Clint Eastwood and Chocolate, The Things We Do For Love

Dear Sillies,

At long last, summer's over. I hope the change in seasons brings you renewed vigor and hope, pretty leaves and sunsets, and yummy treats.

JT bought this for me. Its weirdness beckons a review. Hammond's Chicken and Waffle with syrup chocolate bar. I mean, what the heck? Let's pack everything for a full meal into a little chocolate bar. We both tried it and . . .

We both failed to detect the chicken, or the waffle, or the syrup. It was salty, a salty and crispy chocolate bar. It contains chicken soup mix and vanilla wafer cookies. Let me break it down for you: It's bad. Don't try it, my Sillies. I'd give it a 1 out of 10. 

Now let's talk Clint Eastwood. Remember him? The hot studly man who's made 40+ movies. He's 91 now. And because I - gosh, golly - love JT, I agreed to see Cry Macho with him. It's Eastwood's latest flick. Let me break that one down for you, my Sillies: It's really bad. 

But Eastwood's sincerity and compassion still shine. He's still got it, depending upon how far we stretch the definition of "it." I mean, those seductive scenes with hot women half his age - way too awkward. The acting and plot are far from believable. But I gotta give him credit for being 91 and still kicking (and punching and alluring women half his age).  So if you want to see this one, keep your expectations low. JT (dis)liked it equally. 

As you gathered, the guy and I are still going and going strong. He's a cutie, right? In fact, a bit Eastwood-esq, would you say? I'm still holding my breath. It'll be 4-months soon . . .

Pretty sure I nabbed a good one this time. Finally.

Take care.

I love you, Sillies.

Tot Readership and InSanity Teaser

Dear Sillies,
   I'm tickled that my writing's reached a new segment of our population: tots. I mean, I don't recommend it for children. However, I readily approve this precious toddler's perusal of Woman on the Verge. She's a friends' child. This wasn't staged. No, this doll grabbed the book from the front room bookshelves, and flipped through it within seconds. I believe her review sounded something like: "k,k, caa daa yip, *hiccup*, *sweet, confused blank stare*, and then 'This book's a hoot!'" WOOHOO! It's every author's dream!

  At last, my upcoming book, InSanity, landed in the editing stage. I've secured a dream team for this. Because I need more than one editor. Typos, ya no know. I'll let that keen eyed editor reveal herself if she chooses. InSanity's going to keep her quite busy. Below's from the first page. Ya know, cuz I like to tease. 
  Be well and safe.
  I love you.

Introduction: Is it Just Me?

 “My mind is a bad neighborhood that I try not to go into alone.”– Anne Lamott

 

  Musings swirl. Then twirl. And hurl. They contort into skilled, agile backflips across a sleek narrow balance beam twisting gracefully to land with breasts pumped outwards. An enthused series of tens from all but the Russian judge ignites suspicion. What a piss ass. He probably needs to get laid. Oy. Why do I go there?   

  Sh*t, is it just me or are everybody’s braincells mysteriously busy boogers, frenetically body-slamming against each other’s elastic membranes, then rebounding full-speed ahead like Martha Stewart at the mention of Chippendale’s most girthy, barely-of-age hottie?

  Am I crazy? Am I not crazy? If I’m crazy, am I crazy for thinking I’m not crazy? But if I’m not crazy, am I not crazy for thinking—my musings hurt. That’s it; I’m not crazy. No? No, no?

  Oh all right, yes. Yes, yes. Check box one, check box two. Cash? No, check. Check please.

  I hate waiting for the check. You know? They’re never quick to bring it. Bring the damn check! Twenty minutes later they act all smiley, flip it under your nose, and say “Take your time.” I already did, honey, waiting for you to bring the damn check! Oy.

   Warmed bed sheets brush briskly against my right calf... 

   

Labor Day, Rosh Hashanah 5782

 Dear Sillies,
   If you feel old, consider this: The Jewish people are beginning our 5,782nd year. I know. Oy vey.     

   Let's work towards a more peaceful, safe, and gentle year across the globe. Shana Tova! (Hebrew for "Happy New Year.")

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  Left to right: Dawn, Glenn, me, 1969. (Brother, Jonathan, was a mere embryo at the time. Photos not available.)

We wish you many moments of sweetness this year.   

Coincidentally, Rosh Hashanah falls on Labor Day this year. 

Please take time to reflect on the human warriors who sacrificed their lives for our labor rights (e.g., the ability to work under safe conditions, to be free from workplace discrimination, etc.) Many on our soil remain enslaved in various ways.  Thus, let's heed the call to continue to press for justice in our localities, and throughout the greater, great world.

   Happy New Year, Friends.