Easter Week?

 Last night as Hubby and I struggled to stay warm in our exercise pool at the Research Brookside Health Center, we watched frozen pellets of snow and ice float down outside the huge pool glass windows.  We managed all 45 minutes of the class but came home glad to be back by the home hearth and out of the nasty, freezing weather.

This morning when I went out to warm up the car for the morning dog walk, the walkway was slushy, the hood and roof of the Lincoln were covered in frozen nuggets, and the windows were iced over.  It took 15 minutes to get the car warm enough to roll over to the park.

In the park, I was bundled in my heavy dog walking coat, a fleece headscarf for my forehead over which I layered a fleece bonnet, heavy fleece gloves, and a fleece neck scarf to keep my neck and mouth warm. Still I shivered in the frigid morning air.  We plodded over frozen ground iced over with a powdering of snow.  The wind kept the temperatures at under 30 degrees and the windchill hovered in the teens.

My soul says that since this is the Easter season and we are going pellmell into Holy Week we should see buds on the still barren trees.  The grass should be greening.  The jonquils getting ready to bloom and the tulip trees ready to pop. The pansies should be planted by now and getting ready to color the lawns with their purples and yellow glory. The sun should be shining at least once a week and the sky should be a spectrum of blues with white scudding clouds, not a continuous gun-metal gray. 

My frig should be loaded with ripe, rosy strawberries, succulent pink ham, and colorfully dyed boiled eggs ready to turn into deviled goodness.  My pantry should contain shortcake for the strawberries and pineapple for the ham.  There should be fresh, golden corn on the cob and new potatoes with pearl onions.  Instead, we still eating stew and pot roast and hearty winter food that keeps us stoked for the cold weather. 

Tomorrow we are told we have 100% chance of snow.  Most likely, we will have lots and lots of snow.  The light predictions are five inches -- and they total goes up from there into the double digits. 

Meanwhile dreams of spring float in my head and heart.  I've had enough of snow shovels and heavy coats and fleece scarves.  Easter reminds me of new life.  This should be a time of nature awakening the chirping birds, the boys frolicking in the sunshine on the spongy grass, and the kites soaring through the skies at the park. 

What? How? Geez!

 Every two weeks or so, I scroll through the Turner Classic Movie channel on DISH and pick out old movies I have either loved or always wanted to see and I record them during the early morning hours when other things I watch regularly are NOT on the schedule. 

Consequently, I've had the fun of watching Bel Ami (ooh, Robert Pattinson is delicious!), North by Northwest (who doesn't love Cary Grant?),  and the Old Maid (no actress is better than Bette Davis) just this past week. 

Last week Finian's Rainbow showed up and I decided to record it because I didn't believe I'd ever seen it.  And I was right.  This was a 1968 version and unbelievably,  Francis Ford Coppola was director.  Which astounded me.  I had no idea that he had ever directed a musical like this.  It starred Fred Astaire as Finian and Petula Clark as the daughter.  This was Fred's last film screen musical and he was 69 years old. 

Finian's Rainbow was first on Broadway in 1947, according to Google info.  The movie is clearly a product of it's time -- the cooperative in Rainbow Valley is trying to produce a lucrative tobacco plant that is minty -- but problems arise when it won't light and then won't smoke.  Now-a-days smokeless tobacco would be all the thing. 

The racial satire in the film clearly depicts the attitudes of the 1960's but the scene in the movie where the black botanist tries to be a subservient butler to the very bigoted white Mississippi senator had me rolling on the floor.  I have not laughed so hard in a long, long time -- that scene is certainly worth the time I invested in the movie though I have to admit I did fast forward through long parts of the story that involved dancing around the glen trying to find Finian's pot of gold.  

Here's the strange thing, though -- and I have no idea how it happened.  I knew the music and lyrics to nearly every song in the show.  I don't remember ever hearing the songs played on the radio or having sung them in my youth.  I did not play them on the piano, own the record, and this wasn't the type of music my mother enjoyed and played by ear.  Clearly at some point in the 1950's or early 1960's I did hear all these songs -- and hear them often enough that I memorized them.  I have utterly no recollection of anything about this musical at all.  The plot was brand new to me -- I have NOT seen the movie or the stage play.  But I sure can sing a medley of tunes from the show. 

I know How are Things in Glocca Mora, Look to the Rainbow, Old Devil Moon, If This Isn't Love, and On That Great Gettin' Up Day -- word for word and note for note. How in the world was this possible? 

I wonder what else I might know and have no idea about?  Maybe I'm a science genius or have hidden artistic ability and just haven't discovered my talents yet.  Or maybe -- I have some hidden savant characteristics that lie undiscovered.  I'd better find them fast though, before I get too old to remember I've got them.

Look, look, look to the rainbow -- follow it over the hill and stream . . . 

. 

Weather -- Blagh!!!!!

I am so done with our lousy weather.  I want SPRING!

Snow.  All we see is snow.  The first day of spring we see a bit of sunshine.  Then snow, snow, and more snow.  Next week we start off with Palm Sunday for Pete's sake.

Please.  This is so depressing. 

I want SPRING!!!!!!!

Erin Go Bragh!

Luie and Gus explain it's time to go green! 

March Madness?

Four Straight!

We're doing it -- and regularly. 

Hubby went to see his PT trainer who told him that water aerobics three times a week was his ticket to improved strength and energy. 

He came home to announce, emphatically, "WE ARE GOING" and going we have been. 

As a real water baby I love getting into the pool -- it's just sometimes hard to get me motivated to leave home and GO to the pool.  Hubby loves leaving home, it's just that getting wet is not really his thing.  We are encouraging each other in this instance.  He gets me into the car and to the Health Center and I get him into the dressing rooms and from there to the pool.

I've only encountered two problems.  One -- Hubby used to walk the dogs at night and I'd do the morning shift which included longer walks in the park.  Now Hubby takes us to the park in the early morning hours AND after water aerobics so I end up walking the boys twice daily, instead of just once.  The dogs love it but I'm feeling "put upon."  Two -- Hubby comes home from aerobics hungry and wants "real food."  Canned pears or cereal isn't going to cut it.  We eat our main meal around 1 p.m. which means that I'm now fixing two major meals every day. He's fine with tuna fish salad in the evening -- but I used to be able to make tuna salad a main meal.  Now it's relegated to supper. I'm chopping my way into carpel tunnel.   

It's good we're exercising regularly.  I love being able to afford a well-kept pool membership with good quality aerobics instruction as part of the package.  Now I need a dog-walking team and a cook.  

On March 13, 1935 . . .

. . . a chubby little baby boy was born weighing in at 13 pounds.  We are so glad he is here today to celebrate his birthday -- it's been a struggle but he keeps on keeping on -- and we are forever grateful. 

You are THE MAN!  Happy Birthday!