(I posted an earlier entry today for POY about childhood fears.)
R is coming home on Tuesday. Since she was originally scheduled to come in on a Sunday in a few weeks, the Hubs is teaching Tuesday night -- it was too late to change his class schedule -- so I'm picking her up solo. No entry Tuesday, probably, since I'm going to the dentist in the afternoon before the airport.
Cat beds. *sigh*. The re-arranging of all kinds of furniture and rugs in the house left me with an empty spot in the corner of the hallway, which I couldn't block with furniture or anything tall because, one, it's a small corner, two, there's a big vent there for the furnace, and three, the only full-length mirror in the house is on the wall there. Solution? Since I've been putting baskets everywhere, and there's always a cat sleeping in the hallway, I got a basket and made it the cat bed and stuck it there. Never been used by either cat, to my knowledge. When I took the picture the other day, I had moved it to the family room temporarily because of the work being done in the bathroom and bathroom stuff being moved briefly to that corner. Q, as you could see, was still not interested.
I pulled the trigger, to use a Hubs phrase, and got a cell phone from the big T company. So far the only drawback is that the only ringer available is the jingle from the commercial, but there may be more available soon. It is a very cute phone and has all the features I need, like it rings/vibrates at the same time, and has a speakerphone so I won't need to use headphones in the car (which would require the removal of hearing aids first. PIA.) It has good sound, and so far works wherever I've taken it (I drove by the high school and I went to Target) except within a few feet of my computer, but I can understand that. It's also a pay-as-you-go phone, so it should be way cheaper in the long run than a monthly-bill phone, since I use it so little.
Last night, I happened across a movie on TV called Father Goose. Cary Grant and Leslie Caron, 1964. I saw it at the theatre with my parents, so I was about 11. I know that I liked it, and remember telling someone the story the next day, and using the phrase "so the old guy ..." Hmm. How old was I, I wonder, when I discovered Cary Grant? Was there ever a moment in his life when he didn't look damn good? I was practically salivating at the TV last night, but of course now I'm a whole lot closer to the age he was when he made the movie. And then next I watched Singing in the Rain. Oh, Gene Kelly. I mean ... come on, Gene Kelly. He is my favorite movie dancer of all time, because no matter what he was doing, ballet or tap or whatever, he always looked like an athlete, strong and masculine. To borrow an expression from my daughters -- I'm doing that a lot today, I see -- he was just sex on a stick. Mmmm boy, Gene Kelly and Cary Grant. A good night at the movies.
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I'm watching news
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