An Afternoon with Ben Affleck

                Spending several hours with Ben Affleck on a Saturday afternoon was not priceless– it cost $12.00.  Afternoon prices dip a few dollars and we like to take advantage of any chance to save a couple of bucks when we go to the movies.  ARGO had been on the marque for only a short time at the Cinema 8, but the Oscar nominated film returned for a few afternoon showings.  We were excited to get to see it since the reviews had been excellent.
               While I’m not sure all the areas for the Oscar nominations, I’ll just say that the close-ups and opportunities to view Ben Affleck with a beard were Oscar worthy.  He is one fine looking gent,and a great actor, too.   He and George Clooney produced the movie.
              Interspersed with background shots of 1980’s television reports, including shots of Walter Cronkite, Tom Brokow, and Mike Wallace, the Iran Hostage Crisis came to life again.  We were somewhat privy to how it happened in the first place with footage almost documentary in nature. At the conclusion of the feature, similar “real-life” pictures, comparison shots, and statements about the 6 hostages rescued in this mission and the hostages who remained imprisoned for 444 days in the American Embassy in Iran flashed on the screen.  Jimmy Carter was seen in television clips and his Chief of Staff was depicted in the film. We’re really lucky that brave and determined Americans often forced the hand of administrative operatives, and our men and women on the ground, the ones with the real intelligence and the fortitude to carry out the plans, won the day.
                 The Eastern world of Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Turkey, and Egypt was depicted as totally chaotic, loud, aggressive, full of hate, and quite unnerving. I knew the hostages got out, but my nerves were shot by the time it actually happened.  Even if you are hesitant about seeing and sensing the Middle-East of the 1980’s, go see the film because of its Oscar merit, and because you will enjoy experiencing Ben Affleck, “up close and personal.”

Richard III and Maud Crawford: Who'da Thunk It !?!

British history plus William Shakespeare, and my attention is riveted.

         Seems archeologists and historians have barely slept while they researched potential burial sites for the evil hunchback king of England, Richard III. Their sleepless nights yielded fantasmagoric results:  He’s under a parking lot in a small English town.  Well, who’da thunk it.

        I read with great interest the article about the discovery and the DNA testing, the radiocarbon dating, and the assembling and private display of the king’s skeletal remains. Fascinating. Richard III was the last Plantagenet King of England,  dying in ruthless battle with the war's victor Henry VII (Tudor) ascending the English throne.  You’ll remember the Tudors for King Henry VIII and his long desire for the male heir. His beheaded wives would be interested to know that the law has now changed to allow the first born (male OR female) to claim the direct line to the throne. Rudyard Kipling encourages us to “keep our heads when all about us are losing theirs…”  Hmmmm.
                                      Enough of that.

Let’s get on to the real business, the real interest in unearthing Richard III’s bones. 

               If Richard III could be found under a parking lot in England, does it not follow that the remains of Maud Crawford, who has been notoriously missing since 1957, could now be discovered under the Safeway parking lot in Camden, Arkansas? If she’s not there, check the sealed up well near Berg Lake. www.charleyproject.org/cases/c/crawford_maud.html

                Let’s get busy!  Miss Maud is waiting.

To read more about Maud Crawford, see my Journey’s entry:  Bedtime Stories with Miss Maud.

Around the Corner and Down the Street

        “Early Spring,” says the Groundhog!  Oh, how my thighs hope he is right!  My walking routine has been severely disrupted due to bad weather, cold weather, rainy weather, cloudy weather, and occasional sunshine!
         The outdoors and I have a long-established a love/hate relationship.  It dates back to the moment Mother Nature determined to exact revenge on me for being a “Girl Scout Dropout.”  Try as I may to be a good sport, I just cannot get past spiders, bugs, and mosquitos. The aversion to the camping-out routine began when I was scolded for making a production of slapping mosquitos while sitting around a campfire – on a log, mind you! The Scout Leader told me to “quit, or just go inside!”  Oh, thank you, Jesus.  I thought she’d never exile me!  At a day-trip I ended my scouting career with subtle rebellion as I wondered aloud, “Why would anyone want to cook a baked potato in the ground when you have a perfectly good stove?????”

         Visiting out of town friends for weeks during the summer sometimes meant sucking it up and going with the group for an overnight at Girl Scout Camp.  I did not sleep a wink that one night, keeping watch for creeping spiders that could, if they had a mind to, climb up the leg of the cot and creep under the sheet onto my foot, or they could stealthily fall from the porch ceiling and perch upon my hand, or shoulder, or OMG, My Face!  How could anyone sleep under those creepy conditions?
        But, I do love breathing fresh air, taking in the scenes of pretty flowers and shrubs, shy jonquils, and landscaped lawns. I adore noticing how the seasons are changing.  Walking the 2+ miles daily I have enjoyed the tone my thighs and booty have achieved, and I also know I have lost some poundage, some fluffiness. Some ladies prefer the treadmill and the stationary bicycle.  Not me….even with TV, I grow tired of the same-ole scenery afforded by the indoor treadmill, and my knees can’t take the stationary bicycle nor the elliptical thing.  It’s that old cheerleader injury that I credit for every physical limitation.
        Friends recommend Yoga and Zumba, the golden oldies version.  Oh, how I wish there were classes here without having to drive to Kennett or Piggott.  I’ve gotten spoiled and don’t even like to drive 15 miles, unless I am shopping for a new outfit.  I prefer “just around the corner” and “down the street.”  And that's how I walk...around the corner and down the street.
        For now, I’ll build up my resolve to take up the Walking Routine again, just as soon as a few more buttercups decide to wave in the Early Spring breeze! I’ll gladly lace up my walking shoes for the pilgrimage, being sure to avoid spiders, bugs, and anything else creeping onto my path.

Gonna Have a Wild Weekend, Part II

                The first Super Bowl was played around my birthday in mid-January; that’s why I remember the hype beginning.  You mean there is something of more importance in mid-January than the festival surrounding my birth?  No Way!
                Now, it’s Super Bowl XLVII (that’s 47 for those who have forgotten Roman Numerals).  Does anyone know a sane individual who has purchased a room for 4 nights in the French Quarter, Super Seats, credentials, Bourbon-Street Bowl favors, plus credentials and lanyards for a mere $5900+ per person, double occupancy. We will simply entertain ourselves for free with Jane’s prognostication as to the winner, with no deference whatsoever to the Las Vegas line or which coaching brother is better looking.
              I have experience with brotherly conflict, but I don’t know which of the Harbaugh brothers coaches which team.  Isn’t it just crazy that Jim vs John makes the Super Bowl coaching battle Brother vs. Brother.  Reminiscent of the Mario Brothers, The Wright Brothers, Civil War and Marvin vs Garvin or even Peyton vs Eli, the Super Bowl reminds us that brothers are meant to fight. Think: Bible.
               Even leaving the Bible out of it, the clear choice for a winner is “San Francisco ‘49’ers.” Without hesitation, the “49’ers” are my favorite because that’s the year I was born (not 1849).  Second – the “49’ers” were seeking gold in California and I like gold, a lot. Then, there is the Joe Montana factor, not to be underestimated. “49’ers” 3; “Ravens” 0.
                The Ravens, such dark and dirty birds, don’t get any points for “team name.” Also, the players will not be rested as they have been kept awake, pondering weak and weary upon forgotten lore at midnight.  Without too much trouble, I can predict that “Never” will be the outcome for this team, based in EA Poe’s hometown of Baltimore. Major players may be found wandering the Bourbon Street alleyways seeking Edgar and his lost love Lenore.  That makes it “49’ers” 3 – “Ravens” minus-3.
                 “The Blind Side” is history.  Points for players whose home is Collierville, TN, or somewhere in Arkansas, or owners who have roots in Little Rock, or how many on each team once played for the SEC equal out for the teams.

                   So, my line is this:  “The 49’ers” by 6…and, that’ll do as well as any.  Enjoy your weekend! I’ll be wearing red and gold, recovering from groundhog meat loaf.

Gonna Have a Wild Weekend,PART I

               Two monumental events will occur this weekend, as the planets align to refute the Mayan Calendar prediction that we would not see another Groundhog Day or Super Bowl!
                Wooly worms crossing the road headed North or South, cows in the pasture curled on the ground or standing up, snow birds, snow clouds, and dancing inside-out pajamas seek attention as we attempt to manage the unpredictable.  But, it is dear Phil’s shenanigans, just as reliable as Doplar Radar in the wintertime, that give us our first reason to party this weekend.
               If Punxsutawney Phil lived in Arkansas, he'd be attached to a kite or flag pole for his own safety.  Winds, dangerous and threatening, are currently whipping in 72 degree January storm mode, temps heading for below freezing by the weekend.  What 's Phil got to say about that?

                   Of what significance, though, is February 2, other than an old friend’s birthday.  Punxsutawney Phil and his Pennsylvania adventure outside his den focus our attention to Weather Lore and Winter Wonderings.  Long before Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell repeated the day into lunacy, we’ve been separating ourselves into optimists and pessimists, early spring or more winter.  Since 1899, folks have prayed that Phil might comfort us with a longing look toward Spring. Eventhough Phil is the official prognosticator, we might pay homage to General Beauregard Lee, the Atlanta, GA, groundhog. Our facination with this varmit catapults the Groundhog over the Bald Eagle as the most attention-garnering animal in the United States during February.
                     Midway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, Groundhog Day is the perfect time for celebration. I don’t need much encouragement to establish a new tradition and a new party theme.  Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe” is the perfect theme song for a party that does not require gifts, cut-down trees, or roasted 20 pound birds.  All you need is good humor and an ugly brown sweater, or not. Suit yourself.  Reminiscent of the groom’s armadillo cake in Steel Magnolia’s, I wonder what a meat loaf in the shape of a groundhog might look like? 
                  I think we’ll just devour some popcorn and watch the 1993 movie after learning on the 6 o’clock news what Phil the Groundhog predicted.  We will learn anew with Bill Murray to “make every day count.”  

May Your Heart Sing

              It’s easy to take care of our hearts, but equally as easy to break them. Without singing Achy-Breaky Heart, your heart can be vulnerable to damage in age-old ways.  A lover can be insensitive, a child can be ungrateful, the stress of a work situation can take up unwelcome residence. Or you could over-indulge and give no deference to a more “heart-healthy” life-style.
              Taking care of your heart means assuring that your heart glows, smiles, sings, and soars. The old “more you give, more you get” strategy works here. And that includes giving kindness, generously. Maybe giving and receiving chocolate is old-fashioned, but I’m tuning up for “all of a sudden, My Heart Sings.”
              The box of chocolates this year may be reduced to a few specialty truffles or a few strawberries dipped in dark chocolate! Dark Chocolate provides many health benefits such as lowering cholesterol and blood pressure; even Hershey’s chocolate has expanded to include more Dark Chocolate items.  I can forego milk chocolate, as long as I don’t subject my sensitivities to “fake chocolate.”  Dark chocolate confesses high calories, so beware!  Just take your chocolate medicinally, the way my grandmother took her wine!
             To curb our “overboard” tendencies, I have modified our diet to include the “low and no” choices for ingredients that are used to whip up delicious dishes, including desserts.  If I can’t taste any real difference, I’ll go with “low and no” every time, except for No/Low Ranch Dressing, which I think is “yucky.”
          Adding a good brisk walk sometime during the day is also a good thing to help the heart. Several ladies asked me to join them in walking, but when they mentioned a time that was BEFORE 8:00 AM and BEFORE my coffee and newspaper, I had to issue a kind “wimp” regret. The walk has gone into hibernation, lately, with the very cold weather, but I’m looking forward to early Spring.
                Another option to help our hearts is cooking with whole wheat products. Wheat pasta and brown rice do not make any difference in the taste of the recipe, but can make much improvement in bad cholesterol readings.  My bad cholesterol number had risen and in helping Marvin, I helped myself.  Just by being aware and modifying our diet, and by walking, I reduced by bad cholesterol number by 22 points in 6 months and Marvin’s numbers were reduced also.

As we approach February, which is American Heart Month, be kind to yourself, kind to your love, take care of your family, and take care of your Heart.  Wear red, click your heels, and enjoy your friends.  Nurture each other and plan ways to make your heart sing.

Women's Right to Femininity

          I’d like to go on the record as saying I put cinnamon sugar on both sides of my French toast.  I prefer cookies with sparkles and cupcakes with flavored filling.  I want my cake and I’d like to eat it, too. My feet are firmly planted on both sides of the feminism fence. Being treated like a lovely piece of delicate china, seeing men rise from their places when I enter a room, having doors held for me, and my chair placed as I sit for a meal are all gentleman & lady traditions that I enjoy. I am also fond of voicing my opinion, voting my convictions, and seeing my name on the title for things I own.

The National Organization of Women whose membership seems comprised of make-up allergic Betty Friedan-types brought us the freedom to pump our own gas, but also gave us a Bill of Rights.  Nothing to be sneezed at, this Bill of Rights and the Equal Rights Amendment allow me to live in retirement with benefits from having worked during a time when women are paid equally with men for the same job. I took family leave at the arrival of both children. We are all indebted to Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B Anthony, but also to Phyllis Schlafly, the conservative activist championing the traditional family. Can’t we be feminine and feminists, too?

             The thought of brave women enjoying equal rights by donning camouflage and brandishing a military assault rifle on the front lines raises fear in me on many levels. Equal rights and equal responsibility is a concept that I endorse, however, which places me once more on both sides of the French toast.  Women should be protected from harm, abuse on every level, within our homes and throughout the world. When will we acknowledge that being an educated woman advocating for women’s rights does not necessitate a “roar.”

NEXT: Explore my new BLOG:  Charm is More than a Bracelet at www.morethanabracelet.blogspot.com
You'll read themed posts such as “…Miss Scarlet, she helped; but It Was Mostly Me!”

             another post to be entitled, Indulge in Dazzle; Pack an Extra Suitcase