The very best thing was the hump
day luncheon with my favorite son. I
tortured him during the weekly snapshot as he was sporting a summer jacket
while I was safely ensconced in a thick winter coat. The polar vortex was not kind to him and he
reported during a hurried approach to the restaurant that he’d added a pea coat
to his Christmas list for next year. The
lunch was everything I needed in terms of family contact and support. I’m sure it’s supposed to be the other way
around but he’s wise beyond his years and a lot of fun to hang out with. We made tentative plans for the Robocop requested
Portsmouth
 |
| A Very Cold Son |
Ms Handler is nothing if not
frank as she walks the reader through her sexual adventures from teenage years through
her rise to Hollywood success. She’s incredibly funny throughout but for the
sake of her frequently skewered friends and family I certainly hope she took
some severe artistic license or these people will never speak to her again.
She’s irreverent and
hopelessly hard on herself but it made for a very interesting read. I left it with one thought, why couldn’t I
meet a girl like this when I was young and available – but then again I hate to
think what my chapter of the book would read like. I guess I dodged a bullet there.
Back at home I started
dismantling my wife’s vast inside Christmas ornamental panoply. Uncharacteristically she’s trusting me this
year with taking down her most prized holiday decorations. She’s always worried about my process which
prizes speed over ornament protection.
She bought a zip up bag for the spare fake Christmas tree which was a stone
cold bitch to get the tree into. I found colorful language helped a great deal
in that effort (Buddy found this whole event fascinating).
I ran out of things to take
down and there was no way I’m attempting the outside decorations until we’re at
least forty degrees warmer. I did not
want to face extended time contemplating the silence (my wife really does fill
up a house, despite her small stature) so this meant another trip to the local
cinema. I think my car can make the trip
without any guidance from me at this point.
I went to see Grudge Match
which I didn’t have high hopes for based on what I’d heard about it, but c’mon
Rocky Balboa against Jake Lamotta – I was going to see this movie. While it certainly did have its awkward
moments it was actually fairly enjoyable.
They went a little overboard trying to make connections back to the
Rocky movie, some more blatant than others and Kim Bassinger was completely out
of her league.
Stallone’s gone the lunkhead
route for most of his career but he’s really not that bad an actor and more
than holds his own with Deniro which is no mean task. The movie is predicable but again,
enjoyable. It was the kind of movie I
know I should dislike but I couldn’t help myself, a tribute to the two leads,
ably supported by Alan Arkin, one of the funniest guys to ever draw
breath. The hardest thing to do was
suspend disbelief that Stallone would not immediately mop the floor with Deniro
in the ring, so maybe this was really an Oscar level turn for Deniro.
I left the Skype line open
all night but there was no contact with my tropical wife. I think she’s deeply immersed with sister
time and reveling in escaping the polar vortex with probably some dancing
thrown in. The photo below captures my
initial foray into making my own fashion decision. If I don’t pass inspection I can expect a
call tonight (hmmm, maybe a technique there to maintain contact?)
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