Murder By Decree

Last night on Netflix I watched the best Sherlock Holmes movie I've ever seen, "Murder By Decree," 1979 from Canada. It has some of the best and most attractive actors as stars: Christopher Plummer, James Mason, Donald Sutherland, John Gielgud--and Genevieve Bujold as Annie Crook! I've only seen her before in "Anne of the Thousand Days" with Richard Burton. Great actress.

My TV has done something that I haven't figured out how to undo. When I hit the power button, a blue screen comes on with the HD1 logo jumping around, and nothing I've tried makes it go to the channels.

Dinner Last Night

Sour-cream chicken and biscuits. Plus some veggies.

It took most of the day, but the refrigerator is cleaned out and restocked. I'm not exactly proud of myself for going grocery shopping. But it's a good feeling when I force myself to get out of the house, instead of yelling for help.

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I keep thinking about a book I'd like to re-read after about fifty years. Herman Wouk's Youngblood Hawke. I used to have the book, but don't any more. It's about a writer. A movie was made based on it, but they got the wrong actor to play Hawke, and it made me not want to read the book again for 50 years or so. I wish somebody else would read it and tell me if they agree with me that the movie part would have been perfect for Andy Griffith.

Mr. Reed's guys cleaned up the lawn and driveway today.

"When there's not any ordinary heroes around, just anybody can jump up and be one!"

That will be the last line of the play about Moonlight Ridge. This morning I finished the outline and summary; now Ramey and I just have to get together and flesh it out. Or maybe I'll do that myself, then let her fix it or mess it up according to her wishes.

As usual, when I've been writing, I'm so excited I can't think what to do next. Maybe eat some more yogurt and applesauce. The day before yesterday, or maybe the day before the day before yesterday, I threw some ground beef, a can of celery soup, a can of Veg-All, a can of diced tomatoes, a can of water, a chopped onion, and lots of salt, garlic salt, celery salt and 3 kinds of pepper in the crock-pot and made beef stew. Then I made cornbread. I wish I had saved some of it.

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If my alarm clock didn't wake me up, the woodpecker would. He/she starts drumming on my house about good daylight almost every day. Hope he's not making a hole in the roof or wall.

An OCD Poet Mentally Correcting Incorrect Rhymes

"Come sit by my side, little darlin',
Come lay your cool hand on my spine,
And promise me that you will never
Be nobody's darlin' but mine."

There. Isn't that better than pretending that "brow" and "mine" rhyme?

Plan Ahead

April is National Poetry Month. I haven't written anything lately, and hope to make up for it by writing a poem for each day this April. Also, I intend to finish writing the play based on Ramey's book, Sweet Music on Moonlight Ridge. For the latter project, I have to buckle down and sift through all the images in my head when I think about Moonlight Ridge. Get organized.

Arthritis Treatment:

These mugs were made in Mexico. When my big measuring cup is in the dishwasher, I sometimes use one of these to heat water in the microwave. The mug doesn't get extremely hot, and the warm handle feels so good to my old arthritic hand, I sometimes hold onto it until it cools down.

Changes

If I survive this year, I'm determined to make some changes in my life.

For a while I was gaining weight, up to 5-6 pounds. But in the past couple of weeks I've lost a lot--am now below 120 again.

Next year, if I'm still here, I'm going to be the equivalent of a purple-wearing hell-raiser. And do exactly what I want to do, and nothing else. Stop stopping myself from cussing when I feel like it. Spend most of my money on clothes and makeup. Wear a different hairpiece every day, and never no more flat heels.

I'm already tired from thinking about it.

Book Club

Our meeting yesterday was delightful, at least for me and I hope for everyone. Carole couldn't be there, because of her husband's illness, and we missed her. We discussed Handling Sin by Michael Malone, and for next month's meeting we chose Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian.  Nell and I had fun guessing astrological signs of fictional characters. She said Scarlett O'Hara was an Aries, and I agreed.

I was proud of my success in putting together several tasty dishes, having burned only one pot and broken only one wine glass in the process.

Plans

Yesterday I did nothing useful--at least what was left of yesterday after I got out of bed about two p.m. I did nothing useful, but made a lot of good plans, including sprucing the house up for the book club meeting Friday.

For the book club's April book selection, I'm going to suggest one of the best novels I've ever read in my whole life, Patrick O'Brian's Master and Commander. Those who have only seen the movie can't imagine the delights of this book and its 19-volume string of sequels. I would take off my writer's hat to Patrick O'Brian, but I don't have a hat, and O'Brian is dead.

Cuppa Tae

I'm afraid I have formed a new addiction. Habit, at least. Green tea. It's a yucky color, has no aroma, and tastes like parboiled sawdust. Still, it's one of the more appetizing things in my largely liquid diet. It took about a week for me to get good and fed up with soups, juices, and soft sweet foods. Almost everything I can eat or drink is sweet and high in calories, and I keep gaining weight. Aaargh!!!

PBS is playing a lot of old recordings by Tennessee Ernie Ford, as part of a fund-raising program. It's good to be reminded of everything we loved about Tennessee Ernie. His singing voice was one of the most pleasing I've ever heard. However, the sound on these recordings seems deeply flawed.

Just Saying

I listened to Prime Minister Netanyahu's speech. I didn't hear any insults, only praise for what President Obama has done for Israel, and a plea to the President and the world, not to advocate giving Iran implicit permission, and plenty of time, to amass a nuclear arsenal.

Last Night

Unable to sleep much, I watched PBS's rerun of the Downton Abbey finale in the middle of the night. For some reason, my head noises had calmed down enough that I could understand what everyone was saying. Strangely, I haven't lost hope for Edith's happiness: Several times during this season, I have seen a man in a crowd somewhere who looked like Michael Gregson, Marigold's father. I kept waiting for him to turn up at Downton. Maybe next season.

I loved Mrs. Hughes's acceptance of Carson's proposal of marriage. My other favorite lines in this episode were when Robert told his wife that he had a stomach ulcer:

Cora: "Whitefish, chicken, no alcohol--"

Robert: [startled] "Steady on!"

Also, when Violet was telling Isobel about her adventures with the prince and princess, she said regretfully, "I will never again receive an immoral proposition from a man."

Yesterday I watched an excellent Hallmark TV movie, "The Lost Child." It was about a nice Jewish lady who discovers that she's really a Navajo Indian. Tantoo Cardinal was the only actor I recognized, as the movie was made in the year 2000.

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This morning it occurred to me that "everything's going to be all right," and I immediately stopped worrying. Call it holy Comforting.

Proof Positive

I hope my father has learned that the seat is not always the first place where my jeans wear out.

I don't resent Daddy's criticisms, though. If I had really been a boy, he would have been even tougher on me.