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Archive for the ‘movies’ Category

It was surprisingly busy for a Sunday afternoon. Long lines at the counters and dressing room. I was in a high-end store in a high-end shopping center in need of a specific item I’ve needed that Nordstrom’s carried. Sunday was the last day of their semi-annual sale and a good deal was to be had!

I queued up for a dressing room, then to make my purchase. I thought about grabbing a quick bite in the restaurant, realized I was all queued out and just needed to head home. I walked toward the escalator, following another flow of shoppers navigating more lines, and approached the rolling staircase.

There I was, a smallish bag in one hand, a largish purse in the other, not well-balanced at all, with the optical illusion of steps before me oscillating downward in a “Now you see me, now you don’t” pattern.

I don’t do steps well. You can imagine my expertise on escalators.

I waited, a second longer than socially acceptable, then dipped my toes onto the outgoing step, grabbing the sliding rail, aware of the growing line-up behind me. I am the pain in the butt you do not want to follow on escalators, but, I am what I am (or is it I yam what I yam?) and stepped on, turning slightly  to see who was on the step behind me.

No one!

No one was behind me – then someone was. Detecting my slight turn of the head, a soft voice said, “You are fine. I’ve got your back.” Someone had my back! Wow! My protector said “I’m a rehab nurse. I saw your hesitation. I do not want you to be hurt and don’t want to have to take care of you on the bottom of the escalator”. We both chuckled, I told her I appreciated her kindness, and disembarked from the disappearing steps as they folded into wherever it is that escalator steps escape to. I tilted my head back toward my rear guard and said “Thank you, dear angel, for having my back”. “You’re welcome”. 

It is comforting to know that someone has your back now-and-then, especially on an escalator.

Has anyone had your back lately?

From YouTube

 

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Oddly enough, Tony Orlando and Dawn have been singing away in my head lately.

Knock three times, on the ceiling if you want me,

twice on the pipes, if the answer is no

There I was, water raining down, my hair all wet and lathered up, when the water pressure slowly diminished until it was but a mere dribble. It would have been easier to rinse with an eye dropper. I somehow managed to get the soap out – and then became shower-deprived, followed by  flusher deprived- if you know what I mean.

For awhile, we were able to wash dishes and hands and use water by tapping on a valve, in the basement, two flights down. This meant we both needed to be in the house. It was, shall I say, an interesting “tap” dance in marital harmony.

I hesitated to complain, but DID, quite vociferously, in fact, to my beloved Antler Man, who had been waiting to shower for a very long time as he recovered from a foot wound. Instead of a shower he was employed in fixing the flusher (which I just wrote for alliteration). We did, in the end, need a new pressure valve and then, a few days later, a new tank. Thank heaven for this dear man who meets many such challenges and for our neighbor Rick who lent a helping hand and some expertise.

All’s well that ends well and a few more horticultural posts are perking away.

Besides being in a flush, I’ve been busy with family, gardening, and life in general and apologize for being absent for such a long while. I hope you are all doing well. For now, while I take another shower, here’s a clip from a movie I enjoy viewing every-now-and-again. Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation. It reminds me of our recent plumbing issues here on the Cutoff.

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My thoughts, it seems, have been like these wispy clouds afloat in the deep blue sky. My words catch on the tail of the wind and flit around without landing on a sentence. Here it is, more than a week since my last post and I really cannot say why.

I could blame it on the Queen. Not Elizabeth, who just celebrated a historic milestone. No, it is another English queen who ascended the throne of England at the age of 18 and has captured my attention for the past few weeks.

Victoria.

We are just now viewing this delicious historical drama here in the States. My friends from across the pond, or via other televised means, have already seen this lush period piece. For  those among us who await such treasures on PBS’s Masterpiece, we are just now four or five episodes into the first season of Victoria.

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What drama and  maneuvering and courtly demands led to Victoria and Albert’s wedding – replete with a break in tradition. A white wedding gown! Of course, there is much more to this series, but, I do love a wedding.

Have you been watching Victoria?

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I have also been listening to the audio book of Kate Morton’s “The Secret Keeper”,

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and taking my time lost among the leafy pages of “Meetings With Remarkable Trees” by Thomas Pakenham. This volume first came to my attention at L. Marie’s always fascinating blog, El Space.  Her post on trees and this book can be found here.

The arboreal photographs and elegant essays have been welcome companions during the gloomy days and long nights of this winter and they have left me longing for my   wanderings among the forests and preserves around me. I was at last able to satisfy that longing and take a long walk walk around Lake Katherine and . . .

. . . where I found myself under the surveillance of a goosenecked spy!

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Such things happen when one has her head in the clouds.

Thank you, dear friend and readers, for being so patient with me.

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I picked up my keys and called out to Tom.

 “I am leaving” but, he did not hear – understand me.

“What?”

“I said I’m leaving”, and commenced laughing. Poor Tom didn’t think it was funny, but, there I was, laughing; suddenly remembering the movie,  Roxanne – and I couldn’t stop laughing.

Hav you ever had one of these silly moments?

(from YouTube)

 

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House_on_carroll_street_posterTwo movies, viewed a weeks apart, both set in the early 1950’s, one viewed many times, one just once in the theater.

One, a thriller, was a bit of a sleeper, though the venerable Roger Ebert gave it three stars.  The other, a coming of age/love story, is a bit under the popular radar, but, deservedly, up for awards on both sides of the pond.

The House on Carroll Street and Brooklyn both take place, in whole or in part, in New York. Both are rich in setting, mood and nuance, often evoking more in the wordless moments than in the dialogue, especially The House on Carroll Street. Both movies delve into issues of their day, though, in my view, issues not all that different from many issues of these days we live in.

The House on Carroll Street begins with Emily Crane refusing to name names when summoned to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee.  She is subsequently fired from her job and takes on a part-time position reading to an elderly woman on a quiet street. Curious about an open window and voices across the street from the elderly woman’s dwelling,  Emily snoops from the hidden garden as she leaves her reading. Later, she bumps into one of the men she saw in the window. The other she recognizes as the government official who questioned her at the hearing. So begins a quietly menacing thriller, ala Alfred Hitchcock, with Emily an unlikely heroine in a world where there are still Nazis.

Brooklyn is based on the book written by Colm Tóibín.  I enjoyed the movie so much 11201971_orithat I now have the novel teetering on my ever-present TBR pile. The movie came to my attention through recommendations, trusted blog reviews, and my own instinct that Brooklyn was a movie I wanted to see. This is a simple story, a slow journey through the agony of leaving what was once home, the long ocean voyage in cramped quarters, the bustle of New York City with new sights and smells and foreign faces. It is of life in a boardinghouse, full of all the comes when woman board together. It is the story of adapting to a new country, to working, attending night school to become a bookkeeper (and being the only female in the class). It is about being a young Irish lass, as Eilis Lacey is, and meeting a young Italian boy at a dance, falling in love, meeting his big family, coming of age, and of choices we make, their consequences and their rewards.

Both films are set in the early ’50s. Both are rich in costuming, details, nuances and the unspoken words as much as the spoken. Both evoke an era we sometimes look back to as simpler times, which were, in truth, often fraught with underlying changes and unspoken fear. Both have an unseen character of menace. The menace in one is McCarthyism, the other small-mindedness.

I would like to recommend both movies if you have not seen them.  If you have, I welcome your thoughts. Is there a movie set in the ’50s that you especially enjoy?

 

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Whilst the Irish Soda Bread was baking and the corned beef dinner was  simmering, a few of my favorite Irish films came to mind, and I was wondering what some of your favorite Irish movies might be.

One that always sets me to laughing is Waking Ned Devine

Of course, there is The Quiet Man, which usually shows up in the these parts on St. Patrick’s Day, as it did again this year.

Evelyn is perfect for social justice and protection of children –  and a wee bit of angel rays,

 

and Finian’s Rainbow if just the one for song and dance.

The trailers are from YouTube. A few I couldn’t find but are enjoyable to watch include Da, The Mammy,  The Secret of Roan Inish, and Ryan’s Daughter.

While I’m blathering on about movies, I would like to mention the British import , Moone Boy on PBS? Have you watched it?

What are your favorite films of Ireland?

 

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Happy Valentine’s Day.

What are some of your favorite love stories?

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