Favorite Movies

Today I added Gone With the Wind to my favorite movies. I always said that it was beautiful but not a good film, because (1) the main actors were too old except Gable, (2) Vivien Leigh's attempt at a southern accent made me sick, (3) they cast a big ugly horse-faced woman as Ellen O'Hara, (4) they made Pork sound like an idiot, (5) Clark Gable's hair looked like black shoe polish, etc.

The film was shown on TV one day recently, and I watched snatches and then the tail end of it. I don't think I've ever watched the whole movie at one sitting, but now I want to. I ordered a copy of the book, because I can't find my old worn-out one which I probably threw away after reading it all to pieces. I may get the DVD.

Vivien Leigh, Hattie MacDaniel, Leslie Howard, Olivia DeHavilland, Thomas Mitchell and Victor Jory were perfect. Gable was Gable.

In 1950, when I went north with Douglas, Betty Lou and Homer, we all spent a few days with Pat and John Stecks at John's nursery farm outside Chicago. We met a couple of their friends, who looked so much like O. DeHavilland and L. Howard it was astonishing.

Anyway, now I have to see GWTW from start to finish.

*

I also watched Titanic twice in the past week or so (on TV). It seems incredible that it was made in 1997. Incredible that 1997 was 12 years ago. Photos below (Titanic menu; the real Titanic, anchored at night off Cherbourg) were made by Frank Browne in 1912. "Father Browne" survived the disaster.

Thunder in the Thicket

I slept very late this morning (probably because of the soothing sounds of rain and thunder), and am just now getting limbered up and coffee-revived. Sold 2 books while I was asleep. My kind of a job: work while you sleep. Nice work, if it would only happen more often.

The Strange Ride of Morrowbie Jukes

I had never read this story before, or didn't remember it. "More strange things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of..."

The trials and uncertainties of bookselling
Yesterday I received an order for an old book about angels, written by a female preacher. It had been a beautiful book before somebody highlighted almost the entire text with a yellow marker, and underlined passages with ink. My Amazon listing was the lowest price for that title, $32.97. I was afraid to price it any lower, as "lowballing" incenses higher sellers almost to the point of violence. Sometimes even that far. Anyway, I had described it in detail, and somebody bought it. So I enclosed a $5 bill in it, with a note explaining that I was trying to be fair, and that would at least refund his postage charge. Minus the shipping and handling, I made about $23 bucks anyway. That was only my second sale in February.

I really resent it when I get a lovely book that someone has defaced. Notwithstanding the fact that I used to write in books all the time. At least, I don't think I ever wrote in them with ink. Maybe I did write my name with ink in some. My Oscar Williams book of American poetry, the first book I ever bought with my own money (in 1954), is full of penciled notes, all of which have faded to pale gray smudges on the pages and could be erased with some kneaded eraser.
*
Loryn's quilt top split and ripped when I tried to remove the machine-stitching across one side of it. It must be quite old. I wrote and told her that I would make her a pillow sham or something out of the undamaged side, maybe a baby quilt.

Baa, Baa, Black Sheep

"When I come back to Bombay," said Punch on his recovery, "I will come by the road--in a broom-gharri. This is a very naughty ship."

*

Punch and Judy's story reminds me of so many things that happened to me in childhood, although the families I lived with were not physically cruel to me, of course. I might have turned out better if I had received an offhand blow upside the head every now and then. But then, I might have turned out worse.

For the record

Anyone who reads my blog, take note. If you click on "Free Books" in the left column, you'll see a list of my books available free (except for postage) if you sign up for Bookins (a free site). However, if you want anything on the list, just let me know and you can have it free, from me, without "points" and without paying $4.49 postage to have it mailed to you. Just thought you'd like to know.

While you're clicking, you can also look at "My Bookstore."

I Volunteered!!!!!

The mailman brought me a medium-sized box, and in it was Loryn's quilt top. It has the batting and lining partly basted to it, and someone had started machine-quilting it with fine sewing thread. It's going to be a pill getting it all apart and put back together, but I told her I'd quilt it for her. Fortunately, it's small, only about 60 inches square, except for the wide border (which doesn't suit) sewed around it. Surprise, surprise, Loryn! The "after" photo is going to look a whole lot different.

She said if I decided not to quilt it, I could wad it up and throw it in the garbage. Au contraire, GF! I think it'll make a very pretty quilt. Where's my magic wand? (Ha ha.)

Whaddaday!

This morning I woke up thinking, You might as well call Murray's to come and get the car. That nice man who answers the phone at Murray's garage sounds like a Blackwood or Stamps Quartet bass, on the phone, but his voice is pretty normal in person. He sent a man to jump-start the car, and I drove it around and around Leeds for a while, then to the shop for them to check the battery and change the oil. They said the battery is good, just needed the connections cleaned and wires replaced or something. When all was said and done, I paid them more money than I had, by way of the Visa card.

Thank goodness spring is near. My utility bills this month will take all of my state retirement check, mainly thanks to Alabama Gas. And I've been cold at least half of the time this winter. When I'm cold, y'all know it's cold.

But spring will come, and the ice will break. I'm already broke as a haint.

I hate to quit procrastinating!

I'm just resting from about an hour in the basement. I cleaned out the north port of the garage, hoping that a vehicle can get in there, close enough to my car to jump-start the motor. In a few minutes I'm going to take a long hot shower, then gargle half a bottle of peroxide in hopes of washing off or killing any basement germs. It might be nice to be grounded for a week, if not for worrying about all the places I should be going and things I should be doing. Not to mention running out of cigarettes and cat food, whiskey and shotgun shells and things.

Pat's blog entry about Beverley Nichols got me looking at biographies of old British writers. In my biographical scrapbook, there's an article about Roald Dahl, English eccentric, RAF hero, 30-year husband of actress Patricia Neal, and writer of the most controversial children's stories since the demystification of the Brothers Grimm. His plane ran out of gas in the 1940s and he crashed in the middle of the Libyan desert, fractured his skull and mashed his nose in. He wrote Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang, Boy, and Matilda, and many others, then died at age 74 in 1990.

It's strange how handsome Englishmen get so ugly when they get old, while handsome American men just get better looking; cf. Dick Van Dyke, Sean Connery, Clint Eastwood, Harry Belafonte, Tony (the singer whose last name I have trouble remembering), et al. Tony Bennett? I say Clint Eastwood, remembering Susan's blog entry about him, although Clint was never any Marvin Behlke. But then, who is?

That is, unless the handsome American goes and gets plastic surgery. Richard Chamberlain and James Garner, two of the handsomest actors ever, both looked like freaks after their facelifts.

To the showers!

Red Hot Book Club Meeting!

I'm pretty sure this is my final fit of raving about Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts. My car wouldn't start this morning, so Susan picked me up on her way to the library where the club met today. She hadn't read the book, so on the way I told her the story, or most of it. Betty, who was the hostess this month, was even crazier about the book than I am. So, a noisy time was had by all, everybody talking at once while munching on Betty's delicious snacks.

*

We stopped by the grocery store and CVS on the way home, and I bought Mo a whole mess of canned cat food so he would stop fussing at me. I'll be glad when my craving for hot dogs goes away. I get these food fits, when all I want is one thing. I think I ate a dozen sacks of tangerines between Christmas and the first of February. Now I want Ball Park franks, roasted until they're nearly burnt. I tell myself that cravings probably reflect something that one's system needs, but it's hard to imagine what dietary necessity Ball Park franks have that something sensible wouldn't provide.

Book Club Doings

Betty White just phoned to remind me of book club meeting Friday (Feb. 13) at the library. We talked about Shantaram for a long time. I know Jean is reading the book, and Pat has just started reading it. Peggy called me a few days ago and said she was going to read it later, probably borrow my copy.

Hostess for the March (13th) book club meeting is me. I need to go to the library and see if they can round up enough copies for everyone, as it's too expensive to expect everyone to buy it. "It" is Beverley Nichols's Down the Garden Path. It's nonfiction, but it has everything--humor, hatred, murder, love, etc. I've been searching online for discussion questions, but haven't found any yet.

Yesterday Sister Pat and I went to the thrift store, and I brought home this beautiful(?) sort of poison-green vase that I found irresistible. Also bought $4 worth of books, 2 of which were worth listing on Amazon.com.

*

The other two were books I wanted to read, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, which I've never read in my life, and an old paperback of Cyrano de Bergerac. Don't know why I wanted Cyrano, because there's a much-read hardback copy in the shelves. If you click the vase and enlarge it, you can see my reflection.

*

I do know why I bought the paperback. I was thinking I'd pick that for March book club. But I'm pretty sure the Nichols book is the one.

Wednesday, Giving Thanks

Praise and thanks to God for His healing grace! Our brother Vann Cleveland heard from his oncologist that his tumor markers are reduced by 85% since starting his chemo treatments.

************

Chai, anyone? This is one of my favorite china patterns. I found it at TJ Maxx a long time ago. Even green tea tastes good in it.

************

Nothing much going on around Sourwood Mountain these days, except crisp cold and beautiful sunshine. Somehow, it feels like spring.

Not Exactly Kipling

Afraid I'm still in Bombay (Mumbai). The feeling of being inside that book has lasted longer than that of any book I've read except the Kipling stories. This picture was made inside a Mumbai bar; reminds me of Leopold's, where Lin, Karla, Didier, Prabu, Vikram and others congregated.

The poetry reading Monday night was really good. Joe and Gail were there, and Gail looked better than since long before she started her chemo treatments. She's all better now. Joe read a beautiful sonnet, but it was flawed in the last lines--he knew this, but he'll work it out. Cookie didn't come, wasn't feeling well; I worry about her. Sherry, Frank, Joan and Ruby (forgot Ruby's last name) were all looking good. Boy, that Sherry carries a big stick--brave and resourceful lady.

I'm reading Richmond Lattimore's translation of The Four Gospels and the Revelation (that's the title). Very good reading, in everyday English.