Saturday, October 22, 2016

Today's video/Carpool Karaoke with Michelle Obama

Oh my gosh, this is SO much fun! What a great First Lady. You will love this no matter your politics.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Today's picture/Walking

"Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme."
Leonard Cohen

Friday, October 14, 2016


Can you see this amazing almost full moon (officially 12.23 am eastern time on Sunday) this evening? Wish I had a great camera to capture it.

Of course the song that comes to mind is Van's Moondance. This is from 1979. Though it says Belfast, the notes say it was really in Dublin. Just the best, best song.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

What I Learned from TV - October 12

Each time I do a post about What I Learned From TV, I’ll begin with the explanation from the first posting:

Now that my kids are grown, and Tom has retired, I’ve been able to go back to my natural sleep pattern which is to stay up late and get up late. Tom’s natural rhythm is just the opposite. So, he’s the lark and I’m the owl. 

And what this owl does in the late hours is watch television- not in the traditional way but through Acorn TV, Hulu, Netflix, TunnelBear, and my own DVDs. Most of the shows are British, though I am a great fan of a few American television shows, and have been watching a few from other countries now that we have TunnelBear. Some of these shows Tom will watch in the mornings, but many of them are all mine. So, when I hear a great quote from a show I know he’s not going to watch, I’ll leave him little post-it notes near the computer keyboard. I had a notion this morning to begin a new ‘letter topic’ called What I Learned From TV so I can put up some virtual post-its for you to read and, hopefully, enjoy. Some are funny, some are educational, some are wise.

Pouring some salt in a candle makes it burn longer (2 hours, I think it said). I haven’t tried this, but plan to do so.

From the movie The Missing Postman:
Make notes of what you want to do around the house and garden, and put them in a jar. Draw one out and do it!

From The Coroner
“Never trust a man in socks and sandals.” 

Lewis: “Life born of fire. I bet that means something in Latin."
Hathaway: “What makes you say that?”
Lewis: “This is Oxford. Everything always means something in Latin.”

From the movie Another Year which I wrote about here:
“and then there are the big corporations who keep their lights on all night in empty office buildings while we’re all expected to do our bit with eco bulbs."

Sunday, October 9, 2016

Today's video/Corinne Bailey Rae on Tiny Desk Concerts

I am so happy that Corinne Bailey Rae has a new album. Her first one came out the year I began writing this blog and I listened to it all the time. Then her husband died, and the next album dealt with her grief. She has now remarried, and The Heart Speaks in Whispers is full of the joy of new life, new hope.

Friday, October 7, 2016

Today's poem by Susan Moorhead

The Botanical Gardens Gift Shop

We all wear the same things, bright scarves, artful earrings,
shoulder-length or cropped graying hair. Groomed yet
somehow vaguely askew, our reading glasses perched
on top of our heads, forgetting to wear them as we squint
at the narrow lines of print in a gardening book, in a collection

of meaningful quotes. You in the linen jacket, you in that apricot
cardigan wrap, the woman on line who shares a rueful smile
with me, a stack of blue and green cotton napkins in her arms
and another book she doesn't need. The wave of affection
I feel for these women surprises me at first until I realize,

oh, I know you. These fine lines on our brows etching proof
of worries and years of smiling, facing things that have blessed
or shattered us. I have seen you put on your brave face at the
doctors, or the nursing home, at the hospice, or the funeral
parlor as you rise to greet the next person and the next moment,

and the moment after that one, all hard. I know the effort made
to achieve that polite public response, yes, I'm fine, thank you
for asking. I know the moments you have failed, the private
breakdowns, the pointless arguments with God, of being so
tremendously alone you cannot take your next breath. But

then you do. I know how you chin up and try again. How
you reapply your lipstick with a shaking hand and then open
the door, shoulders back, and enter the world. To some,
your actions might look like small things, inconsequential.
I see you choose a child's book on gardening for perhaps a
grandchild or a niece or nephew, because one is never
too young to learn how to rise up each year and bloom.

Susan Moorhead

from The Night Ghost

Another poem by her on the blog here.