Sundays can be packed with exciting surprises!
Exciting surprise number one. I’m hanging out at my desk in Howdygramland following two juicy afternoon naps when an email pops up from my doctor with the results of last week’s lab work. Two important things are highly improved and looking swell (cholesterol and triglycerides), most things are normal, and other things are not so good. It’s that damn “not so good” category that’s got me flummoxed again. A number of results point to declining kidney function, so Dr. M wants me to head back to the kidney specialist for an evaluation. I was actually supposed to do this about six months ago but didn’t follow up because, as a whiny diabetic, I get really tired of medicine, doctors, waiting rooms and needles. But I’ll call Dr. Hsu’s office tomorrow, anyway, and set up an appointment so I can finally find out what needs to be done. Stay tuned for additional details and thank you for your support.
Exciting surprise number two. A colorful animated graphic on
Weather.com indicates that a big line of strong thunderstorms is heading our way. Although my first gut reaction is to stand on the front lawn and scream WEATHER.COM IS A LYING SACK OF POO, this time I think they might be on to something. The sky is getting dark, the wind is picking up and birdies are running for cover. (Okay, maybe not the part about the birdies.) The bright red star on the map below denotes Howdygram headquarters.
Exciting surprise number three. It was the movie we saw last night ...
Night Flight, a weird “lost classic” from 1933 starring Clark Gable, Myrna Loy, Helen Hayes, Robert Montgomery and a couple of Barrymores. My general rule of thumb is, just because a movie’s OLD doesn’t mean it’s a CLASSIC. Apparently
Night Flight was pulled from circulation in 1940 because the author of the original book hated the film — after seeing it, I can appreciate his point — and it took almost 20 years for Turner Classic Movies to negotiate the rights to show it on TV.
Night Flight is a story about the dangers of early airmail aviation in South America. Aside from one or two nail-biter flying sequences it’s pretty much a wasted 84 minutes of your life. Melodramatic John Barrymore as the heartless airline boss has a lot of fun chewing scenery but the rest of the A-list cast is totally wasted and almost none of them have any scenes together. Clark Gable is always stuck in his cockpit, has no real dialog but gets to make a lot of orgasmic facial expressions to show us how much he loves to fly. Robert Montgomery does considerably LESS. Helen Hayes goes berserk waiting for her husband’s plane to land so she sits at her dining room table making love to an empty chair. Depressing and disheveled Lionel Barrymore spends the entire film scratching a rash on his chest until you’re ready to kick the screen. Myrna Loy has one really stupid short monologue where she talks to the ceiling while her husband gets dressed to fly the mail at night. We probably would’ve changed the channel except we didn’t feel much like watching Bulgarian volleyball on NBC.
It’s almost 7:30 so I suppose I ought to think about dinner even though Sam just ate an ice cream cone and probably isn’t hungry any more. Maybe I’ll open a teeny can of tasty braised gluten that I ordered from
AsianFoodGrocer.com and get ready for tonight’s episode of “Real Housewives of New Jersey.”
Thank you for reading this.
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