“2020 started out like 1974, then switched to some horrible combination of 1918 and 1929. Now: 1968. Ugh.” –Susan Glasser
The whole country burns with rage over this murder-by-cops of George Floyd, and it’s a culmination of so much, of everything, that is so terribly wrong with this country under trump. And he incites the rage by encouraging the white supremicists; by encouraging the cops who have shot the MEDIA with rubber bullets and tear gas; and who have brazenly plowed their police cars through groups of protesters, which is so similar to Charlottesville. trump’s inauguration speech focused on “American Carnage” and boy howdy has he lived up to it.
Prosecutors finally charged the cop who casually choked Floyd to death with his knee with 3rd degree murder and manslaughter, but the remaining three cops remain uncharged, and that is the reason for the heat of the protests across the country. They all must be charged. All of them.
This fury has sidelined the concern of the pandemic, and I have to wonder what that portends. Hordes of protesters in every city (many of them with masks, but still…) There’s a sorta/kinda joke circulating that if the virus cases don’t massively spike at LEAST in Minnesota where the major protesting has been taking place, then this whole pandemic thing might not be all that. Heh. I guess we’ll see.
FaceTimed with Nate (and Quinn!) for a bit tonight. I was settled back on my heels a bit when he informed me that regardless how our state is cautiously starting to open up, the Navy has its own directives, and Navy personnel are not allowed to leave the area for the foreseeable future, nor intermingle with people outside the area. After starting out cavalier with their requirements, they’re now swinging hard in the opposite extreme. I was hoping for a combination birthday celebration this month, but it looks like that won’t be happening after all.
There was a bit of good news today. That combo launch between wackadoodle Elon Musk and NASA actually happened, and it was beautiful to watch (albeit nerve-wracking). Everything went swimmingly! And I love this comparison of the cockpits over time:
I love the 21st century cockpit, and I sure wish that the 21st century itself was a better place, because it damned well sucks.
We’ve been watching the coverage of the uprising in Minneapolis where the cops murdered a black man, George Floyd, while he was handcuffed with four cops holding him down on the pavement with at least one of them pressing a knee to his neck until it choked him to death. From a newer video, it looked like it was more than one. Yet another “I can’t breathe!” And yet another murder by cop without a cop being charged with murder. Hence, the fury in the streets. Trump’s henchman, AG Bill Barr, ordered that charges be dropped against the Eric Garner murder, and now he’s involved in the George Floyd case as well.
It’s hard to watch buildings looted and burning and mobs of angry people. My almost-64-year-old self can ask, “To what end?” But I remember my young teen self, in the late sixties, when it seemed the news showed the entire country burning, night after night, as people rioted and protested the Viet Nam war. My parents were appalled, disgusted, furious that the “the hippies would do this.” And I remember saying, “But nobody listens if you’re peaceful.” That stunned my mother into silence for a few seconds before she started up her rant, “What do you know, you have no idea, you have so much to learn…yada yada yada.” (Her attitudes changed 180° over the years. I like to think at least partially due to the little bits I threw out there now and then).
Last night Twitter told me that the Space Station would be passing overhead in about 5 minutes after posting the tweet, so John and I ran out on the deck and scanned the night sky. It was a lovely night and the sliver moon was directly in front of us (I love its ripply cast of light on the water). We watched for a bit, waiting for our eyes to acclimate, and saw some stars, and THEN. There was a bright star, and it was moving! FAST! And right toward us, and then over our heads. It was so cool! The timing was perfect! We are geeks!
I wasn’t surprised that the new SpaceX launch (taking a couple of astronauts to the Space Station for the first time from American soil since 2011) had to be scrubbed yesterday due to weather. The weather in Florida sounded iffy for hours before the scheduled launch time anyway, and it didn’t seem like it would improve. It also doesn’t sound like Saturday’s rescheduled launch will happen, either, because: thunder storms expected. Eyeroll. To be honest, having Elon Musk behind all of this scares me. He’s a nutcase.
Nate and Sandra live very close to the beach in Everett, and they spend quite a bit of down time there with Quinn (who LOVES the beach). Some great pics they sent me, and I’m hoping that we will be able to enjoy the Harstine beach sometime soon.
Today we hit a horrific milestone: 100,000 deaths in this country from the coronavirus. The worst of any other country in the world. It did not have to be this bad. Trump ignored the warnings early on and dismissed the oncoming crisis as a “democrat hoax.” And now he could care less about these deaths as he wants to ignore that this is happening and reopen the country where all of the early-open hotspots are surging. He wants to golf (as he did over Memorial Day weekend), and he desperately wants to campaign for his reelection. He is a moron. He is a monster.
Our rural county got the go-ahead to enter “Phase 2” of opening up in Washington, and it makes good sense from our governor because we have a very low case rate that has slowed well within the criteria of advancing to the second phase. This means it will be OK to meet with groups of five people outside of our immediate household. Which I believe means that Nate and Sandra and Quinn could come to Harstine! And as long as we’re all feeling healthy, I don’t think that means “only hanging outside on the deck with masks, six feet apart.”) I BELIEVE that means that they could come on down, stay with us for a night or two, and masks don’t have to be a thing except if we were, say, walking the beach and encountered other people (which is rare here). Right? I figure it’s up to the kids, because they know who they have been around (at work) and how they measure their own risks. John has been at the highest risk in our household since he has been the grocery-go-getter, and he probably goes more often than he should. But he’s been pretty careful, not that that is a sure thing, I know. Nate and John and I all have June birthdays, and it would sure be wonderful to have our small group celebration (which for me, would be the best birthday present ever!) Plus I need motivation to clean this house…
In other pandemic news, I placed an order with Amazon that included dishwasher and laundry detergent, plus a big plastic jug of olive oil. I’ve done this numerous times before, but I needed all three in fairly short order and our grocery store tends to be inconsistent with its stock on those items. Since “Prime” two-day delivery doesn’t appear to exist anymore, I ordered somewhat in advance (before it was dire) and sure enough, it took a good week or more before they notified me it had all shipped. Yesterday, the day it was all supposed to be delivered, I saw the UPS truck arrive while I was out on the deck. Oddly, he was there in the driveway for a long time. I saw the guy once at the back of the truck, either opening or closing the doors and he waved at me. Then he apparently sat inside the truck for another period of time—I’d say overall, he was there for a good 20 minutes. OK, maybe 15. But a long time for a delivery. I was reading my Kindle book so I wasn’t paying much attention and John wasn’t around. Later, John went up to bring the box down and came back in empty-handed with a puzzled look on his face. No box. No nuthin’. I checked my Amazon account and there was a message in big red letters that my order was UNDELIVERABLE and that I would be receiving a refund. What?
And then I imagined what probably happened. The liquid laundry detergent and the liquid olive oil had probably been tossed into a box (with the rest of the stuff) with no care (I had a dented olive oil bottle once) and it rattled around and one or the other—or both—leaked. Possibly intermixed. It was probably a huge mess. It was obvious the UPS guy could tell. You can picture this, right? Sigh. First World Problems, I know.
We wish so bad that we had a photo of this! John drove down the driveway returning from picking up the mail and here was little Nikki the cat nose-to-nose with a DEER. He said they were no more than six inches apart, checking each other out. The deer’s neck was was bent down, peering at Nikki, and neither of them were freaked out by each other, just simply curious. But John’s arrival sent the deer trotting down the hill to the beach. You can picture this, too, right? Man, what a photo that would have been. What a soothing and uplifting photo that would have been.
I won’t link this post to Facebook because my two Book Club cohorts are both on there and I wouldn’t want them to see this (obviously). They don’t read my blog, nor do they have any idea what an RSS feed is, so I’m not worried. But holy moly, was our Zoom book club meeting a fiasco! We did it just a month ago, and aside from only a tiny glitch or so, we were successful! But I swear brain cells withered and died and scattered to the wind in the interim. Jeebus.
First, “M,” serving as host, couldn’t remember how to acquire the ID number and password, and then couldn’t figure out how to get them to us. I helped her sort that out and she and I finally connected (after about 15 minutes of fumbling delay) and we sat there chatting with each other in Hollywood Squares style, waiting for “P” to connect. “P” depends on her husband to do everything, and suddenly my phone rang with FaceTime. No! Not FaceTime! “P’s” husband is also hard of hearing, so here’s “M” and I on our laptop/iPad trying to converse with “P’s” husband over my phone, loudly explaining that we’re on Zoom, not FaceTime and he was completely lost. To be fair, there are a few different versions of Zoom (and people use FaceTime often to connect with family, etc). I have Zoom as an app on my iPad, others go to Zoom.Com on the web and join a meeting there. We were trying to coax him to do that because whatever he had done a month ago to connect, he was clueless. We finally got him to Zoom.Com and explained to click “Join Meeting.” He said, “Start new meeting, right?” and clicked that and it was all I could do to not bang my head on the table. No! Join meeting! He swore there was no such thing as “Join Meeting” and then after several minutes and figuring out how to back out of “Start Meeting,” he exclaimed, “OH THERE IT IS!” But then, “P” had never checked her email to get the ID number and password, so I’m reading them out loud to her husband who is completely missing what I’m saying and punching in the wrong letters/numbers (because: hard of hearing).
But finally, finally we were connected.
THEN, after 40 minutes, “P” abruptly disappeared. “M” and I were still there, so apparently the web-based Zoom is very serious about that 40-minute limit. We had all discussed that our session might end and that I’d just start a new meeting if that happened. So, “M” and I closed out and I immediately opened a new meeting and sent out the new ID# and password to both of them, and “M” and I were back! Waiting for “P.” And waiting. And waiting. “M” finally called “P” on her phone and asked where she was, but she had no clue that we had started up because she AGAIN didn’t check her email for the ID/password (which she’d only have to click the invite and it would have automatically connected her). THEN, she had to get her husband back to set her up AGAIN, which meant more fumbling and lots of time (while “M” and I drank our wine and suppressed giggles). By the time Book Club was done, we were pretty well on our lips.
This was the perfect example of what is meant by OK, Boomer.
After entertaining some hope (or dreams) in my previous post about the possibility of perhaps small-group get-togethers in the near future, I’m now realizing that it’s not wise. Not yet. Cases of the virus are climbing, and while not at the speed as they once were, they are still climbing. In spite of that, mostly conservative people are demanding to open up, go to church, refuse to wear masks, and I won’t partake because I DO NOT WANT TO CATCH THIS VIRUS and I certainly don’t want to risk my friends and family. It’s too easy to catch, and the more people being stupid, the more the chances are of catching it. And then: all of the people who are not even aware that they are infected and thereby contagious. No thanks! We have a terrible federal government at the worst time to have a terrible federal government. I will listen to my governor and to my county’s health department. Thankfully, we have a governor with common sense.
Today trump “proclaimed” that all churches should be opened this weekend, and that “if governors won’t abide, he will override them.” He has absolutely no power to do so. It is entirely up to the governors, not trump. (Obvious pandering to his base). Aside from that idiocy, here’s the rest of the idiocy: Large, tight groups of mostly elderly high-risk people wedged in an enclosed facility—SINGING. Do people not recall the church choir rehearsal in our state where one Covid-19-positive member (unbeknownst and asymptomatic at the time) spread the infection to 52 out of the 61 choir members, and ultimately killed at least three of them? Is that a risk people are OK with, even though they could pray at home? Is that a risk people would be OK with regarding their grandparents attending church? Jeesh.
So…it’s Memorial Day Weekend. I’m certain that in normal times the kids would come down for the weekend and we would barbecue and walk the beach and relax. The weather is cold and windy, so I doubt we’d be able to haul out the kayaks or anything, but it would have been a FUN time. I ache that it’s just going to be another three days on the calendar. We haven’t seen them since early March.
My friend, Margaret, is now a grandmother! Her daughter gave birth to a boy on the 20th and it’s so wonderful and so bittersweet because Margaret can’t be there to meet her grandson. My heart breaks for her.
What is so cool is that us group of four women who get together (“Retired Ladies” for lunch in our previous lives, on Zoom in this new reality) are now ALL GRANDMOTHERS TO BOYS. And it wasn’t very long ago that three of the four wondered if we would ever be grandmothers! And now we all are, and all grandsons! SIX of them! I think that’s a very special club!
Helen sent me an early “birthday box” that I got today, full of fun stuff (including lovely hand-sewn masks and hand-sewn “catnip purses” for the kitties [COACH and MK!]. Wylie has never been interested in catnip, but now mostly adult Nikki definitely responded to it! She almost acted like she did when she was in heat—rolling and flipping around and being weird. I have to say: watching her antics made me miss Mojo so much. He was the KING of catnip. It turned that big, regal, cool lion into a salivating silly thang. Sniff.
Here's a short vid of a serious convo between Quinn and his dad that is so...SWEET! Note that Quinn is wearing big boy underwear these days!
I am hoping that there will come a time soon here in Washington State that we can feel confident about meeting in groups of ten or less people. That would be so great, wouldn’t it? It’s a small hope that seems like it should be within reach. We could meet up with the kids, people could maybe see their parents or grandparents again (as long as we continue to take precautions). I’d love to have Helen able to come and visit, or to hang out with our small group of Retired Ladies, or meet in person for our tiny Book Club. I have zero desire to go or be anywhere with crowds, and it will be until we have a vaccine before that’s an option (and since I hate crowds anyway, maybe never!) But the cases and deaths continue to mount, even though the frequency is slowing. The curve is flattening, but it’s not heading downward.
Today I saw this:
“Maryland is reporting 1,784 newly confirmed COVID-19 cases — the largest jump the state has seen — four days after reopening retailers, hair salons and churches at 50%.”
Shit.
I also think the lag before so many republican states opening early and the effects of that are yet to be seen. I suspect that many midwestern and southern states will surge in the weeks to come. And while I believe our governor is handling everything very well and following the science, the idiots in the other Washington are not. The CDC has been hobbled by this monster, and republican governors in some states (Georgia and Florida, likely others) are ordering their public health departments to censor the data to give the appearance that opening their states early is “working.” The concerted evil of so many feels like non-stop boot kicks to the gut.
Then there are first world grievances that are contributing to my angst, such as a very elderly dog who shits and pees in the house every day, and a laptop that is gradually becoming a pain in the ass with sticky keys (I have to literally pound the “K” key), and with failing speakers and a piss-poor camera that makes Zoom or Facetime impossible on it (so I’ve been using my phone or iPad). The very idea of getting a new laptop and having to transfer everything over and install all my software (some of which may not allow me to do so because of re-install limits) fills me with despair. Plus, my photos are entirely out of hand. Ugh.
We’ve also had some disturbing episodes of strangers walking down our road and kicking our neighbor’s dog, breaking the gate and stealing the lock to the control panel, and causing a sheriff’s incident with something “fraudulent” happening at the troublesome AirBnB in our neighborhood. Jeebus.
Tomorrow is our Zoom Book Club, which should be fun. (I really liked the book—State of Wonder, by Ann Patchett). It’ll be interesting to touch base with my neighbor ladies and get our takes on everything. Oh, and also discuss the book.
For Christmas, John had given me a metal laser-etched kingfisher (that you install on a pole or possibly tree) and yesterday he stuck it in one of the big deck poles. Unfortunately, I can’t see it from where I normally sit because the trees behind it swallow it up. BUT, last night the setting sun was shining on it and I caught a pretty cool picture:
Can you see it? Without the sun, it’s a brownish metal (so it blends with the trees). Speaking of “setting sun,” we had a doozy sunset last night!
And finally, I have to share this cool photo of Quinn with his daddy at work! (And then I’ll go back and pound out all the missing “Ks” in my post…)
John desperately needed a hair cut. Um, yes he’s bald, but just on his dome. His rather robust “fringe” was tickling his eardrums, and his neck fuzz was almost long enough to pull into a pony tail. Driving him nuts. We’d talked quite a bit about me cutting it for him, which made my tummy roil into knots, so I checked out a bunch of YouTube videos. He has a trimmer, so I focused on tutorials for that, instead of scissors. (I do have hair-cutting scissors that I use for trimming my curlies, so I knew if need be, I could use them as well).
Thursday was a very decent day, so we set him up in a chair with a towel on the deck (not that the towel did a whit of good containing the falling trimmings) and I went at it. Yes, it was nerve-wracking. No, it’s not great. Certainly if he’d come home from the barber with this haircut he’d have been sorely unhappy. BUT. It’ll do. It’s not terrible. The neck fuzz is mostly gone, and his eardrums are no longer in danger of being punctured or whatever. I did have to use the scissors a bit because the trimmer was not all that. In fact, it was pretty much a piece of crap, but at least it worked decently on his neck fuzz. He did say this: “It feels so much better.” So I guess it’s a win.
I need to figure out a better method of trimming my own hair, especially the back. Ugh. I’m looking rather haggy-ish.
Things have been…strange. There have been some incidences lately that have made me scratch my head, or even feel a bit of a chill up my spine.
I have been a reading-obsessed nutjob lately, I think to escape all the horrendous CRAP happening with the pandemic and trump and the deceit and the lies and the depression. Reading is kind of like sleeping/dreaming. It just takes your brain elsewhere, you know? So, a couple of my favorite authors—Stephen King and Dean Koontz—both had books drop recently, and they automatically landed in my Kindle because I’d pre-ordered them some months ago. First up was the King book, which is a collection of four novellas. They were all excellent! I enjoyed every one of them immensely! I’m typically a little skeptical about a collection of short stories or novellas, because the “B” sides are often very much less than. But all four of these were strong and very entertaining. People think about Stephen King (and Koontz as well), “Ooooh, I can’t read horror!” (And I get it—I hate the typical horror movie with screaming teenagers making stupid decisions, et al), but these guys’ works aren’t your typical horror tropes. They are intelligent, damned well-written, character-driven, and not predictable. And for the most part, you can take it to the bank that the good guys win. The journey is usually angst-filled and intense, but there is always heart.
To back up a bit, I’m always rolling ideas in my head for at least a short story. I used to write them all the time, before I became hyper self-critical and self-conscious and, I don’t know, lame. For years I’ve gone to bed at night with an idea of a telepathic cat, in a very casual way, but as the crux of the story. Alas, I couldn’t put together the rest of the crux in my brain. I couldn’t figure out where all to go with it to make it a story.
One of Stephen King’s novellas really hit home for me. It was about a writer (and college English professor) who had had some success writing short stories and even had one published in The New Yorker. But, when he tried his hand at writing a novel, he pretty much went insane. He’d be all in, and then the words would stop coming. I KNOW how that feels! For me, I fear it’s aging, because when I was young, words ALWAYS CAME. I didn’t even have to work at it! They came! Like rain drops, sleet, hail, even wind! I counted on my brain to provide that magic, and it came through, until it didn’t. This guy in King’s story became a monster when the words didn’t come, and almost burned his house down. Years later, he has a burning idea for another novel and can’t let it go, and obsessively pounds out page after page…until the words stop coming. And THEN. A rat shows up. A talking rat. A talking rat who helps him through (at a price). [And I’m thinking: Jeeze, I can’t find my words about a telepathic cat…]
And now I’m reading the Koontz book and unbeknownst to me, it’s about a FUCKING TELEPATHIC DOG. Also, about an autistic boy whose mom plays “Moon River” on the piano at one point and once I walk away from my Kindle to fix dinner and we’re watching “The Voice” on TV, here is James Taylor singing “Moon River.” The song the autistic boy’s mom was playing on the piano in the Dean Koontz book two minutes beforehand. (When was the last time you heard Moon River? Twice in one day?) Coincidences, yes. But I experience very few of those, and to have so many in just two days makes me…scratch my head and the itchy hairs standing up on my spine.
Do you feel teary more often than usual? Lately I sure have been. It doesn’t take much. However, watching President Obama give his keynote address on TV this evening to the country’s high school class of 202o (who couldn’t experience graduation because of the pandemic) brought on the honking sobs. I lost it. I think a whole lot of people did. What a soulful, down-to-earth, heartfelt “talk” he gave. We have missed—profoundly—his grace, his humor, his sincerity, his ability to speak coherently. He is a good man. It’s so obvious, so clear. I will never understand the people who disparage him and support trump. Never.
Yesterday, it was actually 90° outside! (Today it’s 62°) We’ve had a few warm days in a row (after a long bout of rain and even thunder), and it’s been very enjoyable to sit on the deck in the morning before the sun comes around and bakes us. We continue to let Nikki out (she has yet to figure out the pet door) and she absolutely loves it out there. Everything is a marvel to her. Anything that moves in the breeze is fair game, and she thunder-paws up and down the deck to catch bugs.
She is also relentless in her efforts to catch birds. A couple of days ago I heard a strange thumping sound as I was doing stuff in the house, and finally I realized it was a little chickadee high up in the clerestory windows. I don’t know for sure if Nikki brought it in and it escaped or if it came in through the open door on its own. But Nikki was fully aware it was way up there in those windows! She kept pacing the kitchen counters, neck stretched, trying to figure out a way to leap up that high (there isn’t) and it drove her nuts. The remedy ended up easy and quick; John wrapped a towel around a very long telescoping window washing pole and the bird hopped onto the towel and John charged out the open deck doors with it like a lance. Bub-bye birdie. Fly, fly away.
The next day, there was a lizard on the kitchen floor.
She’s getting big, isn’t she? She’s pretty much a CAT now, even though she still has a kitten brain part most of the time. She’s actually become a darned nice cat—she doesn’t bop you with her paw or bite or scratch. Not a lap cat, but she likes to be petted (mostly when she’s sleepy) and she has a robust “motor.” I still mourn the destruction and loss of my beloved bathroom rugs, though…
I’ve been a reading fiend. I was excited to have John Scalzi’s “The Last Emperox” land in my Kindle after pre-ordering it last summer. It’s the final book of his awesome space opera trilogy, and he wrapped up the story arc magnificently. Sci-fi isn’t my go-to genre by far, but I LOVE his writing. His characters pop and there is MUCH HUMOR. Something you don’t necessarily expect in sci-fi. (But: remember how funny “The Martian” was? I’m talking about the book, but the movie was pretty humorous, too. Makes all the science-y stuff more real and understandable and human). Then, for Book Club, I read “State of Wonder” by Ann Patchett and really liked it! Throughout it, I had this constant sense that I’d read it before, and yet the story’s details kept surprising me. How could I forget all of those details? But, the over-arcing story itself just felt…familiar. Hmm.
Speaking of “human.” I was utterly disgusted yesterday. For the first time since early-ish March, I ventured out. John said, “Would you like to go to the Deer Creek nursery and pick up a couple of hanging flower baskets for Mother’s Day?” HELL YEAH! So we headed out to the nursery/veggie stand on Highway 3, my head swiveling to see the dogwoods (still blooming but on the downside) and all of the rhododendrons, and flowers and greenery everywhere. Back in early-ish March, there wasn’t much color to be seen and the deciduous trees were still twigs. We also saw a young deer on our road. But, the nursery was OUT of hanging baskets so we went to our Fred Meyer grocery store instead, where they had some. Nothing out of this world, but just fine. (And they grow and bulk up and drape over time with regular watering, which we try to do).
Since we were there (and it’s a good 35-40 minutes from our house) we ran inside the grocery store to pick up a few things, masks on. We were two of very few of the hordes wearing masks. People everywhere. Social distancing nowhere. This is pretty much trump country—were they trying to make a stupid statement? Then, to top it off, the couple in front of me in check-out (maskless, of course) were asked if they wanted to round up their payment to the nearest dollar to help the local food bank, something the store has been doing since before the pandemic, and it's something I always do (duh, right?). I noticed it would have cost them about 30¢ to round up. The woman snorted and hissed, "NO!" As if "why would I help feed the unwashed?" Needless to say, it felt very good to get home. Home is a good place.
I experimented with one of my phone’s camera features that I haven’t used much (I need more practice, but it’s pretty cool). This is a flower in one of my deck pots:
And then (drum roll) some cute pics the kids sent me!
I’ve had an “Artfire” page for a number of years now (jeeze, like ten!?), that I set up to sell some of my glass stuff. It’s like Etsy. Truth is, I’ve been very hit or miss about maintaining it, uploading new things, or even paying much attention to it (and the site keeps going through iterations and every time I log in, it is completely UNfamiliar and I have to navigate a lot of illogical so-called “upgrades” that irritate my soul). Now and then, out of the blue, generally with many months in between, I’ll receive an email notifying me that “You Have a Sale!” And then I scramble because as I mentioned, I haven’t maintained it very well. There have been a number of items that I listed on the site that I’ve 1) given away as gifts, 2) sold to some folks who came by once and wanted to see what I had, and 3) I sold at our community Farmer’s Market. And… forgot to remove said items from the site. Store. Whatever you call it. So they no longer exist. Oh crap!
Guess what I get to do these next few days? Re-create a set of coasters that I made back in 2011 and hope to hell I have the right colors to, you know, make that re-creation.
After the initial panic about this, I figured that actually having a mission and a deadline is probably good for me right now. I’ve been pretty much blowing in the wind lately (aside from reading some really good books) and so I shall forge ahead. Huh.
Are you (like me) getting really tired of the piss-poor commercials on TV that are now done via Zoom (or whatever) and come across as the cheap-o, poorly produced crap of 1980s late-night cable ads? Oh, the squawky, echo-y, tinny audio that is so not the 21st century. Major regression.
“In these uncertain times…” “We’re all in this together…”
Anybody have any suggestions of shows to binge-watch? I feel like we’ve caught up with everything, and yet I know there are probably gems out there (British, Australian, Finnish, something?) that we just haven’t been aware of. Many of the shows we’ve happened across have been accidental, and a lot of them have been joyful finds! We recently completed the finale of “Schitt’s Creek,” and we LOVED IT. I had heard, and it was true, that you need to give that show a good 5 or 6 episodes in the 1st season to get a good feel for it (or for the show to actually find its way), and then after that it just roared. It was funny, it was ridiculous, it was charming, and it was full of heart. The 6th and final season just wrapped up, and I admit to being quite teary when we watched the final episode. OK, I sobbed. (And laughed). We’re kind of floundering now, trying to find something that is well done. (And yup, finished up the new Bosch season, too).
