Happy Friday, boys and girls. I’m grieved to announce that I still haven’t been able to shlep myself into the study since I got home from the hospital almost a week ago. For the most part I’ve been eating, sleeping and typing (with my new MacBook Pro laptop) in the family room … morning, noon and night. This isn’t a
bad arrangement, per se, but there are lots of projects I can accomplish only when I’m parked at my desk in the study in front of my big iMac, such as: 1) printing envelopes so I can mail birthday cards; 2) designing products for
The Howdygram Store; and 3) writing email to addresses that don’t reside on my MacBook.
To explain items 1 and 2 ... I do all of my design work with Adobe’s fancy Creative Cloud software — Illustrator, InDesign and Photoshop — and these programs are only loaded on my iMac.
My goal for the weekend is to keep trying to walk to the study. I know how idiotic this sounds, but right now the distance is something I just can’t conquer. It may as well be 150 miles away.
I’ve got some interesting movies lined up for this evening. I just tried to watch (and then deleted) a clunker called
The Winning Team (1952), a baseball movie starring Ronald Reagan as legendary pitcher Grover Cleveland Alexander. Oh my God ... he was absolutely HORRIBLE. I got about 30% through this miserable thing until I couldn’t stand any more. So Sam and I switched gears a little and watched
Death at a Funeral (2007), a comedy starring Matthew MacFayden and a cast of dozens, and now we’re enjoying
One Foot in Heaven (1941) starring Fredric March and Martha Scott. A sweet movie, and apparently it’s also a true story.
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| A thoroughly atrocious movie that should be avoided at all costs. (Trust me.) |
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| Fredric March and Martha Scott in “One Foot in Heaven.” |
This has been a very difficult day for me. From first thing this morning it was clear that my bladder was ready to “catch up” for a week of low output ... ever since I got out of the hospital last Sunday. Today it was Niagara Falls here at Howdygram headquarters, with your editrix peeing hither and yon, uncontrollably, every 90 minutes all day long. Add to this an intestinal explosion of frightening magnitude and a series of extended power naps. I even managed to sleep through our landscapers mowing and edging the front and back yards AND Sam shampooing the family room carpet …
right underneath me. It’s 10:30 p.m. now, I’m gnawing on what’s left of my dinner (a cold cheeseburger with green olives, ketchup and Nathan’s Coney Island mustard) and watching
Three Little Words (1950), a biography of songwriters Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby starring Fred Astaire and Red Skelton.
I’m addicted to movies. (It’s healthier than smoking. I gave up cigarettes 12 years ago.)
Thank you for reading this. I mean it most sincerely.
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