It's Still Going But I'm Not

 

Well, when yet another day dawned without any prediction that  the thermometer would ever rise above freezing, I gave up.  Possibly the Karft macaroni had something to do with it.  At any rate, an obliging young man freed the yellow car.

-- I don't dare take the little electric out in this --it's cozy in the garage.

And now for  your viewing pleasure I append a view of the frig yesterday morning -- and another taken Friday afternoon, following a triumphant foray to Wegmans.

Snowbound Adventure (Continued)

Yes, it is still going on and on.  The longterm forecasts offer only new storms with more of the same.  Eight below zero promised for tomorrow morning.  It's still cozy and delightfully leisurely in here.  I’m not saying we’re running low on food –

but last night I broke into the Kraft Macaroni I stock for  grandsons.  Note the last of the carefully-rationed orange juice.  

And behold --  the Fates took notice!  Just now, as we speak, an emergency supply of orange juice is delivered  by a venturesome niece. 

       This is turning into a fine adventure.

Gentleman's Agreement -- p. s.

Forgot to mention -- three things  I noticed, watching that 1947 movie:
* Women were pushing baby carriages on the sidewalk -- what ever happened to baby carriages?  or as they may have called them there in New York City, baby buggies? When's the last time you saw one?
* The exquisitely dressed Fashion Editor on the magazine was wearing huge shoulder pads.  What ever happened to them?  When's the last time you heard the words "shoulder pads"?
* And the one that moved me to write to you:  elderly mother has heart attack at home.  Doctor comes to the house  -- and that's not even the part I wanted to share with you.  Doctor steps out of her bedroom to son waiting in the hall.  Doctor says "I think with rest and..."  pause  "...quiet, that she'll pull through." 
What I wanted to tell you was what Doctor did in that pause before sharing the good news.
He lit a cigarette.

More of the Same

What can I tell you?  I look at the five-day forecast IN THE NEWSPAPER every morning and still no sign it'll ever get above freezing.  Which means I'll never leave the house.  So there's nothing happening here.  It's redundant to show you what's going on, as most of you are probably experiencing the same thing.  But just in case, for those in California -- here's the bird bath.  And here's the tree outside my bedroom window. 
 
 
So yes, it's lots of lying in bed watching movies on TV.  The other night TCM, which is screening old Oscar winners, showed Gentlemen's Agreement.  I found I remembered exactly three things about that movie:  first, it must have been in 1947, because I was taking Creative Writing in my senior year (didn't learn a thing; fiction, it turned out, is not my metier.)  But I remember that our instructor, a grad student, took the whole class downtown to see that movie.  I knew nothing in those days, hadn't read the book, hadn't heard of the movie, hardly knew what a grad student was, had no idea why he thought we should see the film.  That's the first thing. 
Second, I remembered the plot -- Gregory Peck, WASP journalist, tells everyone he's Jewish, to gather material for a series he's writing on anti-Semitism.

And third, I remembered John Garfield, the
one-of-my-best-friends-is-a-Jew just back from The War, still crisp and beautifully pressed in his Captain's uniform. 
The other night I  realized why he was my only memory from the movie.  Short, dark, wiry, intense -- he reminded me of my father.  Who -- off-t0pic I know but it's nice to post his picture -- died only a couple of years after that.

 

It Keeps On Coming

I don't understand why the falling snow doesn't show up in the picture I just took -- trust me, gang, it's snowing.  It's always snowing.  One weather prediction for tomorrow expects a high of 2 -- not one of those wind-chill thingies and not a low. A high.

Things are still cozy, orange juice is holding out, and it's relaxing not having left  the house for who knows how many days now. 

 So okay, we all know goldfinch come back up north late, maybe in June, so they can use the opening milkweed pods to build nests.  But this morning I find this misguided dingy goldfinch, and as soon as I get the camera out, darned if its relatives don't join it.  They vanished just after I took their picture, and here's why: 

 

Clearly, the sensible thing was to go back to bed, where surfing cable revealed a choice of  movies, including Little Women, Titanic, and The Full Monty.  Of course I'd seen all of them.  Norm and I even saw the Full Monty on stage in London, years ago.  At the live play, you are wondering, how did they treat the strippers' last scene?  Did those guys really dance their way down to the full monty?  Well -- I believe they did, but it's hard to say, because just as the music reached the "tah-dah!" the stage burst into floodlights -- right in  our eyes. 

The Monty (which was, of course, the movie I chose) had commercials, but that was okay because then I could surf back to glimpses of the others.  I came in on Titanic just in time for the sketch of the nude heroine (definitely a theme to this morning) and then I hit "Little Women" just as Beth died, and this time I did not cry. 
      I used to enjoy asking friends if they remembered how old Beth was when she died.  Average answer is "around 14."  But think about it -- Jo had already left home to seek her fortune.  Amy was in Europe, soon to marry.  People (women) are surprised to realize that Beth was in her 20s when she died. (So was the author's sister Elizabeth Alcott.)  
Second question: what did she die of?  The response was usually "I don't know, maybe tuberculosis?"  But not so.  There's not a cough in the whole book.  Far as I can figure, Beth may have had a weak heart -- remember that earlier scarlet fever?  Or maybe she just Went In to a Decline.  That happened a lot in those days.
 

Still Snowbound

I'm touched by the emails and comments inquiring how Snowbound is coming -- truth is it's cozy and relaxing. Here's an update on the yellow car -- I thought I'd take the picture through the icicles, but it appears the storm door is frozen shut, so this is through the glass.*
*not to worry.  The garage door opens fine and the driveway is plowed and I'm wearing one of those "help, come get me" buttons you push when you fall and the keys to the house are in a lockbox on the front door post, which is, come to think of it, behind this frozen storm door...
     Yes, friends, as this is a blog about Being Old, yes -- I do stay in bed till noon watching  movies on tv.  To answer the inquiry about titles -- mostly they're showing old favorites (or since the query comes from Canada, it's mostly old favourites.)   I hesitate to name names for fear the more academic amoung you may sneer -- the movies I like aren't all that cerebral.  This morning it was

 Doc Hollywood --

 

any of you ever see it?  Recent MD graduate driving to California to interview with a fancy plastic surgeon gets stuck in a small Southern town that needs a doctor.  I forget his name (cute short guy, Back to the Future, Parkinsons?)  but I've always liked the movie, good dialog and he makes the most of it.

 

Same with another I've always enjoyed -- Starman was on yesterday.  Do you know it?  Channel surfing brought me to it right at the line I've always remembered -- the outer space Starman, protesting that he knows how to drive, says "I watch you very carefully.  Red means stop, green means go, yellow means go very fast."

 

Snowbound

It’s so great being snowbound, haven't left the house for more than a week.  That orange juice day I stocked up on bread, milk and Cherry Garcia. Phone still working so I cancelled a doctor appointment (nothing pressing -- dermatologist -- “patients never die and they never phone you in the middle of the night”), didn't attend that movie in the Holocaust series, dropped out of the Museum course on art appreciation (too hard keeping up as the class walks anyhow), cancelled the seniors lunch, nothing to do but stay in bed watching movies and feeling guilty about not doing the income tax. Didn't transfer the winter car into the garage in time, so there's another excuse for holing up.  And we've another big snowstorm predicted.

 

My only regret was that nothing was happening, so I had nothing to tell you. But adventures come to those who wait.  Today's newspaper shows this in the next town over and I thought you'd enjoy seeing it --

 

So anyhow -- I don’t shovel the front walk, instead I put up a winter mailbox by the garage. Don't use the front door.  But I happened to open it today, and here's what I saw:

 
 
Do you supose that means there's something I should do about something? about the gutters? the soffit? the roof?
I'm not going to.