Monday, June 11, 2012
Harvey Korman, on his using Viagra: It would be like putting a new flagpole on a condemned building.
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I have finished
Madame Bovary. I'd never heard or read a synopsis, or seen any of the movies, so I had no real inkling of the story. Somewhere along the line I'd seen a deathbed scene from a very old movie, possibly a silent movie, and occasional references to Mme. Bovary's romantic nature and her many assignations. So I had, without thinking about it, assumed she was something like a Parisian courtesan, and that she died a lingering death of "consumption", and that her lovers sadly abandoned her in the end. Or something like that.
The real story is very different.
As soon as I finished the book, I watched a 2.25 hour French version on YouTube with subtitles. The movie left out a LOT! (Also, the movie made it seem more like she was lured, beguiled, into debt by the predatory merchant with no concept of what she was doing. In the book, it's more like the merchant was just filling her hunger. And the movie didn't really get into how her neediness put so much pressure on Leon. So, don't go by the movies.)
Check one off the very bottom of the bucket list.
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According to the GPS, the country house is about 360 feet above sea level. Harumph. It seems higher.
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When I return from a trip to the country house, I have to time it just right. I have to leave by 2 pm at the latest, or wait until after 5 pm, to avoid rush hour on the Garden State Parkway. The rush hour traffic isn't bad - it's that there's
always at least one accident that has traffic backed up for an hour. Friday I left at 5 pm, but it turned out that was a mistake. The Rhinebeck Fairgrounds was hosting a huge antique motorcycle show Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The traffic jam heading toward the (two-lane) bridge over the Hudson River was horrendous.
As I crept along, there were three motorcycles in front of me. Stop, go, stop, go. I gave them plenty of room, especially because I appreciated their staying in the lane. We were passed by dozens of motorcycles roaring down the shoulder on our right, which royally pissed me off. I mean, if I'd had a gun ... or a barrel of roofing nails .... They were ignoring courtesy, rules, and speed limits. But worst of all, it was THE MOTORCYCLE CLUB'S SHOW that generated all this traffic! It was THEIR FAULT! And they're just blowing by while we innocents suffer?
When I finally got across the bridge and onto route 209, motorcycles continued to blast by. 55 mph speed limit, and they had to be doing at least 85. At least.
And they wonder why motorists won't give them a break? QUIT PISSING US OFF! Quit acting like laws, rules, and common courtesy don't apply to you.
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I usually return from the country on Thursday, but I was late this week. So Friday I expected more traffic than usual. I never use the GPS on that trip because I know the route. Friday I had it on for no particular reason, and as I entered NJ, I was shocked to hear something I'd never heard before: "Severe traffic ahead. Recalculating."
Huh? The traffic application is optional. I didn't know I had it.
The GPS took me off the Garden State Parkway onto route 3 east, to the NJ Turnpike. I'm glad I obeyed. The view of Manhattan from route 3 is amazing! From the top of the first hill off the Parkway, the cluster of tall gleaming buildings rises high above the trees ahead. It looks for all the world like a scene from a fairy tale movie. The sun was in the west hitting the scene full on, and the sky was clear.
Oz!
One of these trips I'll try to take a picture.
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At some point every morning, Nugget goes to the window, points urgently, and says "Amma! Amma!" Daughter escorts her across the street, and we have this routine. Nugget pounds on my door, "Amma! Amma!". I yell, "Who's that beating on my door?" (Billy Goat Gruff voice) and open it. Nugget hustles past to look for cat toys (which she prefers to kid toys).
On Thursday, Nugget said it was time to visit Amma, and Daughter said no, Gramma isn't home, and distracted her. On Friday, Nugget was more insistent and wouldn't be distracted, so Daughter brought her over. Nugget pounded on the door ... and there was no answer. Daughter tried to explain that the van wasn't in the driveway, Gramma was with the van, gone bye-bye. Van gone bye-bye, Gramma gone bye-bye.
Big disappointment.
(Hercules looked up "Amma" to see if it had a meaning and was surprised to find that it is appropriate. I could have told him - "Amah" is a nursemaid throughout much of southern Asia and India. So I don't mind if Nugget never masters the "Gr" part.)
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