Another jolly evening at old-movie night at the Elsinore.  No one there but film students and old folks.  Still, it was a large, appreciative gathering.  After the final applause, there is always a general, unison comment:  They don’t make ’em like that any more.  Well, no.  They can’t.  The plot is actually silly. The characters are one-dimensional.  John Wayne can’t act very much. There is a tremendous amount of whacking, drinking, cigarette smoking and tossing.  And no one cares.  It is one of the great films-movies-shows of the last century.  My favorite scene is when all the Catholics come out to cheer for the Protestant bishop who is there to evaluate the local vicar.

Whenever “my girls” visit, we have certain things we do that I don’t usually do with anyone else.  If they are here for three days, on one, we take whatever dogs are in residence to “The Minto” and then head over the river and through the woods to Burgerville in Monmouth and then back to a movie in Independence.  Our other two evening meals  are “cake for dinner” from the Konditorei, wherein we each choose a piece of cake to-go (I always have raspberry lemonade) and come home and eat it in the snug while watching a movie, and, in the case of Elizabeth, also playing Scrabble.  The last day generally includes some tax-free shopping and dinner at La Margarita.  La Margarita was featured in this morning’s paper.  When we eat there, I typically read the entire menu and then order the very same thing.  My only big decision is whether to have a diet coke or a Corona.

Mexican restaurant features traditional and more unusual fare

Are we supposed to give this pouting, over-aged adolescent our attention?  I guess the answer to that is “yes.”  And I guess he is smart enough to know that we could blow him off the face of the earth but that we won’t.  We’ll just spend a fortune in money and lives holding him in check.  Personally, I’d just like to give him a good talking to, and I’m just the old school teacher for the job.

But I do wonder why we can stockpile all the defenses, including nuclear, that we want and dictate to others what they may not do.  I guess because we have the most.

This is the third season for my asparagus bed which means I am beginning to get a little harvest.  Tomorrow my choir is singing Evensong at St. P’s.  Jack will be reading.  Roxanne will be playing flute.  Seemed like a good idea to have them over after for some cream of asparagus soup.  Then, decided to include  Tita, who is in Salem taking care of Lizzy while Susan is off to a family reunion in Georgia, and Constance Hammond, a new friend who lived at 1880 in the early fifties when she was a little girl.  Had to pick up some more asparagus at Freddy’s.

Why, you may ask, would a woman in my age group need paella pans in two sizes and enough muffin tins in three sizes to bake cupcakes for entire kindergarten classes.    I just reconfigured some horizontal shelves in my pan cabinets to accommodate these essentials more conveniently.

Some of you may recall that I once had quite a reputation for kindergarten cupcakes.