can
honestly say that I lost some.
Not that they stayed lost for very long, of course.
“Jeannie” thinks we
should consider “dinner in a box” for this Christmas.
She pointed out that it included mashed potatoes “made from real
potatoes!” Like, there’s
something wrong with the 2-½-year-old box of
Betty Crocker’s
Potato Buds
in my cupboard? Heck, it’s
never even been opened.
In other news...
Before I actually
came down with this rotten cold, I’d gone into my “Livermore” office on
Saturday and spent four satisfying hours cleaning it up.
Filled three recycle boxes with old files and stuff; made new
files for more recent stuff; cleaned off the top of the credenza and the
bookcase. I was just
beginning to get that “this might be the start of a cold” feeling in my
throat when I’d finished. I
kept hoping it was just from all the dust I’d stirred up.
On Sunday, “Jeannie”
and I went to see
Goldeneye,
the new James
Bond film.
Pierce Brosnan
does just fine as a slightly younger 007.
Oddly enough, when the producers first started these movies, they
wanted Roger Moore
for the part. But he was
locked into a TV contract (The
Saint). So they went
with the relatively unknown Scotsman,
Sean Connery.
When Connery decided
he was getting too old for the part, they finally got Moore.
When he was ready to pass on the
torch (so to speak), the producers wanted Brosnan, but they couldn’t get
him because, just like Moore, he was locked into a TV contract (Remington Steele, which was canceled immediately after he lost
the part to
Timothy Dalton). Now
Brosnan finally has the role; but let’s face it:
To many people, Sean Connery was the only “real” James Bond.
As for the movie,
it’s loud (naturally) and has lots of vehicle chases (of course) and
explosions. The theme song
is atrocious. The stunts are
record-setting. The plot is
less convoluted than earlier 007 movies, but has just as many flaws in
the logic. (Why would
anyone store gasoline tanks inside a major communications center?)
If you like action movies with cute guys and girls, go, have a
good time.
Love, as always,
Pete
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