They seek him here, They seek him there,
Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.
Is he in heaven?
—Is he in hell?
That dammed, elusive Pimpernel.

The original Pimpernel – hero. And, now, below, is this the dashing Red Merle Pimpernel?

I opened my computer this morning to check the news and was reminded that today is the Pennsylvania primary. YES! That meant it was Tuesday and Tuesdays are when Redbox gets new movies. I hopped over to the site and rented Charlie Wilson’s War, which Roger Ebert writes is funny. One dollar, one night. And online rental. Oh, Redbox, I am so fond of you – you sweet, sweet cutie of a vending machine.

Quentin’s Blue Spruce

Sydney and myrtle from Grandma Sarah’s, which came form Mary Grismore Woodrow in Kingman, Indiana

Quentin’s White Pine

I usually complain about this state, this Indiana, this legendless state. And yet today . . . well, today was a perfect day if you are talking in terms of weather. It was an “And what is so rare as a day in June; then, if ever, come perfect days” day. Thank you, Mrs. Bitner and sophomore English. These are the days I think I was born to – if these days had nurtured my soul, surely I would have been a less surly person. I absolutely love days in the 70’s, low humidity and blue sky. Maybe my ancestors came here on such a day as this and thought, “Oh, there will be another one . . . if we just have faith and wait long enough.”

My father was born within a stone’s throw (kinda) of the Banks of the Wabash. One lady told me I have more cousins in Washington County, Indiana then I could shake a stick at. I know I am related to a lot of the people in the ground there. And, to a lot of people buried up here as well. I am, ahem, rooted to this state. When I first got to California, I should have bent over and nailed my feet to the ground.

This is so not cool of me. Indiana gave me a great day and do I say thanks? I do not. I think, oh, wow, it will be forever before another one comes in this state.

This would be a rant . . . would it not?

I am only part way through The Black Dahlia; I started watching it late last evening, and I guess it is stretching it to call it evening – it was after 10 pm. The first part went along okay; I was alert . . . but watching the movie through blurred vision since I had applied facial cream a little too close to my eyes.

Then I noticed that there were times when I closed my eyes to let the tears wash them that I apparently didn’t hear what was happening in the movie. Before I would just follow the dialogue as a let my eyes water, but after a while I noticed that no one seemed to talk while I was resting my eyes. After a while, I thought, “Wait a minute here. Am I dozing?” After this happened several times and I found myself wondering about gaps in the storyline, I decided to admit the obvious and just stopped the DVD. Stopped – not paused.

I suppose I will have to look at scene selections and figure out where I should resume watching. It’s an easy method; I pick the earliest scene that elicits a “what the heck; I don’t remember this” moment from me and go from there.

It’s kind of bittersweet. When I used to stay up watching WGN late shows when we lived in Palatine, I would fall asleep because of the notoriously long commercial breaks. I would think that I would have no problem if  they just kept telling the story and didn’t take interruptions long enough to take a shower and cook a cheese sandwich. Well, now the DVD’s keep right on going, but my inner bunny needs some battery work. Think a connection is a little loose?

I have this feeling we’re getting a little far afield from who we are – skimming sharks and all that. We’ve been putting photos up on the wall for decades now and I decided to pull off a couple from way back when.

Up there on top is one of the tables used by regulars – they leave stuff and others shove it around, but with respect, because they leave their stuff too. Julia brought the lamp in because she likes the extra light on gloomy days and the short days of winter. Enos said, “To H. with napkins and established the habit of just keeping a roll of paper towels on the table. Sometimes folks will pull it out from the window and get a lively card game going – or Monopoly or Scrabble. We had to go and find another game at a rummage sale, because Theo ate the “z” in a moment of pique at Howard. But I’m running on here . . .

That second picture, well, that’s where we put together a special gathering or where we go when we just want a special place to gather  . . . Maude usually claims the peacock chair these days, though back in the heyday of this picture, Judge Bob used to sit there – that’s why we call it the bench to this day. Old J.B. passed away about 25 years ago, but if I close my eyes, I can see him sitting there, waiting to hear that the jury was back in.

My husband has an apartment in Warner-Robins, Georgia and the pool there has a new denizen – the AquaVac tiger shark. I don’t know if this picture is of the exact model they have, but it is close.

He said it was running yesterday and can even climb up walls; whether of not it will follow you home and turn out to be the famed Land Shark of Saturday Night Live is at this point undetermined.

When he was looking for a picture to show me while we were ichatting, he came across another product of AquaVac – the pool skimmer. Actually, it is nice and cute, but I wouldn’t recommend putting it in a kiddie pool.

Let’s see if I can show it to you in action: Hmmm, try this link to Skim Shark.

It warmed up today, enough that I decided, “Oh, let’s put a screen in Colin’s window which faces the east, but is blocked from southern exposure by a second floor that was added over the garage. It’s in a brick corner, in other words. And it hasn’t been opened in a long time, in some more words.

I took out the inner storm window, which wasn’t stuck at all, and then I went to crank out the window. Yes, I haven’t really mentioned yet that these windows have eight panes each and crank out. It would not budge. But, hey, I was prepared; I took my trusty mallet and gave it a little tap and voila . . . it didn’t budge.

I then did a lot of things: unscrewed the crank mechanism, pounded on the frame with the palm of my hand, tapped it some more with the mallet and used a screwdriver to try and leverage it up a bit. Then I stepped back and looked at my stuck window.

I repeated these steps, plus I added getting something to drink. Putty knives were a  no go. But then, I found a piece of wood and put it against the bottom where the frame was stuck and tapped that with my mallet. It moved . . . a little, but it did move. Oh, so carefully, I inched the window open and then cleaned the window bottom and the sill and soaped them both.

With the crank reattached and the area vacuumed, I tried to close it; It got stuck. So I planed a little wood off and resoaped it and by pulling on the cord attached to a strong eyelet I had previously put into the frame, I got the darn window shut.

Then I opened it again . . . and I told everyone to call me when they wanted it closed. This may become a saga.

I had terrible dreams last night and tonight I was thinking about delaying bedtime because I was a little skittish about going under the blanket again. I was somewhat amused at myself for feeling like that, but nevertheless, I did stay up watching a movie and then thinking and then getting a Diet Coke and then reading a little and then . . . oh dear, what could I do. Well, I thought that I’d check the weather and see if there was any breaking news on CNN.

I think the headline was something about a toddler in Lake Michigan, blown in by the wind. I lived in Palatine for some years on the northwest side of Cook County – and, yes, I was actually alive when I voted – and had visions of a kid losing his balance and tripping into the shallow water at the beach. I guess I had Winnetka’s waterfront in my mind’s eye and a memory of Quentin tripping on the sand and going nose first into the water when he was, at most, barely two. We plucked him out.

But when I read the article, I discovered that the toddler had been in a stroller and the wind had blown him off of a pier and into 10 feet of water where he remained for 15 minutes, while his grandfather and others tried to get him out. Fifteen seconds seems like an eternity in a situation like that; I cannot imagine 15 minutes. And 10 feet doesn’t seem that deep until you try to get down that far – at least for me. And that’s at the Y in a swimsuit. And the water there is never in the 40’s.

The little boy is in critical condition – I don’t know if the cold water was cold enough or not to protect his brain.

Now, that’s a nightmare.

(A more detailed account is in The Chicago Tribune.)

I just got back from Family Video. I was feeling low and decided I wanted to get a movie to lose myself in. I wound up with The Black Dahlia, Downfall and the first four episodes of The Sopranos last season. I think the Black Dahlia got bad reviews, Downfall is about Hitler and The Sopranos are, well, you know, of a criminal persuasion.

Maybe I am feeling lower than I thought.

But, hey, I can take it; I’ve watched Manos Hands of Fate. More than once.

I am in a non-comedy phase. Of course, for me, reacting to a comedy I enjoy means that I frown less, smile now and then and at times, chuckle. I do not guffaw. I once laughed aloud, but my mother gave me a look and I don’t anymore. Unless it is to laugh at someone; that comes naturally. I can point, too  . . . HA! HA! Point and HA HA!

There is something about Family Video, which we call Fam Vid, that upsets me. They seem to only employ young people. Isn’t Family in the name? Huh? Dontcha think some older people would come in during the afternoon and take a stab at this DVD business if maybe on a couple of days a “mature” person was behind the desk. Someone who could say which movies they would feel comfortable watching with other people.

For instance, the new release Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead starts out with people having sex in Rio and not anything like missionaries. Nosirree, Bob. Not at all. Wouldn’t it be nice if someone could discretely warn you of that? I think so. Let you know about the “close your eyes” moments, so to speak.

They have TWO copies of It’s a Wonderful Life all year round – I think they should have some other classics . . . like me. Okay, I’m more of a piece of work than a classic, but there are very nice older ladies around who  could help them tap more of the marketplace.