Well, dear readers, I am taking a break from an HBO documentary called McMillions, about the Monopoly game scandal. I knew nothing about it at all and it’s a fascinating story dragged out over way too many episodes with the usual actors reenacting, pointless shots of buildings, the usual template that HBO and Netflix can’t get enough of. I can live without all the frou-frou – give me the story, the meat and potatoes. I’ve only watched one of the episodes so far and if you’d edited out all the frou-frou instead of running almost an hour, it probably would have run thirty minutes. But the story itself is fascinating and we’ll see what dragging it out over many episodes is like. Of course, before that, we had a little celebratory dinner – me, Karen Staitman, and Marshall Harvey over at the Smokehouse. A delightfully delightful time was had by all. First of all, it was really cold last night. But my cup of clam chowder warmed me right up, as did the garlic cheese bread, a great batch it was, too. Marshall had what I usually have, the filet mignon, Karen had their famous ribs, and I had my trio o’ things – cup of soup, shrimp cocktail, and wedge salad with 1000-Island dressing, all three items superbly superb. I was surprised at how filling the three items were, but that didn’t stop me from having one of the ribs (they were tiny) and that was very good, and then we all had to have, we’re FORCED to have dessert – Marshall and I had the crème brulee, and Karen had some chocolate cake thing with vanilla ice cream. I could barely get up I was so damn full. I came right home, answered some e-mails, and then I sat on my couch like so much fish and began the documentary.
Yesterday was fine, I suppose. I got up after seven and a half hours of sleep, answered e-mails, did a few things that needed doing, and then I shaved and showered, did more things on the computer, including choosing songs for the March Kritzerland, and I’m still hunting for a pianist. Then I moseyed on over to the mail place and picked up a couple of packages, and then I drove over to the Smokehouse. I found parking a block away, BUT – they now have parking signs that say two-hour parking until eight. That’s brand new – there were no time limits even a month ago. I find that reprehensible, frankly. I knew we wouldn’t be more than two hours and I sat in my car like so much fish until five minutes before our reservation and no one was marking cars and when I got back to the car all was well and well was all. And that was pretty much it for yesterday.
Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, I’ll continue the hunt for a pianist, I’ll choose more songs, I’ll eat, I’m hoping we can announce our new title, and then at some point I can watch, listen, and relax.
The rest of the week, all one day of it, is more of the same and then the weekend should hopefully be light and I’m hoping to get at least one of my blurbs in so we can announce the book.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up when I’m up, continue the hunt for a pianist, choose more songs, eat, hopefully announce our new title, and then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: If you had to make a guess as to what the new book might be about, what would your guess be? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, happy to have had a wonderfully wonderful celebratory meal at the Smokehouse.