I was gone for 6 days last week during which time my DVR dutifully recorded every episode of my all time favorite show, Judge Judy. I’m very sad to report that I am going to have to stop watching JJ until this current farce is over – that show is loaded with ads for both Hillary! and Bernie. I must say there’s one where Hillary looks less bulky in trim black leather and Bernie doesn’t seem so hulking and bent as he does in still shots. Even so, these ads are loathsome reminders of the state of things and interrupt my peaceful escape from reality.
In other news, the chalk paint epidemic worsens. If we can’t unite around the concept of a presidential candidate that is not a criminal or dangerous dreamer, at least we can all agree that the unconscionable desecration of decent wood furniture must be stopped.
And while we’re at it, let’s not forget to screw up vintage Thomasville accent chairs.
On the plus side, I’m especially enjoying the lovely spring day here – more so in light of the 12″ of snow that fell on Denver right after I flew out. The power is back on now. (I suspect the basement carpenters.) And I got the best haircut of my life last week.
So on balance, happy to be back home.
postscript: I forgot to report that I tripped over the edge of the plastic mat underneath my desk chair and crashed down onto the corner of a lidless plastic storage bin that shattered on impact. Now I have 2 cuts on my face, a sore eye bone and a throbbing headache. Plus I got poked in the boob/pit. This episode throws off the balance and the kvetch side dominates.
postscript 2: BUT I won an eBay auction for a delightful vintage Erhman needlepoint kit in an Ikat pattern. Thus balance is restored.
I’m in transit from Denver airport to downtown but I have an important news bulletin to share with you. I left Sami at home and one of the things on his list is to shop for Easter dinner. Top of the list is the butter lamb.
When the plane landed and I turned on my phone, this is the t t message I found:
I don’t even know what to say. I hope I don’t have to explain the difference between a bunny and. The Lamb of God. Fortunately, I have my own mold so we will have a butter lamb on the table. Think of the others, though. Think of the #1 Christian holy day. And a business decision to abandon the butter lamb.
I am not in favor of adding extra notes when singing the Star Spangled Banner.
It’s bad enough when it happens in regular songs, but when it comes to the national anthem I find it annoying and unnecessary. There’s lots of positive reflection going around this week about Whitney Houston’s rendition at Super Bowl 25. That one was a mess.
Lady Gaga is singing the national anthem at Super Bowl 50 tonight. Based on her traditional rendition of the Sound of Music medley at the Oscars, I have a faint glimmer of hope that she will stick to the written notes but that glimmer is faint. I don’t really believe she’ll be able to resist making it about her by adding drama by way of extra notes.
Okay. I’ve heard worse WHITNEY HOUSTON and so I am not displeased. The lady did a mostly traditional rendition but could not help herself from adding a bit of unessesary warbling towards the end.
Beyoncé was a bust, though, huh? In a sane world, the authorities would have dropped a net over her as soon as the Pantherettes showed up. Sanity, however, does not prevail in American society today. On the plus side, she was markedly less slutty and self-degrading than usual.
OMG with the Broncos already. Before the plane even landed, the pilot started yakking about the Broncos in between his ready-to-land patter. Then every touch point from the shuttle to the baggage carousel to the taxi to the hotel check in everybody had to blab about the Broncos.
This town is crazy about their football team under any circumstantial but throw in a little Superbowl on top of that and I tell you, it doesn’t look as if your average high-powered executive woman business traveler is not going to make it until the end of the week.
Also, you can’t get regular food here. It’s all deconstructed and fusion-ed and gawd knows what else. I tried to keep it simple by ordering a burger from the hotel restaurant and the first thing they asked me was what temperature would I like it served at? What kind of question is that? I told them to burn it on one side and then turn it over and do it again. Then give me 2 beers to wash it down.
I successfully avoided conversation about the Featured Chili Style Of the Day. Why can’t people just let things alone? It’s a burger and a bowl of chili fer cryin’ out loud not a religious experience.
I’m sure they’re all gathered into a cluster over there gossiping about how does a person not have a preferred burger temperature and waiting to get a look at me. I swear to gawd if they say something to me about the Broncos, I am going to give it to them right in the kisser with my whiskey onions and house-made bacon jam.
Update: I feel much better now after eating my burger of unknown temperature. I didn’t even mind that they covered my flash fried Brussels sprouts with izakaya butter and peanut sofrito.